running short on time, not to mention food and water. Raraku was a hostile land, resentful of whatever life dared exploit it. Not holy at all, but cursed. Devourer of dreams, destroyer of ambitions. And why not? It's a damned desert.
Clambering over the cobbles and stones, they reached the first ridge.
'We're close,' Pearl said, squinting ahead. 'Beyond that higher terrace, we should come within sight of the oasis.'
'And then what?' she asked, brushing dust from her tattered clothes.
'Well, it would be remiss of me not to take advantage of our position – I should be able to infiltrate the camp and stir up some trouble. Besides,' he added, 'one of the trails I am on leads into the heart of that rebel army.'
The Talons. The master of that revived cult. 'Are you so certain of that?'
He nodded, then half shrugged. 'Reasonably. I have come to believe that the rebellion was compromised long ago, perhaps from the very start. That the aim of winning independence for Seven Cities was not quite as central to some as it should have been, and indeed, that those hidden motives are about to be unveiled.'
'And it is inconceivable to you that such unveilings should occur without your hand in their midst.'
He glanced at her. 'My dear, you forget, I am an agent of the Malazan Empire. I have certain responsibilities ...'
Her eyes lit on an object lying among the cobbles – a momentary recognition, then her gaze quickly shifted away. She studied the murky sky. 'Has it not occurred to you that your arrival might well jeopardize missions already under way in the rebel camp? The Empress does not know you're here. In fact, even the Adjunct likely believes we are far away from this place.'
'I am not uncomfortable with a supporting role—'
Lostara snorted.
'Well,' he amended, 'such a role is not entirely reprehensible. I can live with it.'
Liar. She settled down on one knee to adjust the greaves lashed to her leather-clad shins. 'We should be able to make that terrace before the sun sets.'
'Agreed.'
She straightened.
They made their way down the rock-studded slope. The ground was littered with the tiny, shrivelled bodies of countless desert creatures that had been swept up into the Whirlwind, dying within that interminable storm yet remaining suspended within it until, with the wind's sudden death, falling to earth once more. They had rained down for a full day, husks clattering and crunching on all sides, pattering on her helm and skidding from her shoulders. Rhizan, capemoths and other minuscule creatures, for the most part, although occasionally something larger had thumped to the ground. Lostara was thankful that the downpour had ended.
'The Whirlwind has not been friendly to Raraku,' Pearl commented, kicking aside the corpse of an infant bhok'aral.
'Assuming the desert cares one way or another, which it doesn't, I doubt it will make much difference in the long run. A land's lifetime is far vaster than anything with which we are familiar, vaster, by far, than the spans of these hapless creatures. Besides, Raraku is already mostly dead.'
'Appearances deceive. There are deep spirits in this Holy Desert, lass. Buried in the rock—'
'And the life upon that rock, like the sands,' Lostara asserted, 'means nothing to those spirits. You are a fool to think otherwise, Pearl.'
'I am a fool to think many things,' he muttered.
'Do not expect me to object to that observation.'
'It never crossed my mind that you might, Lostara Yil. In any case, I would none the less advise that you cultivate a healthy respect for the mysteries of Raraku. It is far too easy to be blindsided in this seemingly empty and lifeless desert.'
'As we've already discovered.'
He frowned, then sighed. 'I regret that you view ... things that way, and can only conclude that you derive a peculiar satisfaction from discord, and when it does not exist – or, rather, has no reason to exist – you seek to invent it.'
'You think too much, Pearl. It's your most irritating flaw, and, let us be honest, given the severity and sheer volume of your flaws, that is saying something. Since this seems to be a time for advice, I suggest you stop thinking entirely.'
'And how might I achieve that? Follow your lead, perhaps?'
'I think neither too much nor too little. I am perfectly balanced – this is what you find so attractive. As a cape-moth is drawn to fire.'
'So I am in danger of being burned up?'
'To a blackened, shrivelled crust.'
'So, you're pushing me away for my own good.