She shook her head. ‘That wasn’t me. I just tapped something abiding within Ruse. Something so immense the mere possibility of it allowed this.’
The Blue Admiral tilted his helm. ‘I confess I do not understand. Does this bear on the High Fist’s last orders?’
‘What were they?’
‘Fist Shul is to strike inland, take high ground. The fleet is to withdraw from the coast.’
She jumped up, tottering, clutching the blanket. ‘Yes! That is it. We must withdraw to the centre of the Narrows. Shul will take the troops. He, all of us, we have until tomorrow.’
The Admiral bowed. ‘We will complete the unloading as soon as possible, then. Will you not return to the flagship?’
She nodded her relief. Gods, yes. I can feel her pushing against me. Raging. Full of hate and poison. Best to get away as soon as possible.
She took a step and would have collapsed but for the Admiral’s catching at her arm. Dizzy, she thanked him. He waved guards to him, ordered them to return her to the flagship. Despite her distaste for displaying weakness, she allowed them to walk her to the nearest boat.
‘What do you mean he isn’t here?’ Overlord Yeull stared at Ussu as if he were somehow responsible. ‘This is his landing! His moment! Why wouldn’t he be here?’ The man’s gaze darted about the tent, feverish, wild. ‘Where is he? He must be found!’ The eyes, white all round, found Ussu. ‘You! Find him! I command you! Find him and destroy him!’
Ussu drew breath to disagree but one look at the man hunched over the brazier, blankets and a fur cloak draped over his shoulders, hands practically sizzling over the embers, convinced him not to argue. He bowed. ‘I am your servant.’
The man glanced to him as if startled by his presence. ‘What? Yes! Go!’ He waved Ussu out.
Outside the darkened command tent, Ussu adjusted his robes and considered the Overlord’s degenerating condition. He always was unreliable — now, who knows what whim might take him? Things did not look promising.
Still, they were here in Korelri. Should these Malazans even gain a foothold, like a shallow wave they would break against the wall. He crossed to his tent, ducked within. His Roolian soldier attendants were still wiping up the blood from his earlier efforts. One was casting sawdust on the bare ground. The corpse had been wrapped and carried off. How the Lady mocked him for clinging to such crutches. Still, he remained reluctant to throw himself entirely into her hands.
‘Another prisoner, magus?’ an attendant asked.
‘No. That is all for now.’ No need to scry anew. Greymane was not here, that much was certain. Still, where was the man? It troubled him also that he could not find him. What was he up to? If he had sufficient power at his disposal he could locate the fellow — but not power pulled from the Lady, not yet. He wasn’t that desperate yet. But perhaps from another source…
‘I have need of a horse,’ he told an attendant. ‘Have we any?’
‘We brought a few across, sir. For messages.’
‘Very good. Prepare one.’
The man bowed and left. Ussu began packing a set of panniers. Should the Malazans gain a foothold then it would be an infantry battle, hedge-jumping and door-to-door skirmishing. Not his campaign. It seemed the Overlord had given him his mission, and thinking on it, he did believe it important. This man, Greymane, Stonewielder, must be planning something, and he, Ussu, the Lady’s erstwhile High Mage, was the only one with the slightest chance of locating him.
Outside, the horse was brought up and he mounted. Wishing the men good luck, he urged his mount inland. He was a good few leagues off, climbing the gentle rolling hillside, when something tugged at him from the Strait. Something’s gathering. He reined in and turned. Shading his eyes, he could just make out the distant Blue and Talian men-of-war anchored in the bay. What were they up to? Then he felt it: the puissance literally pushed him backwards. Ye gods, what was this? Ruse, awakening? Had an Ascendant taken to the field?
A great wave bulged in the bay, heaving shoreward. That renegade Mare mage! Sweeping the shore clear! Where came she by such might? Too much. Far too much for him to contest. That was one battle he had to concede. She could have the shore — but this was her one and only throw. He still had many more. He sawed the reins around and made inland as fast as he could urge the horse.
Warran took Kiska through Shadow — just how he did it she wasn’t sure. He simply invited her to walk to the darkened rear of the tent and she found herself stepping on much farther than its dimensions. The gloom then brightened to the familiar haziness of the Chaos region and she turned to him. ‘Where are we?’
‘Within the boundary threshold of the Whorl itself.’ The short fellow clasped his hands at his front. ‘Myself, I have no wish to go any farther.’
‘But it was dark…’
‘To those looking from the outside, yes. It would appear that those within create their own local conditions.’
Kiska peered around, dubious. ‘I don’t think I understand…’
The old priest cocked his head. ‘Some say every consciousness is like a seed. Perhaps that is true. I know of small pocket realms that act in this manner. Perhaps we create our own — for a time. Now I understand why the Liosan would come in such numbers. Their local conditions would be that much stronger, and more enduring.’
‘Enduring?’
Warran gave a serious nod. ‘You don’t really think you can forestall the eroding effects for ever, do you? Eventually you will be consumed.’ He raised a finger to his lips. ‘Or perhaps you will drift in nothingness dreaming for ever… Hmm. An interesting problem…’
Kiska stared at the ragged fellow. ‘That’s supposed to reassure me?’
Warran blinked. ‘Does it? It certainly wouldn’t reassure me.’
Exasperated, she raised her arms to turn full circle. ‘Well, which direction should I go?’
‘I really do not think it matters. Here, all directions lead to the centre.’
‘All directions lead — that doesn’t make any sense!’
The priest pursed his lips, head cocked. ‘You could say it has its own kind of logic… you just have to learn to think a different way.’
‘You sound as if you’ve done this before.’
The greying tangled brows rose in surprise. ‘Time is wasting. You’d better start searching.’ He raised a finger. ‘Oh! I took the liberty…’ He reached into his dirty torn robes and pulled out Kiska’s staff.
Mute with wonder, she accepted it, then stared from it to him: it was taller than he. ‘How…’
He waved goodbye, started off. Over his shoulder he called, ‘Take care. Remember the logic!’ He’d taken only a few steps when he disappeared.
Kiska stared, squinting. Was that the border of her own personal space? The thought unnerved her utterly. She squeezed the staff in her hands, feeling emboldened by its familiarity, and started off in the opposite direction from the one in which the priest had gone.
She had no sense of time passing, of course. It might have been a moment, or a day, but eventually the sky darkened, seeming to close in until she jogged beneath a night sky blazing with stars that showed no constellation she knew. The ground to either side fell away in steep slopes down to an equally dark abyss, leaving a narrow walk, and here someone was waiting for her.
It was Jheval-Leoman, arms crossed, an almost embarrassed look on his wind-tanned face. Kiska noted he once more wore his morningstars on his belt — that damned priest! She lowered her staff. ‘Keep your distance.’
He held up his opened hands. ‘Kiska. I have no vendetta. Believe me. My only motive is to get you damned Malazans off my back.’
She motioned him to walk ahead of her. ‘So you say. But I can’t trust that, can I?’
He let out a long breath, his arms slowly falling. ‘No. I suppose not.’ He walked ahead of her. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you told me of this manifestation, and I’m worried. You said Tayschrenn didn’t create this-’