Memories of Ice

Wakeful, solitary Baaljagg's eyes had seen more of the world than could be fathomed. Finally, however the gift had come, the torn soul delivered to her own, where they merged, eventually became one. And in this, yet another layer of loss and pain. The beast now sought … something. Something like … redress …



What do you ask of me, wolf? No, not of me — you ask not of me, do you? You ask of my companion, the undead warrior. Onos T'oolan. It was him you awaited, whilst you shared company with Lady Envy. And Garath? Ah, another mystery. for another time.



Toc blinked, his head jerking back as the link snapped. Baaljagg slept at his side. Dazed, trembling, he looked around in the gloom.



A dozen paces away, Tool stood facing him, a brace of hares dangling from one shoulder.



Oh, Beru fend. See? Soft inside. Far too soft for this world and its layered histories, its endless tragedies. 'What?' Toc asked, his voice rasping. 'What is it this wolf wants of you, T'lan Imass?'



The warrior cocked his head. 'An end to her loneliness, mortal.'



'Have you — have you given answer?'



Tool turned away, dropping the hares to the ground. His voice when he spoke shocked the scout with its raw mournfulness. 'I can do nothing for her.'



The cold, lifeless tone was gone, and for the first time Toc saw something of what hid behind that deathly, desiccated visage. 'I've never heard you speak in pain before, Tool. I didn't think-'



'You heard wrong,' the T'lan Imass said, his tone once again devoid of inflection. 'Have you completed the fletching for your arrows, Toc the Younger?'



'Aye, like you showed me. They're done, twelve of the ugliest-looking arrows I've ever had the pleasure of owning. Thank you, Tool. It's outrageous, but I am proud to own them.'



Tool shrugged. 'They will serve you well.'



'I hope you're right.' He rose with a grunt. 'I'll do the meal, then.'



'That is Senu's task.'



Toc squinted at the T'lan Imass. 'Not you, as well? They're Seguleh, Tool, not servants. While Lady Envy isn't here, I will treat them as travelling companions, and be honoured by their company.' He glanced over to find the two warriors staring at him. 'Even if they won't talk to me.'



He took the hares from the T'lan Imass, crouched down beside the hearth. 'Tell me, Tool,' he said as he began skinning the first of the creatures, 'when you're out there hunting … any sign of other travellers? Are we completely alone on this Lamatath Plain?'



'I have seen no evidence of traders or other humans, Toc the Younger. Bhederin herds, antelope, wolves, coyotes, fox, hares and the occasional plains bear. Birds of prey and birds that scavenge. Various snakes, lizards-'



'A veritable menagerie,' Toc muttered. 'Then how is it that every time I scan the horizons, I see nothing? Nothing. No beasts, no birds, even.'



'The plain is vast,' Tool replied. 'Also, there are the effects of the Tellann warren which surrounds me — though that is much weakened at the moment. Someone has drawn on my life-force, almost to exhaustion. Ask me no questions regarding this. My Tellann powers none the less discourage mortal beasts. Creatures are given to avoidance when able. We are, however, being trailed by a pack of ay'-tog — yellow-haired wolves. But they yet remain shy. Curiosity may overcome that, eventually.'



Toc's gaze returned to Baaljagg. 'Ancient memories.'



'Memories of ice.' The T'lan Imass's cavern eyes were fixed on the Malazan. 'By this and your earlier words, I conclude that something has occurred — a binding of souls — between you and the ay. How?'



'I'm not aware of any binding of souls,' Toc answered, still staring at the sleeping wolf. 'I was granted … visions. We shared remembrances, I think. How? I don't know. There were emotions within it, Tool, enough to make one despair.' After a moment he returned to cleaning the scrawny creature beneath his hands.



'Every gift is edged.'



Toc grimaced as he gutted the animal. 'Edged. I suppose so. I'm beginning to suspect the truth of the legends — lose an eye to receive the gift of true vision.'



'How did you lose your eye, Toc the Younger?'



'A sizzling chunk from Moon's Spawn — that deathly rain when the Enfilade was in full swing.'



'Stone.'



Toc nodded. 'Stone.' Then he stopped, looked up.



'Obelisk,' Tool said. 'In the ancient Deck of Holds, it was known as Menhir. Touched by stone, mortal — Chen're oral lich'fayle — there, on your brow. I give you a new name. Aral Fayle.'