Reaper's Gate & Toll the Hounds - By Steven Erikson Page 0,747

It ain't the destination that counts . . .'

And together they added, 'It's the journey!'

Faint and Sweetest Sufferance looked over, both scowling. 'Not that again!' Faint called. 'Just stop it, you two! Stop it or we'll kill you in your sleep!'

Reccanto Ilk nudged Glanno Tarp.

Mappo crouched, rocking on the balls of his broad feet, waiting for Master Quell to finish his muttered incantation against pain. He sympathized, since it was clear that the mage was suffering, his face pale and drawn, forehead slick with sweat, his hands trembling.

That anyone would choose such a profession, given the terrible cost, was a difficult notion to accept. Was coin worth this? He could not understand that sort of thinking.

What held real value in this world? In any world? Friendship, the gifts of love and compassion. The honour one accorded the life of another person. None of this could be bought with wealth. It seemed to him such a simple truth. Yet he knew that its very banality was fuel for sneering cynicism and mockery. Until such things were taken away, until the price of their loss came to be personal, in some terrible, devastating arrival into one's life. Only at that moment of profound extremity did the contempt wash down from that truth, revealing it bare, undeniable.

All the truths that mattered were banal.

Yet here was another truth. He had paid for this journey. His coin bought this man's pain. The exchange was imbalanced, and so Mappo grieved for Master Quell, and would not shy away from his own guilt. Honour meant, after all, a preparedness, a willingness to weigh and measure, to judge rightful balance with no hand tilting the scales.

And so, they all here were paying to serve Mappo's need, this journey through warrens. Another burden he must accept. If he could.

The formidable warrior sitting beside him stirred then and said, 'I think I see now why the Trygalle loses so many shareholders, Master Quell. By the Abyss, there must be warrens where one can journey through in peace?'

Master Quell rubbed at his face. 'Realms resist, Gruntle. We are like a splash of water in hot oil. It's all I can do to not . . . bounce us off. Mages can push themselves into their chosen warrens – it's not easy, it's a game of subtle persuasion most of the time. Or a modest assertion of will. You don't want to blast a hole from one realm to the next, because that's likely to go out of control. It can devour a mage in an instant.' He looked up at them with bloodshot eyes. 'We can't do it that way.' He waved a weak hand at the carriage behind him. 'We arrive like an insult. We are an insult. Like a white-hot spear point, we punch through, race along our wild path, and all that we leave in our wake I need to make sure is, er, cauterized. Seared shut. Failing that, a rush of power explodes behind us, and that's a wave no mortal can ride for long.'

Precious Thimble spoke from behind Mappo. 'You must be High Mages, then, one and all.'

To her observation, Master Quell nodded. 'I admit, it's starting to trouble me, this way of travel. I think we're scarring the whole damned universe. We're making existence . . . bleed. Oh, just a seep here and there, amidst whatever throbs of pain reality might possess. In any case, that's why there's no peaceful path, Gruntle. Denizens in every realm are driven to annihilate us.'

'You said we did not even reach Hood's Gate,' the barbed man said after a moment. 'And yet . . .'

'Aye.' He spat on to the sand. 'The dead sleep no more. What a damned mess.'

'Find us the nearest land in our own world,' said Mappo. 'I will walk from there. Make my own way—' 'We stay true to the contract, Trell. We'll deliver you where you want to go—' 'Not at the price of you and your companions possibly dying – I cannot accept that, Master Quell.'

'We don't do refunds.'

'I do not ask for one.'

Master Quell rose shakily. 'We'll see after our next leg. For now, it's time for breakfast. There's nothing worse than heaving when there's nothing in the gut to heave.'

Gruntle also straightened. 'You have decided on a new path?'

Quell grimaced. 'Look around, Gruntle. It's been decided for us.'

Mappo rose and remained at Gruntle's side as Quell staggered to his crew, who were gathered round a brazier they had dragged out