'Ideal,' Lady Envy said. 'We thank you, holy ones.'
The walk to the mouth of the side street was no more than fifty paces, yet in that time the city's silence was replaced by a growing murmur, a dry susurration approaching from Bastion's heart. Upon arriving, Baaljagg and Garath returned to flank Lady Envy. Senu and Thurule set the travois down against the wall of a corner building, then faced the square once more, hands on their weapons.
'The will of the Faith has embraced the citizens of Bastion,' the priest said. 'It arrives like a fever … a fever that only death can abate. Yet it must be remembered that the Embrasure was first felt here in Bastion itself, fourteen years ago. The Seer had returned from the Mountain, speaking the Words of Truth, and the power of those words rippled outward. ' The priest's voice broke with some kind of emotion wrought by his own words. He bowed his head, his entire body trembling.
Another priest continued for him. 'The Faith flowered here first. A caravan from Elingarth was encamped beyond the walls. The foreigners were rewarded in a single night. And the First Child of the Dead Seed was gifted to the mortal world nine months later. That child has now come of age, an event that has triggered a renewed burgeoning of the Faith — a second Embrasure has occurred, under the command of the First Child, Anaster. You shall see him now — his mother at his side — leading his newfound Tenescowri. A war awaits them far to the north — the faithless city of Capustan must be rewarded.'
'Holy ones,' Lady Envy said, raising her voice to be heard over the growing roar of chanting voices, 'please forgive my ignorance. A Child of the Dead Seed — what precisely is that?'
'The moment of reward among the male unbelievers, mistress, is often marked by an involuntary spilling of life-seed … and continues after life has fled. At this moment, with a corpse beneath her, a woman may ride and so take within her a dead man's seed. The children that are thus born are the holiest of the Seer's kin. Anaster is the first to reach his age.'
'That is,' Lady Envy said, 'extraordinary …'
Toc saw her face sickly pale for the first time in his memory.
'The Seer's gift, mistress. A Child of the Dead Seed bears the visible truth of death's kiss of life — proof of the Reward itself. We know that foreigners fear death. The Faithful do not.'
Toc cleared his throat, leaned close to the priest. 'Once these Tenescowri leave Bastion … is there anyone else still breathing in the city?'
'Embrasure is absolute, sir.'
'In other words, those who did not succumb to the fever have been … rewarded.'
'Indeed.'
'And then eaten.'
'The Tenescowri have needs.'
Conversation ended then as the leading edge of a mass of humanity poured from the main avenue and began spreading to fill the square. A young man was in the lead, the only person mounted, his horse an aged roan draught animal with a bowed spine and botfly sores on its neck. As the youth rode forward, his head whipped suddenly to where Toc and the others stood. He stabbed a long, thin arm in their direction and shrieked.
The cry was wordless, yet it was understood by his followers. Hundreds of faces swung to look upon the strangers, then surged towards them.
'Oh,' Lady Envy said.
The second priest flinched back. 'Alas, our protection is insufficient. Prepare for your reward, strangers!' And with that, the three acolytes fled.
Lady Envy raised her hands, and was suddenly flanked by two huge beasts. Both flowed in a blur to greet the mob. Suddenly, blood and bodies spilled onto the flagstones.
The Seguleh pushed past Toc. Senu stopped at Envy's side. 'Awaken our brother!' he shouted.
'Agreed,' she said. 'No doubt Tool is about to appear as well, but I suspect they will find themselves too busy to contest each other.'
Leather straps snapped as Mok seemed to fling himself upright, weapons already in his hands.
And here I am, all but forgotten. Toc reached a decision. 'Have fun, all of you,' he said, backing up the side street.
As the ay and the hound chewed through the screaming mass, Lady Envy spun, eyes wide. 'What? Where are you going?'
'I've embraced the Faith,' he called out. 'This mob's heading straight for the Malazan Army — though it doesn't know it yet! And I'm going with it!'
'Toc, listen! We shall obliterate this pathetic army and that pale runt leading them! There is no need-'
'Don't wipe them out! Please, Envy. Carve your way clear, yes, but I need them.'
'But-'
'No time! I've decided. With Oponn's luck we'll meet again — go find your answers, Envy. I've got friends to find!'
'Wait-'
With a final wave, Toc whirled and ran down the street.
A concussive blast of sorcery threw him forward, but he did not turn. Envy was letting loose. Hood knows, she might even have just lost her temper. Gods, leave some of them standing, lass…
He swung right at the first intersection he came to, and found himself plunging into the midst of screaming peasants, pushing like him towards the city's main artery, where flowed the mass of the Faithful. He added his screams — wordless, the sounds that a mute man might make — and clawed with mindless zeal.
Like a leaf on a wide, deep river.
CHAPTER TEN
Mother Dark begat three children,
the First, Tiste Andii, were her dearest,
dwellers of the land before Light.
Then were birthed in pain the Second, Tiste Lians,
the burning glory of Light itself,
and so the First denied their Mother,
in their fury, and so were cast out,
doomed children of Mother Dark.
She then gave rise, in her mercy, to the Third,
spawn of the war between Dark and Light,
the Tiste Edur, and there was shadow
upon their souls.
Kilmanar's Fables
Sebun Imanan
The hand slapped him hard, the shock quickly fading even as he struggled to comprehend its significance, leaving a tingling numbness that he was content to ride back into unconsciousness. He was slapped a second time.
Gruntle pried open his eyes. 'Go away,' he mumbled, shutting them again.
'You're drunk,' Stonny Menackis snarled. 'And you stink. Gods, the blanket's soaked with vomit. That's it, he can rot for all I care. He's all yours, Buke. I'm heading back to the barracks.'
Gruntle listened to boots stamping away, across the creaking, uneven floorboards of his squalid room, listened to the door squeal open, then slam shut. He sighed, made to roll over and go back to sleep.
Cold, wet cloth slapped down on his face. 'Wipe yourself,' Buke said. 'I need you sober, friend.'
'No-one needs me sober,' Gruntle said, pulling the cloth away. 'Leave me be, Buke. You, of all people-'
'Aye, me of all people. Sit up, damn you.'
Hands gripped his shoulders, pulled him upright. Gruntle managed to grab Buke's wrists, but there was no strength in his arms and he could only manage a few feeble tugs. Pain rocked through his head, swarmed behind his closed eyes. He leaned forward and was sick, fermented bile pouring out through mouth and nostrils onto the floor between his scuffed boots.
The heaves subsided. His head was suddenly clearer. Spitting out the last dregs of vomit, he scowled. 'I'm not asking, you bastard. You got no right-'
'Shut up.'
Grumbling, he sank his head into his hands. 'How many days?'
'Six. You've missed your chance, Gruntle.'
'Chance? What are you talking about?'
'It's too late. The Septarch and his Pannion army have crossed the river. The investiture has begun. Rumour is, the blockhouses in the killing fields beyond the walls will be attacked before the day's done. They won't hold. That's one big army out there. Veterans who've laid more than one siege — and every one successful-'