Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"With what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then it goes on Selush's account, meaning you just have to pay later. '\\n\\n\\\"Fine.\\\"\\n\\nShurq Elalle stood in front of the long silver mirror. Instinct had her gauging the worth of all that silver fora moment before she finally focused on the reflected image. A healthy pallor to her skin, her cheeks glowing with vigour. Her hair was clean and had been cut for the first time in years, scented with a hint of patchouli oil. The whites of her eyes were clear, a wet gleam reflecting from her pupils.\\n\\nThe rotted leathers and linen of her clothing had been replaced with black silks beneath a short black calf-hide jacket. Anew weapons belt, tanned leggings and high boots. Tight leather gloves. \\\"I look like a whore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not any old whore, though, right?\\\" Selush said.\\n\\n\\\"True, I'll take your coin then kill you. That's how I look.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are plenty of men out there who'll go for that, you know. '\\n\\n\\\"Getting killed?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Absolutely. In any case, I was led to believe that wasn't your profession. Although I suppose you might feel inclined to try something new– how does the ootooloo feel, by the way? '\\n\\n\\\"Hungry. Can't I feed it, uh, something else? '\\n\\nSelush's eyes sparkled.\\\"Experimentation, that's the spirit!\\\"\\n\\nSome comments, the undead woman reflected, deserved no response.\\n\\nShurq Elalle flexed the muscles that would permit her to draw breath– they were long out of practice, and it was strange to feel the still vague and remote sense of air sliding down her throat and filling her chest. After the pump, there had been infusions. The breath she released smelled of cinnamon and myrrh. Better than river mud any day.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your work is acceptable,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Well, that's a relief! It's nearly dawn, and I'm starving. Shall we test you out, dear? I imagine my assistant and Tehol are at the local establishment, breaking their fast. Let us join them. '\\n\\n\\\"I thought I wasn't supposed to eat or drink. '\\n\\n\\\"No, but you can preen and flirt, can't you? '\\n\\nShurq stared at the woman.\\n\\nSelush smiled. Then her eyelids fluttered and she turned away. \\\"Where's my shawl? '\\n\\nKuru Qan had left and returned with two assistants who carried Brys back to the Ceda's chambers, where he was laid down on a bench and plied with various liquids and food. Even so, strength was slow to return and he was still lying supine, head propped upon a cushion, when the doors opened and First Eunuch Nifadas entered.\\n\\nHis small eyes glittered as he looked down on Brys. \\\"King's Champion, are you well enough to meet your king? He will be herein a moment. '\\n\\nBrys struggled to sit straighter. \\\"This is unfortunate. I am, for the moment, unequal to my responsibilities-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never mind that, Finadd. Your king seeks only to ensure you will recover from your ordeal. Genuine concern motivates Ezgara Diskanar in this instance. Please, remain where you are. I have never seen you so pale.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something has fed on his blood,\\\" Kuru Qan said, \\\"but he will not tell me what it was.\\\"\\n\\nNifadas pursed his lips as he regarded Brys. \\\"I cannot imagine that a god would do such a thing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Mael was not there, First Eunuch,\\\" Brys said. \\\"The Tiste Edur found something else, and have bound it to their service.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can you tell us what this thing is?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A forgotten god, but that is the extent of my knowledge. I do not know its nature, nor the full breadth of its power. It is old, older than the ocean itself. Whatever worshipped it was not human.\\\"\\n\\nA voice spoke from the doorway. \\\"I am ever careless with my assets, although the Errant has spared me the cruellest consequence thus far, for which I am thankful.\\\"\\n\\nKuru Qan and Nifadas both bowed low as Ezgara Diskanar entered the chamber. In his sixth decade, the king's features remained surprisingly youthful. He was of average height, slightly on the lean side, his gestures revealing a nervous energy that seemed tireless. The bones beneath his features were prominent and somewhat asymmetrical, the result of a childhood incident with a bad-tempered horse. Right cheekbone and orbital arch sat flatter and higher than their counterparts on the left side of the king's face, making the eye on that side seem larger and rounder. It was a poorly functioning eye and had a tendency to wander independently when Ezgara was irritated or weary. Healers could have corrected the damage, but the king forbade it– even as a child, he had been obstinate and wilful, and not in the least concerned with outward appearance.\\n\\nFurther proof of that observation was evinced in his modest attire, more befitting a citizen in the markets than a king.\\n\\nBrys managed a slight bow from his reclined position. \\\"My apologies, your highness-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None needed, Finadd,\\\" Ezgara Diskanar cut in, waving a hand. \\\"Indeed, it is I who must apologize to you. Unpleasant tasks that take you from your official functions. I have sorely abused your loyalty, my young Champion. And you have suffered for it.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I shall recover, sire,\\\" Brys said.\\n\\nEzgara smiled, then surveyed the others in the room. \\\"Well, this is a fell gathering, isn't it? We should be relieved that my dearest wife is at the moment senseless beneath an exhausted consort, so that even her most trusted spies dare not intrude to report on this meeting. Hopefully, when that finally occurs, it will be far too late. '\\n\\nNifadas spoke. \\\"My king, I shall be the first to take my leave, if you will permit. The hour of my departure from the city fast approaches, and my preparations are far from complete.\\\"\\n\\nEzgara's lopsided smile broadened.\\\"First Eunuch, your diligence in such matters is legendary, leaving me sceptical of your claims. None the less, you have my leave, if only that you might ensure your spies are made aware of precisely when her spies make their report, so that they in turn may report to you and you may then report tome. Although what I am to do with such knowledge will no doubt escape me, given that the event initiating these flurries of reporting is none other than the one occurring right now in this room. '\\n\\nNifadas bowed. \\\"None can rest in this dance, sire, as you well know.\\\"\\n\\nThe king's smile tightened.\\\"Well I do, indeed, First Eunuch. Be off with you, then. '\\n\\nBrys watched Nifadas depart. As soon as the door was closed the king faced Kuru Qan. \\\"Ceda, the Chancellor continues to petition against Finadd Gerun Eberict's attachment to the delegation. His arguments are persuasive. '\\n\\n\\\"He fears for the life of your son, your highness.\\\"\\n\\nEzgara nodded. \\\"And has the Finadd's restraint so weakened that he might murder my heir? '\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":79,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 13"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The pigeons overhead whipped round and round, the only sound in the massive barn.\n\n\"Contestants to the Empty Throne,\" Feather Witch whispered in atone heavy with sorrow. \"Blood and madness...\"\n\nUdinaas slowly released his grip on Seren Pedac.\n\nShe made no move, as frozen in place as everyone else present.\n\nUdinaas grunted, amused, and said to the Acquitor, \"She's not slept well lately, you see. '\n\n---\n\nSeren Pedac staggered outside, into a solid sheet of cold rain. A hissing deluge on the path's pebbles, tiny rivers cutting through the sands, the forest beyond seeming pulled down by streaming threads and ropes. An angry susurration from the direction of the river and the sea. As if the world was collapsing in melt water.\n\nShe blinked against the cold tears.\n\nAnd recalled the play of Edur children, the oblivious chatter of a thousand moments ago, so far back in her mind now as to echo like someone else's reminiscence. Of times weathered slick and shapeless.\n\nMemories rushing, rushing down to the sea.\n\nLike children in flight."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Where are the days we once held So loose in our sure hands? When did these racing streams Carve depthless caves beneath our feet? And how did this scene stagger And shift to make fraught our deft lies In the places where youth will meet, In the lands of our proud dreams? Where, among all you before me, Are the faces I once knew?\n\nWords etched into the wall, K'rul Belfry, Darujhistan\n\nIn the battle that saw Theradas Buhn blooded, a Merude cutlass had laid open his right cheek, snapping the bone beneath the eye and cutting through maxilla and the upper half of his mandible. The savage wound had been slow to heal, and the thread that had been used to seal the gaping hole into his mouth had festered the flesh before his comrades could return the warrior to a nearby Hiroth encampment, where a healer had done what she could– driving out the infection, knitting the bones. The result was along, crooked scar within a seamed concave depression on that side of his face, and a certain flat look to his eyes that hinted of unseen wounds that would never heal.\n\nTrull Sengar sat with the others five paces from the edge of the ice-field, watching Theradas as he paced back and forth along the crusted line of ice and snow, the red-tipped fox fur of his cloak flashing in the gusting wind. The Arapay lands were behind them now, and with them the grudging hospitality of that subjugated Edur tribe. The Hiroth warriors were alone, and before them stretched a white, shattered landscape.\n\nIt looked lifeless, but the Arapay had spoken of night hunters, strange, fur-shrouded killers who came out of the darkness wielding jagged blades of black iron. They took body parts as trophies, to the point of leaving limbless, headless torsos in their wake. None had ever been captured, and the bodies of those who fell were never left where they lay."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Even so, they tended to prey only upon paired Edur hunters. More formidable groups were generally left alone. The Arapay called them Jheck, which meant, roughly, standing wolves.\n\n\"There are eyes upon us,\" Theradas pronounced in his thick, blunted voice.\n\nFear Sengar shrugged. \"The ice wastes are not as lifeless as they appear. Hares, foxes, ground owls, white wolves, bears, aranag-\"\n\n\"The Arapay spoke of huge beasts,\" Rhulad cut in. \"Brown-furred and tusked– we saw the ivory-\"\n\n\"Old ivory, Rhulad,\" Fear said. \"Found in the ice. It is likely such beasts are no more.\"\n\n\"The Arapay say otherwise.\"\n\nTheradas grunted. \"And they live in fear of the ice wastes, Rhulad, and so have filled them with nightmare beasts and demons. It is this: we will see what we see. Are you done your repasts? We are losing daylight.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Fear said, rising, \"we should goon.\"\n\nRhulad and Midik Buhn moved out to the flanks. Both wore bear furs, black and silver-collared. Their hands, within fur-lined gauntlets– Arapay gifts– were wrapped round the long spears they used as walking sticks, testing the packed snow before them with each step. Theradas moved to point, fifteen paces ahead, leaving Trull, Fear and Binadas travelling as the core group, pulling the two sleds packed with leather satchels filled with supplies.\n\nIt was said that, further out in the wastes, there was water beneath the ice, salt-laden remnants from an inland sea, and cavernous pockets hidden beneath thin-skin mantles of snow. Treachery waited underfoot, forcing them to travel slowly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The windswept down upon them, biting at exposed skin, and they were forced to lean forward against its gusting, frigid blasts.\n\nDespite the furs enshrouding him, Trull felt the shock of that sudden cold, a force mindless and indifferent, yet eager to steal. Flooding his air passages in a numbing assault. And within that current, a faint smell of death.\n\nThe Edur wrapped swaths of wool about their faces, leaving the barest of slits for their eyes. Conversations were quickly abandoned, and they walked in silence, the crunch of their fur-lined moccasins muffled and distant.\n\nThe sun's warmth and turn of season could not win the war in this place. The snow and ice rose on the wind to glitter overhead, mocking the sun itself with twin mirror images, leading Trull to suspect that the wind held close to the ground, whilst high overhead the suspended ice crystals hovered unmoving, inured to the passing of seasons, of years.\n\nHe tilted his head to stare upward fora moment, wondering if that glistening, near-opaque canopy above them held the frozen memories of the past, minute images locked in each crystal, bearing witness to all that had occurred below. A multitude of fates, perhaps reaching back to when there was sea, in place of the ice. Did unknown creatures ply the waters in arcane, dugout canoes all those thousands of years ago? Would they one day become these Jheck?\n\nThe Letherii spoke of Holds, that strange pantheon of elements, and among them there was the Hold of Ice. As if winter was born of sorcery, as if ice and snow were instruments of wilful destruction. Something of that notion was present in Edur legends as well. Ice plunging down to steal the land that was soaked in Tiste blood, the brutal theft of hard-won territories committed as an act of vengeance, perhaps the gelid flowering of some curse uttered in a last breath, a final defiance."},{"from":"human","value":"The sentiment, then– if one such existed– was of old enmity."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ice was a thief, of life, land and righteous reward. Bound in death and blood, an eternal prison. From all this, it could earn hatred.\n\nThey continued through the day, moving slowly but steadily, through jumbled fields of broken, upthrust shards of ice that in the distance seemed simply white, but when neared was revealed to possess countless shades of greens, blues and browns. They crossed flats of wind-sculpted, hard-packed snow that formed rippled patterns as smooth as sand. Strange fault lines where unseen forces had sheered the ice, pushing one side up against the other, grinding opposing paths as if the solid world beneath them jostled in wayward migration.\n\nTowards late afternoon, a muted shout from Theradas halted them. Trull, who had been walking with his eyes on the ground before him, looked up at the muffled sound and saw that Theradas was standing before something, gesturing them forward with a fur-wrapped hand. A few moments later they reached his side.\n\nAbroad crevasse cut across their path, the span at least fifteen paces. The sheer walls of ice swept down into darkness, and from its depths rose a strange smell.\n\n\"Salt,\" Binadas said after pulling away his face-covering. \"Tidal pools.\"\n\nRhulad and Midik joined them from the flanks. \"It seems to stretch to the very horizon,\" Rhulad said.\n\n\"The break looks recent,\" Binadas observed, crouching at the edge. \"As if the surface is shrinking.\"\n\n\"Perhaps summer has managed a modest alteration to these wastes,\" Fear mused. \"We have passed sealed faults that might be the remnant scars from similar wounds in the past.\"\n\n\"How will we cross?\" Midik asked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I could draw shadows from below,\" Binadas said, then shook his head, \"but the notion makes me uneasy. If there are spirits within, they might well prove unruly. There are layers of sorcery here, woven in the snow and ice, and they do not welcome Emurlahn.\"\n\n\"Get out the ropes,\" Fear said.\n\n\"Dusk approaches.\"\n\n\"If necessary we will camp below.\"\n\nTrull shot Fear a look. \"What if it closes whilst we are down there?\"\n\n\"I do not think that likely,\" Fear said. \"Besides, we will remain unseen this night, hidden as we will be in the depths. If there are indeed beasts in this land– though we've seen no true sign as yet– then I would rather we took every opportunity to avoid them. '\n\nWet pebbles skidded under his moccasins as Trull alighted, stepping clear of the ropes. He looked around, surprised at the faint green glow suffusing the scene. They were indeed on a seabed. Salt had rotted the ice at the edges, creating vast caverns crowded with glittering pillars. The air was cold, turgid and rank.\n\nOff to one side Midik and Rhulad had drawn bundles of wood out from a pack and were preparing a cookfire. Binadas and Fear were reloading the sleds to keep the food satchels off the wet ground, and Theradas had set off to scout the caverns.\n\nTrull strode to a shallow pool and crouched down at its edge. The saline water swarmed with tiny grey shrimps. Barnacles crowded the waterline.\n\n\"The ice is dying.\"\n\nAt Fear's words behind him, Trull rose and faced his brother.\"Why do you say that? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The salt gnaws its flesh. We are at the lowest region of the ancient seabed, I believe. Where the last of the water gathered, then slowly evaporated. Those columns of salt are all that remains. If the entire basin was like this place, then the canopy of ice would have collapsed-\"\n\n\"Perhaps it does just that,\" Binadas suggested, joining them. \"In cycles over thousands of years. Collapse, then the salt begins its work once again.\"\n\nTrull stared into the gloomy reaches. \"I cannot believe those pillars can holdup all this ice. There must be a cycle of collapse, as Binadas has said.\" His eyes caught movement, then Theradas emerged, and Trull saw that the warrior had his sword out.\n\n\"There is a path,\" Theradas said. \"And a place of gathering. We are not the first to have comedown here.\"\n\nRhulad and Midik joined them. No-one spoke fora time.\n\nThen Fear nodded and asked, \"How recent are the signs, Theradas?\"\n\n\"Days.\"\n\n\"Binadas and Trull, go with Theradas to this place of gathering. I will remain herewith the Unblooded.\"\n\nThe path began twenty paces in from the crevasse, a trail cleared of cobbles and detritus that wound between the rough, crystalline columns of salt. Melt water dripped from the rotting ceiling in a steady downpour. Theradas led them onward another thirty paces, where the path ended at the edge of avast roughly domed expanse devoid of pillars.\n\nNear the centre squatted a low, misshapen altar stone. Votive offerings surrounded it– shells, mostly, among which the odd piece of carved ivory was visible. Yet Trull spared it but a momentary glance, for his gaze had been drawn to the far wall."},{"from":"human","value":"A sheer plane of ice a hundred paces or more across, rising in a tilted overhang– a wall in which countless beasts had been caught in mid-stampede, frozen in full flight."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Antlers projected from the ice, heads and shoulders– still solid and immobile– and forelegs lifted or stretched forward. Frost-rimed eyes dully reflected the muted blue-green light. Deeper within, the blurred shapes of hundreds more.\n\nStunned by the vista, Trull slowly walked closer, round the altar, half expecting at any moment to seethe charging beasts burst into sudden motion, onrushing, to crush them all beneath countless hoofs.\n\nAshe neared, he saw heaped bodies near the base, beasts that had fallen out from the retreating ice, had thawed, eventually collapsing into viscid pools.\n\nTiny black flies rose in clouds from the decaying flesh and hide, swarmed towards Trull as if determined to defend their feast. He halted, waved his hands until they dispersed and began winging back to the rotting carcasses. The beasts– caribou– had been running on snow, a packed layer kneedeep above the seabed. He could still seethe panic in their eyes– and there, smeared behind an arm's length of ice, the head and shoulders of an enormous wolf, silver-haired and amber-eyed, running alongside a caribou, shoulder to shoulder. The wolf's head was raised, jaws open, close to the victim's neck. Canines as long as Trull's thumb gleamed beneath peeled-back lips.\n\nNature's drama, life unheeding of the cataclysm that rushed upon it from behind– or above. The brutal hand of a god as indifferent as the beasts themselves.\n\nBinadas came to his side. \"This was born of a warren,\" he said.\n\nTrull nodded. Sorcery. Nothing else made sense. \"A god.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, but not necessarily so, brother. Some forces need only be unleashed. A natural momentum then burgeons.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Hold of Ice,\" Trull said. \"Such as the Letherii describe in their faith.\"\n\n\"The Hand of the Watcher,\" Binadas said, \"who waited until the war was done before striding forward to unleash his power.\"\n\nTrull had thought himself more knowledgeable than most Edur warriors regarding the old legends of their people. With Binadas's words echoing in his head, however, he felt woefully ignorant.\"Where have they gone? \"he asked.\"Those powers of old? Why do we dwell as if... as if ahne? '\n\nHis brother shrugged, ever reluctant to surrender his reserve, his mindful silence. \"We remain alone,\" he finally said, \"to preserve the sanctity of our past.\"\n\nTrull considered this, his gaze travelling over the tableau before him, those dark, murky lives that could not outrun their doom, then said, \"Our cherished truths are vulnerable.\"\n\n\"To challenge, yes.\"\n\n\"And the salt gnaws at the ice beneath us, until our world grows perilously thin beneath our feet.\"\n\n\"Until what was frozen... thaws.\"\n\nTrull took a step closer to the one of the charging caribou. \"What thaws in turn collapses and falls to the ground. And rots, Binadas. The past is covered in flies.\"\n\nHis brother walked towards the altar, and said, \"The ones who kneel before this shrine were here only a few days ago.\"\n\n\"They did not come the way we did.\"\n\n\"No doubt there are other paths into this underworld.\"\n\nTrull glanced over at Theradas, only now recalling his presence. The warrior stood at the threshold, his breath pluming in the air."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We should return to the others,\" Binadas said. \"We have far to walk tomorrow.\"\n\nThe night passed, damp, cold, the melt water ceaselessly whispering. Each Edur stood watch in turn, wrapped in furs and weapons at the ready. But there was nothing to see in the dull, faintly luminescent light. Ice, water and stone, death, hungry motion and impermeable bones, a blind triumvirate ruling a gelid realm.\n\nJust before dawn the company rose, ate a quick meal, then Rhulad clambered up the ropes, trusting to the spikes driven into the ice far overhead, about two-thirds of the way, where the fissure narrowed in one place sufficient to permit across-over to the north wall. Beyond that point, Rhulad began hammering new spikes into the ice. Splinters and shards rained down on the waiters below fora time, then there came a distant shout from Rhulad. Midik went to the ropes and began climbing, while Trull and Fear bound the food packs to braided leather lines. The sleds would be pulled up last.\n\n\"Today,\" Binadas said, \"we will have to be careful. They will know we were here, that we found their shrine.\"\n\nTrull glanced over. \"But we did not desecrate it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps our presence alone was sufficient outrage, brother.\"\n\nThe sun was above the horizon by the time the Edur warriors were assembled on the other side of the crevasse, the sleds loaded and ready. The sky was clear and there was no wind, yet the air was bitter cold. The sun's fiery ball was flanked on either side by smaller versions– sharper and brighter than last time, as if in the course of the night just past the world above them had completed its transformation from the one they knew to something strange and forbidding, inimical to life."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Theradas in the lead once more, they set out.\n\nIce crunching underfoot, the hiss and clatter of the antler-rimmed sled runners, and a hissing sound both close and distant, as if silence had itself grown audible, a sound that Trull finally understood was the rush of his own blood, woven in and around the rhythm of his breath, the drum of his heart. The glare burned his eyes. His lungs stung with every rush of air.\n\nThe Edur did not belong in this landscape. The Hold of Ice. Feared by the Letherii. Stealer of life– why has Harmon Mosag sent us here?\n\nTheradas halted and turned about. \"Wolf tracks,\" he said, \"heavy enough to breakthrough the crust of snow.\"\n\nThey reached him, stopped the sleds. Trull drew the harness from his aching shoulders.\n\nThe tracks cut across their route, heading west. They were huge.\n\n\"These belong to a creature such as the one we saw in the ice last night,\" Binadas said. \"What do they hunt? We've seen nothing. '\n\nFear grunted, then said, \"That does not mean much, brother. We are not quiet travellers, with these sleds.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" Binadas replied, \"herds leave sign. We should have come upon something, by now.\"\n\nThey resumed the journey.\n\nShortly past midday Fear called a halt for another meal. The plain of ice stretched out flat and featureless on all sides.\n\n\"There's nothing to worry about out here, \"Rhulad said, sitting on one of the sleds.\"We can see anyone coming... or anything, for that matter. Tell us, Fear, how much farther will we go? Where is this gift that Hannan Mosag wants us to find? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Another day to the north,\" Fear replied.\n\n\"If it is indeed a gift,\" Trull asked, \"who is offering it?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\nNo-one spoke fora time.\n\nTrull studied the hard-packed snow at his feet, his unease deepening. Something ominous hung in the still, frigid air. Their solitude suddenly seemed threatening, absence a promise of unknown danger. Yet he was among blood kin, among Hiroth warriors. Thus.\n\nStill, why does this gift stink of death?\n\nAnother night. The tents were raised, a meal cooked, then the watches were set. Trull's was first. He walked the perimeter of their camp, spear in hand, in a continuous circuit in order to keep awake. The food in his stomach made him drowsy, and the sheer emptiness of the ice wastes seemed to project a force that dulled concentration. Overhead the sky was alive with strange, shifting hues that rose and fell in disconnected patterns. He had seen such things before, in the deepest winter in Hiroth lands, but never as sharp, never as flush, voicing a strange hissing song as of broken glass crunching underfoot.\n\nWhen it was time, he awoke Theradas. The warrior emerged from his tent and rose, adjusting his fur cloak until it wrapped him tightly, then drawing his sword. He glared at the lively night sky, but said nothing.\n\nTrull crawled into the tent. The air within was damp. Ice had formed on the tent walls, etching maps of unknown worlds on the stretched, waxy fabric. From outside came the steady footsteps of Theradas as he walked his rounds. The sound followed Trull into sleep.\n\nDisjointed dreams followed. He saw Mayen, naked in the forest, settling down atop a man, then writhing with hungry lust. He stumbled closer, ever seeking to see that man's face, to discover who it was– and instead he found himself lost, the forest unreadable, unrecognizable, a sensation he had never experienced before, and it left him terrified. Trembling on his knees in the wet loam, while from somewhere beyond he could hear her cries of pleasure, bestial and rhythmic."},{"from":"human","value":"And desire rose within him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Not for Mayen, but for what she had found, in her wild release, closing down into the moment, into the present, future and past without meaning. A moment unmindful of consequences. His hunger became a pain within him, lodged like a broken knife-tip in his chest, cutting with each ragged breath, and in his dream he cried out, as if answering Mayen's own voice, and he heard her laugh with recognition. A laugh inviting him to join her world.\n\nMayen, his brother's betrothed. A detached part of his mind remained cool and objective, almost sardonic in its self-regard. Understanding the nature of this web, this sideways envy and his own burgeoning appetites.\n\nEdur males were slow to such things. It was the reason betrothal and marriage followed at least a decade– often two– of full adulthood. Edur women arrived at their womanly hungers far earlier in their lives. It was whispered, among the men, that they often made use of the Letherii slaves, but Trull doubted the truth of that. It seemed... inconceivable.\n\nThe detached self was amused by that, as if derisive of Trull's own naivety.\n\nHe awoke chilled, weak with doubts and confusion, and lay fora time in the pale half-light that preceded dawn, watching his breath plume in the close air of the tent.\n\nSomething gnawed at him, but it was along time before he realized what it was. No footsteps.\n\nTrull scrambled from the tent, stumbling on the snow and ice, and straightened.\n\nIt was Rhulad's watch. Near the dead fire, the hunched, bundled form of his brother, seated with hooded head bowed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Trull strode up to stand behind Rhulad. Sudden rage took him with the realization that his brother slept. He lifted his spear into both hands, then swung the butt end in a snapping motion that connected with the side of Rhulad's head.\n\nA muffled crack that sent his brother pitching to one side. Rhulad loosed a piercing shriek as he sprawled on the hard-packed snow, then rolled onto his back, scrabbling for his sword.\n\nTrull's spear-point was at his brother's neck. \"You slept on your watch!\" he hissed.\n\n\"I did not!\"\n\n\"I saw you sleeping! I walked right up to you!\"\n\n\"I did not!\" Rhulad scrambled to his feet, one handheld against the side of his head.\n\nThe others were emerging now from their tents. Fear stared at Trull and Rhulad fora moment, then turned to the packs.\n\nTrull was trembling, drawing deep, frigid breaths. Fora moment, it struck him how disproportionate his anger was, then the magnitude of the risk flooded through him yet again.\n\n\"We have had visitors,\" Fear announced, rising and scanning the frozen ground. \"They left no tracks-\"\n\n\"How do you know, then?\" Rhulad demanded.\n\n\"Because all our food is gone, Rhulad. It seems we shall grow hungry fora time.\"\n\nTheradas swore and began a wider circuit, seeking a trail.\n\nThey were among us. The Jheck. They could have killed us all where we slept. All because Rhulad will not grasp what it is to be a warrior. There was nothing more to be said, and all knew it.\n\nExcept for Rhulad. \"I wasn't sleeping! I swear it! Fear, you have to believe me! I simply sat down fora moment to rest my legs. I saw no'one!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Behind closed lids,\" Theradas growled, \"that's not surprising. '\n\n\"You think I'm lying, but I'm not! I'm telling the truth, I swear it! '\n\n\"Never mind,\" Fear said. \"It is done. From now on, we will double the watch.\"\n\nRhulad walked towards Midik. \"You believe me, don't you? '\n\nMidik Buhn turned away. \"It was a battle just waking you for your watch, Rhulad,\" he said, his tone both sad and weary.\n\nRhulad stood as if in shock, the pain of what he saw as betrayal clear and deep-struck on his face. His lips thinned, jaw muscles bunching, and he slowly turned away.\n\nThe bastards were in our camp. Hannan Mosag's faith in us...\n\n\"Let us strike the tents,\" Fear said, \"and be on our way.\"\n\nTrull found himself scanning the horizon in an endless sweep, his sense of vulnerability at times near overwhelming. They were being watched, tracked. The emptiness of the landscape was a lie, somehow. Possibly there was sorcery at work, although this did not– could not– excuse Rhulad's failing.\n\nTrust was gone, and Trull well knew that Rhulad's future would now be dominated by the effort to regain it. A lapse, and the young man's future path awaited him, deep-rutted and inevitable. A private journey beset by battle, each step resisted by a host of doubts, real and imagined– the distinction made no difference anymore. Rhulad would see in his brothers and friends an unbroken succession of recriminations. Every gesture, every word, every glance. And, the tragedy was, he would not be far from the truth."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"This would not be kept from the village. Sengar shame or not, the tale would come out, sung with quiet glee among rivals and the spiteful– and, given the opportunity, there were plenty of those to be found. A stain that claimed them all, the entire Sengar line.\n\nThey moved on. Northward, through the empty day.\n\nLate in the afternoon, Theradas caught sight of something ahead, and moments later the others saw it as well. A glimmer of reflected sunlight, tall and narrow and angular, rising from the flat waste. Difficult to judge its size, but Trull sensed that the projection was substantial, and unnatural.\n\n\"That is the place,\" Fear said. \"Hannan Mosag's dreams were true. We shall find the gift there. '\n\n\"Then let us be about it,\" Theradas said, setting off.\n\nThe spar grew steadily before them. Cracks appeared in the snow and ice underfoot, the surface sloping upward the closer they approached. The shard had risen up from the deep, cataclysmically, a sudden upthrust that had sent wagon-sized chunks of ice into the air, to crash and tumbledown the sides. Angular boulders of mud, now frozen and rimed, had rolled across the snow and ringed the area in a rough circle.\n\nPrismatic planes caught and split the sunlight within the spar. The ice in that towering shard was pure and clear.\n\nAt the base of the fissured up-welling– still thirty or more paces from the spar– the group halted. Trull slipped out from the sled harness, Binadas following suit.\n\nTheradas, Midik, stay here and guard the sleds, \"Fear said.\"Trull, draw your spear from its sling. Binadas, Rhulad, to our flanks. Let's go.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They climbed the slope, winding their way between masses of ice and mud.\n\nAfoul smell filled the air, of old rot and brine.\n\nBinadas hissed warningly, then said, \"The spirit Hannan Mosag called up from the ocean deep has been here, beneath the ice. This is its handiwork, and the sorcery lingers.\"\n\n\"Emurlahn?\" Trull asked.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThey came to the base of the spar. Its girth surpassed that of thousand-year-old Blackwood trees. Countless planes rose in twisted confusion, amass of sharp, sheered surfaces in which the setting sun's red light flowed thick as blood.\n\nFear pointed. \"There. The gift.\"\n\nAnd now Trull saw it. Faint and murky, the smudged form of a two-handed sword, bell-hilted, its blade strangely fractured and mottled– although perhaps that effect was created by the intervening thickness of ice.\n\n\"Binadas, weave Emurlahn into Trull's spear. As much as you can– this will take many, many shadows. '\n\nTheir brother frowned. \"Take? In what way?\"\n\n\"Shattering the ice will destroy them. Annihilation is demanded, to free the gift. And remember, do not close your unguarded hand about the grip, once the weapon comes free. And keep the wraiths from attempting the same, for attempt it they will. With desperate resolve.\"\n\n\"What manner of sword is this?\" Trull whispered.\n\nFear did not answer.\n\n\"If we are to shatter this spar,\" Binadas said after a moment, \"all of you should stand well clear of myself and Trull.\"\n\n\"We shall not be harmed,\" Fear said. \"Hannan Mosag's vision was clear on this. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And how far did that vision go, brother?\" Trull asked. \"Did he see our return journey?\"\n\nFear shook his head. \"To the shattering, to the fall of the last fragment of ice. No further.\"\n\n\"I wonder why?\"\n\n\"This is not a time for doubt, Trull,\" Fear said.\n\n\"Isn't it? It would seem that this is precisely the time for doubt. '\n\nHis brothers faced him.\n\nTrull looked away. \"This feels wrong.\"\n\n\"Have you lost your courage?\" Rhulad snapped. \"We have walked all this way, and now you voice your doubts?\"\n\n\"What sort of weapon is this gift? Who fashioned it? We know nothing of what we are about to release.\"\n\n\"Our Warlock King has commanded us,\" Fear said, his expression darkening. \"What would you have us do, Trull?\"\n\n\"I don't know. \"He turned to Binadas.\"Is there no means of prying the secrets loose? '\n\n\"I will know more, I think, when we have freed the sword.\"\n\nFear grunted. \"Then begin, Binadas.\"\n\nThey were interrupted by a shout from Theradas. \"A wolf!\" he cried, pointing to the south.\n\nThe beast was barely visible, white-furred against the snow, standing motionless a thousand or more paces distant, watching them.\n\n\"Waste no more time,\" Fear said to Binadas.\n\nShadows spun from where Binadas was standing, blue stains crawling out across the snow, coiling up the shaft of the Blackwood spear in Trull's hands, where they seemed to sink into the glossy wood. The weapon felt no different through the thick fur of his gauntlets, but Trull thought he could hear something new, a keening sound that seemed to reverberate in his bones. It felt like terror."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No more,\" Binadas gasped.\n\nTrull glanced at his brother, saw the pallor of his face, the glistening sweat on his brow. \"They are resisting this?\"\n\nBinadas nodded. \"They know they are about to die.\"\n\n\"How can wraiths die?\" Rhulad demanded. \"Are they not already ghosts? The spirits of our ancestors?\"\n\n\"Not ours,\" Binadas replied, but did not elaborate, gesturing instead towards Trull. \"Strike at the ice, brother.\"\n\nTrull hesitated. He looked round over his left shoulder, searched until he found the distant wolf. It had lowered its head, legs gathering under it. \"Daughter Dusk,\" he whispered, \"it's about to charge. ' Below, Theradas and Midik were readying their spears.\n\n\"Now, Trull!\"\n\nFear's bellow startled him, so that he almost dropped the spear. Jaw clenching, he faced the spar once more, then slashed the iron spear-head against the ice.\n\nEven as the weapon whipped forward, Trull's peripheral vision caught motion on all sides, as figures seemed to rise from the very snow itself.\n\nThen the spar exploded into blinding, white mist.\n\nSudden shouts.\n\nTrull felt a savage wrench on the spear in his hands, the Blackwood ringing like iron as countless wraiths were torn free. Their death-cries filled his skull. Stumbling, he tightened his grip, striving to see through the cloud.\n\nWeapons clashed.\n\nAn antler clawed for his face, each tine carved into a barbed point tipped with quartzite. Trull reeled back, flinging the spear shaft into the antler's path. Trapping it. He twisted the spear round, reversing grip, and succeeded in forcing the attacker into releasing the antler. It spun away to one side. An upward slash with the spear, and Trull felt the iron blade tear through hide and flesh, clattering along ribs before momentarily springing free, to connect hard against the underside of a jaw."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The scene around him was becoming more visible. They were beset by savages, small and bestial, wearing white-skinned hides, faces hidden behind flat white masks. Wielding claw-like antler weapons and short stabbing spears with glittering stone points, the Jheck swarmed on all sides.\n\nFear was holding three at bay, and behind him stood the sword, upright and freed from the ice, its point jammed into the frozen ground. It seemed the Jheck were desperate to claim it.\n\nTrull struck at the closest of Fear's opponents, iron tip punching deep into the savage's neck. Blood sprayed, jetted down the spear-shaft. He tore the weapon loose, in time to seethe last of the Jheck in front of Fear wheel away, mortally wounded by a sword-thrust.\n\nSpinning round, Trull saw Binadas go down beneath amass of Jheck. Shadows then enveloped the writhing figures.\n\nRhulad was nowhere to be seen.\n\nDown below, Theradas and Midik had met the wolf's charge, and the huge beast was on its side, skewered by spears, legs kicking even as Theradas stepped in with his broad-bladed cutlass. Two more wolves were closing in, alongside them a half-dozen Jheck.\n\nAnother score of the savages were ascending the slope.\n\nTrull readied his weapon.\n\nNearby, Binadas was climbing free of a mound of corpses. He was sheathed in blood, favouring his right side.\n\n\"Behind us, Binadas,\" Fear commanded. \"Trull, get on my left. Quickly.\"\n\n\"Where is Rhulad?\"\n\nFear shook his head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As Trull moved to his brother's left he scanned the bodies sprawled on the snow. But they were all Jheck. Even so, the belief struck him hard as a blow to his chest. They were going to die here. They were going to fail.\n\nThe savages on the slope charged.\n\nAntlers flew from their hands, dagger-sharp tines flashing as the deadly weapons spun end over end.\n\nTrull shouted, warding with his spear as he ducked beneath the whirling onslaught. One flew past his guard, a tine clipping his left knee. He gasped at the pain and felt the sudden spurt of blood beneath his leggings, but his leg held his weight and he remained upright.\n\nBehind the flung weapons, the Jheck arrived in a rush.\n\nA dozen heartbeats on the defensive, then the Edur warriors found openings for counter-attacks almost simultaneously. Sword and spear bit flesh, and two of the Jheck were down.\n\nA shriek from behind Trull and Fear, and the savages recoiled, then in unison darted to their right-\n\n-as Rhulad leapt into their midst, the long, bell-hilted sword in his hands.\n\nA wild slash, and a Jheck head pitched away from shoulders to bounce and roll down the slope.\n\nAnother chop, a gush of blood.\n\nBoth Fear and Trull rushed to close with the combatants-\n\n-even as stabbing spears found their way into Rhulad from all sides. He shrieked, blood-slick blade wavering over his head. Then he sagged. A shove toppled him onto his back, the sword still in his hands.\n\nThe surrounding Jheck darted away, then ran down the slope, weapons dropping or flung aside in sudden panic."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Trull arrived, skidding on the blood-slick ice, the wound in his leg forgotten as he knelt at Rhulad's side.\n\n\"They're withdrawing, ' Fear said between harshly drawn breaths, moving to stand guard before Trull and Rhulad.\n\nNumbed, Trull tore off a gauntlet and set his hand against Rhulad's neck, seeking a pulse.\n\nBinadas staggered over, settling down opposite Trull. \"How does he fare, brother?\"\n\nTrull looked up, stared until Binadas glanced up and locked gazes.\n\n\"Rhulad is dead,\" Trull said, dropping his eyes and seeing now, for the first time, the massive impaling wounds punched into his brother's torso, the smear of already freezing blood on the furs, smelling bitter urine and pungent faeces.\n\nTheradas and Midik are coming, \"Fear said.\"The Jheck have fled. ' He then set off, round towards the back of the rise.\n\nBut that makes no sense. They had us. There were too many of them. None of this makes sense. Rhulad. He's dead. Our brother is dead.\n\nA short time later, Fear returned, crouched down beside him, and tenderly reached out... to take the sword. Trull watched Fear's hands close about Rhulad's where they still clutched the leather-wrapped grip. Watched, as Fear sought to pry those dead fingers loose.\n\nAnd could not.\n\nTrull studied that fell weapon. The blade was indeed mottled, seemingly forged of polished iron and black shards of some harder, glassier material, the surface of both cracked and uneven. Splashes of blood were freezing black here and there, like a fast-spreading rot."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fear sought to wrench the sword free.\n\nBut Rhulad would not release it.\n\n\"Hannan Mosag warned us,\" Binadas said, \"did he not? Do not allow your flesh to touch the gift.\"\n\n\"But he's dead, ' Trull whispered.\n\nDusk was swiftly closing round them, the chill in the air deepening.\n\nTheradas and Midik arrived. Both were wounded, but neither seriously so. They were silent as they stared down on Rhulad.\n\nFear leaned back, having reached some sort of decision. He was silent a moment longer, slowly pulling on his gauntlets. Then he straightened. \"Carry him– sword and all– down to the sleds. We will wrap body and blade together. Releasing the gift from our brother's hands is for Hannan Mosag to manage, now. '\n\nNo-one else spoke.\n\nFear studied each of them in turn, then said, \"We travel through this night. I want us out of these wastes as soon as possible.\" He looked down on Rhulad once more. \"Our brother is blooded. He died a warrior of the Hiroth. His shall be a hero's funeral, one that all the Hiroth shall remember. '\n\nIn the wake of numbness came... other things. Questions. But what was the point of those? Any answers that could be found were no better than suppositions, born of uncertainties vulnerable to countless poisons– that host of doubts even now besieging Trull's thoughts. Where had Rhulad disappeared to? What had he sought to achieve by charging into that knot of Jheck savages? And he had well understood the prohibition against taking up the gift, yet he had done so none the less."},{"from":"human","value":"So much of what happened seemed..."},{"from":"gpt","value":"senseless.\n\nEven in his final act of extremity, Rhulad answers not the loss of trust under which he laboured. No clean gesture, this messy end. Fear called him a hero, but Trull suspected the motivation behind that claim. A son of Tomad Sengar had failed in his duties on night watch. And now was dead, the sacrifice itself marred with incomprehensible intentions.\n\nThe questions led Trull nowhere, and faded to anew wave, one that sickened him, clenching at his gut with spasms of anguish. There had been bravery in that last act. If nothing else. Surprising bravery, when Trull had, of his brother Rhulad, begun to suspect... otherwise. I doubted him. In every way, I doubted him.\n\nInto his heart whispered... guilt, a ghost and a ghost's voice, growing monstrous with taloned hands tightening, ever tightening, until his soul began to scream. A piercing cry only Trull could hear, yet a sound that threatened to drive him mad.\n\nAnd through it all, a more pervasive sense, a hollowness deep within him. The loss of a brother. The face that would never again smile, the voice that Trull would never again hear. There seemed no end to the layers of loss settling dire and heavy upon him.