'Against the Jaghut,' Kallor rasped. His narrow, withered face twisted into a sneer behind the already-drying blood. 'Apart from a handful of Tyrants, the Jaghut were pacifists. Their only crime was to exist-'

Silverfox rounded on the warrior. 'Do not hint at injustices, High King! I possess enough of Nightchill's memories to recall the Imperial Warren — the place you once ruled, Kallor, before the Malazans made claim to it. You laid waste an entire realm — you stripped the life from it, left nothing but ash and charred bones. An entire realm!'

The tall warrior's blood-smeared grin was ghastly. 'Ah, you are there, aren't you. But hiding, I think, twisting the truth into false memories. Hiding, you pathetic, cursed woman!' His smile hardened. 'Then you should know not to test my temper, Bonecaster. Tattersail. Nightchill. dear child. .'

The Mhybe saw her daughter pale. Between these two. the feel of a long enmity — why had I not seen that before? There are old memories here, a link between them. Between my daughter and Kallor — no, between Kallor and one of the souls within her.

After a moment, Silverfox returned her attention to Dujek. 'To answer you, Logros and the clans under his command were entrusted with the task of defending the First Throne. The other armies departed to hunt down the last Jaghut strongholds — the Jaghut had raised barriers of ice. Omtose Phellack is a warren of ice, High Fist, a place deathly cold and almost lifeless. Jaghut sorceries threatened the world. sea levels dropped, whole species died out — every mountain range was a barrier. Ice flowed in white rivers down from the slopes. Ice formed a league deep in places. As mortals, the Imass were scattered, their unity lost. They could not cross such barriers. There was starvation-'

'The war against the Jaghut had begun long before then,' Kallor snapped. 'They sought to defend themselves, and who would not?'

Silverfox simply shrugged. 'As Tellann undead, our armies could cross such barriers. The efforts at eradication proved … costly. You have heard no whispers of those armies because many have been decimated, whilst others perhaps continue the war in distant, inhospitable places.'

There was a pained expression on the High Fist's face. 'The Logros themselves left the empire and disappeared into the Jhag Odhan for a time, and when they returned they were much diminished.'

She nodded.

'Have the Logros answered your call?'

Frowning, the girl said, 'I cannot be certain of that — of any of them. They have heard. All will come if they are able, and I sense the nearness of one army — at least I think I do.'

There is so much you are not telling us, daughter. I can see it in your eyes. You fear your call for help will go unanswered if you reveal too much.

Dujek sighed and faced the warlord. 'Caladan Brood, shall we resume our discussion of strategy?'

The soldiers once again leaned over the map table, joined by a softly cackling Crone. After a moment, the Mhybe collected her daughter's hand and guided her towards the entrance. Korlat joined them as they made their way out. To the Mhybe's surprise, Whiskeyjack followed.

The cool afternoon breeze was welcome after the close confines of the command tent. Without a word, the small group walked a short distance to a clearing between the Tiste Andii and Barghast encampments. Once they halted, the commander fixed his grey eyes on Silverfox.

'I see much of Tattersail in you, lass — how much of her life, her memories, do you recall?'

'Faces,' she answered, with a tentative smile. 'And the feelings attached to them, Commander. You and I were allies for a time. We were, I think, friends …'

His nod was grave. 'Aye, we were. Do you remember Quick Ben? The rest of my squad? What of Hairlock? Tayschrenn? Do you recall Captain Paran?'

'Quick Ben,' she whispered uncertainly. 'A mage? Seven Cities … a man of secrets … yes,' she smiled again, 'Quick Ben. Hairlock — not a friend, a threat — he caused me pain. '

'He's dead, now.'

'I am relieved. Tayschrenn is a name I've heard recently — Laseen's favoured High Mage — we sparred, he and I, when I was Tattersail, and, indeed, when I was Nightchill. No sense of loyalty, no sense of trust — thoughts of him confuse me.'

'And the captain?'

Something in the commander's tone brought the Mhybe alert.

Silverfox glanced away from Whiskeyjack's eyes. 'I look forward to seeing him again.'

The commander cleared his throat. 'He's in Pale right now. While it's not my business, lass, you might want to consider the consequences of meeting him, of, uh, his finding out. ' His words trailed away in evident discomfort.