Memories of Ice

by Steven Erikson

  Between blinks, Baaljagg shifted from tall and gaunt to a size to match the dog, Garath. Smiling, Lady Envy glanced southward. 'Those yellow wolves are still following, so very curious, but it seems unlikely they will approach now that we are among humans. Alas, reducing the Seguleh to the size of children would achieve little in the way of anonymity, wouldn't you concur, Toc the Younger?'

  The Malazan conjured in his mind an image of two masked, death-dealing 'children', and a moment later his imagination was in full retreat. 'Uh,' he managed, 'No. I mean, yes. Yes, I concur.'

  'The hamlet yonder,' she continued, 'will prove a modest test as to how the locals react to the Seguleh. If further illusory adjustments to our party prove necessary, we can address them later. Have I covered all considerations, my dear?'

  'Yes,' he reluctantly grumbled, 'I suppose.'

  'The hamlet might have an inn of some sort.'

  'I wouldn't count on it, Lady. These trader tracks haven't seen use in years.'

  'How uncivilized! Shall we make our way down there in any case?'

  The first drops of rain were spattering the stony trail when they reached the first of the hamlet's half-dozen squalid and ramshackle buildings. It had once been a travellers' inn, complete with stables and a low-walled compound for merchant carts, but was now unoccupied and partially dismantled, the wood and dressed stone of the kitchen wall scavenged, leaving the interior exposed to the elements. High grasses and herbs rose amidst the brick ovens.

  Three small buildings lay just beyond the abandoned inn. Smithy and tack stall, and a tithe-collector's office and residence. All lifeless. The only structure showing evidence of upkeep was on the other side of the shallow ford. High-walled—the stones revealing disparate provenance—and gated with wooden doors beneath an arch, all that was visible of the structure within was a pyramidal peak scaled in polished copper.

  'I'd guess that to be a temple,' Toc muttered, standing in the centre of the hamlet's lone street, his eye narrowed on the building on the other side of the stream.

  'Indeed,' Lady Envy replied. 'And those within are aware of us.'

  He shot her a glance. 'How aware?'

  She shrugged. 'We are strangers from Lamatath—a priest within has the power to quest, but he's easily led. You forget—' She smiled. 'I have had generations in which to perfect my innocuous persona.'

  Innocuous? Hood's breath, woman, have you got that wrong!

  'I already have the priest in hand, my dear, all unsuspecting, of course. Indeed, I believe if we ask they will grant us accommodation. Follow me.'

  He stumbled after her. 'Accommodation? Have you lost your mind, Lady?'

  'Hush, young man. I am feeling amicable at the moment—you wouldn't want to see me cross, would you?'

  'No. Absolutely not. Still, Lady Envy, this is a risk we—'

  'Nonsense! You must learn to have faith in me, Toc the Younger.' She reached out, curled an arm about his lower back and pulled him close. 'Walk with me, dearest. There, isn't this nice? The brushing contact of our hips, the sudden familiarity that sends the heart racing. The dampness of the rain, matching—'

  'Yes, yes, Lady! Please, no more details, else my walking prove most awkward.'

  She laughed. 'I believe I have finally succeeded in charming you, my love. And now I wonder, upon what path shall I lead you? So many choices! How exciting. Tell me, do you think me cruel, Toc the Younger?'

  He kept his gaze on the temple.

  They stepped into the cool water of the stream, the flow swirling around their ankles but no higher.

  'Yes,' he replied at length.

  'I can be. In fact, I usually am. I suspected you always knew. I sympathize with your desire to resist, you know. What lies ahead, do you think?'

  'I don't know. Well, here we are. Do we knock?'

  Lady Envy sighed. 'I hear the patter of feet.'

  The door on their left creaked open, revealing a naked, emaciated man of indeterminate age, pale-skinned, head and eyebrows shaved, his watery grey eyes fixed on Lady Envy.

  'Welcome, mistress,' the man said. 'Please, enter. The Pannion Domin extends its hospitality'—his eyes flicked past her to take in the wolf and dog, then the Seguleh—'to you and your companions.' He stepped back.

  With an unreadable glance at Toc, Lady Envy followed the priest.

  The compound's hot, moist air was rife with the stench of decay, and as soon as the Malazan strode from the shadow of the gate, he saw the source of the smell. A score of bodies lined the inside walls, large iron hooks jutting from beneath their breast bones, feet dangling an arm's length above the ground. The stone at their backs was stained yellow and deep red. Eyeless heads hung downward, strands of hair dripping with rainwater.

