‘Apsalar becomes Sha’ik. Sha’ik defeats the Malazan armies, liberates the Seven Cities. Laseen, forced to take charge herself, arrives with an army to reconquer the unruly citizens of this land.’

‘Armed with Cotillion’s skill and knowledge, Sha’ik kills Laseen. End of Empire—’

‘End?’ Icarium’s brows rose. ‘More likely a new Emperor or Empress with Shadow the patron gods ...’

Mappo grunted. ‘A worrying thought.’

‘Why?’

The Trell scowled. ‘I had a sudden vision of Emperor Iskaral Pust...’ He shook himself, lifted the sack and swung it over a shoulder. ‘For the moment, I think it best we keep this conversation to ourselves, friend.’

Icarium nodded. He hesitated, then said, ‘I have one question, Mappo.’

‘Aye?’

‘I feel closer to discovering ... who I am ... than ever before. Tremorlor is said to be time-aspected—’

‘Aye, so it’s said, though what that means is anyone’s guess.’

‘Answers, I believe. For me. For my life.’

‘What do you ask, Icarium?’

‘Should I discover my past, Mappo, how will that change me?’

‘You are asking me? Why?’

Icarium’s gaze was half-lidded as he smiled at Mappo. ‘Because, friend, within you reside my memories – none of which you are prepared to reveal.’

And so we come to this point . . . again. ‘Who you are, Icarium, is not dependent on me, nor on my memories. What value would it be to seek to become my version of you? I accompany you, friend, in your quest. If the truth – if your truth – is to be found, then you shall find it.’

Icarium was nodding, past echoes of this conversation returning to him – but little else, by the Ancients, little else, please – ‘Yet something tells me that you, Mappo, are a part of that hidden truth.’

Ice filled the Trell’s heart. He’s not taken it that far before – is Tremorlor’s proximity nudging open the locked gate? ‘Then, when the time comes, you shall face a decision.’

‘I think I shall.’

They studied each other, their eyes searching the altered reflection before them, one set plagued with innocent questing, the other disguising devastating knowledge. And between us, hanging in the balance, a friendship neither understands.

Icarium reached out and clasped Mappo’s shoulder. ‘We should join the others.’

Fiddler sat astride the Gral gelding as they waited at the base of the cliff. Bhok’arala scampered along the temple face, squealing and barking as they struggled with the lowering of the mule packs and assorted supplies. One had got its tail snagged in the rope and screamed pitifully as it slowly descended with the gear. Iskaral Pust hung half out of the tower window, throwing rocks at the hapless creature – none of which came close.