‘And so it is,’ his companion replied in a reverent tone. ‘And in its heart, the one I serve.’ He glanced over at Karsa. ‘She will, I think, be interested in you. . .’ he smiled, ‘Teblor.’

Karsa scowled. ‘Why does the name of my people amuse you so?’

‘Amuse? More like appals. The Fenn had fallen far from their past glories, yet they remembered enough to know their old name. You cannot even make that claim. Your kind walked this earth when the T’lan Imass were still flesh. From your blood came the Barghast and the Trell. You are Thelomen Toblakai.’

‘These are names I do not know,’ Karsa growled, ‘even as I do not know yours, lowlander.’

The man returned his gaze to the dark lands below. ‘I am named Leoman. And the one I serve, the Chosen One to whom I will deliver you, she is Sha’ik.’

‘I am no-one’s servant,’ Karsa said. ‘This Chosen One, she dwells in the desert before us?’

‘In its very heart, Toblakai. In Raraku’s very heart.’

BOOK TWO - COLD IRON

BOOK TWO - COLD IRON

There are folds in this shadow ...

hiding entire worlds.

Call to Shadow

Felisin

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Woe to the fallen

in the alleys of Aren ...

Anonymous

A single kick from the burly soldier in the lead sent the flimsy door crashing inward. He disappeared into the gloom beyond, followed by the rest of his squad. From within came shouts, the sound of crashing furniture.

Gamet glanced over at Commander Blistig.

The man shrugged. ‘Aye, the door was unlocked – it’s an inn, after all, though such a lofty title for this squalid pit is stretching things somewhat. Even so, it’s a matter of achieving the proper effect.’

‘You misunderstood me,’ Gamet replied. ‘I simply cannot believe that your soldiers found him here.’

Unease flitted across Blistig’s solid, broad features. ‘Aye, well, we’ve rounded up others in worse places, Fist. It’s what comes of—’ he squinted up the street, ‘of broken hearts.’

Fist. The title still clambers into my gut like a starving crow. Gamet frowned. ‘The Adjunct has no time for brokenhearted soldiers, Commander.’

‘It was unrealistic to arrive here expecting to stoke the fires of vengeance. Can’t stoke cold ashes, though don’t take me wrong, I wish her the Lady’s luck.’

‘Rather more is expected of you than that,’ Gamet said drily.

The streets were virtually deserted at this time of day, the afternoon heat oppressive. Of course, even at other times, Aren was not as it once had been. Trade from the north had ceased. Apart from Malazan warships and transports, and a few fisherboats, the harbour and river mouth were empty. This was, Gamet reflected, a scarred populace.