\n\nHe helped Fear wrap Rhulad and the sword in a waxed canvas groundsheet, hearing Midik's weeping as if from a great distance, listening to Binadas talk as he bound wounds and drew upon Emurlahn to quicken healing. As the stiff folds closed over Rhulad's face, Trull's breath caught in a ragged gasp, and he flinched back as Fear tightened the covering with leather straps.\n\n\"It is done,\" Fear murmured. \"Death cannot be struggled against, brother. It ever arrives, defiant of every hiding place, of every frantic attempt to escape. Death is every mortal's shadow, his true shadow, and time is its servant, spinning that shadow slowly round, until what stretched behind one now stretches before him. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You called him a hero.\"\n\n\"I did, and it was not an empty claim. He went to the other side of the rise, which is why we did not see him, and discovered Jheck seeking the sword by subterfuge.\"\n\nTrull looked up.\n\n\"I needed answers of my own, brother. He killed two on that side of the hill, yet lost his weapon doing so. Others were coming, I imagine, and so Rhulad must have concluded he had no choice. The Jheck wanted the sword. They would have to kill him to get it. Trull, it is done. He died, blooded and brave. I myself came upon the corpses beyond the rise, before I came back to you and Binadas.\"\n\nAll my doubts... the poisons of suspicion, in all their foul flavours– Daughter Dusk take me– but I have drunk deep.\n\n\"Trull, we need you and your skills with that spear in our wake,\" Fear said. \"Both Binadas and Rhulad here will have to be pulled on the sleds, and for this Theradas and I will be needed. Midik takes point.\"\n\nTrull blinked confusedly. \"Binadas cannot walk?\"\n\n\"His hip is broken, and he has not the strength left to heal it.\"\n\nTrull straightened. \"Do you think they will pursue?\" \"Yes,\" Fear said.\n\nTheir flight began. Darkness swept down upon them, and a wind began blowing, lifting high the fine-grained snow until the sky itself was grey-white and lowering. The temperature dropped still further, as if with vicious intent, until even the furs they wore began to fail them.\n\nFavouring his wounded leg, Trull jogged twenty paces behind the sleds– they were barely visible through the wind-whipped snow. The blood-frosted spear was in his grip, a detail he confirmed every few moments since his fingers had gone numb, but this did little to encourage him. The enemy might well be all around him, just beyond the range of his vision, padding through the darkness, only moments from rushing in."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He would have no time to react, and whatever shout of warning he managed would be torn away by the wind, and his companions would hear nothing. Nor would they return for his body. The gift must be delivered.\n\nTrull ran on, constantly scanning to either side, occasionally twisting round to look behind, seeing nothing but faint white. The rhythmic stab of pain in his knee cut through a growing, deadly lassitude, the seep of exhaustion slowing his shivering beneath the furs, dragging at his limbs.\n\nDawn's arrival was announced by a dull, reluctant surrender of the pervasive gloom– there was no break in the blizzard's onslaught, no rise in temperature. Trull had given up his vigil. He simply ran on, one foot in front of the other, his ice-clad moccasins the entire extent of his vision. His hands had grown strangely warm beneath the gauntlets, a remote warmth, pooled somewhere beyond his wrists. Something about that vaguely disturbed him.\n\nHunger had faded, as had the pain in his knee.\n\nA tingling unease, and Trull looked up.\n\nThe sleds were nowhere insight. He gasped bitter air, slowed his steps, blinking in an effort to see through the ice crystals on his lashes. The muted daylight was fading. He had run through the day, mindless as a millstone, and another night was fast approaching. And he was lost.\n\nTrull dropped the spear. He cried out in pain as he wheeled his arms, seeking to pump more blood into his cold, stiff muscles. He drew his fingers into fists within the gauntlets, and was horrified by nearly failing at so simple a task. The warmth grew wanner, then hot, then searing as if his fingers were on fire. He fought through the agony, pounding his fists on his thighs, flexing against the waves of burning pain."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was surrounded in white, as if the physical world had been scrubbed away, eroded into oblivion by the snow and wind. Terror whispered into his mind, for he sensed that he was not alone.\n\nTrull retrieved the spear. He studied the blowing snow on all sides. One direction seemed slightly darker than any other– the east– and he determined that he had been running due west. Following the unseen sun. And now, he needed to turn southerly.\n\nUntil his pursuers tired of their game.\n\nHe set out.\n\nA hundred paces, and he glanced behind him, to see two wolves emerge from the blowing snow. Trull halted and spun round. The beasts vanished once more.\n\nHeart thundering, Trull drew out his longsword and jammed it point-first into the hard-packed snow. Then he strode six paces back along his trail and readied his spear.\n\nThey came again, this time at a charge.\n\nHe had time to plant his spear and drop to one knee before the first beast was upon him. The spear shaft bowed as the iron point slammed dead-centre into the wolf's sternum. Bone and Blackwood shattered simultaneously, then it was as if a boulder hammered into Trull, throwing him back in the air. He landed on his left shoulder, to skid and roll in a spray of snow. Ashe tumbled, he caught sight of his left forearm, blood whipping out from the black splinters jutting from it. Then he came to a stop, up against the longsword.\n\nTrull tugged it loose and half rose as he turned about.\n\nAmass of white fur, black-gummed jaws stretched wide.\n\nBellowing, Trull slashed horizontally with the sword, falling in the wake of the desperate swing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Iron edge sheared through bones, one set, then another.\n\nThe wolf fell onto him, its forelimbs severed halfway down and spraying blood.\n\nTeeth closed down on the blade of his sword in a snapping frenzy.\n\nTrull kicked himself clear, tearing his sword free of the wolf's jaws. Tumbling blood, amass of tongue slapping onto the crusty ice in front of his face, the muscle twitching like a thing still alive. He scrambled into a crouch, then lunged towards the thrashing beast. Thrusting the sword-point into its neck.\n\nThe wolf coughed, kicking as if seeking to escape, then slumped motionless on the red snow.\n\nTrull reeled back. He saw the first beast, lying where the spear had stolen its life before breaking. Beyond it stood three Jheck hunters– who melted back into the whiteness.\n\nBlood was streaming down Trull's left forearm, gathering in his gauntlet. He lifted the arm and tucked it close against his stomach. Pulling the splinters would have to wait. Gasping, he set his sword down and worked his left forearm through his spear harness. Then, retrieving the sword, he set out once more.\n\nOblivion on all sides. In which nightmares could flower, sudden and unimpeded, rushing upon him, as fast as his terror-filled mind could conjure them into being, one after another, the succession endless, until death took him– until the whiteness slipped behind his eyes.\n\nHe stumbled on, wondering if the fight had actually occurred, unwilling to look down to confirm the wounds on his arm– fearing that he would see nothing. He could not have killed two wolves. He could not have simply chosen to face in one direction and not another, to find himself meeting that charge head-on. He could not have thrust his sword into the ground the precise number of paces behind him, as if knowing how far he would be thrown by the impact. No, he had conjured the entire battle from his own imagination. No other explanation made sense."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And so he looked down.\n\nAmass of splinters rising like crooked spines from his forearm. A blackening sword in his right hand, tufts of white fur caught in the clotted blood near the hilt. His spear was gone.\n\nI am fevered. The will of my thoughts has seeped out from my eyes, twisting the truth of all that I see. Even the ache in my shoulder is but an illusion.\n\nA rush of footsteps behind him.\n\nWith a roar, Trull whipped around, sword hissing.\n\nBlade chopping into the side of a savage's head, just above the ear. Bone buckling, blood spurting from eye and ear on that side. Figure toppling.\n\nAnother, darting in low from his right. Trull leapt back, stop-thrusting. He watched, the motion seeming appallingly slow, as the Jheck turned his stabbing spear to parry. Watched as the sword dipped under the block, then extended once more, to slide point-first beneath the man's left collarbone.\n\nA third attacker on his left, slashing a spear-point at Trull's eyes. He leaned back, then spun full circle, pivoting on his right foot, and brought his sword's edge smoothly across the savage's throat. A red flood down the Jheck's chest.\n\nTrull completed his spin and resumed his jog, the snow stinging his eyes.\n\nNothing but nightmares.\n\nHe was lying motionless, the snow slowly covering him, whilst his mind ran on and on, fleeing this lie, this empty world that was not empty, this thick whiteness that exploded into motion and colour again and again.\n\nAttackers, appearing out of the darkness and blowing snow. Moments of frenzied fighting, sparks and the hiss of iron and the bite of wood and stone. A succession of ambushes that seemed without end, convincing Trull that he was indeed within a nightmare, ever folding in on itself. Each time, the Jheck appeared in threes, nevermore, and the Hiroth warrior began to believe that they were the same three, dying only to rise once again– and so it would continue, until they finally succeeded, until they killed him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Yet he fought on, leaving blood and bodies in his wake.\n\nRunning, snow crunching underfoot.\n\nAnd then the wind fell off, sudden like a spent breath.\n\nPatches of dark ground ahead. An unseen barrier burst across, the lurid glare of a setting sun to his right, the languid flow of cool, damp air, the smell of mud.\n\nAnd shouts. Figures off to his left, half a thousand paces distant. Brothers of the hearth, the dead welcoming his arrival.\n\nGladness welling in his heart, Trull staggered towards them. He was not to be a ghost wandering forever alone, then. There would be kin at his side. Fear, and Binadas. And Rhulad.\n\nMidik Buhn, and Theradas, rushing towards him.\n\nBrothers, all of them. My brothers-\n\nThe sun's light wavered, rippled like water, then darkness rose up in a devouring flood.\n\nThe sleds were off to one side, their runners buried in mud. On one was a wrapped figure, around which jagged slabs of ice had been packed and strapped in place. Binadas was propped upon the other sled, his eyes closed, his face deeply lined with pain.\n\nTrull slowly sat up, feeling light-headed and strangely awkward. Furs tumbled from him as he clambered to his feet and stood, wavering, and dazedly looked around. To the west shimmered a lake, flat grey beneath the overcast sky. The faint wind was warm and humid.\n\nAfire had been lit, and over it was spit a scrawny hare, tended to by Midik Buhn. Off to one side stood Fear and Theradas, facing the distant ice-fields to the east as they spoke in quiet tones."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The smell of the roasting meat drew Trull to the fire. Midik Buhn glanced up at him, then looked quickly away, as if shamed by something.\n\nTrull's fingers were fiercely itching, and he lifted them into view. Red, the skin peeling, but at least he had not lost them to the cold. Indeed, he seemed intact, although his leather armour was split and cut all across his chest and shoulders, and he could see that the quilted under-padding bore slices, here and there stained dark red, and beneath them was the sting of shallow wounds on his body.\n\nNot a nightmare, then, those countless attacks. He checked for his sword and found he was not wearing the belted scabbard. A moment later he spied his weapon, leaning against a pack. It was barely recognizable. The blade was twisted, the edge so battered as to make the sword little more than a club.\n\nFootsteps, and Trull turned.\n\nFear laid a hand upon his shoulder. \"Trull Sengar, we did not expect to see you again. Leading the Jheck away from our path was a bold tactic, and it saved our lives.\" He nodded towards the sword. \"Your weapon tells the tale. Do you know how many you defeated?\"\n\nTrull shook his head. \"No. Fear, I did not intentionally lead them away from you. I became lost in the storm.\"\n\nHis brother smiled and said nothing.\n\nTrull glanced over at Theradas. \"I became lost, Theradas Buhn.\"\n\n\"It matters not,\" Theradas replied in a growl.\n\n\"I believed I was dead.\" Trull looked away, rubbed at his face. \"I saw you, and thought I was joining you in death. I'd expected... \"He shook his head.\"Rhulad... '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He was a true warrior, Trull,\" Fear said. \"It is done, and now we must move on. There are Arapay on the way– Binadas managed to awaken their shamans to our plight. They will hasten our journey home.\"\n\nTrull nodded distractedly. He stared at the distant field of ice. Remembering the feel and sound beneath his moccasins, the blast of the wind, the enervating cold. The horrifying Jheck, silent hunters who claimed a frozen world as their own. They had wanted the sword. Why?\n\nHow many Jheck could those ice-fields sustain? How many had they killed? How many wives and children were left to grieve? To starve?\n\nThere should have been five hundred of us. Then they would have left us alone.\n\n\"Over there!\"\n\nAt Midik's shout Trull swung round, then faced in the direction Midik was pointing. Northward, where a dozen huge beasts strode, coming down from the ice, four-legged and brown-furred, each bearing long, curved tusks to either side of a thick, sinuous snout.\n\nPonderous, majestic, the enormous creatures walked towards the lake.\n\nThis is not our world.\n\nA sword waited in the unyielding grip of a corpse, sheathed in waxed cloth, bound with ice. A weapon familiar with cold's implacable embrace. It did not belong in Hannan Mosag's hands.\n\nUnless the Warlock King had changed.\n\nAnd perhaps he has.\n\n\"Come and eat, Trull Sengar,\" his brother called behind him.\n\nSisters have mercy onus, in the way we simply goon, and on. Would that we had all died, back thereon the ice. Would that we had failed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"You maybe written this way Spun in strands sewn in thread Blood woven to the child you once were Huddled in the fold of night And the demons beyond the corner Of your eye stream down A flurry of arachnid limbs Twisting and tumbling you tight To feed upon later. You maybe written this way Stung senseless at the side of the road Waylaid on the dark trail And the recollections beyond the corner Of your eye suckle in the mud Dreadful fluids seeping From improbable pasts And all that might have been. You would be written this way Could you crack the carcass And unfurl once more The child you once were\n\nWaylaid Wrathen Urut\n\nRolled onto the beach, naked and grey, the young man lay motionless in the sand. His long brown hair was tangled, snarled with twigs and strands of sea-weed. Scaled birds pranced around the body, serrated beaks gaping in the morning heat.\n\nThey scattered at Withal's arrival, flapping into the air. Then, as three black Nachts bounded down from the verge, the birds screamed and whirled out over the waves.\n\nWithal crouched down at the figure's side, studied it fora moment, then reached out and rolled the body onto its back.\n\n\"Wake up, lad.\"\n\nEyes snapped open, filled with sudden terror and pain. Mouth gaped, neck stretched, and piercing screams rose into the air. The young man convulsed, legs scissoring the sand, and clawed at his scalp.\n\nWithal leaned back on his haunches and waited.\n\nThe screams grew hoarse, were replaced by weeping. The convulsions diminished to waves of shuddering as the young man slowly curled up in the sand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It gets easier, one hopes,\" Withal murmured.\n\nHead twisted round, large, wet eyes fixing on Withal's own.\"What... where... '\n\n\"The two questions I am least able to answer, lad. Let's try the easier ones. I'm named Withal, once of the Third Meckros city. You are here– wherever here is– because my master wills it.\" He rose with a grunt. \"Can you stand? He awaits you inland– not far.\"\n\nThe eyes shifted away, focused on the three Nachts at the edge of the verge. \"What are those things? What's that one doing? '\n\n\"Bhoka'ral. Nachts. Name them as you will. As I have. The one making the nest is Pule, a young male. This particular nest has taken almost a week– see how he obsesses over it, adjusting twigs just so, weaving the seaweed, going round and round with a critical eye. The older male, over there and watching Pule, is Rind. He's moments from hilarity, as you'll see. The female preening on the rock is Mape. You've arrived at a propitious time, lad. Watch.\"\n\nThe nest-builder, Pule, had begun backing away from the intricate construct on the verge, black tail flicking from side to side, head bobbing. Fifteen paces from the nest, it suddenly sat, arms folded, and seemed to study the colourless sky.\n\nThe female, Mape, ceased preening, paused a moment, then ambled casually towards the nest.\n\nPule tensed, even as it visibly struggled to keep its gaze on the sky.\n\nReaching the nest, Mape hesitated, then attacked. Driftwood, grasses and twigs flew in all directions. Within moments, the nest had been destroyed in a wild frenzy, and Mape was squatting in the wreckage, urinating."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nearby, Rind was rolling about in helpless mirth.\n\nPule slumped in obvious dejection.\n\n\"This has happened more times than I'd care to count, ' Withal said, sighing.\n\n\"How is it you speak my language?\"\n\n\"I'd a smattering, from traders. My master has, it seems, improved upon it. A gift, you might say, one of a number of gifts, none of which I asked for. I suspect, \"he continued,\"you will come to similar sentiments, lad. We should get going. '\n\nWithal watched the young man struggle to his feet. \"Tall,\" he observed, \"but I've seen taller. '\n\nPain flooded the youth's features once more and he doubled over. Withal stepped close and supported him before he toppled.\n\n\"It's ghost pain, lad. Ghost pain and ghost fear. Fight through it. '\n\n\"No! It's real! It's real, you bastard!\"\n\nWithal strained as the youth's full weight settled in his arms.\"Enough of that. Stand up! '\n\n\"It's no good! I'm dying!\"\n\n\"On your feet, dammit!\"\n\nA rough shake, then Withal pushed him away.\n\nHe staggered, then slowly straightened, drawing in deep, ragged breaths. He began shivering. \"It's so cold... '\n\n\"Hood's breath, lad, it's blistering hot. And getting hotter with everyday.\"\n\nArms wrapped about himself, the young man regarded Withal. \"How long have you lived... lived here?\"\n\n\"Longer than I'd like. Some choices aren't for you to make. Not for you, not for me. Now, our master's losing patience. Follow me. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The youth stumbled along behind him. \"You said'our\".\"\n\n\"Did I?\"\n\n\"Where are my clothes? Where are my– no, never mind– it hurts to remember. Never mind.\"\n\nThey reached the verge, withered grasses pulling at their legs as they made their way inland. The Nachts joined them, clambering and hopping, hooting and snorting as they kept pace.\n\nTwo hundred paces ahead squatted a ragged tent, the canvas sun-bleached and stained. Wafts of grey-brown smoke drifted from the wide entrance, where most of one side had been drawn back to reveal the interior.\n\nWhere sat a hooded figure.\n\n\"That's him? \"the youth asked.\"That's your master? Are you a slave, then?\"\n\n\"I serve,\" Withal replied, \"but I am not owned.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\"\n\nWithal glanced back. \"He is a god.\" He noted the disbelief writ on the lad's face, and smiled wryly.\"Who's seen better days.\"\n\nThe Nachts halted and huddled together in a threesome.\n\nA last few strides across withered ground, then Withal stepped to one side. \"I found him on the strand,\" he said to the seated figure, \"moments before the lizard gulls did.\"\n\nDarkness hid the Crippled God's features, as was ever the case when Withal had been summoned to an attendance. The smoke from the brazier filled the tent, seeping out to stream along the mild breeze. A gnarled, thin hand emerged from the folds of a sleeve as the god gestured.\"Closer, \"he rasped.\"Sit. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are not my god,\" the youth said.\n\n\"Sit. I am neither petty nor overly sensitive, young warrior.\"\n\nWithal watched the lad hesitate, then slowly settle onto the ground, cross-legged, arms wrapped about his shivering frame. \"It's cold. '\n\n\"Some furs for our guest, Withal.\"\n\n\"Furs? We don't have any-\"He stopped when he noticed the bundled bearskin heaped beside him. He gathered it up and pushed it into the lad's hands.\n\nThe Crippled God scattered some seeds onto the brazier's coals. Popping sounds, then more smoke.\"Peace. Warm yourself, warrior, while I tell you of peace. History is unerring, and even the least observant mortal can be made to understand, through innumerable repetition. Do you see peace as little more than the absence of war? Perhaps, on a surface level, it is just that. But let me describe the characteristics of peace, my young friend. A pervasive dulling of the senses, a decadence afflicting the culture, evinced by a growing obsession with low entertainment. The virtues of extremity– honour, loyalty, sacrifice– are lifted high as shoddy icons, currency for the cheapest of labours. The longer peace lasts, the more those words are used, and the weaker they become. Sentimentality pervades daily life. All becomes a mockery of itself, and the spirit grows... restless. '\n\nThe Crippled God paused, breath rasping. 'Is this a singular pessimism? Allow me to continue with a description of what follows a period of peace. Old warriors sit in taverns, telling tales of vigorous youth, their pasts when all things were simpler, clearer cut. They are not blind to the decay all around them, are not immune to the loss of respect for themselves, for all that they gave for their king, their land, their fellow citizens."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 13\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The pigeons overhead whipped round and round, the only sound in the massive barn.\\n\\n\\\"Contestants to the Empty Throne,\\\" Feather Witch whispered in atone heavy with sorrow. \\\"Blood and madness...\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas slowly released his grip on Seren Pedac.\\n\\nShe made no move, as frozen in place as everyone else present.\\n\\nUdinaas grunted, amused, and said to the Acquitor, \\\"She's not slept well lately, you see. '\\n\\n---\\n\\nSeren Pedac staggered outside, into a solid sheet of cold rain. A hissing deluge on the path's pebbles, tiny rivers cutting through the sands, the forest beyond seeming pulled down by streaming threads and ropes. An angry susurration from the direction of the river and the sea. As if the world was collapsing in melt water.\\n\\nShe blinked against the cold tears.\\n\\nAnd recalled the play of Edur children, the oblivious chatter of a thousand moments ago, so far back in her mind now as to echo like someone else's reminiscence. Of times weathered slick and shapeless.\\n\\nMemories rushing, rushing down to the sea.\\n\\nLike children in flight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Where are the days we once held So loose in our sure hands? When did these racing streams Carve depthless caves beneath our feet? And how did this scene stagger And shift to make fraught our deft lies In the places where youth will meet, In the lands of our proud dreams? Where, among all you before me, Are the faces I once knew?\\n\\nWords etched into the wall, K'rul Belfry, Darujhistan\\n\\nIn the battle that saw Theradas Buhn blooded, a Merude cutlass had laid open his right cheek, snapping the bone beneath the eye and cutting through maxilla and the upper half of his mandible. The savage wound had been slow to heal, and the thread that had been used to seal the gaping hole into his mouth had festered the flesh before his comrades could return the warrior to a nearby Hiroth encampment, where a healer had done what she could– driving out the infection, knitting the bones. The result was along, crooked scar within a seamed concave depression on that side of his face, and a certain flat look to his eyes that hinted of unseen wounds that would never heal.\\n\\nTrull Sengar sat with the others five paces from the edge of the ice-field, watching Theradas as he paced back and forth along the crusted line of ice and snow, the red-tipped fox fur of his cloak flashing in the gusting wind. The Arapay lands were behind them now, and with them the grudging hospitality of that subjugated Edur tribe. The Hiroth warriors were alone, and before them stretched a white, shattered landscape.\\n\\nIt looked lifeless, but the Arapay had spoken of night hunters, strange, fur-shrouded killers who came out of the darkness wielding jagged blades of black iron. They took body parts as trophies, to the point of leaving limbless, headless torsos in their wake. None had ever been captured, and the bodies of those who fell were never left where they lay.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Even so, they tended to prey only upon paired Edur hunters. More formidable groups were generally left alone. The Arapay called them Jheck, which meant, roughly, standing wolves.\\n\\n\\\"There are eyes upon us,\\\" Theradas pronounced in his thick, blunted voice.\\n\\nFear Sengar shrugged. \\\"The ice wastes are not as lifeless as they appear. Hares, foxes, ground owls, white wolves, bears, aranag-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Arapay spoke of huge beasts,\\\" Rhulad cut in. \\\"Brown-furred and tusked– we saw the ivory-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Old ivory, Rhulad,\\\" Fear said. \\\"Found in the ice. It is likely such beasts are no more.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Arapay say otherwise.\\\"\\n\\nTheradas grunted. \\\"And they live in fear of the ice wastes, Rhulad, and so have filled them with nightmare beasts and demons. It is this: we will see what we see. Are you done your repasts? We are losing daylight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Fear said, rising, \\\"we should goon.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad and Midik Buhn moved out to the flanks. Both wore bear furs, black and silver-collared. Their hands, within fur-lined gauntlets– Arapay gifts– were wrapped round the long spears they used as walking sticks, testing the packed snow before them with each step. Theradas moved to point, fifteen paces ahead, leaving Trull, Fear and Binadas travelling as the core group, pulling the two sleds packed with leather satchels filled with supplies.\\n\\nIt was said that, further out in the wastes, there was water beneath the ice, salt-laden remnants from an inland sea, and cavernous pockets hidden beneath thin-skin mantles of snow. Treachery waited underfoot, forcing them to travel slowly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The windswept down upon them, biting at exposed skin, and they were forced to lean forward against its gusting, frigid blasts.\\n\\nDespite the furs enshrouding him, Trull felt the shock of that sudden cold, a force mindless and indifferent, yet eager to steal. Flooding his air passages in a numbing assault. And within that current, a faint smell of death.\\n\\nThe Edur wrapped swaths of wool about their faces, leaving the barest of slits for their eyes. Conversations were quickly abandoned, and they walked in silence, the crunch of their fur-lined moccasins muffled and distant.\\n\\nThe sun's warmth and turn of season could not win the war in this place. The snow and ice rose on the wind to glitter overhead, mocking the sun itself with twin mirror images, leading Trull to suspect that the wind held close to the ground, whilst high overhead the suspended ice crystals hovered unmoving, inured to the passing of seasons, of years.\\n\\nHe tilted his head to stare upward fora moment, wondering if that glistening, near-opaque canopy above them held the frozen memories of the past, minute images locked in each crystal, bearing witness to all that had occurred below. A multitude of fates, perhaps reaching back to when there was sea, in place of the ice. Did unknown creatures ply the waters in arcane, dugout canoes all those thousands of years ago? Would they one day become these Jheck?\\n\\nThe Letherii spoke of Holds, that strange pantheon of elements, and among them there was the Hold of Ice. As if winter was born of sorcery, as if ice and snow were instruments of wilful destruction. Something of that notion was present in Edur legends as well. Ice plunging down to steal the land that was soaked in Tiste blood, the brutal theft of hard-won territories committed as an act of vengeance, perhaps the gelid flowering of some curse uttered in a last breath, a final defiance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The sentiment, then– if one such existed– was of old enmity.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ice was a thief, of life, land and righteous reward. Bound in death and blood, an eternal prison. From all this, it could earn hatred.\\n\\nThey continued through the day, moving slowly but steadily, through jumbled fields of broken, upthrust shards of ice that in the distance seemed simply white, but when neared was revealed to possess countless shades of greens, blues and browns. They crossed flats of wind-sculpted, hard-packed snow that formed rippled patterns as smooth as sand. Strange fault lines where unseen forces had sheered the ice, pushing one side up against the other, grinding opposing paths as if the solid world beneath them jostled in wayward migration.\\n\\nTowards late afternoon, a muted shout from Theradas halted them. Trull, who had been walking with his eyes on the ground before him, looked up at the muffled sound and saw that Theradas was standing before something, gesturing them forward with a fur-wrapped hand. A few moments later they reached his side.\\n\\nAbroad crevasse cut across their path, the span at least fifteen paces. The sheer walls of ice swept down into darkness, and from its depths rose a strange smell.\\n\\n\\\"Salt,\\\" Binadas said after pulling away his face-covering. \\\"Tidal pools.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad and Midik joined them from the flanks. \\\"It seems to stretch to the very horizon,\\\" Rhulad said.\\n\\n\\\"The break looks recent,\\\" Binadas observed, crouching at the edge. \\\"As if the surface is shrinking.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps summer has managed a modest alteration to these wastes,\\\" Fear mused. \\\"We have passed sealed faults that might be the remnant scars from similar wounds in the past.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How will we cross?\\\" Midik asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I could draw shadows from below,\\\" Binadas said, then shook his head, \\\"but the notion makes me uneasy. If there are spirits within, they might well prove unruly. There are layers of sorcery here, woven in the snow and ice, and they do not welcome Emurlahn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Get out the ropes,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"Dusk approaches.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If necessary we will camp below.\\\"\\n\\nTrull shot Fear a look. \\\"What if it closes whilst we are down there?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not think that likely,\\\" Fear said. \\\"Besides, we will remain unseen this night, hidden as we will be in the depths. If there are indeed beasts in this land– though we've seen no true sign as yet– then I would rather we took every opportunity to avoid them. '\\n\\nWet pebbles skidded under his moccasins as Trull alighted, stepping clear of the ropes. He looked around, surprised at the faint green glow suffusing the scene. They were indeed on a seabed. Salt had rotted the ice at the edges, creating vast caverns crowded with glittering pillars. The air was cold, turgid and rank.\\n\\nOff to one side Midik and Rhulad had drawn bundles of wood out from a pack and were preparing a cookfire. Binadas and Fear were reloading the sleds to keep the food satchels off the wet ground, and Theradas had set off to scout the caverns.\\n\\nTrull strode to a shallow pool and crouched down at its edge. The saline water swarmed with tiny grey shrimps. Barnacles crowded the waterline.\\n\\n\\\"The ice is dying.\\\"\\n\\nAt Fear's words behind him, Trull rose and faced his brother.\\\"Why do you say that? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The salt gnaws its flesh. We are at the lowest region of the ancient seabed, I believe. Where the last of the water gathered, then slowly evaporated. Those columns of salt are all that remains. If the entire basin was like this place, then the canopy of ice would have collapsed-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it does just that,\\\" Binadas suggested, joining them. \\\"In cycles over thousands of years. Collapse, then the salt begins its work once again.\\\"\\n\\nTrull stared into the gloomy reaches. \\\"I cannot believe those pillars can holdup all this ice. There must be a cycle of collapse, as Binadas has said.\\\" His eyes caught movement, then Theradas emerged, and Trull saw that the warrior had his sword out.\\n\\n\\\"There is a path,\\\" Theradas said. \\\"And a place of gathering. We are not the first to have comedown here.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad and Midik joined them. No-one spoke fora time.\\n\\nThen Fear nodded and asked, \\\"How recent are the signs, Theradas?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Days.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Binadas and Trull, go with Theradas to this place of gathering. I will remain herewith the Unblooded.\\\"\\n\\nThe path began twenty paces in from the crevasse, a trail cleared of cobbles and detritus that wound between the rough, crystalline columns of salt. Melt water dripped from the rotting ceiling in a steady downpour. Theradas led them onward another thirty paces, where the path ended at the edge of avast roughly domed expanse devoid of pillars.\\n\\nNear the centre squatted a low, misshapen altar stone. Votive offerings surrounded it– shells, mostly, among which the odd piece of carved ivory was visible. Yet Trull spared it but a momentary glance, for his gaze had been drawn to the far wall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"A sheer plane of ice a hundred paces or more across, rising in a tilted overhang– a wall in which countless beasts had been caught in mid-stampede, frozen in full flight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Antlers projected from the ice, heads and shoulders– still solid and immobile– and forelegs lifted or stretched forward. Frost-rimed eyes dully reflected the muted blue-green light. Deeper within, the blurred shapes of hundreds more.\\n\\nStunned by the vista, Trull slowly walked closer, round the altar, half expecting at any moment to seethe charging beasts burst into sudden motion, onrushing, to crush them all beneath countless hoofs.\\n\\nAshe neared, he saw heaped bodies near the base, beasts that had fallen out from the retreating ice, had thawed, eventually collapsing into viscid pools.\\n\\nTiny black flies rose in clouds from the decaying flesh and hide, swarmed towards Trull as if determined to defend their feast. He halted, waved his hands until they dispersed and began winging back to the rotting carcasses. The beasts– caribou– had been running on snow, a packed layer kneedeep above the seabed. He could still seethe panic in their eyes– and there, smeared behind an arm's length of ice, the head and shoulders of an enormous wolf, silver-haired and amber-eyed, running alongside a caribou, shoulder to shoulder. The wolf's head was raised, jaws open, close to the victim's neck. Canines as long as Trull's thumb gleamed beneath peeled-back lips.\\n\\nNature's drama, life unheeding of the cataclysm that rushed upon it from behind– or above. The brutal hand of a god as indifferent as the beasts themselves.\\n\\nBinadas came to his side. \\\"This was born of a warren,\\\" he said.\\n\\nTrull nodded. Sorcery. Nothing else made sense. \\\"A god.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps, but not necessarily so, brother. Some forces need only be unleashed. A natural momentum then burgeons.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Hold of Ice,\\\" Trull said. \\\"Such as the Letherii describe in their faith.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Hand of the Watcher,\\\" Binadas said, \\\"who waited until the war was done before striding forward to unleash his power.\\\"\\n\\nTrull had thought himself more knowledgeable than most Edur warriors regarding the old legends of their people. With Binadas's words echoing in his head, however, he felt woefully ignorant.\\\"Where have they gone? \\\"he asked.\\\"Those powers of old? Why do we dwell as if... as if ahne? '\\n\\nHis brother shrugged, ever reluctant to surrender his reserve, his mindful silence. \\\"We remain alone,\\\" he finally said, \\\"to preserve the sanctity of our past.\\\"\\n\\nTrull considered this, his gaze travelling over the tableau before him, those dark, murky lives that could not outrun their doom, then said, \\\"Our cherished truths are vulnerable.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To challenge, yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And the salt gnaws at the ice beneath us, until our world grows perilously thin beneath our feet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Until what was frozen... thaws.\\\"\\n\\nTrull took a step closer to the one of the charging caribou. \\\"What thaws in turn collapses and falls to the ground. And rots, Binadas. The past is covered in flies.\\\"\\n\\nHis brother walked towards the altar, and said, \\\"The ones who kneel before this shrine were here only a few days ago.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They did not come the way we did.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No doubt there are other paths into this underworld.\\\"\\n\\nTrull glanced over at Theradas, only now recalling his presence. The warrior stood at the threshold, his breath pluming in the air.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We should return to the others,\\\" Binadas said. \\\"We have far to walk tomorrow.\\\"\\n\\nThe night passed, damp, cold, the melt water ceaselessly whispering. Each Edur stood watch in turn, wrapped in furs and weapons at the ready. But there was nothing to see in the dull, faintly luminescent light. Ice, water and stone, death, hungry motion and impermeable bones, a blind triumvirate ruling a gelid realm.\\n\\nJust before dawn the company rose, ate a quick meal, then Rhulad clambered up the ropes, trusting to the spikes driven into the ice far overhead, about two-thirds of the way, where the fissure narrowed in one place sufficient to permit across-over to the north wall. Beyond that point, Rhulad began hammering new spikes into the ice. Splinters and shards rained down on the waiters below fora time, then there came a distant shout from Rhulad. Midik went to the ropes and began climbing, while Trull and Fear bound the food packs to braided leather lines. The sleds would be pulled up last.\\n\\n\\\"Today,\\\" Binadas said, \\\"we will have to be careful. They will know we were here, that we found their shrine.\\\"\\n\\nTrull glanced over. \\\"But we did not desecrate it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps our presence alone was sufficient outrage, brother.\\\"\\n\\nThe sun was above the horizon by the time the Edur warriors were assembled on the other side of the crevasse, the sleds loaded and ready. The sky was clear and there was no wind, yet the air was bitter cold. The sun's fiery ball was flanked on either side by smaller versions– sharper and brighter than last time, as if in the course of the night just past the world above them had completed its transformation from the one they knew to something strange and forbidding, inimical to life.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Theradas in the lead once more, they set out.\\n\\nIce crunching underfoot, the hiss and clatter of the antler-rimmed sled runners, and a hissing sound both close and distant, as if silence had itself grown audible, a sound that Trull finally understood was the rush of his own blood, woven in and around the rhythm of his breath, the drum of his heart. The glare burned his eyes. His lungs stung with every rush of air.\\n\\nThe Edur did not belong in this landscape. The Hold of Ice. Feared by the Letherii. Stealer of life– why has Harmon Mosag sent us here?\\n\\nTheradas halted and turned about. \\\"Wolf tracks,\\\" he said, \\\"heavy enough to breakthrough the crust of snow.\\\"\\n\\nThey reached him, stopped the sleds. Trull drew the harness from his aching shoulders.\\n\\nThe tracks cut across their route, heading west. They were huge.\\n\\n\\\"These belong to a creature such as the one we saw in the ice last night,\\\" Binadas said. \\\"What do they hunt? We've seen nothing. '\\n\\nFear grunted, then said, \\\"That does not mean much, brother. We are not quiet travellers, with these sleds.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Even so,\\\" Binadas replied, \\\"herds leave sign. We should have come upon something, by now.\\\"\\n\\nThey resumed the journey.\\n\\nShortly past midday Fear called a halt for another meal. The plain of ice stretched out flat and featureless on all sides.\\n\\n\\\"There's nothing to worry about out here, \\\"Rhulad said, sitting on one of the sleds.\\\"We can see anyone coming... or anything, for that matter. Tell us, Fear, how much farther will we go? Where is this gift that Hannan Mosag wants us to find? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Another day to the north,\\\" Fear replied.\\n\\n\\\"If it is indeed a gift,\\\" Trull asked, \\\"who is offering it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not know.\\\"\\n\\nNo-one spoke fora time.\\n\\nTrull studied the hard-packed snow at his feet, his unease deepening. Something ominous hung in the still, frigid air. Their solitude suddenly seemed threatening, absence a promise of unknown danger. Yet he was among blood kin, among Hiroth warriors. Thus.\\n\\nStill, why does this gift stink of death?\\n\\nAnother night. The tents were raised, a meal cooked, then the watches were set. Trull's was first. He walked the perimeter of their camp, spear in hand, in a continuous circuit in order to keep awake. The food in his stomach made him drowsy, and the sheer emptiness of the ice wastes seemed to project a force that dulled concentration. Overhead the sky was alive with strange, shifting hues that rose and fell in disconnected patterns. He had seen such things before, in the deepest winter in Hiroth lands, but never as sharp, never as flush, voicing a strange hissing song as of broken glass crunching underfoot.\\n\\nWhen it was time, he awoke Theradas. The warrior emerged from his tent and rose, adjusting his fur cloak until it wrapped him tightly, then drawing his sword. He glared at the lively night sky, but said nothing.\\n\\nTrull crawled into the tent. The air within was damp. Ice had formed on the tent walls, etching maps of unknown worlds on the stretched, waxy fabric. From outside came the steady footsteps of Theradas as he walked his rounds. The sound followed Trull into sleep.\\n\\nDisjointed dreams followed. He saw Mayen, naked in the forest, settling down atop a man, then writhing with hungry lust. He stumbled closer, ever seeking to see that man's face, to discover who it was– and instead he found himself lost, the forest unreadable, unrecognizable, a sensation he had never experienced before, and it left him terrified. Trembling on his knees in the wet loam, while from somewhere beyond he could hear her cries of pleasure, bestial and rhythmic.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"And desire rose within him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Not for Mayen, but for what she had found, in her wild release, closing down into the moment, into the present, future and past without meaning. A moment unmindful of consequences. His hunger became a pain within him, lodged like a broken knife-tip in his chest, cutting with each ragged breath, and in his dream he cried out, as if answering Mayen's own voice, and he heard her laugh with recognition. A laugh inviting him to join her world.\\n\\nMayen, his brother's betrothed. A detached part of his mind remained cool and objective, almost sardonic in its self-regard. Understanding the nature of this web, this sideways envy and his own burgeoning appetites.\\n\\nEdur males were slow to such things. It was the reason betrothal and marriage followed at least a decade– often two– of full adulthood. Edur women arrived at their womanly hungers far earlier in their lives. It was whispered, among the men, that they often made use of the Letherii slaves, but Trull doubted the truth of that. It seemed... inconceivable.\\n\\nThe detached self was amused by that, as if derisive of Trull's own naivety.\\n\\nHe awoke chilled, weak with doubts and confusion, and lay fora time in the pale half-light that preceded dawn, watching his breath plume in the close air of the tent.\\n\\nSomething gnawed at him, but it was along time before he realized what it was. No footsteps.\\n\\nTrull scrambled from the tent, stumbling on the snow and ice, and straightened.\\n\\nIt was Rhulad's watch. Near the dead fire, the hunched, bundled form of his brother, seated with hooded head bowed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Trull strode up to stand behind Rhulad. Sudden rage took him with the realization that his brother slept. He lifted his spear into both hands, then swung the butt end in a snapping motion that connected with the side of Rhulad's head.\\n\\nA muffled crack that sent his brother pitching to one side. Rhulad loosed a piercing shriek as he sprawled on the hard-packed snow, then rolled onto his back, scrabbling for his sword.\\n\\nTrull's spear-point was at his brother's neck. \\\"You slept on your watch!\\\" he hissed.\\n\\n\\\"I did not!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I saw you sleeping! I walked right up to you!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did not!\\\" Rhulad scrambled to his feet, one handheld against the side of his head.