House of Chains

Karsa pulled the sword free. ‘I follow no patron god,’ he growled. He turned from the temple entrance. Bidithal would have used sorcery to escape, drawing shadows about himself in an effort to remain unseen. Yet his passage would leave footprints in the dust.



The Toblakai stepped past the body of Silgar, the man who had once sought to enslave him, and began searching.



Twenty of Mathok’s clan warriors accompanied Corabb Bhilan Thenu’alas on his return to Leoman’s encampment. Their journey was unopposed, although Corabb was certain hidden eyes followed their progress.



They rode up the slope to the hill’s summit and were challenged by sentinels. A more welcoming sound Corabb could not imagine. Familiar voices, warriors he had fought alongside against the Malazans.



‘It is Corabb!’ He had been given a hook-bladed sword drawn from the Chosen One’s armoury, and he now raised it high in salute as the picket guards emerged from their places of hiding. ‘I must speak with Leoman! Where is he?’



‘Asleep,’ one of the sentinels growled. ‘If you’re lucky, Bhilan, your arrival, loud as it was, has awakened him. Ride to the centre of the summit, but leave your escort here.’



That brought Corabb up short. ‘They are Mathok’s own-’



‘Leoman’s orders. No-one from the oasis is allowed to enter our camp.’



Scowling, Corabb nodded and waved back his fellow horse warriors. ‘Take no offence, friends,’ he called, ‘I beg you.’ Without waiting to gauge their reaction, he dismounted and hurried to Leoman’s tent.



The warleader was standing outside the flap, drinking deep from a waterskin. He was out of his armour, wearing only a thin, sweat-stained linen shirt.



Corabb halted before him. ‘There is much to tell you, Leoman of the Flails.’



‘Out with it, then,’ Leoman replied when he’d finished drinking.



‘I was your only messenger to survive to reach Sha’ik. She has had a change of heart-she now commands that you lead the Army of the Apocalpyse come the morrow. She would have you, not Korbolo Dom, leading us to victory.’



‘Would she now,’ he drawled, then squinted and looked away. ‘The Napan has his assassins between us and Sha’ik?’



‘Aye, but they will not challenge our entire force-they would be mad to attempt such a thing.’



‘True. And Korbolo Dom knows this-’



‘He has not yet been informed of the change of command-at least he hadn’t when I left. Although Sha’ik had issued a demand for his presence-’



‘Which he will ignore. As for the rest, the Napan knows. Tell me, Corabb, do you think his Dogslayers will follow any other commander?’



‘They shall have no choice! The Chosen One has so ordered!’



Leoman slowly nodded. Then he turned back to his tent. ‘Break camp. We ride to Sha’ik.’



Exultation filled Corabb’s chest. Tomorrow would belong to Leoman of the Flails. ‘As it should be,’ he whispered.



Kalam stepped outside. His clothes were in tatters, but he was whole. Though decidedly shaken. He had always considered himself one of the ablest of assassins, and he had drawn a blade against a veritable host of inimical, deadly foes over the years. But Cotillion had put him to shame.



No wonder the bastard’s a god. Hood’s breath, I’ve never before seen such skill. And that damned rope !



Kalam drew a deep breath. He had done as the Patron of Assassins had asked. He had found the source of the threat to the Realm of Shadow. Or at least confirmed a host of suspicions. This fragment of Kurald Emurlahn will be the path to usurpation… by none other than the Crippled God . The House of Chains had come into play, and the world had grown very fraught indeed.



He shook himself. Leave that to Cotillion and Ammanas. He had other, more immediate tasks to attend to this night. And the Patron of Assassins had been kind enough to deliver a pair of Kalam’s favourite weapons…



His eyes lit upon the leprous corpse lying a half-dozen paces away, then narrowed. Kalam moved closer. Gods below, that is some wound. If I didn’t know better, I’d say from the sword of a T’lan Imass . The blood was thickening, soaking up dust from the flagstones.



Kalam paused to think. Korbolo Dom would not establish his army’s camp among the ruins of this city. Nor in the stone forest to the west. The Napan would want an area both clear and level, with sufficient room for banking and trenches, and open lines of sight.



East, then, what had once been irrigated fields for the city, long ago.



He swung in that direction and set out.