Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #1) 54

The figure had been a woman once, tall, with long black hair. But that woman had been long dead. Her flesh had withered and assumed the hue of dark wood. Perhaps the most horrific aspect of her was her limbs, which had been roughly sewn back on to her body. “Aye,” Kruppe whispered. This woman had been torn apart once.

The woman's head flew up and sightless eyes fixed upon Kruppe. She stopped, her mouth opening but no words coming forth.

Surreptitiously, Kruppe cast a spell upon himself, then looked at her yet again. He frowned. A spell had been woven about the woman, one of preservation. But something had happened to that spell, something had reshaped it. “Lass!” Kruppe barked. “I know you can hear me" He didn't know, but decided to insist in any case. “Your soul is trapped within a body that is not your own. It does not become you. I am named Kruppe, and I will lead you to succour. Come!” He spun round and began to walk. A moment later he heard a shuffling behind him, and smiled “Ah,” he whispered, “Kruppe has charms indeed. But more, he can be harsh when necessary.”

The fire had returned, a beacon e re'tern and Kruppe Q!axxr'tA ft3 three figures awaiting them. The vestiges of the spell he had cast upon himsell made the Tlan and the Rhivi blinding to his eyes, such was their power.

Pran Chole stepped forward. “Thank you, Kruppe.” He studied the woman and nodded slowly. “Yes, I see the effects of the Imass upon her.

“But there is more.” He looked to the Rhivi. “She was a mage once?”

The Rhivi moved close to the woman. “Hear me, lost one. Your name Tattersail, your sorcery is Thyr. The Warren flows within you now, it animates you, protects you.” She opened her robe once more. “It is time to bring you back into the world.”

Tattersail stepped back in alarm “Within you is the past,” Pran said. “My world. You know the present and the Rhivi offers you to the future. In this place all is merged. The flesh you wear has upon it a spell of preservation, and in your dying act you opened your Warren within the influence of Tellarm. And now you wander within a mortal's dream. Kruppe is the vessel of change. Permit I With a wordless cry Tattersail staggered into Pran's arms. The Rhivi

“My,” Kruppe breathed, “but Kruppe's dreams have taken a strange turn. While his own concerns are ever present, a haunting voice, once Kruppe looked up at the Elder God. “Kruppe asks for nothing. There is a gift in this, and I am glad to be part of its making.”

K'rul nodded. “Nevertheless. Speak to me of your efforts.”

“Rallick and Murillio seek to right an old wrong,” Kruppe said, with sigh. “They think me ignorant of their schemes, but I shall turn such schemes to my purposes. Guilt rides this decision, but they are needed.”

“Protection has been set in motion, though its final shaping i come. I know that the Malazan Empire acts covertly for the moment. What they seek-”

yet tc “Is anything but clear, Kruppe. Even to them. Use this to your advantage when you find them. Allies might come from surprising quarters. I will tell you this: two now approach the city, one is a T'lan Imass, the other a bane to magic. Their purposes are destructive, but already forces are in play attending to them. Seek knowledge of them, but do no openly oppose them. They are dangerous. Power attracts power, Kruppe. Leave them to the consequences of their actions.”

Kruppe nodded. “Kruppe is no fool, K'rul. He openly opposes no one, and he finds power a thing to be avoided at all costs.”

As they spoke the Rhivi woman had taken Tattersail in her arms. Pran Chole squatted nearby, his eyes closed and his lips forming silent words.

The Rhivi woman rocked the desiccated body in rhythmic motion, chanting softly. Water stained the Rhivi's thighs.

“Aye,” Kruppe whispered. “She prepares to give birth in truth.”

Abruptly the Rhivi tossed away the body. It crumpled in a lifeless heap.

The Moon now hung immediately overhead, so bright that Kruppe found he could not look at it directly.

The Rhivi had assumed a squatting position, moving with the rhythm of labour, her face sheathed in sweat. Pran Chole remained immobile, though his body was racked in shivering bouts that twisted his face with pain. His eyes opened wide, glowing bright amber, and fixed on the Moon.

“Elder God,” Kruppe said quietly, “how much will this Tattersail remember of her former life?”

“Unknown,” K'rul replied. “Soul-shifting is a delicate thing. The woman was consumed in a conflagration. Her soul's first flight was carried on wings of pain and violence. More, she entered another ravaged body, bearing its own traumas. The child that is born will be like no other ever seen. Its life is a mystery, Kruppe.”