\\n\\nThe others were emerging now from their tents. Fear stared at Trull and Rhulad fora moment, then turned to the packs.\\n\\nTrull was trembling, drawing deep, frigid breaths. Fora moment, it struck him how disproportionate his anger was, then the magnitude of the risk flooded through him yet again.\\n\\n\\\"We have had visitors,\\\" Fear announced, rising and scanning the frozen ground. \\\"They left no tracks-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How do you know, then?\\\" Rhulad demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Because all our food is gone, Rhulad. It seems we shall grow hungry fora time.\\\"\\n\\nTheradas swore and began a wider circuit, seeking a trail.\\n\\nThey were among us. The Jheck. They could have killed us all where we slept. All because Rhulad will not grasp what it is to be a warrior. There was nothing more to be said, and all knew it.\\n\\nExcept for Rhulad. \\\"I wasn't sleeping! I swear it! Fear, you have to believe me! I simply sat down fora moment to rest my legs. I saw no'one!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Behind closed lids,\\\" Theradas growled, \\\"that's not surprising. '\\n\\n\\\"You think I'm lying, but I'm not! I'm telling the truth, I swear it! '\\n\\n\\\"Never mind,\\\" Fear said. \\\"It is done. From now on, we will double the watch.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad walked towards Midik. \\\"You believe me, don't you? '\\n\\nMidik Buhn turned away. \\\"It was a battle just waking you for your watch, Rhulad,\\\" he said, his tone both sad and weary.\\n\\nRhulad stood as if in shock, the pain of what he saw as betrayal clear and deep-struck on his face. His lips thinned, jaw muscles bunching, and he slowly turned away.\\n\\nThe bastards were in our camp. Hannan Mosag's faith in us...\\n\\n\\\"Let us strike the tents,\\\" Fear said, \\\"and be on our way.\\\"\\n\\nTrull found himself scanning the horizon in an endless sweep, his sense of vulnerability at times near overwhelming. They were being watched, tracked. The emptiness of the landscape was a lie, somehow. Possibly there was sorcery at work, although this did not– could not– excuse Rhulad's failing.\\n\\nTrust was gone, and Trull well knew that Rhulad's future would now be dominated by the effort to regain it. A lapse, and the young man's future path awaited him, deep-rutted and inevitable. A private journey beset by battle, each step resisted by a host of doubts, real and imagined– the distinction made no difference anymore. Rhulad would see in his brothers and friends an unbroken succession of recriminations. Every gesture, every word, every glance. And, the tragedy was, he would not be far from the truth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"This would not be kept from the village. Sengar shame or not, the tale would come out, sung with quiet glee among rivals and the spiteful– and, given the opportunity, there were plenty of those to be found. A stain that claimed them all, the entire Sengar line.\\n\\nThey moved on. Northward, through the empty day.\\n\\nLate in the afternoon, Theradas caught sight of something ahead, and moments later the others saw it as well. A glimmer of reflected sunlight, tall and narrow and angular, rising from the flat waste. Difficult to judge its size, but Trull sensed that the projection was substantial, and unnatural.\\n\\n\\\"That is the place,\\\" Fear said. \\\"Hannan Mosag's dreams were true. We shall find the gift there. '\\n\\n\\\"Then let us be about it,\\\" Theradas said, setting off.\\n\\nThe spar grew steadily before them. Cracks appeared in the snow and ice underfoot, the surface sloping upward the closer they approached. The shard had risen up from the deep, cataclysmically, a sudden upthrust that had sent wagon-sized chunks of ice into the air, to crash and tumbledown the sides. Angular boulders of mud, now frozen and rimed, had rolled across the snow and ringed the area in a rough circle.\\n\\nPrismatic planes caught and split the sunlight within the spar. The ice in that towering shard was pure and clear.\\n\\nAt the base of the fissured up-welling– still thirty or more paces from the spar– the group halted. Trull slipped out from the sled harness, Binadas following suit.\\n\\nTheradas, Midik, stay here and guard the sleds, \\\"Fear said.\\\"Trull, draw your spear from its sling. Binadas, Rhulad, to our flanks. Let's go.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They climbed the slope, winding their way between masses of ice and mud.\\n\\nAfoul smell filled the air, of old rot and brine.\\n\\nBinadas hissed warningly, then said, \\\"The spirit Hannan Mosag called up from the ocean deep has been here, beneath the ice. This is its handiwork, and the sorcery lingers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Emurlahn?\\\" Trull asked.\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nThey came to the base of the spar. Its girth surpassed that of thousand-year-old Blackwood trees. Countless planes rose in twisted confusion, amass of sharp, sheered surfaces in which the setting sun's red light flowed thick as blood.\\n\\nFear pointed. \\\"There. The gift.\\\"\\n\\nAnd now Trull saw it. Faint and murky, the smudged form of a two-handed sword, bell-hilted, its blade strangely fractured and mottled– although perhaps that effect was created by the intervening thickness of ice.\\n\\n\\\"Binadas, weave Emurlahn into Trull's spear. As much as you can– this will take many, many shadows. '\\n\\nTheir brother frowned. \\\"Take? In what way?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shattering the ice will destroy them. Annihilation is demanded, to free the gift. And remember, do not close your unguarded hand about the grip, once the weapon comes free. And keep the wraiths from attempting the same, for attempt it they will. With desperate resolve.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What manner of sword is this?\\\" Trull whispered.\\n\\nFear did not answer.\\n\\n\\\"If we are to shatter this spar,\\\" Binadas said after a moment, \\\"all of you should stand well clear of myself and Trull.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We shall not be harmed,\\\" Fear said. \\\"Hannan Mosag's vision was clear on this. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And how far did that vision go, brother?\\\" Trull asked. \\\"Did he see our return journey?\\\"\\n\\nFear shook his head. \\\"To the shattering, to the fall of the last fragment of ice. No further.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wonder why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is not a time for doubt, Trull,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"Isn't it? It would seem that this is precisely the time for doubt. '\\n\\nHis brothers faced him.\\n\\nTrull looked away. \\\"This feels wrong.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Have you lost your courage?\\\" Rhulad snapped. \\\"We have walked all this way, and now you voice your doubts?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What sort of weapon is this gift? Who fashioned it? We know nothing of what we are about to release.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Our Warlock King has commanded us,\\\" Fear said, his expression darkening. \\\"What would you have us do, Trull?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know. \\\"He turned to Binadas.\\\"Is there no means of prying the secrets loose? '\\n\\n\\\"I will know more, I think, when we have freed the sword.\\\"\\n\\nFear grunted. \\\"Then begin, Binadas.\\\"\\n\\nThey were interrupted by a shout from Theradas. \\\"A wolf!\\\" he cried, pointing to the south.\\n\\nThe beast was barely visible, white-furred against the snow, standing motionless a thousand or more paces distant, watching them.\\n\\n\\\"Waste no more time,\\\" Fear said to Binadas.\\n\\nShadows spun from where Binadas was standing, blue stains crawling out across the snow, coiling up the shaft of the Blackwood spear in Trull's hands, where they seemed to sink into the glossy wood. The weapon felt no different through the thick fur of his gauntlets, but Trull thought he could hear something new, a keening sound that seemed to reverberate in his bones. It felt like terror.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No more,\\\" Binadas gasped.\\n\\nTrull glanced at his brother, saw the pallor of his face, the glistening sweat on his brow. \\\"They are resisting this?\\\"\\n\\nBinadas nodded. \\\"They know they are about to die.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How can wraiths die?\\\" Rhulad demanded. \\\"Are they not already ghosts? The spirits of our ancestors?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not ours,\\\" Binadas replied, but did not elaborate, gesturing instead towards Trull. \\\"Strike at the ice, brother.\\\"\\n\\nTrull hesitated. He looked round over his left shoulder, searched until he found the distant wolf. It had lowered its head, legs gathering under it. \\\"Daughter Dusk,\\\" he whispered, \\\"it's about to charge. ' Below, Theradas and Midik were readying their spears.\\n\\n\\\"Now, Trull!\\\"\\n\\nFear's bellow startled him, so that he almost dropped the spear. Jaw clenching, he faced the spar once more, then slashed the iron spear-head against the ice.\\n\\nEven as the weapon whipped forward, Trull's peripheral vision caught motion on all sides, as figures seemed to rise from the very snow itself.\\n\\nThen the spar exploded into blinding, white mist.\\n\\nSudden shouts.\\n\\nTrull felt a savage wrench on the spear in his hands, the Blackwood ringing like iron as countless wraiths were torn free. Their death-cries filled his skull. Stumbling, he tightened his grip, striving to see through the cloud.\\n\\nWeapons clashed.\\n\\nAn antler clawed for his face, each tine carved into a barbed point tipped with quartzite. Trull reeled back, flinging the spear shaft into the antler's path. Trapping it. He twisted the spear round, reversing grip, and succeeded in forcing the attacker into releasing the antler. It spun away to one side. An upward slash with the spear, and Trull felt the iron blade tear through hide and flesh, clattering along ribs before momentarily springing free, to connect hard against the underside of a jaw.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The scene around him was becoming more visible. They were beset by savages, small and bestial, wearing white-skinned hides, faces hidden behind flat white masks. Wielding claw-like antler weapons and short stabbing spears with glittering stone points, the Jheck swarmed on all sides.\\n\\nFear was holding three at bay, and behind him stood the sword, upright and freed from the ice, its point jammed into the frozen ground. It seemed the Jheck were desperate to claim it.\\n\\nTrull struck at the closest of Fear's opponents, iron tip punching deep into the savage's neck. Blood sprayed, jetted down the spear-shaft. He tore the weapon loose, in time to seethe last of the Jheck in front of Fear wheel away, mortally wounded by a sword-thrust.\\n\\nSpinning round, Trull saw Binadas go down beneath amass of Jheck. Shadows then enveloped the writhing figures.\\n\\nRhulad was nowhere to be seen.\\n\\nDown below, Theradas and Midik had met the wolf's charge, and the huge beast was on its side, skewered by spears, legs kicking even as Theradas stepped in with his broad-bladed cutlass. Two more wolves were closing in, alongside them a half-dozen Jheck.\\n\\nAnother score of the savages were ascending the slope.\\n\\nTrull readied his weapon.\\n\\nNearby, Binadas was climbing free of a mound of corpses. He was sheathed in blood, favouring his right side.\\n\\n\\\"Behind us, Binadas,\\\" Fear commanded. \\\"Trull, get on my left. Quickly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where is Rhulad?\\\"\\n\\nFear shook his head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As Trull moved to his brother's left he scanned the bodies sprawled on the snow. But they were all Jheck. Even so, the belief struck him hard as a blow to his chest. They were going to die here. They were going to fail.\\n\\nThe savages on the slope charged.\\n\\nAntlers flew from their hands, dagger-sharp tines flashing as the deadly weapons spun end over end.\\n\\nTrull shouted, warding with his spear as he ducked beneath the whirling onslaught. One flew past his guard, a tine clipping his left knee. He gasped at the pain and felt the sudden spurt of blood beneath his leggings, but his leg held his weight and he remained upright.\\n\\nBehind the flung weapons, the Jheck arrived in a rush.\\n\\nA dozen heartbeats on the defensive, then the Edur warriors found openings for counter-attacks almost simultaneously. Sword and spear bit flesh, and two of the Jheck were down.\\n\\nA shriek from behind Trull and Fear, and the savages recoiled, then in unison darted to their right-\\n\\n-as Rhulad leapt into their midst, the long, bell-hilted sword in his hands.\\n\\nA wild slash, and a Jheck head pitched away from shoulders to bounce and roll down the slope.\\n\\nAnother chop, a gush of blood.\\n\\nBoth Fear and Trull rushed to close with the combatants-\\n\\n-even as stabbing spears found their way into Rhulad from all sides. He shrieked, blood-slick blade wavering over his head. Then he sagged. A shove toppled him onto his back, the sword still in his hands.\\n\\nThe surrounding Jheck darted away, then ran down the slope, weapons dropping or flung aside in sudden panic.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Trull arrived, skidding on the blood-slick ice, the wound in his leg forgotten as he knelt at Rhulad's side.\\n\\n\\\"They're withdrawing, ' Fear said between harshly drawn breaths, moving to stand guard before Trull and Rhulad.\\n\\nNumbed, Trull tore off a gauntlet and set his hand against Rhulad's neck, seeking a pulse.\\n\\nBinadas staggered over, settling down opposite Trull. \\\"How does he fare, brother?\\\"\\n\\nTrull looked up, stared until Binadas glanced up and locked gazes.\\n\\n\\\"Rhulad is dead,\\\" Trull said, dropping his eyes and seeing now, for the first time, the massive impaling wounds punched into his brother's torso, the smear of already freezing blood on the furs, smelling bitter urine and pungent faeces.\\n\\nTheradas and Midik are coming, \\\"Fear said.\\\"The Jheck have fled. ' He then set off, round towards the back of the rise.\\n\\nBut that makes no sense. They had us. There were too many of them. None of this makes sense. Rhulad. He's dead. Our brother is dead.\\n\\nA short time later, Fear returned, crouched down beside him, and tenderly reached out... to take the sword. Trull watched Fear's hands close about Rhulad's where they still clutched the leather-wrapped grip. Watched, as Fear sought to pry those dead fingers loose.\\n\\nAnd could not.\\n\\nTrull studied that fell weapon. The blade was indeed mottled, seemingly forged of polished iron and black shards of some harder, glassier material, the surface of both cracked and uneven. Splashes of blood were freezing black here and there, like a fast-spreading rot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fear sought to wrench the sword free.\\n\\nBut Rhulad would not release it.\\n\\n\\\"Hannan Mosag warned us,\\\" Binadas said, \\\"did he not? Do not allow your flesh to touch the gift.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But he's dead, ' Trull whispered.\\n\\nDusk was swiftly closing round them, the chill in the air deepening.\\n\\nTheradas and Midik arrived. Both were wounded, but neither seriously so. They were silent as they stared down on Rhulad.\\n\\nFear leaned back, having reached some sort of decision. He was silent a moment longer, slowly pulling on his gauntlets. Then he straightened. \\\"Carry him– sword and all– down to the sleds. We will wrap body and blade together. Releasing the gift from our brother's hands is for Hannan Mosag to manage, now. '\\n\\nNo-one else spoke.\\n\\nFear studied each of them in turn, then said, \\\"We travel through this night. I want us out of these wastes as soon as possible.\\\" He looked down on Rhulad once more. \\\"Our brother is blooded. He died a warrior of the Hiroth. His shall be a hero's funeral, one that all the Hiroth shall remember. '\\n\\nIn the wake of numbness came... other things. Questions. But what was the point of those? Any answers that could be found were no better than suppositions, born of uncertainties vulnerable to countless poisons– that host of doubts even now besieging Trull's thoughts. Where had Rhulad disappeared to? What had he sought to achieve by charging into that knot of Jheck savages? And he had well understood the prohibition against taking up the gift, yet he had done so none the less.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"So much of what happened seemed...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"senseless.\\n\\nEven in his final act of extremity, Rhulad answers not the loss of trust under which he laboured. No clean gesture, this messy end. Fear called him a hero, but Trull suspected the motivation behind that claim. A son of Tomad Sengar had failed in his duties on night watch. And now was dead, the sacrifice itself marred with incomprehensible intentions.\\n\\nThe questions led Trull nowhere, and faded to anew wave, one that sickened him, clenching at his gut with spasms of anguish. There had been bravery in that last act. If nothing else. Surprising bravery, when Trull had, of his brother Rhulad, begun to suspect... otherwise. I doubted him. In every way, I doubted him.\\n\\nInto his heart whispered... guilt, a ghost and a ghost's voice, growing monstrous with taloned hands tightening, ever tightening, until his soul began to scream. A piercing cry only Trull could hear, yet a sound that threatened to drive him mad.\\n\\nAnd through it all, a more pervasive sense, a hollowness deep within him. The loss of a brother. The face that would never again smile, the voice that Trull would never again hear. There seemed no end to the layers of loss settling dire and heavy upon him.\\n\\nHe helped Fear wrap Rhulad and the sword in a waxed canvas groundsheet, hearing Midik's weeping as if from a great distance, listening to Binadas talk as he bound wounds and drew upon Emurlahn to quicken healing. As the stiff folds closed over Rhulad's face, Trull's breath caught in a ragged gasp, and he flinched back as Fear tightened the covering with leather straps.\\n\\n\\\"It is done,\\\" Fear murmured. \\\"Death cannot be struggled against, brother. It ever arrives, defiant of every hiding place, of every frantic attempt to escape. Death is every mortal's shadow, his true shadow, and time is its servant, spinning that shadow slowly round, until what stretched behind one now stretches before him. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You called him a hero.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did, and it was not an empty claim. He went to the other side of the rise, which is why we did not see him, and discovered Jheck seeking the sword by subterfuge.\\\"\\n\\nTrull looked up.\\n\\n\\\"I needed answers of my own, brother. He killed two on that side of the hill, yet lost his weapon doing so. Others were coming, I imagine, and so Rhulad must have concluded he had no choice. The Jheck wanted the sword. They would have to kill him to get it. Trull, it is done. He died, blooded and brave. I myself came upon the corpses beyond the rise, before I came back to you and Binadas.\\\"\\n\\nAll my doubts... the poisons of suspicion, in all their foul flavours– Daughter Dusk take me– but I have drunk deep.\\n\\n\\\"Trull, we need you and your skills with that spear in our wake,\\\" Fear said. \\\"Both Binadas and Rhulad here will have to be pulled on the sleds, and for this Theradas and I will be needed. Midik takes point.\\\"\\n\\nTrull blinked confusedly. \\\"Binadas cannot walk?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His hip is broken, and he has not the strength left to heal it.\\\"\\n\\nTrull straightened. \\\"Do you think they will pursue?\\\" \\\"Yes,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\nTheir flight began. Darkness swept down upon them, and a wind began blowing, lifting high the fine-grained snow until the sky itself was grey-white and lowering. The temperature dropped still further, as if with vicious intent, until even the furs they wore began to fail them.\\n\\nFavouring his wounded leg, Trull jogged twenty paces behind the sleds– they were barely visible through the wind-whipped snow. The blood-frosted spear was in his grip, a detail he confirmed every few moments since his fingers had gone numb, but this did little to encourage him. The enemy might well be all around him, just beyond the range of his vision, padding through the darkness, only moments from rushing in.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He would have no time to react, and whatever shout of warning he managed would be torn away by the wind, and his companions would hear nothing. Nor would they return for his body. The gift must be delivered.\\n\\nTrull ran on, constantly scanning to either side, occasionally twisting round to look behind, seeing nothing but faint white. The rhythmic stab of pain in his knee cut through a growing, deadly lassitude, the seep of exhaustion slowing his shivering beneath the furs, dragging at his limbs.\\n\\nDawn's arrival was announced by a dull, reluctant surrender of the pervasive gloom– there was no break in the blizzard's onslaught, no rise in temperature. Trull had given up his vigil. He simply ran on, one foot in front of the other, his ice-clad moccasins the entire extent of his vision. His hands had grown strangely warm beneath the gauntlets, a remote warmth, pooled somewhere beyond his wrists. Something about that vaguely disturbed him.\\n\\nHunger had faded, as had the pain in his knee.\\n\\nA tingling unease, and Trull looked up.\\n\\nThe sleds were nowhere insight. He gasped bitter air, slowed his steps, blinking in an effort to see through the ice crystals on his lashes. The muted daylight was fading. He had run through the day, mindless as a millstone, and another night was fast approaching. And he was lost.\\n\\nTrull dropped the spear. He cried out in pain as he wheeled his arms, seeking to pump more blood into his cold, stiff muscles. He drew his fingers into fists within the gauntlets, and was horrified by nearly failing at so simple a task. The warmth grew wanner, then hot, then searing as if his fingers were on fire. He fought through the agony, pounding his fists on his thighs, flexing against the waves of burning pain.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was surrounded in white, as if the physical world had been scrubbed away, eroded into oblivion by the snow and wind. Terror whispered into his mind, for he sensed that he was not alone.\\n\\nTrull retrieved the spear. He studied the blowing snow on all sides. One direction seemed slightly darker than any other– the east– and he determined that he had been running due west. Following the unseen sun. And now, he needed to turn southerly.\\n\\nUntil his pursuers tired of their game.\\n\\nHe set out.\\n\\nA hundred paces, and he glanced behind him, to see two wolves emerge from the blowing snow. Trull halted and spun round. The beasts vanished once more.\\n\\nHeart thundering, Trull drew out his longsword and jammed it point-first into the hard-packed snow. Then he strode six paces back along his trail and readied his spear.\\n\\nThey came again, this time at a charge.\\n\\nHe had time to plant his spear and drop to one knee before the first beast was upon him. The spear shaft bowed as the iron point slammed dead-centre into the wolf's sternum. Bone and Blackwood shattered simultaneously, then it was as if a boulder hammered into Trull, throwing him back in the air. He landed on his left shoulder, to skid and roll in a spray of snow. Ashe tumbled, he caught sight of his left forearm, blood whipping out from the black splinters jutting from it. Then he came to a stop, up against the longsword.\\n\\nTrull tugged it loose and half rose as he turned about.\\n\\nAmass of white fur, black-gummed jaws stretched wide.\\n\\nBellowing, Trull slashed horizontally with the sword, falling in the wake of the desperate swing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Iron edge sheared through bones, one set, then another.\\n\\nThe wolf fell onto him, its forelimbs severed halfway down and spraying blood.\\n\\nTeeth closed down on the blade of his sword in a snapping frenzy.\\n\\nTrull kicked himself clear, tearing his sword free of the wolf's jaws. Tumbling blood, amass of tongue slapping onto the crusty ice in front of his face, the muscle twitching like a thing still alive. He scrambled into a crouch, then lunged towards the thrashing beast. Thrusting the sword-point into its neck.\\n\\nThe wolf coughed, kicking as if seeking to escape, then slumped motionless on the red snow.\\n\\nTrull reeled back. He saw the first beast, lying where the spear had stolen its life before breaking. Beyond it stood three Jheck hunters– who melted back into the whiteness.\\n\\nBlood was streaming down Trull's left forearm, gathering in his gauntlet. He lifted the arm and tucked it close against his stomach. Pulling the splinters would have to wait. Gasping, he set his sword down and worked his left forearm through his spear harness. Then, retrieving the sword, he set out once more.\\n\\nOblivion on all sides. In which nightmares could flower, sudden and unimpeded, rushing upon him, as fast as his terror-filled mind could conjure them into being, one after another, the succession endless, until death took him– until the whiteness slipped behind his eyes.\\n\\nHe stumbled on, wondering if the fight had actually occurred, unwilling to look down to confirm the wounds on his arm– fearing that he would see nothing. He could not have killed two wolves. He could not have simply chosen to face in one direction and not another, to find himself meeting that charge head-on. He could not have thrust his sword into the ground the precise number of paces behind him, as if knowing how far he would be thrown by the impact. No, he had conjured the entire battle from his own imagination. No other explanation made sense.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And so he looked down.\\n\\nAmass of splinters rising like crooked spines from his forearm. A blackening sword in his right hand, tufts of white fur caught in the clotted blood near the hilt. His spear was gone.\\n\\nI am fevered. The will of my thoughts has seeped out from my eyes, twisting the truth of all that I see. Even the ache in my shoulder is but an illusion.\\n\\nA rush of footsteps behind him.\\n\\nWith a roar, Trull whipped around, sword hissing.\\n\\nBlade chopping into the side of a savage's head, just above the ear. Bone buckling, blood spurting from eye and ear on that side. Figure toppling.\\n\\nAnother, darting in low from his right. Trull leapt back, stop-thrusting. He watched, the motion seeming appallingly slow, as the Jheck turned his stabbing spear to parry. Watched as the sword dipped under the block, then extended once more, to slide point-first beneath the man's left collarbone.\\n\\nA third attacker on his left, slashing a spear-point at Trull's eyes. He leaned back, then spun full circle, pivoting on his right foot, and brought his sword's edge smoothly across the savage's throat. A red flood down the Jheck's chest.\\n\\nTrull completed his spin and resumed his jog, the snow stinging his eyes.\\n\\nNothing but nightmares.\\n\\nHe was lying motionless, the snow slowly covering him, whilst his mind ran on and on, fleeing this lie, this empty world that was not empty, this thick whiteness that exploded into motion and colour again and again.\\n\\nAttackers, appearing out of the darkness and blowing snow. Moments of frenzied fighting, sparks and the hiss of iron and the bite of wood and stone. A succession of ambushes that seemed without end, convincing Trull that he was indeed within a nightmare, ever folding in on itself. Each time, the Jheck appeared in threes, nevermore, and the Hiroth warrior began to believe that they were the same three, dying only to rise once again– and so it would continue, until they finally succeeded, until they killed him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Yet he fought on, leaving blood and bodies in his wake.\\n\\nRunning, snow crunching underfoot.\\n\\nAnd then the wind fell off, sudden like a spent breath.\\n\\nPatches of dark ground ahead. An unseen barrier burst across, the lurid glare of a setting sun to his right, the languid flow of cool, damp air, the smell of mud.\\n\\nAnd shouts. Figures off to his left, half a thousand paces distant. Brothers of the hearth, the dead welcoming his arrival.\\n\\nGladness welling in his heart, Trull staggered towards them. He was not to be a ghost wandering forever alone, then. There would be kin at his side. Fear, and Binadas. And Rhulad.\\n\\nMidik Buhn, and Theradas, rushing towards him.\\n\\nBrothers, all of them. My brothers-\\n\\nThe sun's light wavered, rippled like water, then darkness rose up in a devouring flood.\\n\\nThe sleds were off to one side, their runners buried in mud. On one was a wrapped figure, around which jagged slabs of ice had been packed and strapped in place. Binadas was propped upon the other sled, his eyes closed, his face deeply lined with pain.\\n\\nTrull slowly sat up, feeling light-headed and strangely awkward. Furs tumbled from him as he clambered to his feet and stood, wavering, and dazedly looked around. To the west shimmered a lake, flat grey beneath the overcast sky. The faint wind was warm and humid.\\n\\nAfire had been lit, and over it was spit a scrawny hare, tended to by Midik Buhn. Off to one side stood Fear and Theradas, facing the distant ice-fields to the east as they spoke in quiet tones.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The smell of the roasting meat drew Trull to the fire. Midik Buhn glanced up at him, then looked quickly away, as if shamed by something.\\n\\nTrull's fingers were fiercely itching, and he lifted them into view. Red, the skin peeling, but at least he had not lost them to the cold. Indeed, he seemed intact, although his leather armour was split and cut all across his chest and shoulders, and he could see that the quilted under-padding bore slices, here and there stained dark red, and beneath them was the sting of shallow wounds on his body.\\n\\nNot a nightmare, then, those countless attacks. He checked for his sword and found he was not wearing the belted scabbard. A moment later he spied his weapon, leaning against a pack. It was barely recognizable. The blade was twisted, the edge so battered as to make the sword little more than a club.\\n\\nFootsteps, and Trull turned.\\n\\nFear laid a hand upon his shoulder. \\\"Trull Sengar, we did not expect to see you again. Leading the Jheck away from our path was a bold tactic, and it saved our lives.\\\" He nodded towards the sword. \\\"Your weapon tells the tale. Do you know how many you defeated?\\\"\\n\\nTrull shook his head. \\\"No. Fear, I did not intentionally lead them away from you. I became lost in the storm.\\\"\\n\\nHis brother smiled and said nothing.\\n\\nTrull glanced over at Theradas. \\\"I became lost, Theradas Buhn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It matters not,\\\" Theradas replied in a growl.\\n\\n\\\"I believed I was dead.\\\" Trull looked away, rubbed at his face. \\\"I saw you, and thought I was joining you in death. I'd expected... \\\"He shook his head.\\\"Rhulad... '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He was a true warrior, Trull,\\\" Fear said. \\\"It is done, and now we must move on. There are Arapay on the way– Binadas managed to awaken their shamans to our plight. They will hasten our journey home.\\\"\\n\\nTrull nodded distractedly. He stared at the distant field of ice. Remembering the feel and sound beneath his moccasins, the blast of the wind, the enervating cold. The horrifying Jheck, silent hunters who claimed a frozen world as their own. They had wanted the sword. Why?\\n\\nHow many Jheck could those ice-fields sustain? How many had they killed? How many wives and children were left to grieve? To starve?\\n\\nThere should have been five hundred of us. Then they would have left us alone.\\n\\n\\\"Over there!\\\"\\n\\nAt Midik's shout Trull swung round, then faced in the direction Midik was pointing. Northward, where a dozen huge beasts strode, coming down from the ice, four-legged and brown-furred, each bearing long, curved tusks to either side of a thick, sinuous snout.\\n\\nPonderous, majestic, the enormous creatures walked towards the lake.\\n\\nThis is not our world.\\n\\nA sword waited in the unyielding grip of a corpse, sheathed in waxed cloth, bound with ice. A weapon familiar with cold's implacable embrace. It did not belong in Hannan Mosag's hands.\\n\\nUnless the Warlock King had changed.\\n\\nAnd perhaps he has.\\n\\n\\\"Come and eat, Trull Sengar,\\\" his brother called behind him.\\n\\nSisters have mercy onus, in the way we simply goon, and on. Would that we had all died, back thereon the ice. Would that we had failed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"You maybe written this way Spun in strands sewn in thread Blood woven to the child you once were Huddled in the fold of night And the demons beyond the corner Of your eye stream down A flurry of arachnid limbs Twisting and tumbling you tight To feed upon later. You maybe written this way Stung senseless at the side of the road Waylaid on the dark trail And the recollections beyond the corner Of your eye suckle in the mud Dreadful fluids seeping From improbable pasts And all that might have been. You would be written this way Could you crack the carcass And unfurl once more The child you once were\\n\\nWaylaid Wrathen Urut\\n\\nRolled onto the beach, naked and grey, the young man lay motionless in the sand. His long brown hair was tangled, snarled with twigs and strands of sea-weed. Scaled birds pranced around the body, serrated beaks gaping in the morning heat.\\n\\nThey scattered at Withal's arrival, flapping into the air. Then, as three black Nachts bounded down from the verge, the birds screamed and whirled out over the waves.\\n\\nWithal crouched down at the figure's side, studied it fora moment, then reached out and rolled the body onto its back.\\n\\n\\\"Wake up, lad.\\\"\\n\\nEyes snapped open, filled with sudden terror and pain. Mouth gaped, neck stretched, and piercing screams rose into the air. The young man convulsed, legs scissoring the sand, and clawed at his scalp.\\n\\nWithal leaned back on his haunches and waited.\\n\\nThe screams grew hoarse, were replaced by weeping. The convulsions diminished to waves of shuddering as the young man slowly curled up in the sand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It gets easier, one hopes,\\\" Withal murmured.\\n\\nHead twisted round, large, wet eyes fixing on Withal's own.\\\"What... where... '\\n\\n\\\"The two questions I am least able to answer, lad. Let's try the easier ones. I'm named Withal, once of the Third Meckros city. You are here– wherever here is– because my master wills it.\\\" He rose with a grunt. \\\"Can you stand? He awaits you inland– not far.\\\"\\n\\nThe eyes shifted away, focused on the three Nachts at the edge of the verge. \\\"What are those things? What's that one doing? '\\n\\n\\\"Bhoka'ral. Nachts. Name them as you will. As I have. The one making the nest is Pule, a young male. This particular nest has taken almost a week– see how he obsesses over it, adjusting twigs just so, weaving the seaweed, going round and round with a critical eye. The older male, over there and watching Pule, is Rind. He's moments from hilarity, as you'll see. The female preening on the rock is Mape. You've arrived at a propitious time, lad. Watch.\\\"\\n\\nThe nest-builder, Pule, had begun backing away from the intricate construct on the verge, black tail flicking from side to side, head bobbing. Fifteen paces from the nest, it suddenly sat, arms folded, and seemed to study the colourless sky.\\n\\nThe female, Mape, ceased preening, paused a moment, then ambled casually towards the nest.\\n\\nPule tensed, even as it visibly struggled to keep its gaze on the sky.\\n\\nReaching the nest, Mape hesitated, then attacked. Driftwood, grasses and twigs flew in all directions. Within moments, the nest had been destroyed in a wild frenzy, and Mape was squatting in the wreckage, urinating.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nearby, Rind was rolling about in helpless mirth.\\n\\nPule slumped in obvious dejection.\\n\\n\\\"This has happened more times than I'd care to count, ' Withal said, sighing.\\n\\n\\\"How is it you speak my language?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd a smattering, from traders. My master has, it seems, improved upon it. A gift, you might say, one of a number of gifts, none of which I asked for. I suspect, \\\"he continued,\\\"you will come to similar sentiments, lad. We should get going. '\\n\\nWithal watched the young man struggle to his feet. \\\"Tall,\\\" he observed, \\\"but I've seen taller. '\\n\\nPain flooded the youth's features once more and he doubled over. Withal stepped close and supported him before he toppled.\\n\\n\\\"It's ghost pain, lad. Ghost pain and ghost fear. Fight through it. '\\n\\n\\\"No! It's real! It's real, you bastard!\\\"\\n\\nWithal strained as the youth's full weight settled in his arms.\\\"Enough of that. Stand up! '\\n\\n\\\"It's no good! I'm dying!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"On your feet, dammit!\\\"\\n\\nA rough shake, then Withal pushed him away.\\n\\nHe staggered, then slowly straightened, drawing in deep, ragged breaths. He began shivering. \\\"It's so cold... '\\n\\n\\\"Hood's breath, lad, it's blistering hot. And getting hotter with everyday.\\\"\\n\\nArms wrapped about himself, the young man regarded Withal. \\\"How long have you lived... lived here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Longer than I'd like. Some choices aren't for you to make. Not for you, not for me. Now, our master's losing patience. Follow me. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The youth stumbled along behind him. \\\"You said'our\\\".\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Did I?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where are my clothes? Where are my– no, never mind– it hurts to remember. Never mind.\\\"\\n\\nThey reached the verge, withered grasses pulling at their legs as they made their way inland. The Nachts joined them, clambering and hopping, hooting and snorting as they kept pace.\\n\\nTwo hundred paces ahead squatted a ragged tent, the canvas sun-bleached and stained. Wafts of grey-brown smoke drifted from the wide entrance, where most of one side had been drawn back to reveal the interior.\\n\\nWhere sat a hooded figure.\\n\\n\\\"That's him? \\\"the youth asked.\\\"That's your master? Are you a slave, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I serve,\\\" Withal replied, \\\"but I am not owned.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who is he?\\\"\\n\\nWithal glanced back. \\\"He is a god.\\\" He noted the disbelief writ on the lad's face, and smiled wryly.\\\"Who's seen better days.\\\"\\n\\nThe Nachts halted and huddled together in a threesome.\\n\\nA last few strides across withered ground, then Withal stepped to one side. \\\"I found him on the strand,\\\" he said to the seated figure, \\\"moments before the lizard gulls did.\\\"\\n\\nDarkness hid the Crippled God's features, as was ever the case when Withal had been summoned to an attendance. The smoke from the brazier filled the tent, seeping out to stream along the mild breeze. A gnarled, thin hand emerged from the folds of a sleeve as the god gestured.\\\"Closer, \\\"he rasped.\\\"Sit. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are not my god,\\\" the youth said.\\n\\n\\\"Sit. I am neither petty nor overly sensitive, young warrior.\\\"\\n\\nWithal watched the lad hesitate, then slowly settle onto the ground, cross-legged, arms wrapped about his shivering frame. \\\"It's cold. '\\n\\n\\\"Some furs for our guest, Withal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Furs? We don't have any-\\\"He stopped when he noticed the bundled bearskin heaped beside him. He gathered it up and pushed it into the lad's hands.\\n\\nThe Crippled God scattered some seeds onto the brazier's coals. Popping sounds, then more smoke.\\\"Peace. Warm yourself, warrior, while I tell you of peace. History is unerring, and even the least observant mortal can be made to understand, through innumerable repetition. Do you see peace as little more than the absence of war? Perhaps, on a surface level, it is just that. But let me describe the characteristics of peace, my young friend. A pervasive dulling of the senses, a decadence afflicting the culture, evinced by a growing obsession with low entertainment. The virtues of extremity– honour, loyalty, sacrifice– are lifted high as shoddy icons, currency for the cheapest of labours. The longer peace lasts, the more those words are used, and the weaker they become. Sentimentality pervades daily life. All becomes a mockery of itself, and the spirit grows... restless. '\\n\\nThe Crippled God paused, breath rasping. 'Is this a singular pessimism? Allow me to continue with a description of what follows a period of peace. Old warriors sit in taverns, telling tales of vigorous youth, their pasts when all things were simpler, clearer cut. They are not blind to the decay all around them, are not immune to the loss of respect for themselves, for all that they gave for their king, their land, their fellow citizens.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":80,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 20"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Won't happen, and what if it did? They couldn't be worse.\"\n\nTehol studied Hejun briefly, then he shrugged. \"All of this awaits resolution. In the meantime, remain vigilant. There are still things that need doing. What happened to that Nerek mother and her children I sent you?\"\n\n\"We shipped them to the islands,\" Shand said. \"They ate more than she cooked. Started getting fat. It was all very sad.\"\n\n\"Well, it's late and I'm hungry, so I will take my leave now.\"\n\n\"What about Ublala?\" Rissarh demanded.\n\n\"What about him?\"\n\n\"We want him back.\"\n\n\"Too late, I'm afraid. That's what happens when you won't commit. '\n\nTehol quickly made his way out.\n\nWalking the quiet streets back to his abode, Tehol considered his earlier words. He had to admit to himself that he was troubled. There was sufficient mystery in some of the rumours to suggest that the impending war would not be like all the others Letherii had waged. A collision of wills and desires, and beneath it a host of dubious assumptions and suspect sentiments. In that alone, no different from any other war. But in this case, the outcome was far from certain, and even the notion of victory seemed confused and elusive.\n\nHe passed through Burl Square and came to the entrance to the warehouse storage area, beyond which was the alley leading to his home. Pausing to push up his lopsided sleeves and cinch tight his trousers, he frowned. Was he losing weight? Hard to know. Wool stretched, after all.\n\nA figure stepped from the nearby shadows of an alley mouth. \"You're late. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tehol started, then said, \"For what?\"\n\nShurq Elalle came to within two paces of him. \"I've been waiting. Bugg made soup. Where have you been? '\n\n\"What are you doing out?\" Tehol asked. \"You're supposed to be holed upright now. This is dangerous-'\n\n\"I needed to talk to you,\" she cut in. \"It's about Harlest. '\n\n\"What about him?\"\n\n\"He wants his sharp teeth and talons. It's all we ever hear. Fangs and talons, fangs and talons. We're sick of it. Where's Selush? Why haven't you made arrangements? You're treating us like corpses, but even the dead have needs, you know. '\n\n\"Well, no, I didn't know that. In any case, tell Harlest that Selush is working on this, probably right now in fact. Sharp solutions are forthcoming. '\n\n\"Don't make me laugh. '\n\n\"Sorry. Are you in need of a refill?\"\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"Well, uh, more herbs and stuff, I mean.\"\n\n\"I don't know. Am I? Do I smell or something? '\n\n\"No. Only of sweet things, Shurq. I assure you.\"\n\n\"I am less inspired by your assurances as time goes on, Tehol Beddict.\"\n\n\"What a terrible thing to say! Have we stumbled yet?\"\n\n\"When is Gerun Eberict returning?\"\n\n\"Soon, it turns out. Things should get exciting then.\"\n\n\"I am capable of excitement regarding one thing and one thing only, and that has nothing to do with Gerun Eberict. However, I want to steal again. Anything, from whomever. Point me in a direction. Any direction.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Well, there is of course the Tolls Repository. But that's impregnable, obviously. Or, let's see, the royal vaults, but again, impossible.\"\n\n\"The Tolls. Yes, that sounds challenging.\"\n\n\"You won't succeed, Shurq. No-one ever has, and that includes Green Pig who was a sorceror nearly to rival the Ceda himself-'\n\n\"I knew Green Pig. He suffered from overconfidence.\"\n\n\"And was torn limb from limb as a result.\"\n\n\"What do you want stolen from the Tolls Repository?\"\n\n\"Shurq-\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nTehol glanced round. \"All right. I want to find out which lender holds the largest royal debt. The king has been borrowing prodigiously, and not just to finance the Eternal Domicile. So, who and how much. Same for Queen Janall. And whatever she's done in her son's name.\"\n\n\"Is that all? No gold? No diamonds?\"\n\n\"That's right. No gold, no diamonds, and no evidence left behind that anyone was ever in there. '\n\n\"I can do that.\"\n\n\"No you can't. You'll get caught. And dismembered.\"\n\n\"Oh, that will hurt.\"\n\n\"Maybe not, but it'll prove inconvenient. '\n\n\"I won't get caught, Tehol Beddict. Now, what did you want from the royal vaults? '\n\n\"A tally.\"\n\n\"You want to know the present state of the treasury.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I can do that.\"\n\n\"No you can't. '\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because you'll have been dismembered by then. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Thus permitting me to slip into places where I otherwise wouldn't fit. '\n\n\"Shurq, they take your head off too, you know. It's the last thing they do. '\n\n\"Really? That's barbaric. '\n\n\"Like I said, you would be greatly inconvenienced.\"\n\n\"I would at that. Well, I shall endeavour to be careful. Mind you, even ahead can count.\"\n\n\"What would you have me do, break in and lob your head into the vaults? Tied to a rope so I can pull you out again when you're done? '\n\n\"That sounds somewhat problematic.\"\n\n\"It does, doesn't it? '\n\n\"Can't you plan any better than that, Tehol Beddict? My faith in you is fast diminishing. '\n\n\"Can't be helped, I suppose. What's this I hear about you purchasing a seagoing vessel?\"\n\n\"That was supposed to be a secret. Bugg said he wouldn't tell-'\n\n\"He didn't. I have my own sources of intelligence, especially when the owner of the vessel just sold happens to be me. Indirectly, of course. '\n\n\"All right. Me and Ublala and Harlest, we want to be pirates.