Memories of Ice

Whiskeyjack grimaced. 'I'm not much for spinning entertaining tales. I appreciate your patience.'



'Perhaps I can redress the balance some other evening — I've a few stories of my own.'



'I'm sure you have,' Whiskeyjack managed.



They released their grips and the commander turned to the entrance.



Behind him, Rake spoke, 'One last thing. Silverfox need have nothing to fear from me. More, I will instruct Kallor accordingly.'



Whiskeyjack looked down at the ground for a moment. 'I thank you, Lord,' he breathed, then made his way out.



Gods below, I have made a friend this night. When did I last stumble on such a gift? I cannot remember. Hood's breath, I cannot.



Standing at the tent entrance, Anomander Rake watched the old man limp away down the track.



A soft patter of taloned feet approached from behind. 'Master,' Crone muttered, 'was that wise?'



'What do you mean?' he asked distractedly.



'There is a price for making friends among such short-lived mortals — as you well can attest from your own typically tragic memories.'



'Careful, hag.'



'Do you deny the truth of my words, Lord?'



'One can find precious value in brevity.'



The Great Raven cocked her head. 'Honest observation? Dangerous admonition? Twisted and all too unhappy wisdom? I doubt you'll elaborate. You won't, will you? You'll leave me wondering, pecking endlessly in fretful obsession! You pig!'



'Do you smell carrion on the wind, my dear? I swear I do. Why not go find it. Now. This instant. And once you have filled your belly, find Kallor and bring him to me.'



With a snarl the Great Raven leapt outside, wings spreading explosively, heaving the huge bird skyward.



'Korlat,' Rake murmured. 'Attend me, please.' He swung back to the tent's interior. Moments later Korlat arrived. Rake remained facing the back wall.



'Lord?'



'I shall depart for a short time. I feel the need for Silannah's comfort.'



'She will welcome your return, Lord.'



'A few days' absence, no more than that.'



'Understood.'



Rake faced her. 'Extend your protection to Silverfox.'



'I am pleased by the instruction.'



'Unseen watchers on Kallor as well. Should he err, call upon me instantly, but do not hesitate in commanding the full force of the Tiste Andii down upon him. At the very least, I can be witness to the gathering of his pieces.'



'The full force, Lord? We have not done so in a long, long time. Do you believe it will be necessary in destroying Kallor?'



'I cannot be sure, Korlat. Why risk otherwise?'



'Very well. I shall begin the preparation for our warrens' joining.'



'I see that it troubles you none the less.'



'There are eleven hundred Tiste Andii, Lord.'



'I am aware of that, Korlat.'



'At the Chaining, there were but forty of us, yet we destroyed the Crippled God's entire realm — granted, a nascent realm. None the less, Lord. Eleven hundred … we risk devastating this entire continent.'



Rake's eyes grew veiled. 'I would advise some restraint in the unleashing, Korlat, should it prove necessary to collectively release Kurald Galain. Brood would not be pleased. I suspect that Kallor will do nothing precipitous, in any case. These are all but precautions.'



'Understood.'



He turned back to the tent's interior. 'That will be all, Korlat.'



The Mhybe dreamed. Once more — after so long — she found herself wandering the tundra, the lichen and moss crunching underfoot as a dry wind swept over her, smelling of dead ice. She walked without aches, heard no rattle deep in her chest as she breathed the crisp air. She had returned, she realized, to the place of her daughter's birth.



Tellann's warren, a place not where, but when. The time of youth. For the world. For me.



She lifted her arms, saw their amber smoothness, the tendons and roped veins of her hands almost undiscernible beneath plump flesh.



I am young. I am as I should be.



Not a gift. No, this was torture. She knew she was dreaming; she knew what she would find when she awakened.



A small herd of some ancient, long-extinct beast rolled soft thunder through the hard earth beneath her moccasined feet, running parallel to the path she had chosen along a ridge, their humped backs appearing every now and then above the crest — a blurred flow of burnt umber. Something within her stirred, a quiet exultation to answer the majesty of those creatures.



Kin to the bhederin, only larger, with horns spreading out to the sides, massive, regal.