  The priest, seeing where the attention of his guests had focused, surveyed the corpses with a faint smile. 'The villagers have been delivered. Once the labours of building this temple were completed, they were given their reward. They remain before us as reminders of our Lord's mercy.'

  'A rather peculiar version of mercy,' Toc muttered, struggling against a wave of nausea.

  'One you will come to understand in time, sir,' the priest replied. 'Please. A meal is being prepared. Seerdomin Kahlt—the master of this temple—awaits you within the guest hall.'

  'How kind,' Lady Envy said. 'An extraordinary construction, this temple of yours.'

  Pulling his gaze from the murdered villagers, Toc studied the edifice rearing before them. The pyramidal shape continued down to ground level, the copper sheathing broken only by a dozen randomly placed skylights, each paned with slabs of thin rose quartzite. A narrow but high portal marked the entrance, framed by four massive cut-stones—a broad threshold underfoot, two tapering, flanking menhirs, and a single lintel stone overhead. The corridor beyond was three strides in length, revealing the breadth of the pyramid's foundations.

  The air within, as they emerged into a wide and shallow chamber, proved hotter than in the compound, the light tinted pink and fractiously cast by the windows. A low table awaited them, crowded with foodstuffs and lined by pillows on which to recline. Standing before another triangular doorway—this one directly opposite the entrance—stood a huge figure in arcane, black-wrought armour. A double-bladed, long-handled axe leaned on the door's frame to his left. The warrior was bare-headed, his pate shaved, and his angular beardless face revealed old scars along his jawline and down the length of his nose.

  Hood's breath, I recognize those scars—a cheek-guarded, bridged helm makes those marks… when someone swings a mace flush against it, that is.

  Frowning, Lady Envy hesitated, then turned to the priest. 'I believe you said the High Priest awaits us?'

  The gaunt man smiled. 'And he does, mistress.' He bowed towards the warrior. 'This is Seerdomin Kahlt, the master of this temple. Seerdomin are the Gifted among the Pannion Seer's children. Warriors without parallel, yet learned as well. Now, to complete the introductions, will you grant me the honour of your names?'

  'I am Lady Islah'Dracon,' Lady Envy said, eyes now on the Seerdomin. 'My companion is named Toc the Younger; my bodyguards Senu, Thurule, and the one presently sleeping is Mok. Do you wish the names of my pets as well?'

  You just gave them, didn't you?

  The priest shook his head. 'That will not be necessary. No respect is accorded mindless animals within the Domin. Provided you have them within control, they will, for the sake of hospitality, be tolerated. Thank you for the introductions, Lady. I shall now take my leave.'

  With another bow, he turned and hobbled towards a small side door.

  Seerdomin Kahlt took a step forward, armour clanking. 'Seat yourselves,' he said, his voice soft and calm. 'It is not often that we are privileged with guests.'

  Lady Envy raised an eyebrow. 'Not often?'

  Kahlt smiled. 'Well, you are the first, in fact. The Pannion Domin is an insular land. Few visit, and rarely more than once. There are some, of course, who receive the wisdom and so take the faith, and thes
e are welcomed as brothers and sisters. Great are the rewards when the faith is embraced.' His eyes glittered. 'It is my fervent hope that such gifting will come to you.'

  Toc and Lady Envy settled onto the cushions. Baaljagg and Garath remained with the Seguleh, who stood just within the entrance.

  Seerdomin Kahlt sat down opposite his guests. 'One of your servants is ill?' he asked. 'Shall I send for a healer, Lady?'

  'Not necessary. Mok will recover in time. I am curious, Seerdomin. Why build a temple in such a paltry settlement? Particularly if you then execute all the inhabitants?'

  'The inhabitants were rewarded, not executed,' Kahlt said, face darkening. 'We only execute criminals.'

  'And the victims were satisfied with the distinction?'

  'Perhaps you might enquire that of them yourselves, before too long, Lady.'

  'Perhaps.'

  'To answer your question. This temple is one of seventy such recent constructions, each commanding a traditional border crossing to and from the Domin. The Pannion Seer's borders are ones of spirit as well as geography. It falls to his most faithful to accept the responsibility of regulation and protection.'

  'We are your guests, then, so that you may gauge our measure and judge us worthy of entering your empire, or unworthy.'

