Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,389

The same for Cotillion. Or, conversely, they were both woefully ignorant, and Mebra had simply switched sides once too often.

There were more targets on her list, a random collection of names, all of which could be found in Cotillion's memories. She was expected simply to proceed from one to the next, with the final target the most challenging of all ... but that one was in all likelihood months away, and she would need to do some deft manoeuvring to get close enough to strike, a slow, careful stalking of a very dangerous individual. For whom she felt no enmity.

This is what an assassin does. And Cotillion's possession has made me an assassin. That and nothing else. I have killed and will continue to kill. I need think of nothing else. It is simple. It should be simple.

And so she would make it so.

Still, what made a god decide to kill some lowly mortal? The minor irritation of a stone in a moccasin. The slap of a branch on a wooded trail. Who thinks twice plucking that stone out and tossing it away? Or reaching out and snapping that branch? It seems I do, for I am that god's hand in this.

Enough. No more of this weakness ... this ... uncertainty. Complete the tasks, then walk away. Vanish. Find a new life.

Only ... how does one do that?

There was someone she could ask – he was not far off, she knew, having culled his identity from Cotillion's memories.

She had moved to sit with her legs dangling on the roof's edge. Someone now sat at her side.

'Well?' Cotillion asked.

'A Semk assassin of the Nameless Ones completed my mission for me.'

'This very night?'

'I met him, but was unable to question him.'

The god slowly nodded. 'The Nameless Ones again. This is unexpected. And unwelcome.'

'So they were not the reason for killing Mebra.'

'No. Some stirrings of the old cult. Mebra was positioning himself to become a High Priest. The best candidate – we're not worried about the others.'

'Cleaning house.'

'Necessary, Apsalar. We're in for a scrap. A bad one.'

'I see.'

They were silent for a time, then Cotillion cleared his throat. 'I have not yet had time to check on him, but I know he is hale, although understandably dispirited.'

'All right.'

He must have sensed she wanted it left at that, for, after a pause, he then said, 'You freed two ghosts ...'

She shrugged.

Sighing, Cotillion ran a hand through his dark hair. 'Do you know what they once were?'

'Thieves, I think.'

'Yes, that.'

'Tiste Andii?'

'No, but they lingered long over those two bodies and so ... absorbed certain essences.'

'Ah.'

'They are now agents of Edgewalker. I am curious to see what they will do.'

'For the moment they seem content to accompany me.'

'Yes. I think Edgewalker's interests include you, Apsalar, because of our past ... relationship.'

'Through me, to you.'

'I seem to warrant his curiosity.'

'Edgewalker. That apparition seems a rather passive sort,' she observed.

'We first met him,' Cotillion said slowly, 'the night we ascended. The night we made passage into the realm of Shadow. He made my spine crawl right then, and it's been crawling ever since.'

She glanced over at him. 'You are so unsuited to be a god, Cotillion, did you know that?'

'Thank you for the vote of confidence.'

She reached up with one hand and brushed the line of his jaw, the gesture close to a caress. She caught the sudden intake of his breath, the slight widening of his eyes, but he would not look at her. Apsalar lowered her hand. 'I'm sorry. Another mistake. It's all I seem to make these days.'

'It's all right,' he replied. 'I understand.'

'You do? Oh, of course you do.'

'Complete your mission, and all that is asked of you will end. You will face no more demands from me. Or Shadowthrone.'

There was something in his tone that gave her a slight shiver. Something like ... remorse. 'I see. That is good. I'm tired. Of who I am, Cotillion.'

'I know.'

'I was thinking of a detour. Before my next task.'

'Oh?'

'The coastal road, east. Just a few days by Shadow.'

He looked across at her, and she saw his faint smile and was unaccountably pleased by it. 'Ah, Apsalar ... that should be fun. Send him my greetings.'

'Really?'

'Absolutely. He needs a little shaking up.' He straightened. 'I must leave. It's almost dawn. Be careful, and do not trust those ghosts.'

'They are bad liars.'

'Well, I know a High Priest who employs a similar tactic to confound others.'

Iskaral Pust. Now it was Apsalar who smiled, but she said nothing, for Cotillion