\"\n\n\"Don't make me laugh, Shurq. '\n\n\"Now you're being cruel. '\n\n\"Sorry. Pirates, you say. Well, all three of you are notoriously hard to drown. Might work at that.\"\n\n\"Your confidence and well-wishing overwhelms me.\"\n\n\"And when do you plan on embarking on this new venture?\"\n\n\"When you're done with us, of course. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tehol tugged up his trousers again. \"Yet another edifying conversation with you, Shurq. Now, I smell something that might well be soup, and you need to go back to your crypt.\"\n\n\"Sometimes I really hate you.\"\n\nHe led her by the hand down the shallow, crumbling steps. She liked these journeys, even though the places he took her were strange and often... disturbing. This time, they descended an inverted stepped pyramid– at least that was what he called it. Four sides to the vast, funnelled pit, and at the base there was a small square of darkness.\n\nThe air was humid enough to leave droplets on her bare arms. Far overhead, the sky was white and formless. She did not know if it was hot– memories of such sensations had begun to fade, along with so many other things.\n\nThey reached the base of the pit and she looked up at the tall, pale figure at her side. His face was becoming more visible, less blurred. It looked handsome, but hard. \"I'm sorry, \"she said after a moment,\"that she's got you by the ankles.\"\n\n\"We all have our burdens, Kettle.\"\n\n\"Where are we?\"\n\n\"You have no recognition of this place?\"\n\n\"No. Maybe.\"\n\n\"Let us continue down, then.\"\n\nInto the darkness, three rungs to a landing, then a spiral staircase of black stone.\n\n\"Round and round,\" Kettle said, giggling.\n\nA short while later they came to the end, the stairs opening out onto a sprawling, high-ceilinged chamber. The gloom was no obstacle to Kettle, nor, she suspected, to her companion. She could see a ragged mound heaped against the far wall to their right, and made to move towards it, but his hand drew her back."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No, lass. Not there.\"\n\nHe led her instead directly ahead. Three doorways, each one elaborately arched and framed with reverse impressions of columns. Between them, the walls displayed deeply carved images.\n\n\"As you can see,\" he said, \"there is a reversal of perspective. That which is closest is carved deepest. There is significance to all this.\"\n\n\"Where are we?\"\n\n\"To achieve peace, destruction is delivered. To give the gift of freedom, one promises eternal imprisonment. Adjudication obviates the need for justice. This is a studied, deliberate embrace of diametric opposition. It is a belief in balance, a belief asserted with the conviction of religion. But in this case, the proof of a god's power lies not in the cause but in the effect. Accordingly, in this world and in all others, proof is achieved by action, and therefore all action– including the act of choosing inaction– is inherently moral. No deed stands outside the moral context. At the same time, the most morally perfect act is the one taken in opposition to what has occurred before. '\n\n\"What do the rooms look like through those openings?\"\n\n\"In this civilization,\" he continued, \"its citizens were bound to acts of utmost savagery. Vast cities were constructed beneath the world's surface. Each chamber, every building, assembled as the physical expression of the quality of absence. Solid rock matched by empty space. From these places, where they did not dwell, but simply gathered, they set out to achieve balance. '\n\nIt seemed he would not lead her through any of the doorways, so she fixed her attention instead on the images. \"There are no faces.\"\n\n\"The opposite of identity, yes, Kettle.\"\n\n\"The bodies look strange.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Physically unique. In someways more primitive, but as a consequence less... specialized, and so less constrained. Profoundly long-lived, more so than any other species. Very difficult to kill, and, it must be said, they needed to be killed. Or so was the conclusion reached after any initial encounter with them. Most of the time. They did fashion the occasional alliance. With the Jaghut, for example. But that was yet another tactic aimed at reasserting balance, and it ultimately failed. As did this entire civilization.\"\n\nKettle swung round to study that distant heap of... something. \"Those are bodies, aren't they? '\n\n\"Bones. Scraps of clothing, the harnesses they wore.\"\n\n\"Who killed them?\"\n\n\"You had to understand, Kettle. The one within you must understand. My refutation of the Forkrul Assail belief in balance is absolute. It is not that I am blind to the way in which force is ever countered, the way in which the natural world strains towards balance. But in that striving I see no proof of a god's power; I see no guiding hand behind such forces. And, even if one such existed, I see no obvious connection with the actions of a self-chosen people for whom chaos is the only rational response to order. Chaos needs no allies, for it dwells like a poison in everyone of us. The only relevant struggle for balance I acknowledge is that within ourselves. Externalizing it presumes inner perfection, that the internal struggle is over, victory achieved. '\n\n\"You killed them.\"\n\n\"These ones here, yes. As for the rest, no. I was too late arriving and my freedom too brief for that. In any case, but a few enclaves were left by that time. My draconic kin took care of that task, since no other entity possessed the necessary power. As I said, they were damned hard to kill.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kettle shrugged, and she heard him sigh.\n\n\"There are places, lass, where Forkrul Assail remain. Imprisoned for the most part, but ever restless. Even more disturbing, in many of those places they are worshipped by misguided mortals.\" He hesitated, then said, \"You have no idea, Kettle, of the extremity the Azath tower found itself in. To have chosen a soul such as yours... it was like reaching into the heart of the enemy camp. I wonder if, in its last moments, it knew regret. Misgivings. Mother knows, I do.\"\n\n\"What is this soul you are talking about?\"\n\n\"Perhaps it sought to use the soul's power without fully awakening it. We will never know. But you are loose upon the world now. Shaped to fight as a soldier in the war against chaos. Can that fundamental conflict within you be reconciled? Your soul, lass? It is Forkrul Assail. '\n\n\"So you have brought me home?\"\n\nHis hand betrayed his sudden flinch. \"You were also a mortal human child, once. And there is a mystery in that. Who birthed you? Who took away your life, and why? Was all this in preparation for your corpse to house the Assail soul? If that is the case, then the Azath tower was either deceived by someone capable of communicating with it, or it had in truth nothing at all to do with the creation of you as you now are. But that makes no sense– why would the Azath lie tome?\"\n\n\"It said you were dangerous.\"\n\nHe was silent for sometime. Then, \"Ah, you are to kill me once I have vanquished the other entombed creatures.\"\n\n\"The tower is dead,\" Kettle said. \"I don't have to do anything it told me. Do I? ' She looked up and found him studying her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What path will you choose, child?\"\n\nShe smiled. \"Your path. Unless you're bad. I'll be very angry if you're bad. '\n\n\"I am pleased, Kettle. Best that you stay close tome, assuming we succeed in what we must do.\"\n\n\"I understand. You may have to destroy me.\"\n\n\"Yes. If I can.\"\n\nShe gestured with her freehand at the heap of bones. \"I don't think you'll have much trouble.\"\n\n\"Let us hope it doesn't come to that. Let us hope the soul within you does not entirely awaken. '\n\n\"It won't. That's why none of this matters.\"\n\n\"What makes you so certain, Kettle?\"\n\n\"The tower told me.\"\n\n\"It did? What did it say to you? Try to recall its exact words.\"\n\n\"It never spoke with words. It just showed me things. My body, all wrapped up. People were crying. But I could see through the gauze. I'd woken up. I was seeing everything with two sets of eyes. It was very strange. One set behind the wrappings, the other standing nearby. '\n\n\"What else did the Azath show you?\"\n\n\"Those eyes from the outside. There were five others. We were just standing in the street, watching the family carrying the body. My body. Six of us. We'd walked along way, because of the dreams. We'd been in the city for weeks, waiting for the Azath to choose someone. But I wasn't the same as the five others, though we were here for the same reason, and we'd travelled together. They were Nerek witches, and they'd prepared me. Theme on the outside, not theme all wrapped up. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The you on the outside, Kettle, were you a child?\"\n\n\"Oh no. I was tall. Not as tall as you. And I had to wear my hood up, so no-one could see how different I was. I'd come from very faraway. I'd walked, when I was young, hot sands– the sands that covered the First Empire. Whatever that is.\"\n\n\"What did the Nerek witches call you? Had you a name?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"A title?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"I'd forgotten all this. They called me the Nameless One. Is this important? '\n\n\"I think it is, Kettle. Although I am not sure in what way. Much of this realm remains unknown tome. It was very young when I was imprisoned. You are certain this'Nameless One\" was an actual title? Not just something the Nerek used because they didn't know your true name? '\n\n\"It was a title. They said I'd been prepared from birth. That I was a true child of Eres. And that I was the answer to the Seventh Closure, because I had the blood of kin. \"The blood of kin\". What did they mean by that? '\n\n\"When I am finally free,\" he said in a voice revealing strain, \"I will be able to physically touch you, Kettle. My fingers upon your brow. And then I will have your answer.\"\n\n\"I guess this Eres was my real mother.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And soon you will know who my father is.\"\n\n\"I will know his blood, yes. At the very least.\"\n\n\"I wonder if he's still alive. '\n\n\"Knowing how Eres plays the game, lass, he might not even be your father yet. She wanders time, Kettle, in a manner no-one else can even understand, much less emulate. And this is very much her world. She is the fire that never dies.\" He paused, then said, \"She will choose– or has chosen– with great deliberation. Your father was, is, or will be someone of great importance.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So how many souls are in me?\"\n\n\"Two, sharing the flesh and bone of a child corpse. Lass, we shall have to find away to get you out of that body, eventually.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because you deserve something better.\"\n\n\"I want to go back. Will you take me back now?\"\n\n\"I've given upon the eel itself, \"Bugg said, ladling out the soup.\"It's still too tough.\"\n\n\"None the less, my dear manservant, it smells wonderful.\"\n\n\"That would be the wine. Courtesy of Chief Investigator Rucket, whose request fora meeting with you was for purposes not entirely professional.\"\n\n\"And how did you fare on my behalf?\"\n\n\"I ensured that her interest in you only deepened, master.\"\n\n\"By way of contrast?\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\n\"Well, is that a good thing? I mean, she's rather frightening. '\n\n\"You don't know the half of it. Even so, she is exceptionally clever. '\n\n\"Oh, I don't like that at all, Bugg. You know, I am tasting something fishy. A hint, anyway. Just how dried up was this eel you found? '\n\nThe manservant probed with his ladle and lifted the mentioned object into view. Black, wrinkled and not nearly as limp as it should have been.\n\nTehol leaned closer and studied it fora moment. \"Bugg...\"\n\n\"Yes, master?\"\n\n\"That's the sole of a sandal. '\n\n\"It is? Oh. I was wondering why it was flatter atone end than the other.\"\n\nTehol settled back and took another sip. \"Still fishy, though. One might assume the wearer, being in the fish market, stepped on an eel, before the loss of his or her sole.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I am mildly disturbed by the thought of what else he or she might have stepped in.\"\n\n\"There are indeed complexities on the palate, suggesting a varied and lengthy history. Now, how was your day and the subsequent evening?\"\n\n\"Uneventful. Rucket informs me that Gerun Eberict has killed about three thousand citizens this year.\"\n\n\"Three thousand? That seems somewhat excessive.\"\n\n\"I thought so, too, master. More soup?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank you. So, what is his problem, do you think?\"\n\n\"Gerun's? A taste for blood, I'd wager.\"\n\n\"As simple as that? How egregious. We'll have to do something about it, I think. '\n\n\"And how was your day and evening, master?\"\n\n\"Busy. Exhausting, even.\"\n\n\"You were on the roof?\"\n\n\"Yes, mostly. Although, as I recall, I came down here once. Can't remember why. Or, rather, I couldn't at the time, so I went backup.\"\n\nBugg tilted his head. \"Someone's approaching our door. '\n\nThe sound of boots in the alley, the faint whisper of armour.\n\n\"My brother, I'd hazard, \"Tehol said, then, turning to face the curtained doorway, he raised his voice.\"Brys, do come in. '\n\nThe hanging was pulled aside and Brys entered. \"Well, that is an interesting smell,\" he said.\n\n\"Sole soup,\" Tehol said. \"Would you like some?\"\n\n\"No, thank you. I have already eaten, it being well after the second bell. I trust you have heard the rumours.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The war?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I've heard hardly a thing, ' Tehol said.\n\nBrys hesitated, glancing at Bugg, then he sighed. \"A new emperor has emerged to lead the Tiste Edur. Tehol, Hull has sworn his allegiance to him.\"\n\n\"Now, that is indeed unfortunate.\"\n\n\"Accordingly, you are at risk.\"\n\n\"Arrest?\"\n\n\"No, more likely assassination. All in the name of patriotism.\"\n\nTehol set his bowl down. \"It occurs tome, Brys, that you are more at risk than I am.\"\n\n\"I am well guarded, brother, whilst you are not.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! I have Bugg!\"\n\nThe manservant looked up at Brys with a bland smile.\n\n\"Tehol, this is not time for jokes-\"\n\n\"Bugg resents that!\"\n\n\"I do?\"\n\n\"Well, don't you? I would, if I were you-'\n\n\"It seems you just were.\"\n\n\"My apologies for making you speak out of turn, then.\"\n\n\"Speaking on your behalf, master, I accept.\"\n\n\"You are filled with relief-\"\n\n\"Will you two stop it!\" Brys shouted, throwing up his hands. He began pacing the small confines of the room. \"The threat is very real. Agents of the queen will not hesitate. You are both in very grave danger.\"\n\n\"But how will killing me change the fact of Hull forsaking our homeland?\"\n\n\"It won't, of course. But your history, Tehol, makes you a hated man. The queen's investments suffered thanks to you, and she's not the type to forgive and forget. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Well, what do you suggest, Brys?\"\n\n\"Stop sleeping on your roof, for one. Let me hire a few bodyguards-\"\n\n\"A few? How many are you thinking?\"\n\n\"Four, at least.\"\n\n\"One.\"\n\n\"One?\"\n\n\"One. No more than that. You know how I dislike crowds, Brys.\"\n\n\"Crowds? You've never disliked crowds, Tehol. '\n\n\"I do now.\"\n\nBrys glowered, then sighed. \"All right. One.\"\n\n\"And that will make you happy, then? Excellent-\"\n\n\"No more sleeping on your roof.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid, brother, that won't be possible.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\nTehol gestured. \"Look at this place! It's a mess! Besides, Bugg snores. And we're not talking mild snoring, either. Imagine being chained to the floor of a cave, with the tide crashing in, louder, louder, louder-\"\n\n\"I have in mind three guards, all brothers,\" Brys said, \"who can spell each other. One will therefore always be with you, even when you're sleeping on your roof. '\n\n\"So long as they don't snore-'\n\n\"They won't be asleep, Tehol! They'll be standing guard!\"\n\n\"All right. Calm down. I am accepting, aren't I? Now, how about some soup, just to tide you over until you break your fast? '\n\nBrys glanced at the pot. \"There's wine in it, isn't there?\"\n\n\"Indeed. Only the best, at that.\"\n\n\"Fine. Half a bowl.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tehol and Bugg exchanged pleased smiles."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Black glass stands between us The thin face of otherness Risen into difference These sibling worlds You cannot reach through Or pierce this shade so distinct As to make us unrecognizable Even in reflection The black glass stands And that is more than all And the between us Gropes but never finds Focus or even meaning The between us is ever lost In that barrier of darkness When backs are turned And we do little more than refuse Facing ourselves.\n\nPreface to The Nerek Absolution Myrkas Preadict\n\nLight and heat rose in waves from the rock, swirled remorselessly along the narrow track. The wraiths had fled to cracks and fissures and huddled there now, like bats awaiting dusk. Seren Pedac paused to await Buruk. She set her pack down, then tugged at the sweat-sodden, quilted padding beneath her armour, feeling it peel away from her back like skin. She was wearing less than half her kit, the rest strapped onto the pack, yet it still dragged at her after the long climb to the summit of the pass.\n\nShe could hear nothing from beyond the crest twenty paces behind her, and considered going back to check on her charge. Then, faintly, came a curse, then scrabbling sounds.\n\nThe poor man.\n\nThey had been hounded by the wraiths the entire way. The ghostly creatures made the very air agitated and restless. Sleep was difficult, and the constant motion flitting in their peripheral vision, the whispered rustling through their camps, left their nerves raw and exhausted.\n\nShe glared a moment at the midday sun, then wiped the gritty sweat from her brow and walked a few paces ahead on the trail. They were almost out of Edur territory. Another thousand paces. After that, another day's worth of descent to the river. Without the wagons, they would then be able to hire a riverboat to take them the rest of the way down to Trate. Another day for that."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And then? Will he still hold me to the contract? It seemed pointless, and so she had assumed he would simply release her, at least for the duration of the war, and she would be free to journey back to Letheras. But Buruk the Pale had said nothing of that. In fact, he had not said much of anything since leaving the Hiroth village.\n\nShe turned as he clambered onto the summit's flat stretch. Clothed in dust and streaks of sweat, beneath them a deeply flushed face and neck. Seren walked back towards him.\"We will rest here fora time. '\n\nHe coughed, then asked, \"Why?\" The word was a vicious growl.\n\n\"Because we need it, Buruk.\"\n\n\"You don't. And why speak for me? I am fine, Acquitor. Just get us to the river. '\n\nHer pack held both their possessions and supplies. She had cut down a sapling and trimmed it to serve as a walking stick for him, and this was all he carried. His once fine clothes were ragged, the leggings torn by sharp rocks. He stood before her, wheezing, bent over and leaning heavily on the stick. \"I mean to rest, Buruk,\" she said after a moment. \"You can do as you please.\"\n\n\"I can't stand being watched! \"the merchant suddenly shrieked.\"Always watching! Those damned shades! No more! ' With that he stumbled past heron the trail.\n\nSeren returned to her pack and slung it once moreover her shoulders. One sentiment she could share with Buruk: the sooner this trip was over, the better. She set out in his wake.\n\nA dozen paces along and she reached his side. Then was past."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"By the time Seren arrived at the clearing where the borders had been agreed over a century ago, Buruk the Pale was once more out of sight somewhere back on the trail. She halted, flung down her pack, and walked over to the sheer wall of polished black stone, recalling when she had last touched that strange– and strangely welcoming– surface.\n\nSome mysteries would not unravel, whilst others were peeled back by fraught circumstance or deadly design, to reveal mostly sordid truths.\n\nShe set her hands against the warm, glassy stone, and felt something like healing steal into her. Beyond, figures in ceaseless motion, paying no attention to her whatsoever. Preferable to the endless spying of wraiths. And this was as it had always been. Seren settled her forehead against the wall, closing her eyes.\n\nAnd heard whispering.\n\nA language kin to Tiste Edur. She struggled to translate. Then meaning was found.\n\n\"-when he who commands cannot be assailed. Cannot be defeated.\"\n\n\"And now he feeds on our rage. Our anguish.\"\n\n\"Of the three, one shall return. Our salvation-\"\n\n\"Fool. From each death power burgeons anew. Victory is impossible.\"\n\n\"There is no place for us. We but serve. We but bleed out terror and the annihilation begins-\"\n\n\"Ours as well.\"\n\n\"Yes, ours as well.\"\n\n\"Do you think she will come again? Does anyone think she will come again? She will, I am certain of it. With her bright sword. She is the rising sun and the rising sun ever comes, sending us scurrying, cutting us to pieces with that sharp, deadly light-\"\n\n\"-annihilation well serves us. Make of us dead shards. To bring an end to this-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Someone is with us.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"A mortal is herewith us. Two Mistresses to the same Hold. She is one, and she is here. She is here now and she listens to our words.\"\n\n\"Steal her mind!\"\n\n\"Take her soul!\"\n\n\"Let us out!\"\n\nSeren reeled away from the black wall. Staggered, hands to her ears, shaking her head. \"Enough,\" she moaned. \"No more, please. No more.\" She sank to her knees, was motionless as the voices faded, their screams dwindling. \"Mistress?\" she whispered. I am no-one's mistress. Just one more reluctant... lover of solitude. No place for voices, no place for hard purposes... fierce fires.\n\nLike Hull, only ashes. The smudged remnants of possibilities. But, unlike the man she had once thought to love, she had not knelt before anew icon to certainty. No choices to measure out like the soporific illusion of some drug, the consigning invitation to addiction. She wanted no new masters over her life. Nor the burden of friendships.\n\nA croaking voice behind her. \"What's wrong with you? '\n\nShe shook her head. \"Nothing, Buruk.\" She climbed wearily to her feet. \"We have reached the border.\"\n\n\"I'm not blind, Acquitor. '\n\n\"We can move on away, then make camp.\"\n\n\"You think me weak, don't you? '\n\nShe glanced over at him. \"You are sick with exhaustion, Buruk. So am I. What point all this bravado?\"\n\nSudden pain in his expression, then he turned away. \"I'll show you soon enough. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What of my contract?\"\n\nHe did not face her. \"Done. Once we reach Trate. I absolve you of further responsibility.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" she said, walking to her pack.\n\nThey built a small fire with the last of their wood. The wraiths, it seemed, cared nothing for borders, flitting along the edges of the flickering light. A renewed interest, and Seren thought she knew why. The spirits within the stonewall. She was now marked.\n\nMistress of the Hold. Mistresses. There are two, and they think I am one of those two. A lie, a mistake.\n\nWhich Hold?\n\n\"You were young,\" Buruk suddenly said, his eyes on the fire. \"When I first saw you.\"\n\n\"And you were happy, Buruk. What of it?\"\n\n\"Happiness. Ah, now that is a familiar mask. True, I wore it often, back then. Joyful in my spying, my unceasing betrayals, my deceits and the blood that appeared again and again on my hands.\"\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"My debts, Acquitor. Oh yes, outwardly I stand as a respected merchant... of middling wealth.\"\n\n\"And what are you in truth?\"\n\n\"It is where dreams fall away, Seren Pedac. That crumbling edifice where totters self-worth. You stand, too afraid to move, and watch your hands in motion, mangling every dream, every visage of the face you would desire, the true face of yourself, behind that mask. It is not helpful, speaking of truths.\"\n\nShe thought fora time, then her eyes narrowed. \"You are being blackmailed.\" He voiced no denial, so she continued, \"You are Indebted, aren't you? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Debts start small. Barely noticeable. Temporary. And so, in repayment, you are asked to do something. Something vile, a betrayal. And then, they have you. And you are indebted anew, in the maintenance of the secret, in your gratitude for not being exposed in your crime, which has since grown larger. As it always does, if you are in possession of a conscience.\" He was silent a moment, then he sighed and said, \"I do envy those who have no conscience.\"\n\n\"Can you not get out, Buruk?\"\n\nHe would not lookup from the flames. \"Of course I can,\" he said easily.\n\nThat tone, so at odds with all else he had said, frightened her. \"Make yourself... un-useful, Buruk.\"\n\n\"Indeed, that seems the way of it, Acquitor. And I am in a hurry to do just that.\" He rose. \"Time to sleep. Downhill to the river, then we can trail our sore feet in the cool water, all the way to Trate.\"\n\nShe remained awake fora while longer, too tired to think, too numb to feel fear.\n\nAbove the fire, sparks and stars swam without distinction.\n\nDusk the following day, the two travellers reached Kraig's Landing, to find its three ramshackle buildings surrounded by the tents of an encamped regiment. Soldiers were everywhere, and at the dock was tethered an ornate, luxuriously appointed barge above which drifted in the dull wind the king's banner, and directly beneath it on the spar the crest of the Ceda.\n\n\"There's a cadre here, ' Buruk said as they strode down the trail towards the camp, which they would have to pass through to reach the hostel and dock."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She nodded. \"And the soldiers are here as escort. There can't have been engagements already, can there? '\n\nHe shrugged. \"At sea, maybe. The war is begun, I think.\"\n\nSeren reached out and halted Buruk. \"There, those three.\"\n\nThe merchant grunted.\n\nThe three figures in question had emerged from the rows of tents, the soldiers nearby keeping their distance but fixing their attention on them as they gathered fora moment, about halfway between the two travellers and the camp.\n\n\"The one in blue– do you recognize her, Acquitor?\"\n\nShe nodded. Nekal Bara, Trate's resident sorceress, whose power was a near rival to the Ceda's own. \"The man on her left, in the black furs, that's Arahathan, commander of the cadre in the Cold Clay Battalion. I don't know the third one.\"\n\n\"Enedictal,\" Buruk said. \"Arahathan's counterpart in the Snakebelt Battalion. We see before us the three most powerful mages of the north. They intend a ritual. '\n\nShe set off towards them.\n\n\"Acquitor! Don't! '\n\nIgnoring Buruk, Seren unslung her pack and dropped it to the ground. She had caught the attention of the three mages. Visible in the gloom, Nekal Bara's mocking lift of the eyebrows.\n\nAcquitor Seren Pedac. The Errant smiles upon you indeed. '\n\n\"You're going to launch an attack, \"Seren said.\"You mustn't.\"\n\n\"We do not take orders from you,\" Enedictal said in a growl.\n\n\"You're going to strike the villages, aren't you?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Only the ones closest to the borders,\" Nekal Bara said, \"and those are far enough away to permit us a full unveiling– beyond those mountains, yes? If the Errant wills it, that's where the Edur armies will have already gathered. '\n\n\"We shall obliterate the smug bastards,\" Enedictal said. \"And end this stupid war before it's begun. '\n\n\"There are children-\"\n\n\"Too bad.\"\n\nWithout another word the three mages moved to take positions, twenty paces distant from one another. They faced the slope of the trail, the rearing mountains before them.\n\n\"No!\" Seren shouted.\n\nSoldiers appeared, surrounding her, expressions dark and angry beneath the rim of their helms. One spoke. \"It's this, woman, or the fields of battle. Where people die. Make no move. Say nothing. '\n\nBuruk the Pale arrived to stand nearby. \"Leave it be, Acquitor.\"\n\nShe glared at him. \"You don't think he'll retaliate? He'll disperse the attack, Buruk. You know he will. '\n\n\"He may not have the time,\" the merchant replied. \"Oh, perhaps his own village, but what of the others?\"\n\nA flash of light caught her attention and she turned to see that but one mage remained, Nekal Bara. Then Seren saw, two hundred paces distant, the figure of Enedictal. Twisting round, she could make out Arahathan, two hundred paces in the opposite direction. More flashes, and the two sorcerors reappeared again, double the distance from Nekal Bara.\n\n\"They're spreading out, \"Buruk observed.\"This is going to be a big ritual. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A soldier said, \"The Ceda himself is working tonight. Through these three here, and the rest of the cadre strung out another league in both directions. Four villages will soon be nothing but ashes.\"\n\n\"This is a mistake,\" Seren said.\n\nSomething was building between the motionless sorcerors. Blue and green light, ravelled taut, like lightning wound round an invisible rope linking the mages. The glow building like sea foam, a froth that began crackling, spitting drawn-out sparks that whipped like tendrils.\n\nThe sound became a hissing roar. The light grew blinding, the tendrils writhing out from the glowing foam. The twisting rope bucked and snapped between the stationary mages, reaching out past the three who were still visible, out beyond the hills to either side.\n\nShe watched the power burgeoning, the bucking frenzied, the tendrils whipping like the limbs of some giant, wave-thrashed anemone.\n\nDarkness had been peeled back by the bristling energy, the shadows dancing wild.\n\nA sudden shout.\n\nThe heaving chain sprang loose, the roar of its escape thundering in the ground beneath Seren's feet. Figures staggered as the wave launched skyward, obliterating the night. It crest was blinding green fire, the curving wall in its wake a luminescent ochre, webbed with foam in a stretching latticework.\n\nThe wall swallowed the north sky, and still the crest rose, power streaming upward. The grasses near the mages blackened, then spun into white ash on swirling winds.\n\nBeneath the roar, a shriek, then screams. Seren saw a soldier stumbling forward, against the glowing wall at the base of the wave. It took him, stripped armour, clothes, then hair and skin, then, in a gush of blood, it devoured his flesh. Before the hapless figure could even crumple, the bones were plucked away, leaving naught but a single upright boot on the blistered ground in front of the foaming wall. The crimson blush shot upward, paling as it went. Until it was gone."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Air hissed past her, buffeting and bitter cold.\n\nShe sank down, the only response possible to fight that savage tugging, and dug her fingers into the stony ground. Others did the same around her, clawing in panic. Another soldier was dragged away, pulled shrieking into the wave.\n\nThe roaring snapped suddenly, like a breath caught in a throat, and Seren saw the base lift away, roll upward like avast curtain, rising to reveal, once again, the battered slopes leading to the pass, then the pallid mountains and their blunt, ancient summits.\n\nThe wave swiftly dwindled as it soared northward, its wild light reflected momentarily in a patchwork cascade across reflective surfaces far below, sweeps of snow near the peaks and ice-polished stone blossoming sickly green and gold, as if awakened to an unexpected sunset.\n\nThen the mountains were black silhouettes once more.\n\nBeyond them, the wave, from horizon to horizon, was descending. Vanishing behind the range.\n\nIn the corner of her vision, Seren saw Nekal Bara slump to her knees.\n\nSudden light, across the rim of the world to the north, billowing like storm seas exploding against rock. The glow shot back into the night sky, this time in fiery arms and enormous, whipping tentacles.\n\nShe saw a strange ripple of grey against black on the facing mountainside, swiftly plunging.\n\nThen comprehension struck her. \"Lie flat! Everyone! Down!\"\n\nThe ripple struck the base of the slope. The few scraggly trees clinging to a nearby hillside toppled in unison, as if pushed over by a giant invisible hand.\n\nThe sound struck.\n\nAnd broke around them, strangely muted."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dazed, Seren lifted her head. Watched the shale tiles of an outlying building's roof dance away into the darkness. Watched as the north-facing wall tilted, then collapsed, taking the rest of the structure with it. She slowly climbed to her hands and knees.\n\nNekal Bara stood nearby, her hair and clothes untouched by the wind that raged on all sides.\n\nMuddy rain sifted down through the strangely thick air. The stench of charred wood and the raw smell of cracked stone.\n\nBeyond, the wind had died, and the rain pummelled the ground. Darkness returned, and if fires still burned beyond the mountains, no sign was visible from this distance.\n\nBuruk the Pale staggered to her side, his face splashed with mud. \"He did not block it, Acquitor!\" he gasped. \"It is as I said: no time to prepare.\"\n\nA soldier shouted, \"Errant take us! Such power!\"\n\nThere was good reason why Lether had never lost a war. Even the Onyx Wizards of Bluerose had been crushed by the cadres of the Ceda. Archpriests, shamans, witches and rogue sorcerors, none had ever managed to stand for long against such ferocity.\n\nSeren felt sick inside. Sick, and bereft.\n\nThis is not war. This is... what? Errant save us, I have no answer, noway to describe the magnitude of this slaughter. It is mindless. Blasphemous. As if we have forgotten dignity. Theirs, our own. The word itself. No distinction between innocence and guilt, condemned by mere existence. People transformed against their will into nothing more than symbols, sketchy representations, repositories of all ills, of all frustrations."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Is this what must be done? Take the enemy's flesh and fill it with diseases, corrupting and deadly to the touch, breath of poison? And that which is sick must be exterminated, lest it spread its contamination.\n\n\"I doubt,\" Buruk said in an empty voice, \"there was time to suffer.\"\n\nTrue. Leave that to us.\n\nThere had been no defence. Hannan Mosag, Rhulad, the slave Udinaas and Feather Witch. Hull Beddict. The names skittered away in her mind, and she saw– with a sudden twisting of her insides that left her shocked– the face of Trull Sengar. No. It was Hull I was thinking of. No. Why him? \"But they're dead. '\n\n\"They're all dead, \"Buruk said beside her.\"I need a drink. '\n\nHis hand plucked at her arm.\n\nShe did not move. \"There's nowhere to go. '\n\n\"Acquitor. The tavern beneath the hostel's built solid enough to withstand a siege. I'd imagine that's where those soldiers just went, to toast their lost comrades. Poor fools. The dead ones, I mean. Come on, Seren. I'm in the mood to spend coin.\"\n\nBlinking, she looked round. The mages were gone.\n\n\"It's raining, Acquitor. Let's go.\"\n\nHis hand closed on her arm. She allowed him to drag her away.\n\n\"What's happened? '\n\n\"You're in shock, Acquitor. No surprise. Here, I've some tea for you, the captain's own. Enjoy the sunshine– it's been rare enough lately.\"\n\nThe river's swift current pulled the barge along. Ahead, the sun was faintly copper, but the breeze sidling across the water's spinning surface was warm."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She took the cup from his hands.\n\n\"We'll be thereby dusk, \"Buruk said.\"Soon, we should be able to make out its skyline. Or at least the smoke. '\n\n\"The smoke,\" she said. \"Yes, there will be that.\"\n\n\"Think on it this way, Seren. You'll soon be free of me. '\n\n\"Not if there's not to be a war. '\n\n\"No. I intend to release you from your contract in any case.\"\n\nShe looked over at him, struggled to focus. There had been a night. After the sorcerous assault. In the tavern. Boisterous soldiers. Scouting parties were to head north the next day– today. She was starting to recall details, the gleam of some strange excitement as lurid as the tavern's oil lamps.\"Why would you do that? '\n\n\"My need for you is ended, Acquitor.\"\n\n\"Presumably, the Edur will sue for peace. If anything, Buruk, you will find yourself far busier than ever.\" She sipped the tea.\n\nHe nodded, slowly, and she sensed from him a kind of resignation.\n\n\"Oh,\" she said, \"I'd forgotten. You must needs make yourself of no use. '\n\n\"Indeed. My days as a spy are over, Acquiror.\"\n\n\"You will be the better for it, Buruk.\"\n\n\"Assuredly.\"\n\n\"Will you stay in Trate?\"\n\n\"Oh yes. It is my home, after all. I intend never to leave Trate.\"\n\nSeren drank her tea. Mint, and something else that thickened her tongue. Flowed turgid and cloying through her thoughts. \"You have poisoned this tea, Buruk.\" The words slurred."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Had to, Seren Pedac. Since last night. I can't have you thinking clearly. Not right now. You'll sleep again. One of the dockhands will waken you tonight– I will make sure of that, and that you're safe. '\n\n\"Is this another... another betrayal?\" She felt herself sagging on the bench.\n\n\"My last, dear. Remember this, if you can: I didn't want your help. '\n\n\"My... help.\"\n\n\"Although,\" he added from a great distance, \"you have always held my heart.\"\n\nFierce pain behind her eyes. She blinked them open. It was night. A robe covered her, tucked up round her chin. The slow rise and fall beneath her and the faint creaks told her she was still aboard the barge, which was now tied up alongside a stone pier. Groaning, she sat up.\n\nScuffling sounds beside her, then a tankard was hovering before her face. \"Drink this, lass.\"\n\nShe did not recognize the voice, but pushed the tankard away.\n\n\"No, it's all right, \"the man insisted.\"Just ale. Clean, cool ale. To take the ache from your head. He said you'd be hurting, you see. And ale's always done it for me, when I done and drunk too much. '\n\n\"I wasn't drunk-'\n\n\"No matter, you wasn't sleeping a natural sleep. It ain't no different, you see? Come now, lass, I need to get you up and around. It's my wife, you see, she's poorly. We're past the third bell an'I don't like leaving her too long alone. But he paid me good. Errant knows, more than an honest man makes in a year. Jus'to sit with you, you see. See you're safe an'up and walking.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She struggled to her feet, clutching at and missing the cloak as it slipped down to her feet.\n\nThe dockhand, a bent, wizened old man, set the tankard down and collected it. \"Turn now, lass. I got the clasps. There's a chill this night– you're shivering. Turn now, yes, good, that's it. '\n\n\"Thank you.\" The weight of the cloak pulled at her neck muscles and shoulders, making the pain in her head throb.\n\n\"I had a daughter, once. A noble took her. Debts, you see. Maybe she's alive, maybe she isn't. He went through lasses, that one. Back in Letheras. We couldn't stay there, you see, not after that. Chance t'see her, or a body turning up, like they do. Anyway, she was tall like you, that's all. Here, have some ale. '\n\nShe accepted the tankard, drank down three quick mouthfuls.\n\n\"There, better now.\"\n\n\"I have to go. So do you, to your wife.\"\n\n\"Well enough, lass. Can you walk?\"\n\n\"Where's my pack? '\n\n\"He took it with him, said you could collect it. In the shed behind his house. He was specific'bout that. The shed. Don't go in the house, he said. Very specific-\"\n\nShe swung to the ladder. \"Help me.\"\n\nRough hands under her arms, moving down to her behind as she climbed, then her thighs. \"Best I can do, lass,\" came a gasp below her as she moved beyond his reach. She clambered onto the pier.\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" she said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The city was quiet, barring a pair of dogs scrapping somewhere behind a warehouse. Seren stumbled on occasion as she hurried down the streets. But, true to the dockhand's word, the ale dulled the pain behind her eyes. Made her thoughts all too clear.\n\nShe reached Buruk the Pale's home, an old but well-maintained house halfway down a row on the street just in from the riverside warehouses.\n\nNo lights showed behind the shuttered windows.\n\nSeren climbed the steps and drove her boot against the door.\n\nFour kicks and the locks broke. By this time, neighbours had awakened. There were shouts, calls for the guard. Somewhere down the row a bell began ringing.\n\nShe followed the collapsing door into the cloakroom beyond. No servants, no sound from within. Into the dark hallway, ascending the stairs to the next level. Another hallway, step by step closing in on the door to Buruk's bedroom. Through the doorway. Inside.\n\nWhere he hung beneath a crossbeam, face bloated in the shadows. A toppled chair off to one side, up against the narrow bed.\n\nA scream, filled with rage, tore loose from Seren's throat.\n\nBelow, boots on the stairs.\n\nShe screamed again, the sound falling away to a hoarse sob.\n\nYou have always held my heart.\n\nSmoke rising in broad plumes, only to fallback and unfold like a grey cloak over the lands to the north. Obscuring all, hiding nothing.\n\nHanradi Khalag's weathered face was set, expressionless, as he stared at the distant devastation. Beside the chief of the Merude, Trull Sengar remained silent, wondering why Hanradi had joined him at this moment, when the mass of warriors were in the midst of breaking camp on the forested slopes all around them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Hull Beddict spoke true,\" the chief said in his raspy voice. \"They would strike pre-emptively. Beneda, Hiroth and Arapay villages.\"\n\nA night of red fires filling the north. At least four villages, and among them Trull's own. Destroyed.\n\nHe swung round to study the slopes. Seething with warriors, Edur women and their slaves, elders and children. No going back, now. The Letherii sorcery has obliterated our homes... but those homes were empty, the villages left to the crows.\n\nAnd a handful of hapless Nerek.\n\nNothing but ashes, now.\n\n\"Trull Sengar,\" Hanradi Khalag said, \"our allies arrived last night. Three thousand. You were seen. It seems they know you well, if only by reputation. The sons of Tomad Sengar, but you especially. The one who leads them is called the Dominant. A hulk of a man, even for one of his kind. More grey than black in his mane. He is named B'nagga-'\n\n\"This does not interest me, Chief,\" Trull cut in. \"They have been as sorely used as we have, and that use is far from over. I do not know this B'nagga. '\n\n\"As I said, he knows you, and would speak with you.\"\n\nTrull turned away.\n\n\"You had best accept the truth of things, Trull Sengar-\"\n\n\"One day I will know your mind, Hanradi Khalag. The self you hide so well. Hannan Mosag bent you to his will. And now you kneel before my brother, the emperor. The usurper. Is this what the unification of the tribes was intended to mean? Is this the future you desired?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Usurper."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Words like that will see you killed or cast out.\"\n\nTrull grunted. \"Rhulad is with the western army-\"\n\n\"But the wraiths now serve him.\"\n\n\"Ah, and we are to have spies among us now? An emperor who fears his own. An emperor who would be immune to criticism. Someone must speak in the name of reason.\"\n\n\"Speak no more of this. Not tome. I reject all you say. You are being foolish, Trull Sengar. Foolish. Your anger is born of envy. No more.\" He turned and walked back down the narrow track, leaving Trull alone once again on the precipice rising above the valleys of the pass. It did not occur to him to see if Hanradi had indeed lost his shadow.\n\nA precipice. Where he could look down and watch the thousands swarm among the trees.\n\nThree land armies and four fleets held, divided among them, the entire population of the Tiste Edur. This camp before him was a league wide and two leagues deep. Trull had never seen so many Edur gathered in one place. Hiroth, Arapay, Sollanta, Beneda.\n\nHe caught movement below, on the edge of Fear's command area, squat, fur-clad figures, and felt himself grow cold. Our... allies.\n\nJheck.\n\nSummoned by the Edur they had killed. Worshippers of the sword.\n\nThe night just past, beginning at dusk, had vanished behind a nightmarish display of sorcery. Unimaginable powers unveiled by the Letherii mages, an expression of appalling brutality in its intent. This was clearly going to be a war where no quarter was given, where conquest and annihilation were, for the Letherii, synonymous. Trull wondered if Rhulad would answer in like manner."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Except we have no homes to return to. We are committed to occupation of the south. Of Lether. We cannot raze the cities... can we? He drew a deep breath. He needed to talk to Fear again. But his brother had plunged into his role as commander of this army. His lead elements, half a day ahead, would come within sight of High Fort. The army would cross the Katter River at the Narrow Chute, which was spanned by a stone bridge centuries old, then swing down to join those lead elements.\n\nAnd there would be a battle.\n\nFor Fear, the time for questions was past.\n\nBut why can I not manage the same for myself? Certainty, even fatality, eluded Trull. His mind would not rest from its tortured thoughts, his worries of what awaited them.\n\nHe made his way down the track. The Jheck were there, a contingent present in Fear's command area. He was not required, he told himself, to speak to them.