‘No? Nothing?’ Salleen prompted. ‘Not even an appeal to D’rek for forgiveness?’
This announcement stung Tayschrenn like nothing else in the entire charade of the trial, the cowardly sentencing, and now this farcical perversion of mercy. ‘Forgiveness?’ he shouted, hoarse, his voice near cracking. ‘You are the ones who will beg for forgiveness!’ But Salleen had signalled the drummers and now their blasting cacophony robbed him of any hope of being heard. None the less, the dark bulk next to Salleen that was Tallow seemed to stir at his words, perhaps uneasy, perhaps worried that he would lash out now, at the end.
But he would give them no such satisfaction.
He would meet D’rek with more dignity and courage than any they could ever muster – though it annoyed him how his eyes did sting and water in the glare and he could not wipe them.
So he turned his back upon them to await the end. The thunder of the drums shook the sands beneath his feet, vibrating the ground, calling the denizens below. And there in the dark caverns and tunnels he knew they stirred, rising, heeding the summons. Soon they would be upon him, seething, pricking, filling his mouth and nose until he choked …
He blinked savagely, weaving upon his feet, suddenly unsteady.
The heat, he decided. Must be this damned heat …
The hissing of the horde’s arrival assaulted him then. Louder, it seemed, even than the drums. All about him, closing. He blinked the tears from his eyes, fought the rabid urge to flee. No, he thought to himself … Wait!
A tickling wave of thousands surged across his feet like a surf. Countless probosces probed his flesh. A million feet climbed his ankles.
Wait … No! This is not … I want to …
A rising numbness in his feet and legs now made it difficult to stand. He fell to his knees, or thought he did. Was this tide of vermin rising upon him or was he sinking into it? He could no longer tell.
The numbness took his chest and for this he was thankful, as a writhing layer of creatures now blanketed his clamped mouth and closed eyes. But he could not seal his nostrils and they entered there – the tiny silverfish and the smallest of the flesh-eating maggots. Then his breath exploded from him in a convulsive gasp and they foamed into his opened mouth as he inhaled.
He gagged and gagged, rolling and vomiting even as he fought to inhale. But no breath could breach the sea of writhing creatures choking him. He screamed mutely in an abhorrence and revulsion beyond any his mind could grasp, and, thankfully, it gave up. Darkness descended …
*
Though the Civic Pit lay far across the city, Silla could still hear the muted distant roar of the gathered crowd. Even in this court overlooking the sea from a far side chapel of the temple, even here she could not escape it.
As if she ever would for the rest of her life.
She wrung her cold hands together, pacing. Why was the fool still here! Wasn’t enough enough? Must he go to the end to prove his point?
That thought froze her in her pacing.
Of course he would. He was right. He knew he was right. And he would go to the end to prove it.
But Tallow had promised her it would never come to this. That he would send him away to a new life on the mainland.
The Invigilator! She grasped the stone lip of the ledge overlooking the sea. Damn the man! Nothing but lies!
She stilled, watching the dizzying glimmer of the waves far below. But that wasn’t true. He hadn’t lied. He’d showed her concocted evidence and testimony that he could’ve used to condemn Tayschrenn to the death of the Fang that very day in court. Only her cooperation had saved his life. Only her testimony saved him from the poison that day.
Only today …
She jumped then as the reverberation of the drums struck her.
He’s still there? Why? Why won’t he flee?
She pressed her fists to her mouth. Damn him! Damn the stubborn fool! Would he really be that wilfully determined? To go to his death rather than yield to anyone?
She nodded then, a fist at her mouth, and sighed. Yes … Yes, he would.
The distant commingled awe and delight of thousands now swelled and she clutched at the ledge for support. Great D’rek! He’s being taken! Taken!
And all because of her. No – she saved him! Saved his life that day. And Tallow assured her it wouldn’t come to this …
Tallow! She straightened then, her breath easing from her in a hiss. From inside her robes she drew a small sheathed dagger and examined the wax seal at the lip of the bronze sheath.
This she had meant for herself. But another had earned its kiss far more than she. She would play the part of the beaten-down disciple for now. Until the moment came. Then he would pay for his lies. He will pay.
She pushed the sheathed blade back down within her robes, wiped the wetness from her face, and slipped back within the temple precincts.
Chapter 15
Cartheron stood with Choss and Hawl on board the Twisted, awaiting Surly. It had been nearly a week since they’d limped into Malaz harbour, and now their commander wanted a detailed appraisal of the ship’s condition.
The news was grim and Surly, he knew, would not be happy.
He watched from the railing as she marched out on to the pier, accompanied by Urko, Shrift, and ten or so local Malazan toughs – her bodyguard now that they’d hardened their control of the majority of the island’s black market. Also trailing along was this new follower, Nedurian, old and scarred, in plain travel-stained leathers, looking more like a retired fisherman than a veteran mage. Cartheron had to say that he wasn’t certain he trusted the fellow yet.
The toughs remained at the gangway while Surly, Urko, Shrift and the mage came stamping up. On deck, she crossed her arms and faced him; her habitual sour expression demanded, Well? He noticed she favoured her side, where, he understood, Geffen had cut her quite badly before she broke his neck. Local healers had done their work, but these things still smarted, he knew.
Cartheron cleared his throat, glanced to Choss and Hawl. Might as well jump into the depths, he reasoned. ‘We recommend laying up the entire winter season for a proper refit.’
That he’d said the wrong thing was immediately evident in her flat side-to-side denial. ‘Not what I want to hear, Crust. I want off this island.’
‘We need the time,’ Choss put in. ‘We struck two ice floes.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be here all winter.’
‘She won’t be ready,’ Hawl said.
Shrift now waved her impatience, butting in. ‘What’s the problem? We just take another!’ She motioned all about. ‘There’re plenty.’
‘Not like this one,’ Nedurian drawled from where he leaned against the railing outside their circle.
Shrift turned a sneer on the man. For some unknown reason the swordswoman had no time for the mage. ‘Oh? How so?’
By way of answer, the fellow rested his lazy gaze on Hawl. ‘Because she’s ensorcelled. Isn’t that so, Hawl?’
Hawl eyed him in turn, then nodded. ‘Aye.’