Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,689

him, then shook her head. 'It is no matter. But what has been born in Tomad Sengar this day, Taralack Veed, is a consuming hatred. For these Malazans.'

The Gral shrugged. 'They have faced many enemies in their day, Atri-Preda. Caladan Brood, Sorrel Tawrith, K'azz D'Avore, Anomander Rake—'

At the last name Twilight's eyes widened, and as she was about to speak her gaze shifted fractionally, to just past Taralack Veed's left shoulder. A male voice spoke from behind him.

'That is impossible.'

The Gral stepped to one side to take in the newcomer.

An Edur.

'This one is named Ahlrada Ahn,' Twilight said, and he sensed some hidden knowledge between the two in her voicing of the Edur's name. 'Like me, he has learned your language – swifter than I.'

'Anomander Rake,' the Edur said, 'the Black Winged Lord, dwells at the Gates of Darkness.'

'The last I heard,' Taralack Veed said, 'he dwelt in a floating fortress called Moon's Spawn. He fought a sorcerous battle with the Malazans on a distant continent, above a city named Pale. And Anomander Rake was defeated. But not killed.'

Shock and disbelief warred on the Edur warrior's weathered, lined visage. 'You must tell me more of this. The one you call Anomander Rake, how is he described?'

'I know little of that. Tall, black-skinned, silver hair. He carries a cursed two-handed sword. Are these details accurate? I know not ... but I see by the look in your eyes, Ahlrada Ahn, that they must be.' Taralack paused, considering how much he should reveal – his next statement would involve arcane knowledge – information not known by many. Still ... let us see how this plays out. His shifted his language, to that of the Letherii, and said, 'Anomander Rake is Tiste Andii. Not Edur. Yet, by your reaction, warrior, I might think that, as with Tomad Sengar, you are wounded by some manner of unwelcome revelation.'

A sudden skittish look in the warrior's eyes. He glanced at Twilight, then pivoted about and strode away.

'There are matters,' the Atri-Preda said to Taralack Veed, 'that you are unaware of, and it is best that it remain so. Ignorance protects you. It was not wise,' she added, 'that you revealed your facility with the Letherii language.'

'I believe,' the Gral replied, 'that Ahlrada Ahn will prove disinclined to report our conversation to anyone.' He met her eyes then, and smiled. 'As will you, Atri-Preda.'

'You are careless, Taralack Veed.'

He spat on his hands and swept them through his hair, wondering again at her sudden look of distaste. 'Tell Tomad Sengar this, Atri-Preda. It is he who risks much, with his demand that Icarium's prowess be tested.'

'You seem so certain,' she said.

'Of what?'

'That your companion represents the most formidable threat Emperor Rhulad has ever faced. Alas, as has invariably proved the case, all others who believed the same are now dead. And, Taralack Veed, there have been so many. Tomad Sengar must know for certain. He must be made to believe, before he will guide your friend to stand before his son.'

'His son?'

'Yes. Emperor Rhulad is Tomad Sengar's youngest son. Indeed, now, the only son he has left. The other three are gone, or dead. Likely they are all dead.'

'Then it strikes me,' the Gral said, 'that what Tomad seeks to measure is not Icarium's prowess, but his lack thereof. After all, what father would wish death upon his last surviving son?'

In answer, Twilight simply stared at him for a long moment. Then she turned away.

Leaving Taralack Veed alone, a frown growing ever more troubled on his face.

Sergeant Hellian had found a supply of sailor's rum and now walked round the decks, a benign smile on her face. Not half a bell earlier, she'd been singing some Kartoolian death dirge as the very Abyss was being unleashed in the skies overhead.

Masan Gilani, her armour off once more and a heavy woollen cloak wrapped about her against the chill wind, sat among a handful of other soldiers, more or less out of the way of the sailors. The enemy fleet was somewhere to the south now, lost in the deepening dusk, and good riddance to them.

We've got us a High Mage now. A real one. That Quick Ben, he was a Bridgeburner, after all. A real High Mage, who just saved all our skins. That's good.

A new badge adorned her cloak, in silver, crimson and gold thread – she was quite proud of her handiwork. The Bonehunters. Yes, I can live with that name. True, it wasn't as poignant as