\n\nEdur warriors readying armour and weapons on all sides. Women chanting protective wards to weave a net of invisibility about the entire encampment. Wraiths darting among the trees, most of them streaming southward, through the pass and into the southlands. Here and there, demonic conjurations towered, hulking and motionless along the many newly worn trails leading to the summit. They were in full armour of bronze scales, green with verdigris, with heavy helms, the cheek guards battered plates that reached down past the jawlines, their faces hidden. Polearms, glaives, double-edged axes and maces, an array of melee weapons. Once, not so long ago, such summoned demons had been rare, the ritual– conducted by women– one of cajoling, false promises and final deception. The creatures were bound, now doomed to fight a war not of their making, where the only release was annihilation. They numbered in the high hundreds in this, Fear's army. The truth of that sickened him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Helping with the striking of tents, children. Torn from their familiar world, subject to anew shaping. If this gambit failed...\n\nFear was standing near the remnants of a hearth from which smoke rose in a low wreath about his legs. Flanked by the two K'risnan the emperor had attached to this force. Hanradi Khalag stood off to one side.\n\nA Jheck was approaching, probably the one the Merude chief had spoken of, given the wild iron-streaked, tangled head of hair, the flattened, seamed face displaying countless battle-scars. Various shells dangled from knotted strips hanging on his sleeveless sealskin shirt. Other small trophies depended from a narrow belt beneath the man's round paunch– pieces of Edur armour, jewellery. A bold reminder of past enmity.\n\nWhat had Hanradi called him? The Dominant. B'nagga.\n\nThe Jheck's eyes were yellow, the whites dull grey and embryonic with blue vessels. They looked half mad.\n\nFiled teeth flashed in a fierce smile. \"See who comes, Fear Sengar!\" The accent was awkward behind the Arapay intonations. \"The one we could not defeat!\"\n\nTrull scowled as his brother turned to watch him approach. To the Dominant, he said, \"You'll find no fields of ice to the south, Jheck. '\n\n\"Mange and moult, Slayer. No other enemy gives us such terror.\" His broadening smile underscored the irony of his words. \"Fear Sengar, your brother is worthy of much pride. Again and again, my hunters sought to best this warrior in individual combat. Veered or sembled, it mattered not. He defeated them all. Never before have we witnessed such skill, such ferocity.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Among all who I trained, B'nagga, \"Fear said,\"Trull was and remains the finest. '\n\nTrull started, then his scowl deepened with disbelief. \"Enough of this. Fear, has our emperor spoken to us through the wraiths? Does he voice his satisfaction at the failed attempt by the Letherii? Does he spit with rage?\"\n\nOne of the K'risnan spoke.\"Not a single Edur was lost, Trull Sengar. For that, we have Hull Beddict to thank. '\n\n\"Ah yes, the traitor. And what of the Nerek camped in our village?\"\n\nThe warlock shrugged. \"We could not command them.\"\n\n\"Relinquish your anger, brother,\" Fear said. \"The devastation was wrought by the Letherii, not us.\"\n\n\"True. And now it is our turn.\"\n\n\"Yes. The wraiths have reported an army ascending to the pass.\"\n\nAh, no. So soon.\n\nB'nagga laughed.\"Do we ambush them? Shall I send my wolves forward? '\n\n\"They are not yet at the bridge,\" Fear replied. \"I expect they will seek to contest that crossing should we fail to reach it before them. For the moment, however, they are in a slow-march, and, it seems, not expecting much opposition.\"\n\n\"That much is clear,\" Hanradi said. \"What commander would seek an engagement against an enemy upslope? This is a probe. At first contact they will withdraw. Back to High Fort. Fear, we should bloody them all the way.\"\n\n\"B'nagga, send half your force forward. Observe the enemy, but remain unseen. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The K'risnan who had spoken earlier said,\"Fear, there will be a mage cadre attached to the army. '\n\nFear nodded. \"Withdraw the wraiths barring a dozen or so. I would convey the belief that those few are but residents of the area. The enemy must remain unsuspecting. Hanradi Khalag, our warriors must be made ready to march. You will lead them.\"\n\n\"We shall be underway before mid-morning.\"\n\nTrull watched the Merude chief walkaway, then said, \"Those Letherii mages will prove troublesome.\"\n\nThe K'risnan grunted.\"Trull Sengar, we are their match. '\n\nHe looked at the two warlocks. Chiefs'sons. Of Rhulad's age.\n\nThe K'risnan's smile was knowing. \"We are linked to Hannan Mosag, and through him to the emperor himself. Trull Sengar, the power we now call upon is more vast, and deadlier, than any the Edur have known before.\"\n\n\"And that does not concern you? What is the aspect of this power? Do you even know? Does Hannan Mosag know? Rhulad?\"\n\n\"The power comes to the emperor through the sword,\" the K'risnan said.\n\n\"That is no answer-\"\n\n\"Trull!\" Fear snapped. \"No more. I have asked that you assemble a unit from our village. Have you done so?\"\n\n\"Yes, brother. Fifty warriors, half of them unblooded, as you commanded.\"\n\n\"And have you created squads and chosen your officers?\"\n\nTrull nodded.\n\n\"Lead them to the bridge. Take advance positions on the other side and wait until Hanradi's forces reach you– it should not be along wait. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And if the Letherii have sent scouts ahead and they arrive first?\"\n\n\"Gauge their strength and act accordingly. But Trull, no last stands. A skirmish will suffice to holdup the enemy's advance, particularly if they are uncertain as to your strength. Now, gather your warriors and be off. '\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\nThere was no point in arguing any further, he told himself as he made his way to where his company waited. No-one wanted to listen. Independent thought had been relinquished, with appalling eagerness, it seemed to him, and in its place had risen a stolid resolve to question nothing. Worse, Trull found he could not help himself. Even as he saw the anger grow in the faces of those around him– anger that he dare challenge, that he dare think in ways contrary to theirs, and so threaten their certainty– he was unable to stay silent.\n\nMomentum was building all around him, and the stronger it grew, the more he resisted it. Ina way, he suspected, he was becoming as reactionary as they were, driven into extreme opposition, and though he struggled against this dogmatic obstinacy it was a battle he sensed he was losing.\n\nThere was nothing of value in such opposed positions of thought. And no possible conclusion but his own isolation and, eventually, the loss of trust.\n\nHis warriors were waiting, gear packed, armour donned. Trull knew them all by name, and had endeavoured to achieve a balanced force, not just in skill but in attitude. Accordingly, he knew many of them resented being under his command, for his dissatisfaction with this war was well known. None the less, he knew they would follow him.\n\nThere were no nobles among them.\n\nTrull joined the warrior he had chosen as his captain. Ahlrada Ahn had trained alongside Trull, specializing in the Merude cutlass as his preferred weapon. He was left-handed, rare among the Edur, yet used his other hand to wield a short, wide-bladed knife for close fighting. The bell-hilt of his cutlass sprouted a profusion of quillons designed to trap opposing sword-blades and spear-shafts, and his ceaseless exercises concentrating on that tactic had made his left wrist almost twice the bulk of its opposite. Trull had seen more than one of his practice spears snap at a shoulder-wrenching twist from Ahlrada's sword-arm."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The warrior also hated him, for reasons Trull had yet to fathom. Although now, he amended, Ahlrada had probably found anew reason.\n\n\"Captain.\"\n\nThe dark eyes would not meet his. They never did. Ahlrada's skin was darker than any other Edur Trull had seen. There were colourless streaks in his long, unbound hair. Shadow wraiths swarmed round him– another strange detail unique to the warrior.\"Leader, ' he replied.\n\n\"Inform the sergeants, we're heading out. Minimum kits– we need to travel quickly. '\n\n\"Already done. We were waiting for you.\"\n\nTrull walked over to his own gear, shouldered the small leather pack, then selected four spears from his cache. Whatever was left behind would be collected by the Letherii slaves and carried with the main body as it made its cautious way south in the wake of Trull's company and Hanradi's forces.\n\nWhen he turned, he saw that the company were on their feet, all eyes fixed on him. \"We must needs run, warriors. The south end of the bridge. Once through the pass, each squad sends out a point and makes its own way off-trail down to the bridge. Thus, you must be both swift and silent.\"\n\nA sergeant spoke. \"Leader, if we leave the trail we are slowed.\"\n\n\"Then we had best get moving.\"\n\n\"Leader,\" the sergeant persisted, \"we will lose speed-\"\n\n\"I do not trust the trail beyond the pass, Canarth. Now, move out.\" In his head he cursed himself. A leader need not give reasons. The command was sufficient. Nor, he silently added, was a sergeant expected to voice public challenge. This was not beginning well."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 20\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Won't happen, and what if it did? They couldn't be worse.\\\"\\n\\nTehol studied Hejun briefly, then he shrugged. \\\"All of this awaits resolution. In the meantime, remain vigilant. There are still things that need doing. What happened to that Nerek mother and her children I sent you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We shipped them to the islands,\\\" Shand said. \\\"They ate more than she cooked. Started getting fat. It was all very sad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, it's late and I'm hungry, so I will take my leave now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What about Ublala?\\\" Rissarh demanded.\\n\\n\\\"What about him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We want him back.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Too late, I'm afraid. That's what happens when you won't commit. '\\n\\nTehol quickly made his way out.\\n\\nWalking the quiet streets back to his abode, Tehol considered his earlier words. He had to admit to himself that he was troubled. There was sufficient mystery in some of the rumours to suggest that the impending war would not be like all the others Letherii had waged. A collision of wills and desires, and beneath it a host of dubious assumptions and suspect sentiments. In that alone, no different from any other war. But in this case, the outcome was far from certain, and even the notion of victory seemed confused and elusive.\\n\\nHe passed through Burl Square and came to the entrance to the warehouse storage area, beyond which was the alley leading to his home. Pausing to push up his lopsided sleeves and cinch tight his trousers, he frowned. Was he losing weight? Hard to know. Wool stretched, after all.\\n\\nA figure stepped from the nearby shadows of an alley mouth. \\\"You're late. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tehol started, then said, \\\"For what?\\\"\\n\\nShurq Elalle came to within two paces of him. \\\"I've been waiting. Bugg made soup. Where have you been? '\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing out?\\\" Tehol asked. \\\"You're supposed to be holed upright now. This is dangerous-'\\n\\n\\\"I needed to talk to you,\\\" she cut in. \\\"It's about Harlest. '\\n\\n\\\"What about him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He wants his sharp teeth and talons. It's all we ever hear. Fangs and talons, fangs and talons. We're sick of it. Where's Selush? Why haven't you made arrangements? You're treating us like corpses, but even the dead have needs, you know. '\\n\\n\\\"Well, no, I didn't know that. In any case, tell Harlest that Selush is working on this, probably right now in fact. Sharp solutions are forthcoming. '\\n\\n\\\"Don't make me laugh. '\\n\\n\\\"Sorry. Are you in need of a refill?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, uh, more herbs and stuff, I mean.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know. Am I? Do I smell or something? '\\n\\n\\\"No. Only of sweet things, Shurq. I assure you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am less inspired by your assurances as time goes on, Tehol Beddict.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What a terrible thing to say! Have we stumbled yet?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When is Gerun Eberict returning?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Soon, it turns out. Things should get exciting then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am capable of excitement regarding one thing and one thing only, and that has nothing to do with Gerun Eberict. However, I want to steal again. Anything, from whomever. Point me in a direction. Any direction.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, there is of course the Tolls Repository. But that's impregnable, obviously. Or, let's see, the royal vaults, but again, impossible.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Tolls. Yes, that sounds challenging.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You won't succeed, Shurq. No-one ever has, and that includes Green Pig who was a sorceror nearly to rival the Ceda himself-'\\n\\n\\\"I knew Green Pig. He suffered from overconfidence.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And was torn limb from limb as a result.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you want stolen from the Tolls Repository?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shurq-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\nTehol glanced round. \\\"All right. I want to find out which lender holds the largest royal debt. The king has been borrowing prodigiously, and not just to finance the Eternal Domicile. So, who and how much. Same for Queen Janall. And whatever she's done in her son's name.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that all? No gold? No diamonds?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's right. No gold, no diamonds, and no evidence left behind that anyone was ever in there. '\\n\\n\\\"I can do that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No you can't. You'll get caught. And dismembered.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, that will hurt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe not, but it'll prove inconvenient. '\\n\\n\\\"I won't get caught, Tehol Beddict. Now, what did you want from the royal vaults? '\\n\\n\\\"A tally.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You want to know the present state of the treasury.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can do that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No you can't. '\\n\\n\\\"Why not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because you'll have been dismembered by then. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Thus permitting me to slip into places where I otherwise wouldn't fit. '\\n\\n\\\"Shurq, they take your head off too, you know. It's the last thing they do. '\\n\\n\\\"Really? That's barbaric. '\\n\\n\\\"Like I said, you would be greatly inconvenienced.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would at that. Well, I shall endeavour to be careful. Mind you, even ahead can count.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What would you have me do, break in and lob your head into the vaults? Tied to a rope so I can pull you out again when you're done? '\\n\\n\\\"That sounds somewhat problematic.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It does, doesn't it? '\\n\\n\\\"Can't you plan any better than that, Tehol Beddict? My faith in you is fast diminishing. '\\n\\n\\\"Can't be helped, I suppose. What's this I hear about you purchasing a seagoing vessel?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That was supposed to be a secret. Bugg said he wouldn't tell-'\\n\\n\\\"He didn't. I have my own sources of intelligence, especially when the owner of the vessel just sold happens to be me. Indirectly, of course. '\\n\\n\\\"All right. Me and Ublala and Harlest, we want to be pirates.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't make me laugh, Shurq. '\\n\\n\\\"Now you're being cruel. '\\n\\n\\\"Sorry. Pirates, you say. Well, all three of you are notoriously hard to drown. Might work at that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your confidence and well-wishing overwhelms me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And when do you plan on embarking on this new venture?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When you're done with us, of course. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tehol tugged up his trousers again. \\\"Yet another edifying conversation with you, Shurq. Now, I smell something that might well be soup, and you need to go back to your crypt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sometimes I really hate you.\\\"\\n\\nHe led her by the hand down the shallow, crumbling steps. She liked these journeys, even though the places he took her were strange and often... disturbing. This time, they descended an inverted stepped pyramid– at least that was what he called it. Four sides to the vast, funnelled pit, and at the base there was a small square of darkness.\\n\\nThe air was humid enough to leave droplets on her bare arms. Far overhead, the sky was white and formless. She did not know if it was hot– memories of such sensations had begun to fade, along with so many other things.\\n\\nThey reached the base of the pit and she looked up at the tall, pale figure at her side. His face was becoming more visible, less blurred. It looked handsome, but hard. \\\"I'm sorry, \\\"she said after a moment,\\\"that she's got you by the ankles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We all have our burdens, Kettle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where are we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have no recognition of this place?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Maybe.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let us continue down, then.\\\"\\n\\nInto the darkness, three rungs to a landing, then a spiral staircase of black stone.\\n\\n\\\"Round and round,\\\" Kettle said, giggling.\\n\\nA short while later they came to the end, the stairs opening out onto a sprawling, high-ceilinged chamber. The gloom was no obstacle to Kettle, nor, she suspected, to her companion. She could see a ragged mound heaped against the far wall to their right, and made to move towards it, but his hand drew her back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No, lass. Not there.\\\"\\n\\nHe led her instead directly ahead. Three doorways, each one elaborately arched and framed with reverse impressions of columns. Between them, the walls displayed deeply carved images.\\n\\n\\\"As you can see,\\\" he said, \\\"there is a reversal of perspective. That which is closest is carved deepest. There is significance to all this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where are we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To achieve peace, destruction is delivered. To give the gift of freedom, one promises eternal imprisonment. Adjudication obviates the need for justice. This is a studied, deliberate embrace of diametric opposition. It is a belief in balance, a belief asserted with the conviction of religion. But in this case, the proof of a god's power lies not in the cause but in the effect. Accordingly, in this world and in all others, proof is achieved by action, and therefore all action– including the act of choosing inaction– is inherently moral. No deed stands outside the moral context. At the same time, the most morally perfect act is the one taken in opposition to what has occurred before. '\\n\\n\\\"What do the rooms look like through those openings?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In this civilization,\\\" he continued, \\\"its citizens were bound to acts of utmost savagery. Vast cities were constructed beneath the world's surface. Each chamber, every building, assembled as the physical expression of the quality of absence. Solid rock matched by empty space. From these places, where they did not dwell, but simply gathered, they set out to achieve balance. '\\n\\nIt seemed he would not lead her through any of the doorways, so she fixed her attention instead on the images. \\\"There are no faces.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The opposite of identity, yes, Kettle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The bodies look strange.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Physically unique. In someways more primitive, but as a consequence less... specialized, and so less constrained. Profoundly long-lived, more so than any other species. Very difficult to kill, and, it must be said, they needed to be killed. Or so was the conclusion reached after any initial encounter with them. Most of the time. They did fashion the occasional alliance. With the Jaghut, for example. But that was yet another tactic aimed at reasserting balance, and it ultimately failed. As did this entire civilization.\\\"\\n\\nKettle swung round to study that distant heap of... something. \\\"Those are bodies, aren't they? '\\n\\n\\\"Bones. Scraps of clothing, the harnesses they wore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who killed them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You had to understand, Kettle. The one within you must understand. My refutation of the Forkrul Assail belief in balance is absolute. It is not that I am blind to the way in which force is ever countered, the way in which the natural world strains towards balance. But in that striving I see no proof of a god's power; I see no guiding hand behind such forces. And, even if one such existed, I see no obvious connection with the actions of a self-chosen people for whom chaos is the only rational response to order. Chaos needs no allies, for it dwells like a poison in everyone of us. The only relevant struggle for balance I acknowledge is that within ourselves. Externalizing it presumes inner perfection, that the internal struggle is over, victory achieved. '\\n\\n\\\"You killed them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"These ones here, yes. As for the rest, no. I was too late arriving and my freedom too brief for that. In any case, but a few enclaves were left by that time. My draconic kin took care of that task, since no other entity possessed the necessary power. As I said, they were damned hard to kill.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kettle shrugged, and she heard him sigh.\\n\\n\\\"There are places, lass, where Forkrul Assail remain. Imprisoned for the most part, but ever restless. Even more disturbing, in many of those places they are worshipped by misguided mortals.\\\" He hesitated, then said, \\\"You have no idea, Kettle, of the extremity the Azath tower found itself in. To have chosen a soul such as yours... it was like reaching into the heart of the enemy camp. I wonder if, in its last moments, it knew regret. Misgivings. Mother knows, I do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is this soul you are talking about?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it sought to use the soul's power without fully awakening it. We will never know. But you are loose upon the world now. Shaped to fight as a soldier in the war against chaos. Can that fundamental conflict within you be reconciled? Your soul, lass? It is Forkrul Assail. '\\n\\n\\\"So you have brought me home?\\\"\\n\\nHis hand betrayed his sudden flinch. \\\"You were also a mortal human child, once. And there is a mystery in that. Who birthed you? Who took away your life, and why? Was all this in preparation for your corpse to house the Assail soul? If that is the case, then the Azath tower was either deceived by someone capable of communicating with it, or it had in truth nothing at all to do with the creation of you as you now are. But that makes no sense– why would the Azath lie tome?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It said you were dangerous.\\\"\\n\\nHe was silent for sometime. Then, \\\"Ah, you are to kill me once I have vanquished the other entombed creatures.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The tower is dead,\\\" Kettle said. \\\"I don't have to do anything it told me. Do I? ' She looked up and found him studying her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What path will you choose, child?\\\"\\n\\nShe smiled. \\\"Your path. Unless you're bad. I'll be very angry if you're bad. '\\n\\n\\\"I am pleased, Kettle. Best that you stay close tome, assuming we succeed in what we must do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand. You may have to destroy me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. If I can.\\\"\\n\\nShe gestured with her freehand at the heap of bones. \\\"I don't think you'll have much trouble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let us hope it doesn't come to that. Let us hope the soul within you does not entirely awaken. '\\n\\n\\\"It won't. That's why none of this matters.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What makes you so certain, Kettle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The tower told me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It did? What did it say to you? Try to recall its exact words.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It never spoke with words. It just showed me things. My body, all wrapped up. People were crying. But I could see through the gauze. I'd woken up. I was seeing everything with two sets of eyes. It was very strange. One set behind the wrappings, the other standing nearby. '\\n\\n\\\"What else did the Azath show you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Those eyes from the outside. There were five others. We were just standing in the street, watching the family carrying the body. My body. Six of us. We'd walked along way, because of the dreams. We'd been in the city for weeks, waiting for the Azath to choose someone. But I wasn't the same as the five others, though we were here for the same reason, and we'd travelled together. They were Nerek witches, and they'd prepared me. Theme on the outside, not theme all wrapped up. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The you on the outside, Kettle, were you a child?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh no. I was tall. Not as tall as you. And I had to wear my hood up, so no-one could see how different I was. I'd come from very faraway. I'd walked, when I was young, hot sands– the sands that covered the First Empire. Whatever that is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What did the Nerek witches call you? Had you a name?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A title?\\\"\\n\\nShe shrugged. \\\"I'd forgotten all this. They called me the Nameless One. Is this important? '\\n\\n\\\"I think it is, Kettle. Although I am not sure in what way. Much of this realm remains unknown tome. It was very young when I was imprisoned. You are certain this'Nameless One\\\" was an actual title? Not just something the Nerek used because they didn't know your true name? '\\n\\n\\\"It was a title. They said I'd been prepared from birth. That I was a true child of Eres. And that I was the answer to the Seventh Closure, because I had the blood of kin. \\\"The blood of kin\\\". What did they mean by that? '\\n\\n\\\"When I am finally free,\\\" he said in a voice revealing strain, \\\"I will be able to physically touch you, Kettle. My fingers upon your brow. And then I will have your answer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I guess this Eres was my real mother.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And soon you will know who my father is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will know his blood, yes. At the very least.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wonder if he's still alive. '\\n\\n\\\"Knowing how Eres plays the game, lass, he might not even be your father yet. She wanders time, Kettle, in a manner no-one else can even understand, much less emulate. And this is very much her world. She is the fire that never dies.\\\" He paused, then said, \\\"She will choose– or has chosen– with great deliberation. Your father was, is, or will be someone of great importance.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So how many souls are in me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Two, sharing the flesh and bone of a child corpse. Lass, we shall have to find away to get you out of that body, eventually.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because you deserve something better.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want to go back. Will you take me back now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've given upon the eel itself, \\\"Bugg said, ladling out the soup.\\\"It's still too tough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None the less, my dear manservant, it smells wonderful.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That would be the wine. Courtesy of Chief Investigator Rucket, whose request fora meeting with you was for purposes not entirely professional.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And how did you fare on my behalf?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I ensured that her interest in you only deepened, master.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"By way of contrast?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, is that a good thing? I mean, she's rather frightening. '\\n\\n\\\"You don't know the half of it. Even so, she is exceptionally clever. '\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I don't like that at all, Bugg. You know, I am tasting something fishy. A hint, anyway. Just how dried up was this eel you found? '\\n\\nThe manservant probed with his ladle and lifted the mentioned object into view. Black, wrinkled and not nearly as limp as it should have been.\\n\\nTehol leaned closer and studied it fora moment. \\\"Bugg...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, master?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's the sole of a sandal. '\\n\\n\\\"It is? Oh. I was wondering why it was flatter atone end than the other.\\\"\\n\\nTehol settled back and took another sip. \\\"Still fishy, though. One might assume the wearer, being in the fish market, stepped on an eel, before the loss of his or her sole.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am mildly disturbed by the thought of what else he or she might have stepped in.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are indeed complexities on the palate, suggesting a varied and lengthy history. Now, how was your day and the subsequent evening?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Uneventful. Rucket informs me that Gerun Eberict has killed about three thousand citizens this year.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Three thousand? That seems somewhat excessive.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I thought so, too, master. More soup?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, thank you. So, what is his problem, do you think?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gerun's? A taste for blood, I'd wager.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As simple as that? How egregious. We'll have to do something about it, I think. '\\n\\n\\\"And how was your day and evening, master?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Busy. Exhausting, even.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You were on the roof?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, mostly. Although, as I recall, I came down here once. Can't remember why. Or, rather, I couldn't at the time, so I went backup.\\\"\\n\\nBugg tilted his head. \\\"Someone's approaching our door. '\\n\\nThe sound of boots in the alley, the faint whisper of armour.\\n\\n\\\"My brother, I'd hazard, \\\"Tehol said, then, turning to face the curtained doorway, he raised his voice.\\\"Brys, do come in. '\\n\\nThe hanging was pulled aside and Brys entered. \\\"Well, that is an interesting smell,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"Sole soup,\\\" Tehol said. \\\"Would you like some?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, thank you. I have already eaten, it being well after the second bell. I trust you have heard the rumours.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The war?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've heard hardly a thing, ' Tehol said.\\n\\nBrys hesitated, glancing at Bugg, then he sighed. \\\"A new emperor has emerged to lead the Tiste Edur. Tehol, Hull has sworn his allegiance to him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now, that is indeed unfortunate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Accordingly, you are at risk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Arrest?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, more likely assassination. All in the name of patriotism.\\\"\\n\\nTehol set his bowl down. \\\"It occurs tome, Brys, that you are more at risk than I am.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am well guarded, brother, whilst you are not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nonsense! I have Bugg!\\\"\\n\\nThe manservant looked up at Brys with a bland smile.\\n\\n\\\"Tehol, this is not time for jokes-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bugg resents that!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, don't you? I would, if I were you-'\\n\\n\\\"It seems you just were.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My apologies for making you speak out of turn, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Speaking on your behalf, master, I accept.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are filled with relief-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Will you two stop it!\\\" Brys shouted, throwing up his hands. He began pacing the small confines of the room. \\\"The threat is very real. Agents of the queen will not hesitate. You are both in very grave danger.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But how will killing me change the fact of Hull forsaking our homeland?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It won't, of course. But your history, Tehol, makes you a hated man. The queen's investments suffered thanks to you, and she's not the type to forgive and forget. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, what do you suggest, Brys?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Stop sleeping on your roof, for one. Let me hire a few bodyguards-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A few? How many are you thinking?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Four, at least.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One. No more than that. You know how I dislike crowds, Brys.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Crowds? You've never disliked crowds, Tehol. '\\n\\n\\\"I do now.\\\"\\n\\nBrys glowered, then sighed. \\\"All right. One.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And that will make you happy, then? Excellent-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more sleeping on your roof.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm afraid, brother, that won't be possible.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not?\\\"\\n\\nTehol gestured. \\\"Look at this place! It's a mess! Besides, Bugg snores. And we're not talking mild snoring, either. Imagine being chained to the floor of a cave, with the tide crashing in, louder, louder, louder-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have in mind three guards, all brothers,\\\" Brys said, \\\"who can spell each other. One will therefore always be with you, even when you're sleeping on your roof. '\\n\\n\\\"So long as they don't snore-'\\n\\n\\\"They won't be asleep, Tehol! They'll be standing guard!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right. Calm down. I am accepting, aren't I? Now, how about some soup, just to tide you over until you break your fast? '\\n\\nBrys glanced at the pot. \\\"There's wine in it, isn't there?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed. Only the best, at that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine. Half a bowl.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tehol and Bugg exchanged pleased smiles.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Black glass stands between us The thin face of otherness Risen into difference These sibling worlds You cannot reach through Or pierce this shade so distinct As to make us unrecognizable Even in reflection The black glass stands And that is more than all And the between us Gropes but never finds Focus or even meaning The between us is ever lost In that barrier of darkness When backs are turned And we do little more than refuse Facing ourselves.\\n\\nPreface to The Nerek Absolution Myrkas Preadict\\n\\nLight and heat rose in waves from the rock, swirled remorselessly along the narrow track. The wraiths had fled to cracks and fissures and huddled there now, like bats awaiting dusk. Seren Pedac paused to await Buruk. She set her pack down, then tugged at the sweat-sodden, quilted padding beneath her armour, feeling it peel away from her back like skin. She was wearing less than half her kit, the rest strapped onto the pack, yet it still dragged at her after the long climb to the summit of the pass.\\n\\nShe could hear nothing from beyond the crest twenty paces behind her, and considered going back to check on her charge. Then, faintly, came a curse, then scrabbling sounds.\\n\\nThe poor man.\\n\\nThey had been hounded by the wraiths the entire way. The ghostly creatures made the very air agitated and restless. Sleep was difficult, and the constant motion flitting in their peripheral vision, the whispered rustling through their camps, left their nerves raw and exhausted.\\n\\nShe glared a moment at the midday sun, then wiped the gritty sweat from her brow and walked a few paces ahead on the trail. They were almost out of Edur territory. Another thousand paces. After that, another day's worth of descent to the river. Without the wagons, they would then be able to hire a riverboat to take them the rest of the way down to Trate. Another day for that.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And then? Will he still hold me to the contract? It seemed pointless, and so she had assumed he would simply release her, at least for the duration of the war, and she would be free to journey back to Letheras. But Buruk the Pale had said nothing of that. In fact, he had not said much of anything since leaving the Hiroth village.\\n\\nShe turned as he clambered onto the summit's flat stretch. Clothed in dust and streaks of sweat, beneath them a deeply flushed face and neck. Seren walked back towards him.\\\"We will rest here fora time. '\\n\\nHe coughed, then asked, \\\"Why?\\\" The word was a vicious growl.\\n\\n\\\"Because we need it, Buruk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You don't. And why speak for me? I am fine, Acquitor. Just get us to the river. '\\n\\nHer pack held both their possessions and supplies. She had cut down a sapling and trimmed it to serve as a walking stick for him, and this was all he carried. His once fine clothes were ragged, the leggings torn by sharp rocks. He stood before her, wheezing, bent over and leaning heavily on the stick. \\\"I mean to rest, Buruk,\\\" she said after a moment. \\\"You can do as you please.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can't stand being watched! \\\"the merchant suddenly shrieked.\\\"Always watching! Those damned shades! No more! ' With that he stumbled past heron the trail.\\n\\nSeren returned to her pack and slung it once moreover her shoulders. One sentiment she could share with Buruk: the sooner this trip was over, the better. She set out in his wake.\\n\\nA dozen paces along and she reached his side. Then was past.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"By the time Seren arrived at the clearing where the borders had been agreed over a century ago, Buruk the Pale was once more out of sight somewhere back on the trail. She halted, flung down her pack, and walked over to the sheer wall of polished black stone, recalling when she had last touched that strange– and strangely welcoming– surface.\\n\\nSome mysteries would not unravel, whilst others were peeled back by fraught circumstance or deadly design, to reveal mostly sordid truths.\\n\\nShe set her hands against the warm, glassy stone, and felt something like healing steal into her. Beyond, figures in ceaseless motion, paying no attention to her whatsoever. Preferable to the endless spying of wraiths. And this was as it had always been. Seren settled her forehead against the wall, closing her eyes.\\n\\nAnd heard whispering.\\n\\nA language kin to Tiste Edur. She struggled to translate. Then meaning was found.\\n\\n\\\"-when he who commands cannot be assailed. Cannot be defeated.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And now he feeds on our rage. Our anguish.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of the three, one shall return. Our salvation-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fool. From each death power burgeons anew. Victory is impossible.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is no place for us. We but serve. We but bleed out terror and the annihilation begins-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ours as well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, ours as well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you think she will come again? Does anyone think she will come again? She will, I am certain of it. With her bright sword. She is the rising sun and the rising sun ever comes, sending us scurrying, cutting us to pieces with that sharp, deadly light-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-annihilation well serves us. Make of us dead shards. To bring an end to this-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Someone is with us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A mortal is herewith us. Two Mistresses to the same Hold. She is one, and she is here. She is here now and she listens to our words.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Steal her mind!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take her soul!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let us out!\\\"\\n\\nSeren reeled away from the black wall. Staggered, hands to her ears, shaking her head. \\\"Enough,\\\" she moaned. \\\"No more, please. No more.\\\" She sank to her knees, was motionless as the voices faded, their screams dwindling. \\\"Mistress?\\\" she whispered. I am no-one's mistress. Just one more reluctant... lover of solitude. No place for voices, no place for hard purposes... fierce fires.\\n\\nLike Hull, only ashes. The smudged remnants of possibilities. But, unlike the man she had once thought to love, she had not knelt before anew icon to certainty. No choices to measure out like the soporific illusion of some drug, the consigning invitation to addiction. She wanted no new masters over her life. Nor the burden of friendships.\\n\\nA croaking voice behind her. \\\"What's wrong with you? '\\n\\nShe shook her head. \\\"Nothing, Buruk.\\\" She climbed wearily to her feet. \\\"We have reached the border.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not blind, Acquitor. '\\n\\n\\\"We can move on away, then make camp.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You think me weak, don't you? '\\n\\nShe glanced over at him. \\\"You are sick with exhaustion, Buruk. So am I. What point all this bravado?\\\"\\n\\nSudden pain in his expression, then he turned away. \\\"I'll show you soon enough. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What of my contract?\\\"\\n\\nHe did not face her. \\\"Done. Once we reach Trate. I absolve you of further responsibility.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So be it,\\\" she said, walking to her pack.\\n\\nThey built a small fire with the last of their wood. The wraiths, it seemed, cared nothing for borders, flitting along the edges of the flickering light. A renewed interest, and Seren thought she knew why. The spirits within the stonewall. She was now marked.\\n\\nMistress of the Hold. Mistresses. There are two, and they think I am one of those two. A lie, a mistake.\\n\\nWhich Hold?\\n\\n\\\"You were young,\\\" Buruk suddenly said, his eyes on the fire. \\\"When I first saw you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you were happy, Buruk. What of it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Happiness. Ah, now that is a familiar mask. True, I wore it often, back then. Joyful in my spying, my unceasing betrayals, my deceits and the blood that appeared again and again on my hands.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What are you talking about?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My debts, Acquitor. Oh yes, outwardly I stand as a respected merchant... of middling wealth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what are you in truth?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is where dreams fall away, Seren Pedac. That crumbling edifice where totters self-worth. You stand, too afraid to move, and watch your hands in motion, mangling every dream, every visage of the face you would desire, the true face of yourself, behind that mask. It is not helpful, speaking of truths.\\\"\\n\\nShe thought fora time, then her eyes narrowed. \\\"You are being blackmailed.\\\" He voiced no denial, so she continued, \\\"You are Indebted, aren't you? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Debts start small. Barely noticeable. Temporary. And so, in repayment, you are asked to do something. Something vile, a betrayal. And then, they have you. And you are indebted anew, in the maintenance of the secret, in your gratitude for not being exposed in your crime, which has since grown larger. As it always does, if you are in possession of a conscience.\\\" He was silent a moment, then he sighed and said, \\\"I do envy those who have no conscience.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can you not get out, Buruk?\\\"\\n\\nHe would not lookup from the flames. \\\"Of course I can,\\\" he said easily.\\n\\nThat tone, so at odds with all else he had said, frightened her. \\\"Make yourself... un-useful, Buruk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed, that seems the way of it, Acquitor. And I am in a hurry to do just that.\\\" He rose. \\\"Time to sleep. Downhill to the river, then we can trail our sore feet in the cool water, all the way to Trate.\\\"\\n\\nShe remained awake fora while longer, too tired to think, too numb to feel fear.\\n\\nAbove the fire, sparks and stars swam without distinction.\\n\\nDusk the following day, the two travellers reached Kraig's Landing, to find its three ramshackle buildings surrounded by the tents of an encamped regiment. Soldiers were everywhere, and at the dock was tethered an ornate, luxuriously appointed barge above which drifted in the dull wind the king's banner, and directly beneath it on the spar the crest of the Ceda.