'I am familiar with being a prisoner,' the Mhybe said, angry once again. 'But I warn you, Korlat — I warn you all, hatred is finding fertile soil within me. And in your compassion, in your every good intention, you nurture it. I beg you, let me end this.'

'No, and you underestimate our resilience, Mhybe. You'll not succeed in turning us away.'

'Then you shall indeed drag me into hatred, and the price will be all I hold dear within me, all that you might have once valued.'

'You would make our efforts worthless?'

'Not by choice, Korlat — and this is what I am telling you

— I have lost all choice. To my daughter. And now, to you.You will create of me a thing of spite, and I beg you again — if you care for me at all — to let me cease this terriblejourney.'

'I'll not give you permission to kill yourself, Mhybe. If it must be hate that fuels you, so be it. You are under the care — the guardianship — of the Tiste Andii, now.'

The Rhivi woman sagged, defeated. She struggled to fashion words for the feelings within her, and what came to her left her cold.

Self-pity. To this I have fallen …

All right, Korlat, you've won for now.

'Burn is dying.'

Caladan Brood and Anomander Rake stood alone in the tent, the remnants of tension still swirling around them. From the sounds in the clearing outside the mage Quick Ben seemed to have succeeded in pulling the massive wooden card back to the ground, and a discussion was under way as to what to do with it.

The Son of Darkness removed his gauntlets, letting them drop to the tabletop before facing the warlord. 'Barring the one thing you must not do, can you do nothing else?'

Brood shook his head. 'Old choices, friend — only the one possibility remains, as it always has. I am Tennes — the goddess's own warren — and what assails her assails me as well. Aye, I could shatter the one who has so infected her-'

'The Crippled God,' Rake murmured, going perfectly still. 'He has spent an eternity nurturing his spite — he will be without mercy, Brood. This is an old tale. We agreed — you, I, the Queen of Dreams, Hood — we all agreed …'

The warlord's broad face seemed on the verge of crumpling. Then he shook himself as would a bear, turned away. 'Almost twelve hundred years, this burden-'

'And if she dies?'

He shook his head. 'I do not know. Her warren dies, surely, that at the least, even as it becomes the Crippled God's pathway into every other warren … then they all die.'

'And with that, all sorcery.'

The warlord nodded, then drew a deep breath and straightened. 'Would that be so bad a thing, do you think?'

Rake snorted. 'You assume the destruction would end with that. It seems that, no matter which of the two choices is made, the Crippled God wins.'

'So it seems.'

'Yet, having made your choice, you gift this world, and everyone on it, with a few more generations of living-'

'Living, and dying, waging wars and unleashing slaughter. Of dreams, hopes and tragic ends-'

'Not a worthy track, these thoughts of yours, Caladan.' Rake stepped closer. 'You have done, you continue to do, all that could be asked of you. We were there to share your burden, back then, but it seems we are — each of us — ever drawn away, into our own interests. abandoning you. '

'Leave this path, Anomander. It avails us nothing. There are more immediate concerns to occupy this rare opportunity to speak in private.'

Rake's broad mouth found a thin smile. 'True enough.' He glanced over to the tent's entrance. 'Out there …' He faced Brood again, 'Given the infection of Tennes, was your challenge a bluff?'

The warlord bared his filed teeth. 'Somewhat, but not entirely. The question is not my ability to unleash power, it is the nature of that power. Wrought through with poison, rife with chaos-'

'Meaning it might well be wilder than your usual maelstrom? That is alarming indeed, Brood. Is Kallor aware of this?'

'No.'

Rake grunted. 'Best keep it that way.'

'Aye,' the warlord growled. 'So practise some restraint of your own, next time, Rake.'

The Tiste Andii walked over to pour himself some wine. 'Odd, I could have sworn I'd just done that.'

'We must now speak of the Pannion Domin.'

'A true mystery indeed, Caladan. Far more insidious than we had surmised. Layers of power, one hidden beneath another, then another. The Warren of Chaos lies at its heart, I suspect — and the Great Ravens concur.'