  Kahlt shrugged, reaching for a wedge of some local fruit Toc did not recognize. 'Please, refresh yourselves. The wine is from Gredfallan, most agreeable. The slices of flesh are bhederin—'

  Lady Envy leaned forward and daintily picked up a slice, which she then tossed towards the chamber's entrance. Garath stepped forward, sniffed the meat, then ate it. She smiled at the high priest. 'Thank you, we will.'

  'Among our people,' Kahlt rasped, his hands twitching, 'what you have just done is a grave insult.'

  'Among mine it's a matter of pragmatism.'

  The Seerdomin bared his teeth in a cold smile. 'Trust and honour are valued traits in the Pannion Domin, Lady. The contrast with the culture you are from can be made no more obvious.'

  'Indeed. Do you dare risk our corrupting influence?'

  'You have no influence, Lady. Perhaps, however, we have.'

  Toc poured himself some wine, wondering at what Envy was up to.

  They had walked into a hornets' nest and, smiling, she was plucking one man's wings.

  Kahlt had regained his composure. 'Is it wise to mask your servants, Lady? The practice seems to run contrary to the needs of your unfortunate paranoia.'

  'Ah, but they are more than simple servants, Seerdomin. They are, in fact, emissaries. Tell me, are you familiar with the Seguleh?'

  Kahlt slowly leaned back, studying the silent warriors at the entrance. 'The island people… who slay all our monks. And have asked us to declare war upon them, and mount an invasion fleet. Arrogance reaps its own reward, as they shall discover. After all, it is one thing to murder unarmed priests… Ten thousand Seerdomin shall enact vengeance upon the Seguleh. Very well,' he sighed, 'do these emissaries now come to beg forgiveness?'

  'Oh no,' Lady Envy said. 'They come to—'

  Toc's hand snapped out, closed on her arm. Surprised, she faced him. 'Lady,' he murmured, then turned to Kahlt. 'They have been sent to deliver a message to the Pannion Seer. In person.'

  'That's certainly one way of putting it,' Envy remarked drily.

  Withdrawing his hand, Toc sat back, waiting for his heart to slow its wild hammering.

  'There are provisos to such an audience,' Kahlt said, eyes still on the Seguleh. 'Disarmed. Unmasked. Perhaps more—but that is not for me to decide.' His gaze flicked back to Lady Envy. 'How can these emissaries be your servants?'

  'A woman's wiles,' she replied, flashing him a smile.

  He visibly flinched.

  Aye, I know what that's like. Your heart's just turned to water. Struggling not to prostrate yourself at her feet. Aye, plucked and now pinned and writhing…

  Kahlt cleared his throat. 'I shall now leave you to your repast. Sleeping chambers have been prepared. The monk who met you at the door will be your guide. Day's end is in a bell's time. Thank you for this most enlightening conversation.' He rose, collected his axe from the wall behind him, then exited through the inner door.

  Toc grunted as the panel closed. 'Enlightening? Was that a joke?'

  'Eat up, my love,' Envy said. 'Belly filled and content… before we receive our reward.'

  Toc choked on a mouthful of wine, coughed helplessly for a time, then looked at her through a bleary eye. 'Reward?' he rasped.

  'You and I, yes. I suspect the Seguleh will be given a proper escort or some such thing. Baaljagg and Garath will be butchered, of course. Here, try this, it's delicious. Before dawn, is my guess, the fire in our veins released to greet the sun's rise, or some such thing equally pathetic. Then again, we could embrace the faith—do you think we'll convince him? What kind of fruit is this? Tastes like a soldier's foot-wrap. I don't—he's made up his mind, you see.'

  'And you helped him along, Lady.'

  'Did I?' She paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached for some bread. 'I can't imagine how. True, I was irritated. Have you ever noticed how language can be twisted to mask brutality? Ah, a thought! Look at the Seguleh—masked, yes, yet they speak true and plain, do they not? Is there something in that, do you think? Some hidden significance? Our malleable, fleshy visages are skilled at deceit—a far more subtle mask than what the brothers over there are wearing. More wine? Quite wonderful. Gredfallan? Never heard of it. The Seguleh reveal only their eyes, devoid of framing expression, yet portals to the soul none the less. Remarkable. I wonder who originated the custom, and why.'

