Memories of Ice & House of Chains - By Steven Erikson Page 0,17

their lids leaning in a neatly arranged row against the wall behind them. The dog Lady Envy had sent in ahead sat nearby. Just within the entrance was a round wooden table, crowded with fresh fruit, meats, cheese and bread, as well as a beaded clay jug and a collection of cups.

Senu's two companions stood motionless over the table, as if standing guard and fully prepared to give their lives in its defence. Both were a match to their companion's height and build, and similarly armed; the difference between each was evident only in their masks. Where Senu's enamelled face-covering was crowded with dark-stained patterns, such decoration diminished successively in the other two examples. One was only slightly less marked than Senu's, but the third mask bore naught but twin slashes, one on each gleaming white cheek. The eyes that stared out from the slits of this mask were like chips of obsidian.

The twin-scarred Seguleh stiffened upon seeing the T'lan Imass, took one step forward.

'Oh really!' Lady Envy hissed. 'Challenges are forbidden! Any more of this nonsense and I shall lose my temper—'

All three Seguleh flinched back a step.

'There,' the woman said, 'that's much better.' She swung to Toc. 'Assuage your needs, young man. The jug contains Saltoan white wine, suitably chilled.'

Toc found himself unable to look away from the Seguleh wearing the twin-scarred mask.

'If a fixed stare represents a challenge,' Lady Envy said quietly, 'I suggest, for the sake of peace – not to mention your life – that you refrain from your present engagement, Toc the Younger.'

He grunted in sudden alarm, tore his gaze from the man. 'Good point, Lady. It's only that I've never heard of ... well, never mind. Doesn't matter.' He approached the table, reached for the jug.

Movement exploded behind him, followed by the sound of a body skidding across the room, striking the wall with a sickly thud. Toc spun round to see Tool, sword upraised, facing the two remaining Seguleh. Senu lay crumpled ten paces away, either unconscious or dead. His two swords were both halfway out of their sheaths.

Standing beside Tool, the ay named Baaljagg was staring at the body, tail wagging.

Lady Envy regarded the other Seguleh with eyes of ice. 'Given that my commands have proved insufficient, I now leave future encounters in the T'lan Imass's obviously capable hands.' She swung to Tool. 'Is Senu dead?'

'No. I used the flat of my blade, Lady, having no desire to slay one of your servants.'

'Considerate of you, given the circumstances.'

Toc closed one shaky hand on the jug's handle. 'Shall I pour one for you as well, Lady Envy?'

She glanced at him, raised one eyebrow, then smiled. 'A splendid idea, Toc the Younger. Clearly, it falls to you and me to establish civility.'

'What have you learned,' Tool said, addressing her, 'of the Rent?'

Cup in hand, she faced him. 'Ah, you cut to the quick in all matters, I see. It has been bridged. By a mortal soul. As I am sure you are aware. The focus of my studies, however, has been on the identity of the warren itself. It is unlike any other. The portal seems almost ... mechanical.'

Rent? That would be the red welt in the air. Uh.

'You have examined the K'Chain Che'Malle tombs, Lady?'

She wrinkled her nose. 'Briefly. They are all empty, and have been for some time. Decades.'

Tool's head tilted with a soft creak. 'Only decades?'

'Unpleasant detail, indeed. I believe the Matron experienced considerable difficulty in extricating herself, then spent still further time in recovering from her ordeal, before releasing her children. She and her brood made further efforts in the buried city to the northwest, though incomplete, as if the results proved unsatisfactory. They then appear to have departed the area entirely.' She paused, then added, 'It may be relevant that the Matron was the original soul sealing the Rent. Another hapless creature resides there now, we must presume.'

The T'lan Imass nodded.

During the exchange Toc had been busy eating, and was on his second cup of the crisp, cold wine. Trying to make sense of the conversation thus far was giving him a headache – he'd mull on it later. 'I need to head north,' he said round a mouthful of grainy bread. 'Is there any chance, Lady, that you can furnish me with suitable supplies? I would be in your debt...' His words trailed away at seeing the avid flash in her eyes.

'Careful what you offer, young man—'

'No offence, but why do you call me "young man"? You