\\n\\n\\\"There's a cadre here, ' Buruk said as they strode down the trail towards the camp, which they would have to pass through to reach the hostel and dock.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She nodded. \\\"And the soldiers are here as escort. There can't have been engagements already, can there? '\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"At sea, maybe. The war is begun, I think.\\\"\\n\\nSeren reached out and halted Buruk. \\\"There, those three.\\\"\\n\\nThe merchant grunted.\\n\\nThe three figures in question had emerged from the rows of tents, the soldiers nearby keeping their distance but fixing their attention on them as they gathered fora moment, about halfway between the two travellers and the camp.\\n\\n\\\"The one in blue– do you recognize her, Acquitor?\\\"\\n\\nShe nodded. Nekal Bara, Trate's resident sorceress, whose power was a near rival to the Ceda's own. \\\"The man on her left, in the black furs, that's Arahathan, commander of the cadre in the Cold Clay Battalion. I don't know the third one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Enedictal,\\\" Buruk said. \\\"Arahathan's counterpart in the Snakebelt Battalion. We see before us the three most powerful mages of the north. They intend a ritual. '\\n\\nShe set off towards them.\\n\\n\\\"Acquitor! Don't! '\\n\\nIgnoring Buruk, Seren unslung her pack and dropped it to the ground. She had caught the attention of the three mages. Visible in the gloom, Nekal Bara's mocking lift of the eyebrows.\\n\\nAcquitor Seren Pedac. The Errant smiles upon you indeed. '\\n\\n\\\"You're going to launch an attack, \\\"Seren said.\\\"You mustn't.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We do not take orders from you,\\\" Enedictal said in a growl.\\n\\n\\\"You're going to strike the villages, aren't you?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Only the ones closest to the borders,\\\" Nekal Bara said, \\\"and those are far enough away to permit us a full unveiling– beyond those mountains, yes? If the Errant wills it, that's where the Edur armies will have already gathered. '\\n\\n\\\"We shall obliterate the smug bastards,\\\" Enedictal said. \\\"And end this stupid war before it's begun. '\\n\\n\\\"There are children-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Too bad.\\\"\\n\\nWithout another word the three mages moved to take positions, twenty paces distant from one another. They faced the slope of the trail, the rearing mountains before them.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" Seren shouted.\\n\\nSoldiers appeared, surrounding her, expressions dark and angry beneath the rim of their helms. One spoke. \\\"It's this, woman, or the fields of battle. Where people die. Make no move. Say nothing. '\\n\\nBuruk the Pale arrived to stand nearby. \\\"Leave it be, Acquitor.\\\"\\n\\nShe glared at him. \\\"You don't think he'll retaliate? He'll disperse the attack, Buruk. You know he will. '\\n\\n\\\"He may not have the time,\\\" the merchant replied. \\\"Oh, perhaps his own village, but what of the others?\\\"\\n\\nA flash of light caught her attention and she turned to see that but one mage remained, Nekal Bara. Then Seren saw, two hundred paces distant, the figure of Enedictal. Twisting round, she could make out Arahathan, two hundred paces in the opposite direction. More flashes, and the two sorcerors reappeared again, double the distance from Nekal Bara.\\n\\n\\\"They're spreading out, \\\"Buruk observed.\\\"This is going to be a big ritual. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A soldier said, \\\"The Ceda himself is working tonight. Through these three here, and the rest of the cadre strung out another league in both directions. Four villages will soon be nothing but ashes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is a mistake,\\\" Seren said.\\n\\nSomething was building between the motionless sorcerors. Blue and green light, ravelled taut, like lightning wound round an invisible rope linking the mages. The glow building like sea foam, a froth that began crackling, spitting drawn-out sparks that whipped like tendrils.\\n\\nThe sound became a hissing roar. The light grew blinding, the tendrils writhing out from the glowing foam. The twisting rope bucked and snapped between the stationary mages, reaching out past the three who were still visible, out beyond the hills to either side.\\n\\nShe watched the power burgeoning, the bucking frenzied, the tendrils whipping like the limbs of some giant, wave-thrashed anemone.\\n\\nDarkness had been peeled back by the bristling energy, the shadows dancing wild.\\n\\nA sudden shout.\\n\\nThe heaving chain sprang loose, the roar of its escape thundering in the ground beneath Seren's feet. Figures staggered as the wave launched skyward, obliterating the night. It crest was blinding green fire, the curving wall in its wake a luminescent ochre, webbed with foam in a stretching latticework.\\n\\nThe wall swallowed the north sky, and still the crest rose, power streaming upward. The grasses near the mages blackened, then spun into white ash on swirling winds.\\n\\nBeneath the roar, a shriek, then screams. Seren saw a soldier stumbling forward, against the glowing wall at the base of the wave. It took him, stripped armour, clothes, then hair and skin, then, in a gush of blood, it devoured his flesh. Before the hapless figure could even crumple, the bones were plucked away, leaving naught but a single upright boot on the blistered ground in front of the foaming wall. The crimson blush shot upward, paling as it went. Until it was gone.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Air hissed past her, buffeting and bitter cold.\\n\\nShe sank down, the only response possible to fight that savage tugging, and dug her fingers into the stony ground. Others did the same around her, clawing in panic. Another soldier was dragged away, pulled shrieking into the wave.\\n\\nThe roaring snapped suddenly, like a breath caught in a throat, and Seren saw the base lift away, roll upward like avast curtain, rising to reveal, once again, the battered slopes leading to the pass, then the pallid mountains and their blunt, ancient summits.\\n\\nThe wave swiftly dwindled as it soared northward, its wild light reflected momentarily in a patchwork cascade across reflective surfaces far below, sweeps of snow near the peaks and ice-polished stone blossoming sickly green and gold, as if awakened to an unexpected sunset.\\n\\nThen the mountains were black silhouettes once more.\\n\\nBeyond them, the wave, from horizon to horizon, was descending. Vanishing behind the range.\\n\\nIn the corner of her vision, Seren saw Nekal Bara slump to her knees.\\n\\nSudden light, across the rim of the world to the north, billowing like storm seas exploding against rock. The glow shot back into the night sky, this time in fiery arms and enormous, whipping tentacles.\\n\\nShe saw a strange ripple of grey against black on the facing mountainside, swiftly plunging.\\n\\nThen comprehension struck her. \\\"Lie flat! Everyone! Down!\\\"\\n\\nThe ripple struck the base of the slope. The few scraggly trees clinging to a nearby hillside toppled in unison, as if pushed over by a giant invisible hand.\\n\\nThe sound struck.\\n\\nAnd broke around them, strangely muted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dazed, Seren lifted her head. Watched the shale tiles of an outlying building's roof dance away into the darkness. Watched as the north-facing wall tilted, then collapsed, taking the rest of the structure with it. She slowly climbed to her hands and knees.\\n\\nNekal Bara stood nearby, her hair and clothes untouched by the wind that raged on all sides.\\n\\nMuddy rain sifted down through the strangely thick air. The stench of charred wood and the raw smell of cracked stone.\\n\\nBeyond, the wind had died, and the rain pummelled the ground. Darkness returned, and if fires still burned beyond the mountains, no sign was visible from this distance.\\n\\nBuruk the Pale staggered to her side, his face splashed with mud. \\\"He did not block it, Acquitor!\\\" he gasped. \\\"It is as I said: no time to prepare.\\\"\\n\\nA soldier shouted, \\\"Errant take us! Such power!\\\"\\n\\nThere was good reason why Lether had never lost a war. Even the Onyx Wizards of Bluerose had been crushed by the cadres of the Ceda. Archpriests, shamans, witches and rogue sorcerors, none had ever managed to stand for long against such ferocity.\\n\\nSeren felt sick inside. Sick, and bereft.\\n\\nThis is not war. This is... what? Errant save us, I have no answer, noway to describe the magnitude of this slaughter. It is mindless. Blasphemous. As if we have forgotten dignity. Theirs, our own. The word itself. No distinction between innocence and guilt, condemned by mere existence. People transformed against their will into nothing more than symbols, sketchy representations, repositories of all ills, of all frustrations.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Is this what must be done? Take the enemy's flesh and fill it with diseases, corrupting and deadly to the touch, breath of poison? And that which is sick must be exterminated, lest it spread its contamination.\\n\\n\\\"I doubt,\\\" Buruk said in an empty voice, \\\"there was time to suffer.\\\"\\n\\nTrue. Leave that to us.\\n\\nThere had been no defence. Hannan Mosag, Rhulad, the slave Udinaas and Feather Witch. Hull Beddict. The names skittered away in her mind, and she saw– with a sudden twisting of her insides that left her shocked– the face of Trull Sengar. No. It was Hull I was thinking of. No. Why him? \\\"But they're dead. '\\n\\n\\\"They're all dead, \\\"Buruk said beside her.\\\"I need a drink. '\\n\\nHis hand plucked at her arm.\\n\\nShe did not move. \\\"There's nowhere to go. '\\n\\n\\\"Acquitor. The tavern beneath the hostel's built solid enough to withstand a siege. I'd imagine that's where those soldiers just went, to toast their lost comrades. Poor fools. The dead ones, I mean. Come on, Seren. I'm in the mood to spend coin.\\\"\\n\\nBlinking, she looked round. The mages were gone.\\n\\n\\\"It's raining, Acquitor. Let's go.\\\"\\n\\nHis hand closed on her arm. She allowed him to drag her away.\\n\\n\\\"What's happened? '\\n\\n\\\"You're in shock, Acquitor. No surprise. Here, I've some tea for you, the captain's own. Enjoy the sunshine– it's been rare enough lately.\\\"\\n\\nThe river's swift current pulled the barge along. Ahead, the sun was faintly copper, but the breeze sidling across the water's spinning surface was warm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She took the cup from his hands.\\n\\n\\\"We'll be thereby dusk, \\\"Buruk said.\\\"Soon, we should be able to make out its skyline. Or at least the smoke. '\\n\\n\\\"The smoke,\\\" she said. \\\"Yes, there will be that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Think on it this way, Seren. You'll soon be free of me. '\\n\\n\\\"Not if there's not to be a war. '\\n\\n\\\"No. I intend to release you from your contract in any case.\\\"\\n\\nShe looked over at him, struggled to focus. There had been a night. After the sorcerous assault. In the tavern. Boisterous soldiers. Scouting parties were to head north the next day– today. She was starting to recall details, the gleam of some strange excitement as lurid as the tavern's oil lamps.\\\"Why would you do that? '\\n\\n\\\"My need for you is ended, Acquitor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Presumably, the Edur will sue for peace. If anything, Buruk, you will find yourself far busier than ever.\\\" She sipped the tea.\\n\\nHe nodded, slowly, and she sensed from him a kind of resignation.\\n\\n\\\"Oh,\\\" she said, \\\"I'd forgotten. You must needs make yourself of no use. '\\n\\n\\\"Indeed. My days as a spy are over, Acquiror.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will be the better for it, Buruk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Assuredly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Will you stay in Trate?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes. It is my home, after all. I intend never to leave Trate.\\\"\\n\\nSeren drank her tea. Mint, and something else that thickened her tongue. Flowed turgid and cloying through her thoughts. \\\"You have poisoned this tea, Buruk.\\\" The words slurred.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Had to, Seren Pedac. Since last night. I can't have you thinking clearly. Not right now. You'll sleep again. One of the dockhands will waken you tonight– I will make sure of that, and that you're safe. '\\n\\n\\\"Is this another... another betrayal?\\\" She felt herself sagging on the bench.\\n\\n\\\"My last, dear. Remember this, if you can: I didn't want your help. '\\n\\n\\\"My... help.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Although,\\\" he added from a great distance, \\\"you have always held my heart.\\\"\\n\\nFierce pain behind her eyes. She blinked them open. It was night. A robe covered her, tucked up round her chin. The slow rise and fall beneath her and the faint creaks told her she was still aboard the barge, which was now tied up alongside a stone pier. Groaning, she sat up.\\n\\nScuffling sounds beside her, then a tankard was hovering before her face. \\\"Drink this, lass.\\\"\\n\\nShe did not recognize the voice, but pushed the tankard away.\\n\\n\\\"No, it's all right, \\\"the man insisted.\\\"Just ale. Clean, cool ale. To take the ache from your head. He said you'd be hurting, you see. And ale's always done it for me, when I done and drunk too much. '\\n\\n\\\"I wasn't drunk-'\\n\\n\\\"No matter, you wasn't sleeping a natural sleep. It ain't no different, you see? Come now, lass, I need to get you up and around. It's my wife, you see, she's poorly. We're past the third bell an'I don't like leaving her too long alone. But he paid me good. Errant knows, more than an honest man makes in a year. Jus'to sit with you, you see. See you're safe an'up and walking.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She struggled to her feet, clutching at and missing the cloak as it slipped down to her feet.\\n\\nThe dockhand, a bent, wizened old man, set the tankard down and collected it. \\\"Turn now, lass. I got the clasps. There's a chill this night– you're shivering. Turn now, yes, good, that's it. '\\n\\n\\\"Thank you.\\\" The weight of the cloak pulled at her neck muscles and shoulders, making the pain in her head throb.\\n\\n\\\"I had a daughter, once. A noble took her. Debts, you see. Maybe she's alive, maybe she isn't. He went through lasses, that one. Back in Letheras. We couldn't stay there, you see, not after that. Chance t'see her, or a body turning up, like they do. Anyway, she was tall like you, that's all. Here, have some ale. '\\n\\nShe accepted the tankard, drank down three quick mouthfuls.\\n\\n\\\"There, better now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have to go. So do you, to your wife.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well enough, lass. Can you walk?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where's my pack? '\\n\\n\\\"He took it with him, said you could collect it. In the shed behind his house. He was specific'bout that. The shed. Don't go in the house, he said. Very specific-\\\"\\n\\nShe swung to the ladder. \\\"Help me.\\\"\\n\\nRough hands under her arms, moving down to her behind as she climbed, then her thighs. \\\"Best I can do, lass,\\\" came a gasp below her as she moved beyond his reach. She clambered onto the pier.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, sir,\\\" she said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The city was quiet, barring a pair of dogs scrapping somewhere behind a warehouse. Seren stumbled on occasion as she hurried down the streets. But, true to the dockhand's word, the ale dulled the pain behind her eyes. Made her thoughts all too clear.\\n\\nShe reached Buruk the Pale's home, an old but well-maintained house halfway down a row on the street just in from the riverside warehouses.\\n\\nNo lights showed behind the shuttered windows.\\n\\nSeren climbed the steps and drove her boot against the door.\\n\\nFour kicks and the locks broke. By this time, neighbours had awakened. There were shouts, calls for the guard. Somewhere down the row a bell began ringing.\\n\\nShe followed the collapsing door into the cloakroom beyond. No servants, no sound from within. Into the dark hallway, ascending the stairs to the next level. Another hallway, step by step closing in on the door to Buruk's bedroom. Through the doorway. Inside.\\n\\nWhere he hung beneath a crossbeam, face bloated in the shadows. A toppled chair off to one side, up against the narrow bed.\\n\\nA scream, filled with rage, tore loose from Seren's throat.\\n\\nBelow, boots on the stairs.\\n\\nShe screamed again, the sound falling away to a hoarse sob.\\n\\nYou have always held my heart.\\n\\nSmoke rising in broad plumes, only to fallback and unfold like a grey cloak over the lands to the north. Obscuring all, hiding nothing.\\n\\nHanradi Khalag's weathered face was set, expressionless, as he stared at the distant devastation. Beside the chief of the Merude, Trull Sengar remained silent, wondering why Hanradi had joined him at this moment, when the mass of warriors were in the midst of breaking camp on the forested slopes all around them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hull Beddict spoke true,\\\" the chief said in his raspy voice. \\\"They would strike pre-emptively. Beneda, Hiroth and Arapay villages.\\\"\\n\\nA night of red fires filling the north. At least four villages, and among them Trull's own. Destroyed.\\n\\nHe swung round to study the slopes. Seething with warriors, Edur women and their slaves, elders and children. No going back, now. The Letherii sorcery has obliterated our homes... but those homes were empty, the villages left to the crows.\\n\\nAnd a handful of hapless Nerek.\\n\\nNothing but ashes, now.\\n\\n\\\"Trull Sengar,\\\" Hanradi Khalag said, \\\"our allies arrived last night. Three thousand. You were seen. It seems they know you well, if only by reputation. The sons of Tomad Sengar, but you especially. The one who leads them is called the Dominant. A hulk of a man, even for one of his kind. More grey than black in his mane. He is named B'nagga-'\\n\\n\\\"This does not interest me, Chief,\\\" Trull cut in. \\\"They have been as sorely used as we have, and that use is far from over. I do not know this B'nagga. '\\n\\n\\\"As I said, he knows you, and would speak with you.\\\"\\n\\nTrull turned away.\\n\\n\\\"You had best accept the truth of things, Trull Sengar-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One day I will know your mind, Hanradi Khalag. The self you hide so well. Hannan Mosag bent you to his will. And now you kneel before my brother, the emperor. The usurper. Is this what the unification of the tribes was intended to mean? Is this the future you desired?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Usurper.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Words like that will see you killed or cast out.\\\"\\n\\nTrull grunted. \\\"Rhulad is with the western army-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But the wraiths now serve him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, and we are to have spies among us now? An emperor who fears his own. An emperor who would be immune to criticism. Someone must speak in the name of reason.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Speak no more of this. Not tome. I reject all you say. You are being foolish, Trull Sengar. Foolish. Your anger is born of envy. No more.\\\" He turned and walked back down the narrow track, leaving Trull alone once again on the precipice rising above the valleys of the pass. It did not occur to him to see if Hanradi had indeed lost his shadow.\\n\\nA precipice. Where he could look down and watch the thousands swarm among the trees.\\n\\nThree land armies and four fleets held, divided among them, the entire population of the Tiste Edur. This camp before him was a league wide and two leagues deep. Trull had never seen so many Edur gathered in one place. Hiroth, Arapay, Sollanta, Beneda.\\n\\nHe caught movement below, on the edge of Fear's command area, squat, fur-clad figures, and felt himself grow cold. Our... allies.\\n\\nJheck.\\n\\nSummoned by the Edur they had killed. Worshippers of the sword.\\n\\nThe night just past, beginning at dusk, had vanished behind a nightmarish display of sorcery. Unimaginable powers unveiled by the Letherii mages, an expression of appalling brutality in its intent. This was clearly going to be a war where no quarter was given, where conquest and annihilation were, for the Letherii, synonymous. Trull wondered if Rhulad would answer in like manner.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Except we have no homes to return to. We are committed to occupation of the south. Of Lether. We cannot raze the cities... can we? He drew a deep breath. He needed to talk to Fear again. But his brother had plunged into his role as commander of this army. His lead elements, half a day ahead, would come within sight of High Fort. The army would cross the Katter River at the Narrow Chute, which was spanned by a stone bridge centuries old, then swing down to join those lead elements.\\n\\nAnd there would be a battle.\\n\\nFor Fear, the time for questions was past.\\n\\nBut why can I not manage the same for myself? Certainty, even fatality, eluded Trull. His mind would not rest from its tortured thoughts, his worries of what awaited them.\\n\\nHe made his way down the track. The Jheck were there, a contingent present in Fear's command area. He was not required, he told himself, to speak to them.\\n\\nEdur warriors readying armour and weapons on all sides. Women chanting protective wards to weave a net of invisibility about the entire encampment. Wraiths darting among the trees, most of them streaming southward, through the pass and into the southlands. Here and there, demonic conjurations towered, hulking and motionless along the many newly worn trails leading to the summit. They were in full armour of bronze scales, green with verdigris, with heavy helms, the cheek guards battered plates that reached down past the jawlines, their faces hidden. Polearms, glaives, double-edged axes and maces, an array of melee weapons. Once, not so long ago, such summoned demons had been rare, the ritual– conducted by women– one of cajoling, false promises and final deception. The creatures were bound, now doomed to fight a war not of their making, where the only release was annihilation. They numbered in the high hundreds in this, Fear's army. The truth of that sickened him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Helping with the striking of tents, children. Torn from their familiar world, subject to anew shaping. If this gambit failed...\\n\\nFear was standing near the remnants of a hearth from which smoke rose in a low wreath about his legs. Flanked by the two K'risnan the emperor had attached to this force. Hanradi Khalag stood off to one side.\\n\\nA Jheck was approaching, probably the one the Merude chief had spoken of, given the wild iron-streaked, tangled head of hair, the flattened, seamed face displaying countless battle-scars. Various shells dangled from knotted strips hanging on his sleeveless sealskin shirt. Other small trophies depended from a narrow belt beneath the man's round paunch– pieces of Edur armour, jewellery. A bold reminder of past enmity.\\n\\nWhat had Hanradi called him? The Dominant. B'nagga.\\n\\nThe Jheck's eyes were yellow, the whites dull grey and embryonic with blue vessels. They looked half mad.\\n\\nFiled teeth flashed in a fierce smile. \\\"See who comes, Fear Sengar!\\\" The accent was awkward behind the Arapay intonations. \\\"The one we could not defeat!\\\"\\n\\nTrull scowled as his brother turned to watch him approach. To the Dominant, he said, \\\"You'll find no fields of ice to the south, Jheck. '\\n\\n\\\"Mange and moult, Slayer. No other enemy gives us such terror.\\\" His broadening smile underscored the irony of his words. \\\"Fear Sengar, your brother is worthy of much pride. Again and again, my hunters sought to best this warrior in individual combat. Veered or sembled, it mattered not. He defeated them all. Never before have we witnessed such skill, such ferocity.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Among all who I trained, B'nagga, \\\"Fear said,\\\"Trull was and remains the finest. '\\n\\nTrull started, then his scowl deepened with disbelief. \\\"Enough of this. Fear, has our emperor spoken to us through the wraiths? Does he voice his satisfaction at the failed attempt by the Letherii? Does he spit with rage?\\\"\\n\\nOne of the K'risnan spoke.\\\"Not a single Edur was lost, Trull Sengar. For that, we have Hull Beddict to thank. '\\n\\n\\\"Ah yes, the traitor. And what of the Nerek camped in our village?\\\"\\n\\nThe warlock shrugged. \\\"We could not command them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Relinquish your anger, brother,\\\" Fear said. \\\"The devastation was wrought by the Letherii, not us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True. And now it is our turn.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. The wraiths have reported an army ascending to the pass.\\\"\\n\\nAh, no. So soon.\\n\\nB'nagga laughed.\\\"Do we ambush them? Shall I send my wolves forward? '\\n\\n\\\"They are not yet at the bridge,\\\" Fear replied. \\\"I expect they will seek to contest that crossing should we fail to reach it before them. For the moment, however, they are in a slow-march, and, it seems, not expecting much opposition.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That much is clear,\\\" Hanradi said. \\\"What commander would seek an engagement against an enemy upslope? This is a probe. At first contact they will withdraw. Back to High Fort. Fear, we should bloody them all the way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"B'nagga, send half your force forward. Observe the enemy, but remain unseen. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The K'risnan who had spoken earlier said,\\\"Fear, there will be a mage cadre attached to the army. '\\n\\nFear nodded. \\\"Withdraw the wraiths barring a dozen or so. I would convey the belief that those few are but residents of the area. The enemy must remain unsuspecting. Hanradi Khalag, our warriors must be made ready to march. You will lead them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We shall be underway before mid-morning.\\\"\\n\\nTrull watched the Merude chief walkaway, then said, \\\"Those Letherii mages will prove troublesome.\\\"\\n\\nThe K'risnan grunted.\\\"Trull Sengar, we are their match. '\\n\\nHe looked at the two warlocks. Chiefs'sons. Of Rhulad's age.\\n\\nThe K'risnan's smile was knowing. \\\"We are linked to Hannan Mosag, and through him to the emperor himself. Trull Sengar, the power we now call upon is more vast, and deadlier, than any the Edur have known before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And that does not concern you? What is the aspect of this power? Do you even know? Does Hannan Mosag know? Rhulad?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The power comes to the emperor through the sword,\\\" the K'risnan said.\\n\\n\\\"That is no answer-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Trull!\\\" Fear snapped. \\\"No more. I have asked that you assemble a unit from our village. Have you done so?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, brother. Fifty warriors, half of them unblooded, as you commanded.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And have you created squads and chosen your officers?\\\"\\n\\nTrull nodded.\\n\\n\\\"Lead them to the bridge. Take advance positions on the other side and wait until Hanradi's forces reach you– it should not be along wait. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And if the Letherii have sent scouts ahead and they arrive first?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gauge their strength and act accordingly. But Trull, no last stands. A skirmish will suffice to holdup the enemy's advance, particularly if they are uncertain as to your strength. Now, gather your warriors and be off. '\\n\\n\\\"Very well.\\\"\\n\\nThere was no point in arguing any further, he told himself as he made his way to where his company waited. No-one wanted to listen. Independent thought had been relinquished, with appalling eagerness, it seemed to him, and in its place had risen a stolid resolve to question nothing. Worse, Trull found he could not help himself. Even as he saw the anger grow in the faces of those around him– anger that he dare challenge, that he dare think in ways contrary to theirs, and so threaten their certainty– he was unable to stay silent.\\n\\nMomentum was building all around him, and the stronger it grew, the more he resisted it. Ina way, he suspected, he was becoming as reactionary as they were, driven into extreme opposition, and though he struggled against this dogmatic obstinacy it was a battle he sensed he was losing.\\n\\nThere was nothing of value in such opposed positions of thought. And no possible conclusion but his own isolation and, eventually, the loss of trust.\\n\\nHis warriors were waiting, gear packed, armour donned. Trull knew them all by name, and had endeavoured to achieve a balanced force, not just in skill but in attitude. Accordingly, he knew many of them resented being under his command, for his dissatisfaction with this war was well known. None the less, he knew they would follow him.\\n\\nThere were no nobles among them.\\n\\nTrull joined the warrior he had chosen as his captain. Ahlrada Ahn had trained alongside Trull, specializing in the Merude cutlass as his preferred weapon. He was left-handed, rare among the Edur, yet used his other hand to wield a short, wide-bladed knife for close fighting. The bell-hilt of his cutlass sprouted a profusion of quillons designed to trap opposing sword-blades and spear-shafts, and his ceaseless exercises concentrating on that tactic had made his left wrist almost twice the bulk of its opposite. Trull had seen more than one of his practice spears snap at a shoulder-wrenching twist from Ahlrada's sword-arm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The warrior also hated him, for reasons Trull had yet to fathom. Although now, he amended, Ahlrada had probably found anew reason.\\n\\n\\\"Captain.\\\"\\n\\nThe dark eyes would not meet his. They never did. Ahlrada's skin was darker than any other Edur Trull had seen. There were colourless streaks in his long, unbound hair. Shadow wraiths swarmed round him– another strange detail unique to the warrior.\\\"Leader, ' he replied.\\n\\n\\\"Inform the sergeants, we're heading out. Minimum kits– we need to travel quickly. '\\n\\n\\\"Already done. We were waiting for you.\\\"\\n\\nTrull walked over to his own gear, shouldered the small leather pack, then selected four spears from his cache. Whatever was left behind would be collected by the Letherii slaves and carried with the main body as it made its cautious way south in the wake of Trull's company and Hanradi's forces.\\n\\nWhen he turned, he saw that the company were on their feet, all eyes fixed on him. \\\"We must needs run, warriors. The south end of the bridge. Once through the pass, each squad sends out a point and makes its own way off-trail down to the bridge. Thus, you must be both swift and silent.\\\"\\n\\nA sergeant spoke. \\\"Leader, if we leave the trail we are slowed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we had best get moving.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Leader,\\\" the sergeant persisted, \\\"we will lose speed-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not trust the trail beyond the pass, Canarth. Now, move out.\\\" In his head he cursed himself. A leader need not give reasons. The command was sufficient. Nor, he silently added, was a sergeant expected to voice public challenge. This was not beginning well.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":81,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 21"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The warrior also hated him, for reasons Trull had yet to fathom. Although now, he amended, Ahlrada had probably found anew reason.\n\n\"Captain.\"\n\nThe dark eyes would not meet his. They never did. Ahlrada's skin was darker than any other Edur Trull had seen. There were colourless streaks in his long, unbound hair. Shadow wraiths swarmed round him– another strange detail unique to the warrior.\"Leader, ' he replied.\n\n\"Inform the sergeants, we're heading out. Minimum kits– we need to travel quickly. '\n\n\"Already done. We were waiting for you.\"\n\nTrull walked over to his own gear, shouldered the small leather pack, then selected four spears from his cache. Whatever was left behind would be collected by the Letherii slaves and carried with the main body as it made its cautious way south in the wake of Trull's company and Hanradi's forces.\n\nWhen he turned, he saw that the company were on their feet, all eyes fixed on him. \"We must needs run, warriors. The south end of the bridge. Once through the pass, each squad sends out a point and makes its own way off-trail down to the bridge. Thus, you must be both swift and silent.\"\n\nA sergeant spoke. \"Leader, if we leave the trail we are slowed.\"\n\n\"Then we had best get moving.\"\n\n\"Leader,\" the sergeant persisted, \"we will lose speed-\"\n\n\"I do not trust the trail beyond the pass, Canarth. Now, move out.\" In his head he cursed himself. A leader need not give reasons. The command was sufficient. Nor, he silently added, was a sergeant expected to voice public challenge. This was not beginning well."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"One squad in the lead, followed by Trull, then the remaining squads with Ahlrada taking up the rear, the company set out for the pass at a steady run. They quickly left the camp behind. Then, through an avenue provided them, they swept past Hanradi Khalag's forces.\n\nTrull found pleasure, and relief, in the pace they set. The mind could vanish in the steady rhythm, and the forest slid past with each stride, the trees growing more stunted and thinner on the ground the closer they approached the summit, while overhead the sun climbed a cloudless sky.\n\nShortly before mid-morning they halted on the south end of the pass. Trull was pleased to see that none of his warriors was short of breath, instead drawing long, deep lungfuls to slow their hearts. The exertion and the heat left them, one and all, sheathed in sweat. They drank a little water, then ate a small meal of dried salmon and thin bread wrapped round pine nut paste.\n\nRested and fed, the warriors formed up into their squads, then, without another word, headed into the sparse forest to either side of the trail.\n\nTrull elected to accompany the squad led by Canarth. They headed into the forest on the trail's west side, then began the slow, silent descent, staying thirty or so paces from the main path. Another squad was further west, fifteen paces distant, whilst the third trailed midway between them and thirty paces back. An identical pattern had been formed on the eastern side.\n\nSergeant Canarth made his disapproval plain, constantly edging ahead until he was almost on the heels of the warrior at point. Trull thought to gesture him back but Canarth was ignoring him as if he was not there.\n\nThen, halfway down the slope, the point halted and crouched low, one hand reaching back to stop Canarth."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Trull and the others also ceased moving. The forest had thickened during the descent, an army of blackened pine boles blocking line of sight beyond fifteen paces. There was little undergrowth, but the slope was uneven and treacherous with moss-coated boulders and rotting tree-falls. A glance to his right showed the nearest warrior of the flanking squad a half-dozen paces further down, but now also halted, one hand raised, his gaze fixed on Trull.\n\nAhead, the point was whispering to Canarth. After a moment, the sergeant reversed direction and made his way cautiously back to where Trull and the others waited.\n\n\"There is a scout on the edge of the main trail. Faraed, likely serving with the Letherii army. He has a good line of sight on the trail itself, maybe seventy-five or more paces.\"\n\nTrull looked back at the rest of the squad. He singled one warrior out and beckoned him closer. \"Badar, go back to the third squad. They are to choose a warrior to head upslope a hundred and twenty paces, then cut into the main path. He is then to make his way down, as if on point. Once you have delivered the message, return to us.\"\n\nBadar nodded and slipped away.\n\n\"What of us?\" Canarth asked.\n\n\"We wait, then join the squad to our west. Make our way down below the scout's position, and lay our own trap. '\n\n\"What of the squads to the east of the trail?\"\n\nA good question. He had split his forces with noway of communicating with half his company. A mistake. \"We had best hope they too have seen the scout. And will have rightly judged that a Faraed is virtually impossible to sneak upon.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The sergeant simply nodded."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He did not need to point out Trull's error. Nor, it was evident, his own.\n\nWe even out. Fair enough..\n\nA short time later Badar returned and gave them a perfunctory nod. Trull gestured the squad to follow and struck out westward to join the outlying warriors.\n\nOnce there, he quickly related his plan and the fifteen warriors set off downslope.\n\nThey descended sixty paces before Trull waved them towards the main path. The position they reached was directly below a crook in the trail. He had his warriors draw and ready weapons.\n\nCanarth gestured. \"Across from us, Leader. Rethal's squad. They have anticipated you. '\n\nTrull nodded. \"Into position. We'll take him when he comes opposite us. '\n\nHeartbeats. The sun's heat bouncing from the gravel and dust of the trail. Insects buzzing past.\n\nThen, light thumping, the sound swiftly growing. Suddenly upon them.\n\nThe Faraed was a blur, plunging round the bend in the trail then flashing past.\n\nSpears darted out shin-high to trip him up.\n\nThe scout leapt them.\n\nA curse, then a shaft raced past Trull, the iron head crunching into the Faraed's back, between the shoulder blades. Snapping through the spine. The scout sprawled, then tumbled, limbs flopping, and came to a rest ten paces down the path.\n\nSettling dust. Silence.\n\nTrull made his way down to where the body lay in a twisted heap. The scout, he saw, was a boy. Fourteen, fifteen years of age. His smeared face held an expression of surprise, filling the eyes. The mouth was a grimace of terror. \"We killed a child.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"An enemy,\" Canarth said beside him."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is the Letherii you must look to, Leader. They throw children into this war.\" He turned to face uptrail. \"Well thrown, Badar. You are now blooded.\"\n\nBadar scrambled down and retrieved his spear.\n\nThe third squad appeared at the crook. One of them spoke. \"I never even saw him.\"\n\n\"Our first kill, Leader,\" Ahlrada Ahn said. Trull felt sick. \"Drag the body from the trail, Sergeant Canarth. Cover this blood with dust. We must move on.\"\n\nThe bridge was not abridge at all. Trull had visited it once before, and left with naught but questions. Constructed, it seemed, from a single massive disc, notched in rows across its rim, which was broad enough to permit eight warriors to stride across it without shoulders touching. The disc was on end, filling the gap of the deep gorge below which roared the Katter River. The base of the wheel was lost in the chute's darkness and the mist rising ceaselessly from the rushing water. To cross to the other side, one had to walk that curved, slick rim. The hub of the enormous wheel was visible, at least three man-lengths down. Thigh-thick rods of polished stone, spear-shaft straight, angled out from a projection on the hub on both sides, appearing to plunge into the rock wall of the gorge's south side.\n\nThe squads gathered on the north edge, scanning the treeline opposite. Two of the Edur had already crossed, one returning to report back. No signs of scouts, no evidence of recent camps. The lone Faraed they had killed seemed to have been sent far in advance of the main forces, or had taken upon himself the task of a deep mission. His courage and his intelligence had cost him his life."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Trull approached the very edge of the wheel, where the angle of the stone first emerged from the surrounding rock. As before, he saw a thin, milky film between that carved perfection and the rough rock of the precipice. Ashe had done once before, long ago, he wiped that foam away with a finger, to reveal the straight line, too narrow to slip a dagger blade into, that separated the construct from the raw stone. A disc in truth, somehow set into the notch of the gorge.\n\nAnd, even stranger, the disc moved. Incrementally turning in place. At the moment, it was midway along one of the shallow grooves carved in parallel rows across the rim. He knew he could set his feet on that first notch, and halt. And, had he the patience, he would eventually– days, maybe a week, maybe more– find himself stepping off onto the south side of the gorge.\n\nA mystery without an answer. Trull suspected it was never intended as abridge. Rather, it had been built for some other purpose. It did not make sense to him that it functioned solely as what had immediately occurred to him the first time he had visited. There were, after all, easier ways to measure the passage of time.\n\nTrull straightened, then waved his warriors across.\n\nAhlrada took the lead.\n\nThey reached the other side and fanned out, seeking cover. The ground resumed its downward slope, amidst boulders, pines and straggly oaks. They would cautiously move down in a few moments, to search for defensible positions that permitted a line of sight down the trail.\n\nTrull crouched near Ahlrada, scanning the area ahead, when he heard the warrior grunt, then step away, swearing under his breath."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What's wrong, Captain? '\n\n\"I felt it... move. Here.\"\n\nTrull edged over, and saw that Ahlrada's original position had been on a slightly curved panel of stone, set lower than the surrounding rock. It was covered in dust and gravel, but looked too smooth to be natural. He reached down and brushed the panel clear.\n\nAnd saw arcane symbols carved into the stone, row upon row, the language unknown to him. Deeply delineated grooves formed an incomplete box around the writing, the base and sidelines visible. Beneath the base anew row of lettering was just beginning to show.\n\nTrull glanced back at the bridge, then back at the recessed panel. \"It moved?\"\n\n\"Yes, I am certain of it,\" Ahlrada said. \"Not much, but yes.\"\n\n\"Was there a sound?\"\n\n\"More felt than heard, Leader. As if something huge and buried was... shifting.\"\n\nTrull stared down at the panel, running his fingers along the lettering. \"Do you recognize the language?\"\n\nAhlrada shrugged and looked away. \"We should head down, Leader.\"\n\n\"You have seen such writing before.\"\n\n\"Not in... stone. In ice. It doesn't matter. '\n\n\"Ice?\"\n\n\"I once lived and hunted with the Den-Ratha, on the north coast. North and east, deep into the ice seas. Before the unification. There was a wall, covered in such writing, a berg that blocked our way. Twenty man-heights high, half a league wide. But it sank into the sea– it was gone the next season.\"\n\nTrull knew that Ahlrada had, like Binadas, journeyed far and wide, had fashioned blood-bound kinships with many Edur from rival tribes. And, like Trull himself, had opposed the wars of subjugation conducted by Hannan Mosag. By all counts, he realized, they should befriends. \"What did your Den-Ratha comrades say about it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Tusked Man wrote them, they said.\" He shrugged again. \"It is nothing. A myth.\"\n\n\"A man with tusks?\"\n\n\"He has been... seen. Over generations, sightings every now and then. Skin of green or grey. Tusks white as whalebone. Always to the north, standing on snow or ice. Leader, this is not the time.\"\n\nTrull sighed, then said, \"Send the squads down.\"\n\nA short time later Canarth reported that he smelled rotting meat.\n\nBut it was only a dead owl, lying beside the trail.\n\nThere were dark times for the Letherii, so long ago now. The First Empire, from which vast fleets had sailed forth to map the world. The coasts of all six continents had been charted, eight hundred and eleven islands scattered in the vast oceans, ruins and riches discovered, ancient sorceries and fierce, ignorant tribes encountered. Other peoples, not human, all of whom bled easily enough. Barghast, Trell, Tartheno, Fenn, Mare, Jhag, Krinn, Jheck... Colonies had been established on foreign coasts. Wars and conquests, always conquests. Until... all was brought down, all was destroyed. The First Empire collapsed in upon itself. Beasts rose in the midst of its cities, a nightmare burgeoning like plague.\n\nThe Emperor who was One was now Seven, and the Seven were scattered, lost in madness. The great cities burned. And people died in the millions.\n\nThe nightmare had a name, and that name was T'lan Imass.\n\nTwo words, inspiring hatred and terror. But, beyond those two words, there was nothing. All memory of who or what the T'lan Imass had been was lost in the chaos that followed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Few Letherii remained who were aware of even that much. True, they knew the name \"First Empire\". And they knew of the fall of that glorious civilization of so long ago, a civilization that was their legacy. And little else, barring the prophecy of rebirth.\n\nUdinaas could no longer make that claim of blissful ignorance for himself. Within the world of ghosts and shades, the past lived on, breathed like a thing alive and ever restive. And voices haunted him, long dead voices. The Tiste Andii shade, Wither, was indifferent to the Letherii slave's own desires, his pleading for silence, for an end to the grisly cacophony of regrets which seemed to be all that held ghosts together.\n\nUdinaas knew enough horror, here among the living. And the distilling of old truths was, as far as he was concerned, not worth it.\n\nT'lan Imass.\n\nT'lan Imass...\n\nWhat did he care about some ancient nemesis?\n\nBecause the dust of over four thousand of them was beneath their feet at this moment. A truth riding Wither's raspy laughter.\n\n'And that dust has eyes, slave. Should you fear? Probably\n\nnot. They're not interested. Much. Not enough to rise up and slaughter you all, which they might not succeed in doing anyway. But, I tell you this, Udinaas, they would give it a good try.\"\n\n\"If they are dust,\" Udinaas muttered, \"they cannot slaughter anyone.