  'Lady, please,' Toc cut in. 'If they intend to kill us—'

  'Intentions are unimportant, my dear. I taste clover in this honey. Lovely. By the way, the walls around us are mostly hollow, but not unoccupied. Would you be so kind as to deliver these plates of meat to my pups? Thank you, darling, you're sweet.'

  'All right,' Toc growled. 'So now they know that we know. What now?'

  'Well, I don't know about you, but I am dead tired. I do hope the beds are soft. Are the Pannions interested in such conveniences as plumbing, do you think?'

  'Nobody's interested in plumbing, Lady Envy, but I'm sure they've worked something out.'

  'Repast complete! Now where is our poor little monk?'

  A side door opened and the man appeared.

  'Extraordinary coincidence. Thank your master for the repast, cowed one, and please, lead the way.'

  The monk bowed, gestured. 'Follow me, honoured guests. Alas, the beasts must remain outside, in the compound.'

  'Of course.'

  The man bowed again.

  Lady Envy fluttered the fingers of one thin hand and Baaljagg and Garath loped outside.

  'Well trained, Lady,' the monk murmured.

  'You have no idea,' she replied.

  The sleeping chambers ran the length of one wall, small square, low-ceilinged rooms, unfurnished except for narrow hide-mattressed cots and a lantern sitting on a shelf on one wall. A room at the far end of the hallway was provided for communal bathing, its floors tiled and sunken at gradating levels in the various pools, the water continually flowing and cool and clean.

  Leaving the lady to her ablutions, Toc entered his sleeping chamber and set his pack down with a sigh. His nerves were already in tatters, and listening to Envy's melodic singing wasn't helping. He threw himself on the cot. Sleep? Impossible. These bastards are whetting their knives right now, preparing our reward. We're about to embrace the faith, and its face is a death's head…

  His eye snapped open at a sudden, curdling scream. It was dark—the lanterns had either gone out or been removed. Toc realized he'd fallen asleep after all, and that had the stench of sorcery. The scream sounded again, ending in a dwindling gurgle.

  Claws clicked down the hallway outside his room.

  Covered in sweat yet shivering, Toc the Younger edged off the bed. He drew the broad-bladed obsidian dagger Tool had
made for him, settled the hide-wrapped grip in his right hand, then unsheathed his own iron knife with his left.

  Claws. Either there's Soletaken here… or Baaljagg and Garath are paying a visit. He silently prayed it was the latter.

  A crash of masonry made him jump, a wall tumbling into ruin somewhere close. Someone whimpered, then squealed as bones snapped. The sound of a body being dragged just outside his door had Toc crouching low, knives trembling.

  Dark. What in Hood's name am I supposed to do? I can't see a damned thing!

  The door splintered in its frame under the impact of some large body. As the report echoed, the door fell inward… beneath the weight of a naked corpse faintly illuminated by low light coming from the hallway.

  A massive head slid into view, eyes dully glowing.

  Toc loosed a shuddering sigh. 'Baaljagg,' he whispered. 'You've grown since I last saw you.'

  The ay, after the briefest pause of mutual recognition, lumbered past the doorway. Toc watched the full length of the beast's body slide by, then he followed.

  The hallway was a shambles. Shattered stone, mangled cots and pieces of flesh everywhere. The walls were painted in splashes of blood and bile. Gods, has this wolf been crashing through arm-length-thick stone walls? How?

  Head slung low, claws clacking, Baaljagg padded towards the bathing chamber. Toc moved lightly in the ay's wake.

  Before they arrived a second four-legged shape emerged from a side passage beside the entrance, dark, mottled grey and black, and dwarfing Baaljagg. Coal-lit eyes set in a broad, blood-soaked head slowly fixed on Toc the Younger.

  Garath?

  The creature's shoulders were covered in white dust. It edged to one side to allow Baaljagg to pass.

  'Garath,' Toc murmured as he followed, well within reach of those huge, dripping jaws. 'What was in those bhederin slices you ate, anyway?'

  The gentle pet was gone this night, and in its place Garath had become a slayer of the highest, coldest order. Death capered in the huge hound's eyes.

  The beast allowed Toc to pass, then swung round and slunk off back the way it had come.

  A row of candles on the far wall lit the bathing chamber. Baaljagg, nose to the tiles, was skirting the pools. The trickling water was crimson and steaming. Through its murk Toc could see four corpses, all armoured, lying at the bottom of the pools. He could not be sure, but he thought that they had been boiled alive.