Night of Knives_ A Novel of the Malazan Empire - By Ian C. Esslemont Page 0,91
Dreams, was supposed to be a practitioner of Thyr.
Corinn stepped forward and disappeared into the floating oval of quicksilver as if submerging.
Kiska hesitated, fearful despite her fascination.
‘Hurry, lass,’ Lubben urged. ‘It’ll not do to lose her and wander the paths alone forever.’
Spurred by horror at the thought, Kiska jumped through. Whether Lubben followed she had no idea. It was as if she’d leapt into a hall of mirrors. Reflections of herself and Corinn serried off into infinite distances. Hundreds of Corinns turned, reaching out to her. She stood, unable to move, her heart thudding in panic. Which one was real? Which should she respond to?
Like a swimmer broaching a lake, a new Corinn emerged from one image of herself. Kiska extended a hand and sighed in relief as it met flesh.
‘Where is Lubben?’
Corinn pulled Kiska on. ‘Everyone walks their own path in Thyr. Now stay close.’
They strode on without moving, or so it seemed to Kiska. She couldn’t discern any progress at all, yet still Corinn pulled her on. Then, as she studied the passing images of herself, she began to see differences, some slight, others startling. In one she appeared painfully gaunt and wore clothes no better than rags; in another she was maimed, her right arm missing from the elbow. That sent a shudder down through that arm, recalling a wound from a childhood fall. In yet another she wore the dark cloth of a Claw. She almost shouted her amazement.
‘What’s going on?’ she called to Corinn, yanking her to a halt. ‘What do all these images mean?’
Corinn turned, irritation darkening the tattoos at her forehead. ‘You see images?’
‘Yes. Don’t you?’
Corinn raised her brows, impressed. ‘So. You are a natural. Thyr must suit you.’ She urged Kiska on, saying over her shoulder, ‘They are just possibilities – phantasms—pay them no mind. That’s not why we’re here.’
‘What is it you see?’
Corinn answered without turning, ‘I am walking a stone bridge over emptiness with open blue sky all round.’
Kiska stared at the confusing, shifting silver walls all about her – even above and below. ‘Why? Why a bridge over emptiness? How?’
Corinn glanced back with that same mysterious smile. ‘I like to think of things that way – it’s safer. As to how, well, that would take years.’
Kiska nodded, grimacing. Yes. Years of study and practice. The same dusty mental exercises and meditation Agayla had tried to impose on her long ago, only giving up the day Kiska opened a ceiling window and risked a dangerous third-storey climb rather than sit for hours and, in her own words, try to cross her eyes. After that Agayla had been good on her agreement: providing every other form of instruction, though no longer pressing any arcane training upon her. She’d simply warned her that she’d come to regret the choice later in life.
And almost immediately she did, yet her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit it. Her stubborn pride that turned the failure around until she actually boasted of her ignorance! All she felt now was shame at such childish wilfulness. After this night she would beg Agayla to forgive her.
Thinking of Agayla, the brushing of her rich embroidered dresses and her thick mane of auburn hair, brought a tingling to Kiska’s neck. She slowed, dizzied for a moment, then jerked to a halt as one of the images before her rippled like the surface of a pool. It shifted, darkened into a likeness of a woman sitting at a shoreline, lashed by punishing wind and threatened by low clouds. The woman raised her head and Kiska saw Agayla such as she had never known her: exhausted, haggard, her face drawn and pale, her hair wind-whipped and soaked. Agayla looked up, confused then alarmed. ‘Not here, child,’ she said, hoarse, distracted.
Kiska lunged forward. ‘Agayla!’ But the image rippled away and instead Corinn re-emerged. The look she gave Kiska made her feel as if she’d sprouted wings. The filigree of tattooing at her brow seemed to pulse.
‘What in the name of the Elder Ones do you think you’re doing?’
Kiska stammered, ‘I thought I saw someone. Someone I know. She’s in trouble. I have to go to her!’
Corinn muttered, gestured curtly. All hints of her earlier mischievous smiles had gone. ‘I don’t sense a thing. Stay with me. This is no place for games.’
Stung, Kiska opened her mouth to explain, but the woman started off without waiting. Kiska hurried after, struggling to stay close.
‘We must leave before our goal,’ Corinn said over her shoulder. ‘Something