\"\n\nIt was night. He sat with his back to a sloping rock face, on a ledge perched above the massive Edur encampment. The emperor had sent him off a short while ago. The hulking, gold-smeared bastard was in afoul mood. Wearied from dragging his bulk around, arguments with Hannan Mosag, the endless logistics of moving an army tens of thousands strong, families in tow. Not all was glory."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The dust can rise, Udinaas. Can take shape. Warriors of bone and withered flesh, with swords of stone. Where are these ones from? Which warleader sent them here? They do not answer our questions. They never do. There are no bonecasters among them. They are, like us, lost.\"\n\nUdinaas was tired of listening. The wraith was worse than a burrowing tick, buried deep in his brain. He had begun to doubt its existence. More likely the product of madness, a persona invented in his own mind. An inventor of secrets, seeding armies of ghosts to explain the countless voices whispering in his skull. Of course, it would insist otherwise. It might even flit across his vision, creeping disembodied, the sourceless, inexplicably moving shadow where none belonged. But the slave knew his eyes could be deceived. All part of the same corrupted perception.\n\nThe wraith hides in the blood of the Wyval. The Wyval hides in the shadow of the wraith. A game of mutual negation. The emperor sensed nothing. Hannan Mosag and his K'risnan sensed nothing. Feather Witch, Mayen, Uruth, the host of bound wraiths, the hunting dogs, the birds and the buzzing insects– all sensed nothing.\n\nAnd that was absurd.\n\nAs far as Udinaas was concerned, in any case– the judgement conjured by some rational, sceptical part of his brain, that knot of consciousness the wraith endlessly sought to unravel– Wither was not real.\n\nWyval blood. Sister of Dawn, the sword-wielding mistress known to the Edur as Menandore– her and the hungry place between her legs. Infection and something like rape. He thought he understood the connection now. He was indeed infected, and true to Feather Witch's prediction, that un-human blood was driving him mad. There had been no blazing white bitch who stole his seed. Fevered delusions, visions of self-aggrandizement, followed by the paranoid suspicion that the promised glory had been stolen from him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Thus explaining his sordid state right now, slave to an insane Tiste Edur. A slave, huddled beneath every conceivable heel. Cowering and useless once all the internal posturing and self-justifications were castaway.\n\nFeather Witch. He had loved her and he would never have her and that was that. The underscored truth laid bare, grisly exposure from which he withheld any direct, honest examination.\n\nMadmen built houses of solid stone. Then circled looking fora way inside. Inside, where cosy perfection waited. People and schemes and outright lies barred his every effort, and that was the heart of the conspiracy. From outside, after all, the house looked real. Therefore it was real. Just a little more clawing at the stone door, a little more battering, one more pounding collision will burst that barrier.\n\nAnd on and on and round and round. The worn ruts of madness.\n\nHe heard scrabbling on the stone below, and a moment later Feather Witch clambered into view. She pulled herself up beside him, her motions jerky, as if fevered.\n\n\"Is it my turn to run?\" he asked.\n\n\"Take me there, Indebted. That dream realm. Where I found you before.\"\n\n\"You were right all along,\" Udinaas said. \"It doesn't exist. '\n\n\"I need to go there. I need to see for myself.\"\n\n\"No. I don't know how. '\n\n\"Idiot. I can open the path. I'm good at opening paths. '\n\n\"Then what?\"\n\n\"Then you choose. Udinaas, take me to the ghosts.\"\n\n\"This is not a good place to do that-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She had one hand clenched around something, and she now reached out and clutched his arm with that hand, and he felt the impression of a tile pressed between them.\n\nAnd there was fire.\n\nBlinding, raging on all sides.\n\nUdinaas felt a weight push him from behind and he stumbled forward. Through the flames. In the world he had just left, he would now befalling down the cliffside, briefly, then striking the rocky slope and tumbling towards the treeline. But his moccasins skidded across flat, dusty ground.\n\nTwisting, down onto one knee. Feather Witch staggered into view, like him passing unharmed through the wall of fire. He wheeled on her. \"What have you done?\"\n\nA hand closed round the back of his neck, lifted him clear of the ground, then flung him down onto his back. The cold, ragged edge of a stone blade pressed against the side of his neck. He heard Feather Witch scream.\n\nBlinking, in a cloud of dust.\n\nA man stood above him. Short but amass of muscles. Broad shoulders and overlong arms, the honey-coloured skin almost hairless. Long black hair hanging loose, surrounding a wide, heavily featured face. Dark eyes glittered from beneath a shelf-like brow. Furs hung in a roughly sewn cloak, a patchwork of tones and textures, the visible underside pale and wrinkled.\n\n\"Peth tol ool havra d ara.\" The words were thick, the vocal range oddly truncated, as if the throat from which those sounds issued lacked the flexibility of a normal man's.\n\n\"I don't understand you, ' Udinaas said. He sensed others gathered round, and could hear Feather Witch cursing as she too was thrown to the ground."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Arad havra'd ara."},{"from":"gpt","value":"En'aralack havra d'drah. '\n\nCountless scars. Evidence of a broken forearm, the bone unevenly mended and now knotted beneath muscle and skin. The man's left cheekbone was dimpled inward, his broad nose flattened and pressed to one side. None of the damage looked recent.\"I do not speak your language. '\n\nThe sword-edge lifted away from the slave's neck. The warrior stepped back and gestured.\n\nUdinaas climbed to his feet.\n\nMore fur-clad figures.\n\nA natural basin, steeply walled on three sides. Vertical cracks in the stonewalls, some large enough to provide shelter. Where these people lived.\n\nOn the final side of the basin, to the Letherii's left, the land opened out. And in the distance– the slave's eyes widened– a shattered city. As if it had been pulled from the ground, roots and all, then broken into pieces. Timber framework beneath tilted, heaved cobble streets. Squat buildings pitched at random angles. Toppled columns, buildings torn in half with the rooms and floors inside revealed, many of those rooms still furnished. Vast chunks of rotting ice were visible in the midst of the broken cityscape.\n\n\"What place is this?\" Feather Witch asked.\n\nHe turned to see her following his gaze from a few paces away.\n\n\"Udinaas, where have you brought us? Who are these savages?\"\n\n\"Vis vol'raele absi'arad.\"\n\nHe glanced at the warrior who'd spoken, then shrugged and returned his attention to the distant city.\"I want to go and look. '\n\n\"They won't let you. '\n\nThere was only one way to find out. Udinaas set out for the plain."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The warriors simply watched.\n\nAfter a moment, Feather Witch followed, and came to his side. \"It looks as if it has just been... left here. Dropped.\"\n\n\"It is a Meckros city,\" he said. \"The wood at the bases, it is the kind that never grows waterlogged. Never rots. And see there\"– he pointed– \"those are the remnants of docks. Landings. That's a ship's rail, dangling from those lines. I've never seen a Meckros city, but I've heard enough descriptions, and this is one. Plucked from the sea. That ice came with it.\"\n\n\"There are mounds, freshly raised,\" she said. \"Do you see them?\"\n\nRaw, dark earth rising from the flats around the ruins, each barrow ringed in boulders. \"The savages buried the Meckros dead,\" he said.\n\n\"There are hundreds...\"\n\n\"And everyone big enough to hold hundreds of corpses.\"\n\n\"They feared disease,\" she said.\n\n\"Or, despite their appearance, they area compassionate people.\"\n\n\"Don't be a fool, Indebted. The task would have taken months. '\n\nHe hesitated, then said, \"That was but one clan, Feather Witch, back there. There are almost four thousand living in this region.\"\n\nShe halted, grasped his arm and pulled him round. \"Explain this tome!\" she hissed.\n\nHe twisted his arm loose and continued walking. \"These ghosts hold strong memories. Of their lives, of their flesh. Strong enough to manifest as real, physical creatures. They're called T'lan Imass-\"\n\nHer breath caught. \"The Beast Hold.\"\n\nHe glanced at her. \"What?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Bone Perch. Elder, Crone, Seer, Shaman, Hunter and Tracker. The Stealers of Fire. Stolen from the Eres'al. '\n\n\"Eres'al. That's the Nerek goddess. The false goddess, or so claimed our scholars and mages, as justification for conquering the Nerek. I am shocked to discover the lie. In any case, aren't the images on the tiles those of beasts? For the Beast Hold, I mean. '\n\n\"Only among the poorer versions. The skins of beasts, draped round dark, squat savages. That is what you will see on the oldest, purest tiles. Do not pretend at ignorance, Udinaas. You brought us here, after all.\"\n\nThey were approaching the nearest barrows, and could see, studding the raw earth, countless objects. Broken pottery, jewellery, iron weapons, gold, silver, small wooden idols, scraps of cloth. The remnant possessions of the people buried beneath.\n\nFeather Witch made a sound that might have been a laugh. \"They left the treasure on the surfaces, instead of burying it with the bodies. What a strange thing to do.\"\n\n\"Maybe so looters won't bother digging and disturbing the corpses. '\n\n\"Oh, plenty of looters around here.\"\n\n\"I don't know this realm well enough to say either way, ' Udinaas said, shrugging.\n\nThe look she cast him was uneasy.\n\nCloser now, the destroyed city loomed before them. Crusted barnacles clinging to the bases of massive upright wooden pillars. Black, withered strips of seaweed. Above, the cross-sectioned profiles of framework and platforms supporting streets and buildings. And, in the massive chunks of grey, porous ice, swaths of rotting flesh– not human. Oversized limbs, clad in dull scales. Along, reptilian head, dangling from a twisted, torn neck. Entrails spilled from a split belly. Taloned, three-toed feet. Serrated tails. Misshapen armour and harnesses of leather, stretches of brightly coloured cloth, shiny as silk."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What are those things?\"\n\nUdinaas shook his head. \"This city was struck by ice, even as it was torn from our world. Clearly, that ice held its own ancient secrets.\"\n\n\"Why did you bring us here?\"\n\nHe rounded on her, struggled to contain his anger, and managed to release it in along sigh. Then he said, \"Feather Witch, what was the tile you held in your hand?\"\n\n\"One of the Fulcra. Fire.\" She faltered, then resumed. \"When I saw you, that first time, I lied when I said I saw nothing else. No-one.\"\n\n\"You saw her, didn't you? '\n\n\"Sister Dawn... the flames-\"\n\n\"And you saw what she did tome.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" A whisper.\n\nUdinaas turned away. \"Not imagined, then,\" he muttered. \"Not conjured by my imagination. Not... madness...\"\n\n\"It is not fair. You, you're nothing. An Indebted. A slave. That Wyval was meant for me. Me, Udinaas! '\n\nHe flinched from her rage, even as understanding struck him. Forcing a bitter laugh. \"You summoned it, didn't you? The Wyval. You wanted its blood, and it had you, and so its poison should have infected you. But it didn't. Instead, it chose me. If I could, Feather Witch, I'd give it to you. With pleasure– no, that is not true, much as I'd like it to be. Be thankful that blood does not flow in your veins. It is in truth the curse you said it was.\"\n\n\"Better to be cursed than-\" She stopped, looked away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He studied her paleface, and around it the blonde, crinkled hair shivering in the vague, near-lifeless wind. \"Than what, Feather Witch? A slave born of slaves. Doomed to listen to endless dreams of freedom– a word you do not understand, probably will never understand. The tiles were to be your way out, weren't they? Not taken in service to your fellow Letherii. But for yourself. You caught a whisper of freedom, didn't you, deep within those tiles? Or, something you thought was freedom. For what it is worth, Feather Witch, a curse is not freedom. Every path is a trap, a snare, to entangle you in the games of forces beyond all understanding. Those forces probably prefer slaves when they use mortals, since slaves understand intrinsically the nature of the relationship imposed.\"\n\nShe glared at him. \"Then why you?\"\n\n\"And not you?\" He looked away. \"Because I wasn't dreaming of freedom. Perhaps. Before I was a slave, I was Indebted– as you remind meat every opportunity. Debt fashions its own kind of slavery, Feather Witch, within a system designed to ensure few ever escape once those chains have closed round them. '\n\nShe lifted her hands and stared at them. \"Are we truly here? It all seems so real.\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" Udinaas replied.\n\n\"We can't stay? '\n\n\"In the world of the tiles? You tell me, Feather Witch.\"\n\n\"This isn't the realm of your dreaming, is it? '\n\nHe grimaced to hide his amusement at the unintended meaning behind her question. \"No. I did warn you.\"\n\n\"I have been waiting for you to say that. Only not in such atone of regret.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Expecting anger?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"I had plenty of that,\" he admitted. \"But it went away.\"\n\n\"How? How do you make it go away?\"\n\nHe met her eyes, then simply shook his head. A casual turning away, gaze once more upon the ruins. \"This destruction, this slaughter. A terrible thing to do.\"\n\n\"Maybe they deserved it. Maybe they did something-\"\n\n\"Feather Witch, the question of what is deserved should rarely, if ever, be asked. Asking it leads to deadly judgement, and acts of unmitigated evil. Atrocity revisited in the name of justice breeds its own atrocity. We Letherii are cursed enough with righteousness, without inviting yet more.\"\n\n\"You live soft, Udinaas, in a very hard world.\"\n\n\"I told you I was not without anger.\"\n\n\"Which you bleed away, somehow, before it can hurt anyone else.\"\n\n\"So I do all the bleeding, do I?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"I'm afraid you do, Udinaas. '\n\nHe sighed and turned. \"Let's go back. '\n\nSide by side, they made their way towards the waiting savages and their village of caves.\n\n\"Would that we could understand them,\" Feather Witch said.\n\n\"Their shaman is dead.\"\n\n\"Damn you, Udinaas!\"\n\nInto the basin, where something had changed. Four women had appeared, and with them was a young boy. Who was human.\n\nThe warrior who had spoken earlier now addressed the boy, and he replied in the same language, then looked over at Udinaas and Feather Witch. He pointed, then, with a frown, said, \"Letherii.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Do you understand me?\" Udinaas asked.\n\n\"Some.\"\n\n\"You are Meckros?\"\n\n\"Some. Letherii Indebted. Indebted. Mother and father. They fled to live with Meckros. Live free, freedom. In freedom.\"\n\nUdinaas gestured towards the ruined city. \"Your home?\"\n\n\"Some.\" He took the hand of one of the women attending him. \"Here.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Rud Halle.\"\n\nUdinaas glanced at Feather Witch. Rud meant found in the Meckros trade tongue. But, of course, he realized, she would not know that. \"Found Elalle,\" he said in the traders'language,\"can you understand me better? '\n\nThe boy's face brightened.\"Yes! Good, yes! You area sailor, like my father was. Yes. '\n\n\"These people rescued you from the city?\"\n\n\"Yes. They are Bentract. Or were, whatever that means– do you know?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Found, were there any other survivors?\"\n\n\"No. All dead. Or dying, then dead.\"\n\n\"And how did you survive?\"\n\n\"I was playing. Then there were terrible noises, and screams, and the street lifted then broke, and my house was gone. I slid towards a big crack that was full of ice fangs. I was going to die. Like everyone else. Then I hit two legs. Standing, she was standing, as if the street was still level.\"\n\n\"She?\"\n\n\"This is traders\" tongue, isn't it?\" Feather Witch said. \"I'm starting to understand it– it's what you and Hulad use when together.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"She was white fire,\" the boy said. \"Tall, very very tall, and she reached down and picked me up.\" He made a gesture to mime a hand gripping the collar of his weathered shirt. \"And she said: Oh no he won't. Then we were walking. In the air. Floating above everything until we all arrived here. And she was swearing. Swearing and swearing. '\n\n\"Did she say anything else, apart from swearing?\"\n\n\"She said she worked hard on this beget, and that damned legless bastard wasn't going to ruin her plans. Not a chance, no, not a chance, and he'll pay for this. What's beget mean? '\n\n\"I thought so,\" Feather Witch muttered in Letherii.\n\nNo.\n\n\"Remarkable eyes,\" Feather Witch continued. \"Must be hers. Yours are much darker. Duller. But that mouth...\"\n\nNo. \"Found,\" Udinaas managed, \"how old are you?\"\n\n\"I forget.\"\n\n\"How old were you before the ice broke the city?\"\n\n\"Seven.\"\n\nTriumphant, Udinaas spun to face Feather Witch.\n\n\"Seven,\" the boy said again. \"Seven weeks. Mother kept saying I was growing too fast, so I must be tall for my age.\"\n\nFeather Witch's smile was strangely broken.\n\nThe Bentract warrior spoke again.\n\nThe boy nodded, and said, \"Ulshun Pral says he has a question he wants to ask you.\"\n\nA numbed reply. \"Go ahead.\"\n\n\"Rae'd. Veb entara tog'rudd n'lan n'vis thal? List vah olar n'lan? Ste shabyn? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The women want to know if I will eat them when I get older. They want to know what dragons eat. They want to know if they should be afraid. I don't know what all that means. '\n\n\"How can they be eaten? They're-\"Udinaas stopped. Errant take me, they don't know they're dead!\"Tell them not to worry, Found. '\n\n\"Ki'bri arasteshabyn bri por'tol tun logdara kul absi.\"\n\n\"Ulshun Pral says they promised her to take care of me until she returns.\"\n\n\"Entara tog'rudd av? '\n\nThe boy shook his head and replied in the warrior's language.\n\n\"What did he ask?\" Udinaas demanded.\n\n\"Ulshun Pral wanted to know if you're my father. I told him my father's dead. I told him, no, you aren't. My father was Araq Elalle. He died. '\n\nIn Letherii, Feather Witch said, \"Tell him, Udinaas.\"\n\n\"No. There's nothing to tell. '\n\n\"You would leave him to that... woman?\"\n\nHe spun to face her. \"And what would you have me do? Take him with us? We're not even here! '\n\n\"T'un havra'ad eventara. T'un veb vol'raele bri rea hand En'ev? '\n\nThe boy said, \"Ulshun Pral is understanding you now. Some. He says there are holes and would you like to go there?\"\n\n\"Holes?\" Udinaas asked.\n\nFeather Witch snorted. \"Gates. He means gates. I have been sensing them. There are gates, Udinaas. Powerful ones.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All right,\" Udinaas said to Found.\n\n\"I don't like that place, \"the boy said.\"But I will come with you. It's not far.\"\n\nThey strode towards the mouth of one of the larger caves. Passed into the cool darkness, the rough floor sloping upward for twenty or so paces, then beginning to dip again. Into caverns with the walls crowded with painted images in red and yellow ochre, black outlines portraying ancient beasts standing or running, some falling with spears protruding from them. Further in, a smaller cavern with black stick-like efforts on the walls and ceiling, a struggling attempt by the T'lan Imass to paint their own forms. Blooms of red paint outlining ghostly hand-prints. Then the path narrowed and began a gradual ascent once more. Ahead, a vertical fissure from which light spilled inward, alight filled with flowing colours, as if some unearthly flame burned beyond.\n\nThey emerged onto an uneven but mostly level sweep of blackened bedrock. Small boulders set end to end formed an avenue of approach from the cave mouth that led them on an inward spiral towards the centre of the clearing. Beyond, the sky shimmered with swirling colours, like shattered rainbows. A cairn of flat stones dominated the centre of the spiral, in the rough, awkward form of a figure standing on two legs made of stacked stones, a single broad one forming the hips, the torso made of three more, the arms each a single projecting, rectangular stone out to the side, the head a single, oblong rock sheathed in lichen. The crude figure stood before a squat tower-like structure with at least twelve sides. The facings were smooth, burnished like the facets of natural crystal. Yet light in countless colours flared beneath each of those surfaces, each plane spiralling inward to a dark hole."},{"from":"human","value":"Udinaas could feel a pressure in the air, as of taut forces held in balance."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The scene seemed perilously fragile.\n\n\"Vi han onralmashalle. S'ril k'ul havra En'ev. N'vist\". Lan'te.\"\n\n\"Ulshun says his people came herewith a bonecaster. It was a realm of storms. And beasts, countless beasts coming from those holes. They did not know what they were, but there was much fighting.\"\n\nThe T'lan Imass warrior spoke again, at length.\n\n\"Their bonecaster realized that the breaches must be sealed, and so she drew upon the power of stone and earth, then rose into her new, eternal body to stand before the wounds. And holdall with stillness. She stands there now and she shall stand therefor all time.\"\n\n\"Yet her sacrifice has stranded the T'lan Imass here, hasn't it?\" Udinaas asked.\n\n\"Yes. But Ulshun and his people are content.\"\n\n\"Vi truh larpahal. Ranag, bhed, tenag tollarpahal. Kul havra thelar. Kul.\"\n\n\"This land is a path, what we would calla road,\" Found said, frowning as he struggled to make sense of Ulshun's words.\"Herds migrate, back and forth. They seem to come from nowhere, but they always come. '\n\nBecause, like the T'lan Imass themselves, they are ghost memories.\n\n\"The road leads here?\" Feather Witch asked in halting traders' tongue.\n\n\"Yes,\" Found said.\n\n\"And comes from where?\"\n\n\"Epal en. Vol'sav, thelan. '\n\nThe boy sighed, crossed his arms in frustration. \"Ulshun says we are in an... overflow? Where the road comes from has bled out to claim the road itself. And surround this place. Beyond, there is... nothing. Oblivion. Unrealized.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"So we are within a realm?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Feather Witch asked. \"Which Hold claims this place?\"\n\n\"A evbrox'l list Tev. Starvald Demelain Tev. '\n\n\"Ulshun is pleased you understand Holds. He is bright-gem-eye. Pleased, and surprised. He calls this Hold Starvald Demelain.\"\n\n\"I do not know that name,\" she said, scowling.\n\nThe T'lan Imass spoke again, and in the words Udinaas sensed a list. Then more lists, and in hearing the second list, he began to recognize names.\n\nThe boy shrugged. \"T'iam, Kalse, Silannah, Ampelas, Okaros, Karosis, Sorrit, Atrahal, Eloth, Anthras, Kessobahn, Alkend, Karatallid, Korbas... Olar. Eleint. Draconean. Dragons. The Pure Dragons. The place where the road comes from is closed. By the mixed bloods who gathered long ago. Draconus, K'rul, Anomandaris, Osserc, Silchas Ruin, Scabandari, Sheltatha Lore, Sukul Ankhadu and Menandore. It was, he says, Menandore who saved me.\" The boy's eyes suddenly widened.\"She didn't look like a dragon!\"\n\nUlshun spoke.\n\nFound nodded. \"All right. He says you should be able to pass through from here. He looks forward to seeing you again. They will prepare a feast for you. Tenag calf. You are coming back, aren't you? '\n\n\"If we can,\" Feather Witch said, then switched to Letherii. \"Aren't we, Udinaas? '\n\nHe scowled. \"How would I know?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Be gracious.\"\n\n\"To you or them?\"\n\n\"Both. But especially to your son.\"\n\nHe didn't want to hear any of this, and chose to study the faceted tower instead. Not a single path, then, but multiple doorways. At least twelve. Twelve other worlds, then? What would they be like? What kind of creatures populated them? Demons. And perhaps that was all the word'demon' meant. Some creature torn from its own realm. Bound like a slave by anew master who cared nothing for its life, its well-being, who would simply use it like any other tool. Until made useless, whereupon it would be discarded.\n\nBut I am tired of sympathy. Of feeling it, at least. I'd welcome receiving it, if only to salve all this self-pity. Be gracious, she said. A little rich, coming from her. He looked back down at the boy. My son. No, just my seed. She took nothing else, needed nothing else. It was the Wyval blood that drew her, it must have been. Nothing else. Not my son. My seed.\n\nGrowing too fast. Was that the trait of dragons? No wonder the T'lan Imass women were frightened. He sighed, then said,\"Found, thank you. And our thanks as well to Ulshun Pral. We look forward to a feast of Tenag calf. \"He faced Feather Witch.\"Can you choose the proper path? '\n\n\"Our flesh will draw us back,\" she replied. \"Come, we have no idea how much time has passed in our world.\" She took him by the hand and led him past the stone figure. \"Dream worlds. Imagine what we might see, were we able to choose...\"\n\n\"They're not dreamworlds, Feather Witch. They're real. In those places, we are the ghosts.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She snorted, but said nothing.\n\nUdinaas turned fora final glance back. The boy, Found, get of a slave and a draconic-blooded woman, raised by neither. And at his side this rudely fashioned savage who believed he still lived. Believed he was flesh and blood, a hunter and leader with appetites, desires, a future to stride into. Udinaas could not decide which of the two was the more pathetic. Seeing them, as he did now, they both broke his heart, and there seemed noway to distinguish between the two. As if grief had flavours.\n\nHe swung round. \"All right, take us back.\"\n\nHer hand tightened on his, and she drew him forward. He watched her stride into the wall of flaring light. Then followed.\n\nAtri-Preda Yan Tovis, called Twilight by those soldiers under her command who possessed in their ancestry the blood of the long-vanished indigenous fishers of Fent Reach– for that was what her name meant– stood on the massive wall skirting the North Coast Tower, and looked out upon the waters of Nepah Sea. Behind her, abroad, raised road exited from the base of the watchtower and cut a straight path south through two leagues of old forest, then a third of a league of farmland, to end at the crossroads directly before the Inland Gate of the fortified city of Fent Reach.\n\nThat was a road she was about to take. In haste.\n\nBeside her, the local Finadd, a willow-thin, haunted man whose skin seemed almost bloodless, cleared his throat for the third time in the last dozen heartbeats.\n\n\"All right, Finadd,\" Twilight said.\n\nThe man sighed, a sound of unabashed relief. \"I will assemble the squads, Atri-Preda.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"In a moment. You've still a choice to make. '\n\n\"Atri-Preda?\"\n\n\"By your estimate, how many Edur ships are we looking at?\"\n\nThe Finadd squinted northward. \"Eight, nine hundred of their raiders, I would judge. Merude, Den-Ratha, Beneda. Those oversized transports– I've not seen those before. Five hundred? '\n\n\"Those transports are modelled on our own,\" Twilight said. \"And ours hold five hundred soldiers each, one full supply ship in every five. Assuming the same ratio here. Four hundred transports packed with Edur warriors. That's two hundred thousand. Those raiders carry eighty to a hundred. Assume a hundred. Thus, ninety thousand. The force about to land on the strand below is, therefore, almost three hundred thousand. '\n\n\"Yes, Atri-Preda.\"\n\n\"Five thousand Edur landed outside First Maiden Fort this morning. The skeleton garrison saddled every horse they had left and are riding hard for Fent Reach. Where I have my garrison.\"\n\n\"We can conclude,\" the Finadd said, \"that this represents the main force of the Edur fleet, the main force, indeed, of the entire people and their suicidal invasion.\"\n\nShe glanced at him. \"No, we cannot conclude any such thing. We have never known the population of Edur lands.\"\n\n\"Atri-Preda, we can hold Fent Reach for weeks. In that time, a relieving army will have arrived and we can crush the grey-skinned bastards.\"\n\n\"My mage cadre in the city,\" she said after a moment, \"amounts to three dubious sorcerors, one of them never sober and the other two seemingly intent on killing each other over some past slight. Finadd, do you seethe darkness of the sea beneath those ships? The residents of Trate know well that dark water, and what it holds.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What are you saying, Atri-Preda?\"\n\n\"By all means ride back with us with your soldiers, Finadd. Or stay and arrange your official surrender with the first elements to land.\"\n\nThe man's mouth slowly opened.\n\nTwilight turned away and walked to the stairs leading down to the courtyard. \"I am surrendering Fent Reach, Finadd.\"\n\n\"But Atri-Preda! We could withdraw back to Trate! All of us!\"\n\nShe stopped three steps down. \"A third fleet has appeared, Finadd. In Katter Sea. We have already been cutoff.\"\n\n\"Errant take us!\"\n\nTwilight resumed her descent. Under her breath, she muttered, \"If only he could...\"\n\nAll the questions were over. The invasion had begun.\n\nMy city is about to be conquered. Again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The old drainage trench had once been a stream, long before the huts were knocked down and the overlords began building their houses of stone. Rubble and foul silts formed the banks, crawling with vermin. But therein my chest some dark fire flamed in quiet rage as I walked the track seeking the lost voice, the voice of that freed watery flow, the pebbles beneath the streaming tongue. Oh I knew so well those smooth stones, the child's treasure of comforting form and the way, when dried, a single drop of tear or rain could make the colour blossom once more the found recollection of its home– this child's treasure and the child was me and the treasure was mine, and mine own child this very morning I discovered, kneeling smeared on the rotting bank playing with shards of broken pots that knew only shades of grey no matter how deep and how streaming these tears.\n\nBefore Trate Nameless Fent\n\nDreams could pass between the blinks of a man's eyes, answered by wild casting about, disorientation, and an unstoppered flood of discordant emotions. Udinaas found he had slid down, was perched precariously on the ledge, his limbs stiff and aching. The sun had fallen lower, but not by much. Behind him, rising from a crumpled heap, was Feather Witch, the two halves of a broken tile falling from one hand to clatter on the stone a moment before sliding off into the brush and rocks below. Her hair disguised her face, hid the emotions writ there.\n\nUdinaas wanted to scream, let loose his grief, and the sourceless anger beneath it. But what was new in being used? What was new in having nothing to reach for, nothing to strive towards? He pulled himself up from the edge of crumbling stone, and looked about."},{"from":"human","value":"The army was on the move."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Something had changed. He saw haste below. \"We must return,\" he said.\n\n\"To what?\" Harsh, bitter.\n\n\"To what we were before.\"\n\n\"Slaves, Udinaas.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I've tasted it now. I've tasted it!\"\n\nHe glanced over at her, watched as she sat straighter, dragging the hair from her eyes, and fixed him with a fierce glare. \"You cannot live like this.\"\n\n\"I can't? '\n\nShe looked away. Not wanting to see, he guessed. Not wanting to understand.\n\n\"We're marching to Trate, Feather Witch. '\n\n\"To conquer. To... enslave.\"\n\n\"Details,\" he muttered, climbing cautiously to his feet. He offered her a hand. \"Mayen wants you.\"\n\n\"She beats me, now.\"\n\n\"I know. You've failed to hide the bruises. '\n\n\"She tears my clothes off. Uses me. In ways that hurt. I hurt all the time.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Udinaas said, \"he doesn't do that to her. Not that there's much... tenderness. He's too young for that, I suppose. Nor has she the power to take charge. Teach him. She's... frustrated.\"\n\n\"Enough of your understanding this, understanding that. Enough, Indebted! I don't care about her point of view, I'm not interested in stepping into her shadow, in trying to seethe world how she sees it. None of that matters, when she twists, when she bites, when she pushes... just stop talking, Udinaas. Stop. No more.\"\n\n\"Take my hand, Feather Witch. It's time. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'd rather bite it off. '\n\nI know. He said nothing.\n\n\"So he doesn't hurt her, does he? '\n\n\"Not physically,\" he replied.\n\n\"Yes. What he does to her...\" she looked up, searching his eyes, \"I do to you.\"\n\n\"And you'd rather bite. '\n\nShe made no reply. Something flickered in her gaze, then she turned away even as she took his hand.\n\nHe drew her onto her feet.\n\nShe would not look at him. \"I'll go down first. Wait a bit. '\n\n\"All right.\"\n\nAn army kicked awake, swarming the forest floor. To the north, the ashes of home. To the south, Trate. There would be... vengeance.\n\nDetails.\n\nA flicker of movement downslope, then... nothing.\n\nTrull Sengar continued scanning fora moment longer, then he settled back down behind the tree-fall. \"We have been discovered,\" he said.\n\nAhlrada Ahn grunted. \"Now what?\"\n\nTrull looked to the left and the right. He could barely make out the nearest warriors, motionless and undercover. \"That depends,\" he muttered. \"If they now come in force.\"\n\nThey waited, as the afternoon waned.\n\nSomewhere in the forest below was a Letherii brigade, and within it a mage cadre that had detected the presence of Tiste Edur positioned to defend the bridge. Among the officers, surprise, perhaps consternation. The mages would beat work attempting to discern precise numbers, but that would prove difficult. Something in Edur blood defied them, remained elusive to their sorcerous efforts. A decision would have to be made, and much depended on the personality of the commander. Proceed in a cautious and measured way until direct contact was established, whereupon a succession of probes would determine the strength of the enemy. There were risks, however, to that. Drawing close enough to gauge the sharpness of the enemy's fangs invited a bite that might not let go, leading to a pitched engagement where all the advantage lay with the Tiste Edur. Uphill battles were always costly. And often withdrawal proved bloody and difficult. Worse, there was a good chance of an all-out rout, which would lead to slaughter."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Or the commander could order the mage cadre to unleash a sorcerous attack and so lay waste the forest reaches above them. Such an attack, of course, served to expose the mages' position to those Edur warlocks who might be present. And to the wraiths and demons attending them. If the attack was blunted, the cadre was in trouble.\n\nFinally, the commander could choose to pullback. Yield the bridge, and return to the solid defences of High Fort, inviting a more traditional battle– the kind the Letherii had fought for centuries, against enemy forces of all sorts, and almost invariably with great success.\n\nWas the commander overconfident and precipitous? If so, then Trull Sengar and his fifty warriors would either be slaughtered or forced back to the other side of the bridge, either result proving tactically disastrous for Hanradi Khalag and his advancing warriors. A contested crossing of the bridge would force Fear and Hanradi into unveiling the full extent of the sorcerous power accompanying the army– power intended to shatter the defenders of High Fort. Conversely, a cautious or timid commander would elect to retreat, and that would ensure an Edur success.\n\nTrull edged his way backup to peer over the tree-fall. No movement below. The air seemed preternaturally still.\n\n\"If they don't close soon, \"Ahlrada said in a low voice,\"they will have lost the advantage. '\n\nTrull nodded. Sufficient concerns to occupy his mind, to steal his fullest attention. He did not have the luxury of thinking of other things. This, he decided, was preferable. A relief. And I can stay here, in this tense cast of my mind's thoughts, from now on. It will take me through this war. It has to. Please, take me through this war."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The shadows were long on the slope below, cutting cross-ways, the shafts of dusty sunlight ebbing into golden mist through which insects flitted.\n\nA whisper of sound– behind them, then on all sides.\n\nWraiths, streaming down, slipping past into the spreading gloom below.\n\n\"They've arrived, ' Ahlrada said.\n\nTrull slid back down and rolled onto his back. Padding between brush and trees upslope, silver-backed wolves. A half-dozen, then a score, lambent eyes flashing from lowered heads.\n\nOne beast approached Trull. It suddenly blurred, the air filling with a pungent, spicy scent, and a moment later Trull found himself looking into the amber eyes of B'nagga.\n\nThe Jheck grinned. \"A thousand paces below, Trull Sengar. They are in full retreat.\"\n\n\"You made good time,\" Ahlrada said.\n\nThe grin widened. \"The warriors are but two thousand paces from the bridge. My brothers found a body, hidden in the brush. Your work?\"\n\n\"An advance scout,\" Trull said.\n\n\"The mages had tied a thread to him. They knew you were coming. No doubt that slowed them even more.\"\n\n\"So,\" Ahlrada said, \"are we to contest their retreat?\"\n\n\"It was a thought. But no, the wraiths will do naught but hound them. Keep them on edge and moving at double-march. By the time they reach High Fort they will be footsore and bleary-eyed. We won't be giving them much time to rest. \"He settled into a crouch.\"I have news. First Maiden Fort has fallen. No battle– the garrison had already fled back to Fent Reach. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As anticipated,\" Trull said.\n\n\"Yes. If the Letherii choose to make a stand at Fent Reach, it will be a short siege. Even now, our ships have made landing and the warriors march on the city.\"\n\n\"No contact with any Letherii fleets?\" Trull was surprised. Those transports were vulnerable.\n\n\"None. The emperor's forces are poised above Trate, undetected as yet. Within the next few days, my friends, there will be four major battles. And, sword willing, the northern frontier shall fall. '\n\nAt the very least, we'll have their fullest attention.\n\nBlind drunk. A description Seren Pedac sought to explore, with all the fumbling murky intent of a mind poisoned into stupidity. But, somehow, she was failing. Instead of blind, she was painfully aware of the figures on all sides of her small table, the seething press and the loose rubble sound of countless voices. Stupidity had yet to arrive and possibly never would, as stolid sobriety held on, dogged and immovable and indifferent to the seemingly endless cups of wine she drank down.\n\nFevered excitement, scores of voices uttering their I-told-you-so variations to herds of nodding heads. Proclamations and predictions, the gleaming words of greed eager to be unleashed on the booty of battlefields crowded with dead Edur. Give \"em First Maiden Fort, aye. Why not? Pull the bastards in and in. You saw what the cadre did that night? They'll do it again, this time against the ash-faced bastards themselves. I've got a perch halfway up the lighthouse, paid a fortune for it, I'll see it all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It'll all be over at Fent Reach. They'll get their noses bloodied and that's when the cadre will hit the fleet in Katter Sea. I got an interest in a stretch on Bight Coast, salvage rights. Heading up there as soon as it's over.\n\nThey let themselves get surrounded, I tell you. Twilight's just waiting for the siege to settle in. What's that? You saying she surrendered? Errant take us, man, what kind of lies you throwing about inhere? You a damned traitor, you a damned Hull Beddict! Shut that mouth of yours or I'll do it for you-\n\nI'll help, Cribal, that's a promise. Sewing lips tight is easy as mending sails an' I been doing that for years-\n\nWhere'd he go?\n\nAh, never mind him, Cribal-\n\nTraitors need to be taught a lesson, Feluda. Come on, I see 'im making for the door-\n\nSittin alone don't do no woman no good, sweetheart. Leta decent man take you away from all this...\n\nSeren Pedac frowned, looked up at the figure looming over her table. Her mind replied, AH right, even as she scowled and turned away.\n\n\"Nothing worth its spit is being said here, lass. You want to drink. Fine, jus\" sit and drink. All I was offerin'was a quieter place to do it, is all.\"\n\n\"Go away.\"\n\nInstead, the man sat down. \"Been watchin\" you all evening. Jus'another Letherii? Asked myself that once and once only. No, I think, not this one. So I ask, and someone says, \"That's the Acquitor, Seren Pedac. Was up at the treaty that went sour. Was under contract with Buruk the Pale, the one that hung himself and damned if it wasn't her that found him all fish-eyed and fouled.\" And I think, that ain't an easy thing. No wonder she's sittin\" there tryin't\"get drunk an'it's not working. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She fixed her gaze on him, seeing him clearly for the first time. Seamed face, clean-shaven, hair shoulder-length and the hue of polished iron. His voice sounded again in her head, confirming what she saw. \"You're no Letherii. '\n\nAbroad smile, even, white teeth. \"You got that right, and, no offence, but glad of it.\"\n\n\"You're not Faraed. Nerek. Tarthenal. Not Fent, either, not even Meckros-'\n\n\"What I am you never heard of, believe me, lass. Along way from home.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"Was making an offer, but it needed to be done in quiet. Private-\"\n\n\"I'm sure-'\n\n\"Not like that, though I'd consider my fortunes on the upswing if it was to happen the way you think I meant. No. ' He leaned forward, gesturing her closer as well.\n\nHer smile ironic, she tilted over the table until their noses were almost touching. \"I can't wait. '\n\nHe withdrew a fraction. \"Lass, you're a breathin'vineyard. All right, then, listen. We got ourselves a boat-\"\n\n\"We?\"\n\n\"A boat, and we're leaving this pock-on-Hood's-ass of a kingdom.\"\n\n\"Where to? Korshenn? Pilott, Truce? Kolanse?\"\n\n\"What would be the point of that? The first three you named are all paying tribute to Lether, and Kolanse is a mess from all we hear. Acquitor, the world's a lot bigger than you might think-'\n\n\"Is it? Actually, it's smaller than I think. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Same rubbish, different hole, eh? Maybe you're right. But maybe not. '\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Just someone along way from home, like I said. We clawed our way out of Assail, only to find ourselves here, and just by arriving in our damned sieve of a boat, we owed money. Just by steppin\" onto the dock, we owed more. It's been seven months, and we're so far in debt Prince K'azz himself couldn't clear our way back out. Livin'off scraps and doin\" ugly work and it's rotting us all-\"\n\n\"You were a soldier.\"\n\n\"Still am, lass.\"\n\n\"So join a brigade-\"\n\nHe rubbed at his face, closed his eyes fora moment, then seemed to reach a decision. He fixed her with his cool, blue eyes. \"It's shouting to the Abyss, lass, and not one Letherii's listening. You people are in trouble. Serious trouble. Fent Reach surrendered. Now, Twilight's a smart, able commander, so what made her do that? Think, Acquitor. '\n\n\"She saw it was hopeless. She saw she couldn't hold the city, and there was noway to retreat. '\n\nHe nodded. \"You weren't here when the harvest ships returned. You didn't see what delivered'em. We did. Lass, if dhenrabi worship a god then that was it, right therein the harbour. '\n\n\"Who are dhenrabi?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"We got room for people worth their salt. And you won't be the only woman, so it's not like that.\"\n\n\"So why meat all, then?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Because you ain't blind, Seren Pedac."},{"from":"gpt","value":"'\n\nSmiling, she leaned back, then looked away. Not drunk, either. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"It won't mean a thing-'\n\n\"Tell me anyway.\"\n\n\"Iron Bars, Second Blade, Fourth Company, Crimson Guard. Was in the service of Commander Cal-Brinn before we was all scattered between here and Hood's gates. '\n\n\"Meaningless and long. I'm impressed, Iron Bars. '\n\n\"Lass, you got more sharp teeth than an enkar'al with a mouthful of rhizan. Probably why I like you so much. '\n\nAll right. \"I'm not interested in your offer, Iron Bars. '\n\n\"Try thinking on it. There's time for that, provided you get out of Trate as soon as you can. '\n\nShe looked at him. \"That doesn't make any sense. '\n\n\"You'd be right, if our boat was in the harbour here. But it isn't. It's in Letheras. We signed on as crew, through an agent. \"He shrugged.\"As soon as we get out to sea... '\n\n\"You'll kill the captain and mates and turn pirate. '\n\n\"We won't kill anybody if there's away round it, and we're not pirates. We just want to get home. We need to get home. \"He studied her fora moment, then rose.\"If it works outright, we'll look you up in Letheras.\"\n\nAll right. \"You'd be wasting your time. '\n\nHe shrugged. \"Between here and then, Acquitor, a whole lot is going to change. Get out of this city, lass. As soon as you sober up, go. Just go.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Aid the author, keep the plot going.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 21\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The warrior also hated him, for reasons Trull had yet to fathom. Although now, he amended, Ahlrada had probably found anew reason.\\n\\n\\\"Captain.\\\"\\n\\nThe dark eyes would not meet his. They never did. Ahlrada's skin was darker than any other Edur Trull had seen. There were colourless streaks in his long, unbound hair. Shadow wraiths swarmed round him– another strange detail unique to the warrior.\\\"Leader, ' he replied.\\n\\n\\\"Inform the sergeants, we're heading out. Minimum kits– we need to travel quickly. '\\n\\n\\\"Already done. We were waiting for you.\\\"\\n\\nTrull walked over to his own gear, shouldered the small leather pack, then selected four spears from his cache. Whatever was left behind would be collected by the Letherii slaves and carried with the main body as it made its cautious way south in the wake of Trull's company and Hanradi's forces.\\n\\nWhen he turned, he saw that the company were on their feet, all eyes fixed on him. \\\"We must needs run, warriors. The south end of the bridge. Once through the pass, each squad sends out a point and makes its own way off-trail down to the bridge. Thus, you must be both swift and silent.\\\"\\n\\nA sergeant spoke. \\\"Leader, if we leave the trail we are slowed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we had best get moving.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Leader,\\\" the sergeant persisted, \\\"we will lose speed-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not trust the trail beyond the pass, Canarth. Now, move out.\\\" In his head he cursed himself. A leader need not give reasons. The command was sufficient. Nor, he silently added, was a sergeant expected to voice public challenge. This was not beginning well.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"One squad in the lead, followed by Trull, then the remaining squads with Ahlrada taking up the rear, the company set out for the pass at a steady run. They quickly left the camp behind. Then, through an avenue provided them, they swept past Hanradi Khalag's forces.\\n\\nTrull found pleasure, and relief, in the pace they set. The mind could vanish in the steady rhythm, and the forest slid past with each stride, the trees growing more stunted and thinner on the ground the closer they approached the summit, while overhead the sun climbed a cloudless sky.\\n\\nShortly before mid-morning they halted on the south end of the pass. Trull was pleased to see that none of his warriors was short of breath, instead drawing long, deep lungfuls to slow their hearts. The exertion and the heat left them, one and all, sheathed in sweat. They drank a little water, then ate a small meal of dried salmon and thin bread wrapped round pine nut paste.\\n\\nRested and fed, the warriors formed up into their squads, then, without another word, headed into the sparse forest to either side of the trail.\\n\\nTrull elected to accompany the squad led by Canarth. They headed into the forest on the trail's west side, then began the slow, silent descent, staying thirty or so paces from the main path. Another squad was further west, fifteen paces distant, whilst the third trailed midway between them and thirty paces back. An identical pattern had been formed on the eastern side.\\n\\nSergeant Canarth made his disapproval plain, constantly edging ahead until he was almost on the heels of the warrior at point. Trull thought to gesture him back but Canarth was ignoring him as if he was not there.\\n\\nThen, halfway down the slope, the point halted and crouched low, one hand reaching back to stop Canarth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Trull and the others also ceased moving. The forest had thickened during the descent, an army of blackened pine boles blocking line of sight beyond fifteen paces. There was little undergrowth, but the slope was uneven and treacherous with moss-coated boulders and rotting tree-falls. A glance to his right showed the nearest warrior of the flanking squad a half-dozen paces further down, but now also halted, one hand raised, his gaze fixed on Trull.\\n\\nAhead, the point was whispering to Canarth. After a moment, the sergeant reversed direction and made his way cautiously back to where Trull and the others waited.\\n\\n\\\"There is a scout on the edge of the main trail. Faraed, likely serving with the Letherii army. He has a good line of sight on the trail itself, maybe seventy-five or more paces.\\\"\\n\\nTrull looked back at the rest of the squad. He singled one warrior out and beckoned him closer. \\\"Badar, go back to the third squad. They are to choose a warrior to head upslope a hundred and twenty paces, then cut into the main path. He is then to make his way down, as if on point. Once you have delivered the message, return to us.\\\"\\n\\nBadar nodded and slipped away.\\n\\n\\\"What of us?\\\" Canarth asked.\\n\\n\\\"We wait, then join the squad to our west. Make our way down below the scout's position, and lay our own trap. '\\n\\n\\\"What of the squads to the east of the trail?\\\"\\n\\nA good question. He had split his forces with noway of communicating with half his company. A mistake. \\\"We had best hope they too have seen the scout. And will have rightly judged that a Faraed is virtually impossible to sneak upon.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The sergeant simply nodded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He did not need to point out Trull's error. Nor, it was evident, his own.\\n\\nWe even out. Fair enough..\\n\\nA short time later Badar returned and gave them a perfunctory nod. Trull gestured the squad to follow and struck out westward to join the outlying warriors.\\n\\nOnce there, he quickly related his plan and the fifteen warriors set off downslope.\\n\\nThey descended sixty paces before Trull waved them towards the main path. The position they reached was directly below a crook in the trail. He had his warriors draw and ready weapons.\\n\\nCanarth gestured. \\\"Across from us, Leader. Rethal's squad. They have anticipated you. '\\n\\nTrull nodded. \\\"Into position. We'll take him when he comes opposite us. '\\n\\nHeartbeats. The sun's heat bouncing from the gravel and dust of the trail. Insects buzzing past.\\n\\nThen, light thumping, the sound swiftly growing. Suddenly upon them.\\n\\nThe Faraed was a blur, plunging round the bend in the trail then flashing past.\\n\\nSpears darted out shin-high to trip him up.\\n\\nThe scout leapt them.\\n\\nA curse, then a shaft raced past Trull, the iron head crunching into the Faraed's back, between the shoulder blades. Snapping through the spine. The scout sprawled, then tumbled, limbs flopping, and came to a rest ten paces down the path.\\n\\nSettling dust. Silence.\\n\\nTrull made his way down to where the body lay in a twisted heap. The scout, he saw, was a boy. Fourteen, fifteen years of age. His smeared face held an expression of surprise, filling the eyes. The mouth was a grimace of terror. \\\"We killed a child.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"An enemy,\\\" Canarth said beside him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is the Letherii you must look to, Leader. They throw children into this war.\\\" He turned to face uptrail. \\\"Well thrown, Badar. You are now blooded.\\\"\\n\\nBadar scrambled down and retrieved his spear.\\n\\nThe third squad appeared at the crook. One of them spoke. \\\"I never even saw him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Our first kill, Leader,\\\" Ahlrada Ahn said. Trull felt sick. \\\"Drag the body from the trail, Sergeant Canarth. Cover this blood with dust. We must move on.\\\"\\n\\nThe bridge was not abridge at all. Trull had visited it once before, and left with naught but questions. Constructed, it seemed, from a single massive disc, notched in rows across its rim, which was broad enough to permit eight warriors to stride across it without shoulders touching. The disc was on end, filling the gap of the deep gorge below which roared the Katter River. The base of the wheel was lost in the chute's darkness and the mist rising ceaselessly from the rushing water. To cross to the other side, one had to walk that curved, slick rim. The hub of the enormous wheel was visible, at least three man-lengths down. Thigh-thick rods of polished stone, spear-shaft straight, angled out from a projection on the hub on both sides, appearing to plunge into the rock wall of the gorge's south side.\\n\\nThe squads gathered on the north edge, scanning the treeline opposite. Two of the Edur had already crossed, one returning to report back. No signs of scouts, no evidence of recent camps. The lone Faraed they had killed seemed to have been sent far in advance of the main forces, or had taken upon himself the task of a deep mission. His courage and his intelligence had cost him his life.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Trull approached the very edge of the wheel, where the angle of the stone first emerged from the surrounding rock. As before, he saw a thin, milky film between that carved perfection and the rough rock of the precipice. Ashe had done once before, long ago, he wiped that foam away with a finger, to reveal the straight line, too narrow to slip a dagger blade into, that separated the construct from the raw stone. A disc in truth, somehow set into the notch of the gorge.\\n\\nAnd, even stranger, the disc moved. Incrementally turning in place. At the moment, it was midway along one of the shallow grooves carved in parallel rows across the rim. He knew he could set his feet on that first notch, and halt. And, had he the patience, he would eventually– days, maybe a week, maybe more– find himself stepping off onto the south side of the gorge.\\n\\nA mystery without an answer. Trull suspected it was never intended as abridge. Rather, it had been built for some other purpose. It did not make sense to him that it functioned solely as what had immediately occurred to him the first time he had visited. There were, after all, easier ways to measure the passage of time.\\n\\nTrull straightened, then waved his warriors across.\\n\\nAhlrada took the lead.\\n\\nThey reached the other side and fanned out, seeking cover. The ground resumed its downward slope, amidst boulders, pines and straggly oaks. They would cautiously move down in a few moments, to search for defensible positions that permitted a line of sight down the trail.\\n\\nTrull crouched near Ahlrada, scanning the area ahead, when he heard the warrior grunt, then step away, swearing under his breath.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What's wrong, Captain? '\\n\\n\\\"I felt it... move. Here.\\\"\\n\\nTrull edged over, and saw that Ahlrada's original position had been on a slightly curved panel of stone, set lower than the surrounding rock. It was covered in dust and gravel, but looked too smooth to be natural. He reached down and brushed the panel clear.\\n\\nAnd saw arcane symbols carved into the stone, row upon row, the language unknown to him. Deeply delineated grooves formed an incomplete box around the writing, the base and sidelines visible. Beneath the base anew row of lettering was just beginning to show.\\n\\nTrull glanced back at the bridge, then back at the recessed panel. \\\"It moved?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, I am certain of it,\\\" Ahlrada said. \\\"Not much, but yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Was there a sound?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"More felt than heard, Leader. As if something huge and buried was... shifting.\\\"\\n\\nTrull stared down at the panel, running his fingers along the lettering. \\\"Do you recognize the language?\\\"\\n\\nAhlrada shrugged and looked away. \\\"We should head down, Leader.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have seen such writing before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not in... stone. In ice. It doesn't matter. '\\n\\n\\\"Ice?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I once lived and hunted with the Den-Ratha, on the north coast. North and east, deep into the ice seas. Before the unification. There was a wall, covered in such writing, a berg that blocked our way. Twenty man-heights high, half a league wide. But it sank into the sea– it was gone the next season.\\\"\\n\\nTrull knew that Ahlrada had, like Binadas, journeyed far and wide, had fashioned blood-bound kinships with many Edur from rival tribes. And, like Trull himself, had opposed the wars of subjugation conducted by Hannan Mosag. By all counts, he realized, they should befriends. \\\"What did your Den-Ratha comrades say about it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Tusked Man wrote them, they said.\\\" He shrugged again. \\\"It is nothing. A myth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A man with tusks?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He has been... seen. Over generations, sightings every now and then. Skin of green or grey. Tusks white as whalebone. Always to the north, standing on snow or ice. Leader, this is not the time.\\\"\\n\\nTrull sighed, then said, \\\"Send the squads down.\\\"\\n\\nA short time later Canarth reported that he smelled rotting meat.\\n\\nBut it was only a dead owl, lying beside the trail.\\n\\nThere were dark times for the Letherii, so long ago now. The First Empire, from which vast fleets had sailed forth to map the world. The coasts of all six continents had been charted, eight hundred and eleven islands scattered in the vast oceans, ruins and riches discovered, ancient sorceries and fierce, ignorant tribes encountered. Other peoples, not human, all of whom bled easily enough. Barghast, Trell, Tartheno, Fenn, Mare, Jhag, Krinn, Jheck... Colonies had been established on foreign coasts. Wars and conquests, always conquests. Until... all was brought down, all was destroyed. The First Empire collapsed in upon itself. Beasts rose in the midst of its cities, a nightmare burgeoning like plague.\\n\\nThe Emperor who was One was now Seven, and the Seven were scattered, lost in madness. The great cities burned. And people died in the millions.\\n\\nThe nightmare had a name, and that name was T'lan Imass.\\n\\nTwo words, inspiring hatred and terror. But, beyond those two words, there was nothing. All memory of who or what the T'lan Imass had been was lost in the chaos that followed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Few Letherii remained who were aware of even that much. True, they knew the name \\\"First Empire\\\". And they knew of the fall of that glorious civilization of so long ago, a civilization that was their legacy. And little else, barring the prophecy of rebirth.\\n\\nUdinaas could no longer make that claim of blissful ignorance for himself. Within the world of ghosts and shades, the past lived on, breathed like a thing alive and ever restive. And voices haunted him, long dead voices. The Tiste Andii shade, Wither, was indifferent to the Letherii slave's own desires, his pleading for silence, for an end to the grisly cacophony of regrets which seemed to be all that held ghosts together.\\n\\nUdinaas knew enough horror, here among the living. And the distilling of old truths was, as far as he was concerned, not worth it.\\n\\nT'lan Imass.\\n\\nT'lan Imass...\\n\\nWhat did he care about some ancient nemesis?\\n\\nBecause the dust of over four thousand of them was beneath their feet at this moment. A truth riding Wither's raspy laughter.\\n\\n'And that dust has eyes, slave. Should you fear? Probably\\n\\nnot. They're not interested. Much. Not enough to rise up and slaughter you all, which they might not succeed in doing anyway. But, I tell you this, Udinaas, they would give it a good try.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If they are dust,\\\" Udinaas muttered, \\\"they cannot slaughter anyone.\\\"\\n\\nIt was night. He sat with his back to a sloping rock face, on a ledge perched above the massive Edur encampment. The emperor had sent him off a short while ago. The hulking, gold-smeared bastard was in afoul mood. Wearied from dragging his bulk around, arguments with Hannan Mosag, the endless logistics of moving an army tens of thousands strong, families in tow. Not all was glory.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The dust can rise, Udinaas. Can take shape. Warriors of bone and withered flesh, with swords of stone. Where are these ones from? Which warleader sent them here? They do not answer our questions. They never do. There are no bonecasters among them. They are, like us, lost.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas was tired of listening. The wraith was worse than a burrowing tick, buried deep in his brain. He had begun to doubt its existence. More likely the product of madness, a persona invented in his own mind. An inventor of secrets, seeding armies of ghosts to explain the countless voices whispering in his skull. Of course, it would insist otherwise. It might even flit across his vision, creeping disembodied, the sourceless, inexplicably moving shadow where none belonged. But the slave knew his eyes could be deceived. All part of the same corrupted perception.\\n\\nThe wraith hides in the blood of the Wyval. The Wyval hides in the shadow of the wraith. A game of mutual negation. The emperor sensed nothing. Hannan Mosag and his K'risnan sensed nothing. Feather Witch, Mayen, Uruth, the host of bound wraiths, the hunting dogs, the birds and the buzzing insects– all sensed nothing.\\n\\nAnd that was absurd.\\n\\nAs far as Udinaas was concerned, in any case– the judgement conjured by some rational, sceptical part of his brain, that knot of consciousness the wraith endlessly sought to unravel– Wither was not real.\\n\\nWyval blood. Sister of Dawn, the sword-wielding mistress known to the Edur as Menandore– her and the hungry place between her legs. Infection and something like rape. He thought he understood the connection now. He was indeed infected, and true to Feather Witch's prediction, that un-human blood was driving him mad. There had been no blazing white bitch who stole his seed. Fevered delusions, visions of self-aggrandizement, followed by the paranoid suspicion that the promised glory had been stolen from him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Thus explaining his sordid state right now, slave to an insane Tiste Edur. A slave, huddled beneath every conceivable heel. Cowering and useless once all the internal posturing and self-justifications were castaway.\\n\\nFeather Witch. He had loved her and he would never have her and that was that. The underscored truth laid bare, grisly exposure from which he withheld any direct, honest examination.\\n\\nMadmen built houses of solid stone. Then circled looking fora way inside. Inside, where cosy perfection waited. People and schemes and outright lies barred his every effort, and that was the heart of the conspiracy. From outside, after all, the house looked real. Therefore it was real. Just a little more clawing at the stone door, a little more battering, one more pounding collision will burst that barrier.\\n\\nAnd on and on and round and round. The worn ruts of madness.\\n\\nHe heard scrabbling on the stone below, and a moment later Feather Witch clambered into view. She pulled herself up beside him, her motions jerky, as if fevered.\\n\\n\\\"Is it my turn to run?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"Take me there, Indebted. That dream realm. Where I found you before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You were right all along,\\\" Udinaas said. \\\"It doesn't exist. '\\n\\n\\\"I need to go there. I need to see for myself.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I don't know how. '\\n\\n\\\"Idiot. I can open the path. I'm good at opening paths. '\\n\\n\\\"Then what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then you choose. Udinaas, take me to the ghosts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is not a good place to do that-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She had one hand clenched around something, and she now reached out and clutched his arm with that hand, and he felt the impression of a tile pressed between them.\\n\\nAnd there was fire.\\n\\nBlinding, raging on all sides.\\n\\nUdinaas felt a weight push him from behind and he stumbled forward. Through the flames. In the world he had just left, he would now befalling down the cliffside, briefly, then striking the rocky slope and tumbling towards the treeline. But his moccasins skidded across flat, dusty ground.\\n\\nTwisting, down onto one knee. Feather Witch staggered into view, like him passing unharmed through the wall of fire. He wheeled on her. \\\"What have you done?\\\"\\n\\nA hand closed round the back of his neck, lifted him clear of the ground, then flung him down onto his back. The cold, ragged edge of a stone blade pressed against the side of his neck. He heard Feather Witch scream.\\n\\nBlinking, in a cloud of dust.\\n\\nA man stood above him. Short but amass of muscles. Broad shoulders and overlong arms, the honey-coloured skin almost hairless. Long black hair hanging loose, surrounding a wide, heavily featured face. Dark eyes glittered from beneath a shelf-like brow. Furs hung in a roughly sewn cloak, a patchwork of tones and textures, the visible underside pale and wrinkled.\\n\\n\\\"Peth tol ool havra d ara.\\\" The words were thick, the vocal range oddly truncated, as if the throat from which those sounds issued lacked the flexibility of a normal man's.\\n\\n\\\"I don't understand you, ' Udinaas said. He sensed others gathered round, and could hear Feather Witch cursing as she too was thrown to the ground.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Arad havra'd ara.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"En'aralack havra d'drah. '\\n\\nCountless scars. Evidence of a broken forearm, the bone unevenly mended and now knotted beneath muscle and skin. The man's left cheekbone was dimpled inward, his broad nose flattened and pressed to one side. None of the damage looked recent.\\\"I do not speak your language. '\\n\\nThe sword-edge lifted away from the slave's neck. The warrior stepped back and gestured.\\n\\nUdinaas climbed to his feet.\\n\\nMore fur-clad figures.\\n\\nA natural basin, steeply walled on three sides. Vertical cracks in the stonewalls, some large enough to provide shelter. Where these people lived.\\n\\nOn the final side of the basin, to the Letherii's left, the land opened out. And in the distance– the slave's eyes widened– a shattered city. As if it had been pulled from the ground, roots and all, then broken into pieces. Timber framework beneath tilted, heaved cobble streets. Squat buildings pitched at random angles. Toppled columns, buildings torn in half with the rooms and floors inside revealed, many of those rooms still furnished. Vast chunks of rotting ice were visible in the midst of the broken cityscape.\\n\\n\\\"What place is this?\\\" Feather Witch asked.\\n\\nHe turned to see her following his gaze from a few paces away.\\n\\n\\\"Udinaas, where have you brought us? Who are these savages?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Vis vol'raele absi'arad.\\\"\\n\\nHe glanced at the warrior who'd spoken, then shrugged and returned his attention to the distant city.\\\"I want to go and look. '\\n\\n\\\"They won't let you. '\\n\\nThere was only one way to find out. Udinaas set out for the plain.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The warriors simply watched.\\n\\nAfter a moment, Feather Witch followed, and came to his side. \\\"It looks as if it has just been... left here. Dropped.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is a Meckros city,\\\" he said. \\\"The wood at the bases, it is the kind that never grows waterlogged. Never rots. And see there\\\"– he pointed– \\\"those are the remnants of docks. Landings. That's a ship's rail, dangling from those lines. I've never seen a Meckros city, but I've heard enough descriptions, and this is one. Plucked from the sea. That ice came with it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are mounds, freshly raised,\\\" she said. \\\"Do you see them?\\\"\\n\\nRaw, dark earth rising from the flats around the ruins, each barrow ringed in boulders. \\\"The savages buried the Meckros dead,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"There are hundreds...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And everyone big enough to hold hundreds of corpses.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They feared disease,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"Or, despite their appearance, they area compassionate people.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't be a fool, Indebted. The task would have taken months. '\\n\\nHe hesitated, then said, \\\"That was but one clan, Feather Witch, back there. There are almost four thousand living in this region.\\\"\\n\\nShe halted, grasped his arm and pulled him round. \\\"Explain this tome!\\\" she hissed.\\n\\nHe twisted his arm loose and continued walking. \\\"These ghosts hold strong memories. Of their lives, of their flesh. Strong enough to manifest as real, physical creatures. They're called T'lan Imass-\\\"\\n\\nHer breath caught. \\\"The Beast Hold.\\\"\\n\\nHe glanced at her. \\\"What?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Bone Perch. Elder, Crone, Seer, Shaman, Hunter and Tracker. The Stealers of Fire. Stolen from the Eres'al. '\\n\\n\\\"Eres'al. That's the Nerek goddess. The false goddess, or so claimed our scholars and mages, as justification for conquering the Nerek. I am shocked to discover the lie. In any case, aren't the images on the tiles those of beasts? For the Beast Hold, I mean. '\\n\\n\\\"Only among the poorer versions. The skins of beasts, draped round dark, squat savages. That is what you will see on the oldest, purest tiles. Do not pretend at ignorance, Udinaas. You brought us here, after all.\\\"\\n\\nThey were approaching the nearest barrows, and could see, studding the raw earth, countless objects. Broken pottery, jewellery, iron weapons, gold, silver, small wooden idols, scraps of cloth. The remnant possessions of the people buried beneath.\\n\\nFeather Witch made a sound that might have been a laugh. \\\"They left the treasure on the surfaces, instead of burying it with the bodies. What a strange thing to do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe so looters won't bother digging and disturbing the corpses. '\\n\\n\\\"Oh, plenty of looters around here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know this realm well enough to say either way, ' Udinaas said, shrugging.\\n\\nThe look she cast him was uneasy.\\n\\nCloser now, the destroyed city loomed before them. Crusted barnacles clinging to the bases of massive upright wooden pillars. Black, withered strips of seaweed. Above, the cross-sectioned profiles of framework and platforms supporting streets and buildings. And, in the massive chunks of grey, porous ice, swaths of rotting flesh– not human. Oversized limbs, clad in dull scales. Along, reptilian head, dangling from a twisted, torn neck. Entrails spilled from a split belly. Taloned, three-toed feet. Serrated tails. Misshapen armour and harnesses of leather, stretches of brightly coloured cloth, shiny as silk.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What are those things?\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas shook his head. \\\"This city was struck by ice, even as it was torn from our world. Clearly, that ice held its own ancient secrets.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why did you bring us here?\\\"\\n\\nHe rounded on her, struggled to contain his anger, and managed to release it in along sigh. Then he said, \\\"Feather Witch, what was the tile you held in your hand?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One of the Fulcra. Fire.\\\" She faltered, then resumed. \\\"When I saw you, that first time, I lied when I said I saw nothing else. No-one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You saw her, didn't you? '\\n\\n\\\"Sister Dawn... the flames-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you saw what she did tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" A whisper.\\n\\nUdinaas turned away. \\\"Not imagined, then,\\\" he muttered. \\\"Not conjured by my imagination. Not... madness...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is not fair. You, you're nothing. An Indebted. A slave. That Wyval was meant for me. Me, Udinaas! '\\n\\nHe flinched from her rage, even as understanding struck him. Forcing a bitter laugh. \\\"You summoned it, didn't you? The Wyval. You wanted its blood, and it had you, and so its poison should have infected you. But it didn't. Instead, it chose me. If I could, Feather Witch, I'd give it to you. With pleasure– no, that is not true, much as I'd like it to be. Be thankful that blood does not flow in your veins. It is in truth the curse you said it was.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Better to be cursed than-\\\" She stopped, looked away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He studied her paleface, and around it the blonde, crinkled hair shivering in the vague, near-lifeless wind. \\\"Than what, Feather Witch? A slave born of slaves. Doomed to listen to endless dreams of freedom– a word you do not understand, probably will never understand. The tiles were to be your way out, weren't they? Not taken in service to your fellow Letherii. But for yourself. You caught a whisper of freedom, didn't you, deep within those tiles? Or, something you thought was freedom. For what it is worth, Feather Witch, a curse is not freedom. Every path is a trap, a snare, to entangle you in the games of forces beyond all understanding. Those forces probably prefer slaves when they use mortals, since slaves understand intrinsically the nature of the relationship imposed.\\\"\\n\\nShe glared at him. \\\"Then why you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And not you?\\\" He looked away. \\\"Because I wasn't dreaming of freedom. Perhaps. Before I was a slave, I was Indebted– as you remind meat every opportunity. Debt fashions its own kind of slavery, Feather Witch, within a system designed to ensure few ever escape once those chains have closed round them. '\\n\\nShe lifted her hands and stared at them. \\\"Are we truly here? It all seems so real.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I doubt it,\\\" Udinaas replied.\\n\\n\\\"We can't stay? '\\n\\n\\\"In the world of the tiles? You tell me, Feather Witch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This isn't the realm of your dreaming, is it? '\\n\\nHe grimaced to hide his amusement at the unintended meaning behind her question. \\\"No. I did warn you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have been waiting for you to say that. Only not in such atone of regret.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Expecting anger?\\\"\\n\\nShe nodded.\\n\\n\\\"I had plenty of that,\\\" he admitted. \\\"But it went away.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How? How do you make it go away?\\\"\\n\\nHe met her eyes, then simply shook his head. A casual turning away, gaze once more upon the ruins. \\\"This destruction, this slaughter. A terrible thing to do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe they deserved it. Maybe they did something-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Feather Witch, the question of what is deserved should rarely, if ever, be asked. Asking it leads to deadly judgement, and acts of unmitigated evil. Atrocity revisited in the name of justice breeds its own atrocity. We Letherii are cursed enough with righteousness, without inviting yet more.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You live soft, Udinaas, in a very hard world.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I told you I was not without anger.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which you bleed away, somehow, before it can hurt anyone else.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So I do all the bleeding, do I?\\\"\\n\\nShe nodded. \\\"I'm afraid you do, Udinaas. '\\n\\nHe sighed and turned. \\\"Let's go back. '\\n\\nSide by side, they made their way towards the waiting savages and their village of caves.\\n\\n\\\"Would that we could understand them,\\\" Feather Witch said.\\n\\n\\\"Their shaman is dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Damn you, Udinaas!\\\"\\n\\nInto the basin, where something had changed. Four women had appeared, and with them was a young boy. Who was human.\\n\\nThe warrior who had spoken earlier now addressed the boy, and he replied in the same language, then looked over at Udinaas and Feather Witch. He pointed, then, with a frown, said, \\\"Letherii.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Do you understand me?\\\" Udinaas asked.\\n\\n\\\"Some.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are Meckros?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some. Letherii Indebted. Indebted. Mother and father. They fled to live with Meckros. Live free, freedom. In freedom.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas gestured towards the ruined city. \\\"Your home?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some.\\\" He took the hand of one of the women attending him. \\\"Here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is your name?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rud Halle.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas glanced at Feather Witch. Rud meant found in the Meckros trade tongue. But, of course, he realized, she would not know that. \\\"Found Elalle,\\\" he said in the traders'language,\\\"can you understand me better? '\\n\\nThe boy's face brightened.\\\"Yes! Good, yes! You area sailor, like my father was. Yes. '\\n\\n\\\"These people rescued you from the city?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. They are Bentract. Or were, whatever that means– do you know?\\\"\\n\\nHe shook his head. \\\"Found, were there any other survivors?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. All dead. Or dying, then dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And how did you survive?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was playing. Then there were terrible noises, and screams, and the street lifted then broke, and my house was gone. I slid towards a big crack that was full of ice fangs. I was going to die. Like everyone else. Then I hit two legs. Standing, she was standing, as if the street was still level.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is traders\\\" tongue, isn't it?\\\" Feather Witch said. \\\"I'm starting to understand it– it's what you and Hulad use when together.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"She was white fire,\\\" the boy said. \\\"Tall, very very tall, and she reached down and picked me up.\\\" He made a gesture to mime a hand gripping the collar of his weathered shirt. \\\"And she said: Oh no he won't. Then we were walking. In the air. Floating above everything until we all arrived here. And she was swearing. Swearing and swearing. '\\n\\n\\\"Did she say anything else, apart from swearing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She said she worked hard on this beget, and that damned legless bastard wasn't going to ruin her plans. Not a chance, no, not a chance, and he'll pay for this. What's beget mean? '\\n\\n\\\"I thought so,\\\" Feather Witch muttered in Letherii.\\n\\nNo.\\n\\n\\\"Remarkable eyes,\\\" Feather Witch continued. \\\"Must be hers. Yours are much darker. Duller. But that mouth...\\\"\\n\\nNo. \\\"Found,\\\" Udinaas managed, \\\"how old are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I forget.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How old were you before the ice broke the city?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Seven.\\\"\\n\\nTriumphant, Udinaas spun to face Feather Witch.\\n\\n\\\"Seven,\\\" the boy said again. \\\"Seven weeks. Mother kept saying I was growing too fast, so I must be tall for my age.\\\"\\n\\nFeather Witch's smile was strangely broken.\\n\\nThe Bentract warrior spoke again.\\n\\nThe boy nodded, and said, \\\"Ulshun Pral says he has a question he wants to ask you.\\\"\\n\\nA numbed reply. \\\"Go ahead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rae'd. Veb entara tog'rudd n'lan n'vis thal? List vah olar n'lan? Ste shabyn? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The women want to know if I will eat them when I get older. They want to know what dragons eat. They want to know if they should be afraid. I don't know what all that means. '\\n\\n\\\"How can they be eaten? They're-\\\"Udinaas stopped. Errant take me, they don't know they're dead!\\\"Tell them not to worry, Found. '\\n\\n\\\"Ki'bri arasteshabyn bri por'tol tun logdara kul absi.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ulshun Pral says they promised her to take care of me until she returns.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Entara tog'rudd av? '\\n\\nThe boy shook his head and replied in the warrior's language.\\n\\n\\\"What did he ask?\\\" Udinaas demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Ulshun Pral wanted to know if you're my father. I told him my father's dead. I told him, no, you aren't. My father was Araq Elalle. He died. '\\n\\nIn Letherii, Feather Witch said, \\\"Tell him, Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. There's nothing to tell. '\\n\\n\\\"You would leave him to that... woman?\\\"\\n\\nHe spun to face her. \\\"And what would you have me do? Take him with us? We're not even here! '\\n\\n\\\"T'un havra'ad eventara. T'un veb vol'raele bri rea hand En'ev? '\\n\\nThe boy said, \\\"Ulshun Pral is understanding you now. Some. He says there are holes and would you like to go there?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Holes?\\\" Udinaas asked.\\n\\nFeather Witch snorted. \\\"Gates. He means gates. I have been sensing them. There are gates, Udinaas. Powerful ones.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All right,\\\" Udinaas said to Found.\\n\\n\\\"I don't like that place, \\\"the boy said.\\\"But I will come with you. It's not far.\\\"\\n\\nThey strode towards the mouth of one of the larger caves. Passed into the cool darkness, the rough floor sloping upward for twenty or so paces, then beginning to dip again. Into caverns with the walls crowded with painted images in red and yellow ochre, black outlines portraying ancient beasts standing or running, some falling with spears protruding from them. Further in, a smaller cavern with black stick-like efforts on the walls and ceiling, a struggling attempt by the T'lan Imass to paint their own forms. Blooms of red paint outlining ghostly hand-prints. Then the path narrowed and began a gradual ascent once more. Ahead, a vertical fissure from which light spilled inward, alight filled with flowing colours, as if some unearthly flame burned beyond.\\n\\nThey emerged onto an uneven but mostly level sweep of blackened bedrock. Small boulders set end to end formed an avenue of approach from the cave mouth that led them on an inward spiral towards the centre of the clearing. Beyond, the sky shimmered with swirling colours, like shattered rainbows. A cairn of flat stones dominated the centre of the spiral, in the rough, awkward form of a figure standing on two legs made of stacked stones, a single broad one forming the hips, the torso made of three more, the arms each a single projecting, rectangular stone out to the side, the head a single, oblong rock sheathed in lichen. The crude figure stood before a squat tower-like structure with at least twelve sides. The facings were smooth, burnished like the facets of natural crystal. Yet light in countless colours flared beneath each of those surfaces, each plane spiralling inward to a dark hole.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Udinaas could feel a pressure in the air, as of taut forces held in balance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The scene seemed perilously fragile.\\n\\n\\\"Vi han onralmashalle. S'ril k'ul havra En'ev. N'vist\\\". Lan'te.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ulshun says his people came herewith a bonecaster. It was a realm of storms. And beasts, countless beasts coming from those holes. They did not know what they were, but there was much fighting.\\\"\\n\\nThe T'lan Imass warrior spoke again, at length.\\n\\n\\\"Their bonecaster realized that the breaches must be sealed, and so she drew upon the power of stone and earth, then rose into her new, eternal body to stand before the wounds. And holdall with stillness. She stands there now and she shall stand therefor all time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yet her sacrifice has stranded the T'lan Imass here, hasn't it?\\\" Udinaas asked.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. But Ulshun and his people are content.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Vi truh larpahal. Ranag, bhed, tenag tollarpahal. Kul havra thelar. Kul.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This land is a path, what we would calla road,\\\" Found said, frowning as he struggled to make sense of Ulshun's words.\\\"Herds migrate, back and forth. They seem to come from nowhere, but they always come. '\\n\\nBecause, like the T'lan Imass themselves, they are ghost memories.\\n\\n\\\"The road leads here?\\\" Feather Witch asked in halting traders' tongue.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Found said.\\n\\n\\\"And comes from where?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Epal en. Vol'sav, thelan. '\\n\\nThe boy sighed, crossed his arms in frustration. \\\"Ulshun says we are in an... overflow? Where the road comes from has bled out to claim the road itself. And surround this place. Beyond, there is... nothing. Oblivion. Unrealized.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So we are within a realm?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Feather Witch asked. \\\"Which Hold claims this place?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A evbrox'l list Tev. Starvald Demelain Tev. '\\n\\n\\\"Ulshun is pleased you understand Holds. He is bright-gem-eye. Pleased, and surprised. He calls this Hold Starvald Demelain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not know that name,\\\" she said, scowling.\\n\\nThe T'lan Imass spoke again, and in the words Udinaas sensed a list. Then more lists, and in hearing the second list, he began to recognize names.\\n\\nThe boy shrugged. \\\"T'iam, Kalse, Silannah, Ampelas, Okaros, Karosis, Sorrit, Atrahal, Eloth, Anthras, Kessobahn, Alkend, Karatallid, Korbas... Olar. Eleint. Draconean. Dragons. The Pure Dragons. The place where the road comes from is closed. By the mixed bloods who gathered long ago. Draconus, K'rul, Anomandaris, Osserc, Silchas Ruin, Scabandari, Sheltatha Lore, Sukul Ankhadu and Menandore. It was, he says, Menandore who saved me.\\\" The boy's eyes suddenly widened.\\\"She didn't look like a dragon!\\\"\\n\\nUlshun spoke.\\n\\nFound nodded. \\\"All right. He says you should be able to pass through from here. He looks forward to seeing you again. They will prepare a feast for you. Tenag calf. You are coming back, aren't you? '\\n\\n\\\"If we can,\\\" Feather Witch said, then switched to Letherii. \\\"Aren't we, Udinaas? '\\n\\nHe scowled. \\\"How would I know?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be gracious.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To you or them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Both. But especially to your son.\\\"\\n\\nHe didn't want to hear any of this, and chose to study the faceted tower instead. Not a single path, then, but multiple doorways. At least twelve. Twelve other worlds, then? What would they be like? What kind of creatures populated them? Demons. And perhaps that was all the word'demon' meant. Some creature torn from its own realm. Bound like a slave by anew master who cared nothing for its life, its well-being, who would simply use it like any other tool. Until made useless, whereupon it would be discarded.\\n\\nBut I am tired of sympathy. Of feeling it, at least. I'd welcome receiving it, if only to salve all this self-pity. Be gracious, she said. A little rich, coming from her. He looked back down at the boy. My son. No, just my seed. She took nothing else, needed nothing else. It was the Wyval blood that drew her, it must have been. Nothing else. Not my son. My seed.\\n\\nGrowing too fast. Was that the trait of dragons? No wonder the T'lan Imass women were frightened. He sighed, then said,\\\"Found, thank you. And our thanks as well to Ulshun Pral. We look forward to a feast of Tenag calf. \\\"He faced Feather Witch.\\\"Can you choose the proper path? '\\n\\n\\\"Our flesh will draw us back,\\\" she replied. \\\"Come, we have no idea how much time has passed in our world.\\\" She took him by the hand and led him past the stone figure. \\\"Dream worlds. Imagine what we might see, were we able to choose...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They're not dreamworlds, Feather Witch. They're real. In those places, we are the ghosts.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She snorted, but said nothing.\\n\\nUdinaas turned fora final glance back. The boy, Found, get of a slave and a draconic-blooded woman, raised by neither. And at his side this rudely fashioned savage who believed he still lived. Believed he was flesh and blood, a hunter and leader with appetites, desires, a future to stride into. Udinaas could not decide which of the two was the more pathetic. Seeing them, as he did now, they both broke his heart, and there seemed noway to distinguish between the two. As if grief had flavours.\\n\\nHe swung round. \\\"All right, take us back.\\\"\\n\\nHer hand tightened on his, and she drew him forward. He watched her stride into the wall of flaring light. Then followed.\\n\\nAtri-Preda Yan Tovis, called Twilight by those soldiers under her command who possessed in their ancestry the blood of the long-vanished indigenous fishers of Fent Reach– for that was what her name meant– stood on the massive wall skirting the North Coast Tower, and looked out upon the waters of Nepah Sea. Behind her, abroad, raised road exited from the base of the watchtower and cut a straight path south through two leagues of old forest, then a third of a league of farmland, to end at the crossroads directly before the Inland Gate of the fortified city of Fent Reach.\\n\\nThat was a road she was about to take. In haste.\\n\\nBeside her, the local Finadd, a willow-thin, haunted man whose skin seemed almost bloodless, cleared his throat for the third time in the last dozen heartbeats.\\n\\n\\\"All right, Finadd,\\\" Twilight said.\\n\\nThe man sighed, a sound of unabashed relief. \\\"I will assemble the squads, Atri-Preda.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"In a moment. You've still a choice to make. '\\n\\n\\\"Atri-Preda?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"By your estimate, how many Edur ships are we looking at?\\\"\\n\\nThe Finadd squinted northward. \\\"Eight, nine hundred of their raiders, I would judge. Merude, Den-Ratha, Beneda. Those oversized transports– I've not seen those before. Five hundred? '\\n\\n\\\"Those transports are modelled on our own,\\\" Twilight said. \\\"And ours hold five hundred soldiers each, one full supply ship in every five. Assuming the same ratio here. Four hundred transports packed with Edur warriors. That's two hundred thousand. Those raiders carry eighty to a hundred. Assume a hundred. Thus, ninety thousand. The force about to land on the strand below is, therefore, almost three hundred thousand. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Atri-Preda.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Five thousand Edur landed outside First Maiden Fort this morning. The skeleton garrison saddled every horse they had left and are riding hard for Fent Reach. Where I have my garrison.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We can conclude,\\\" the Finadd said, \\\"that this represents the main force of the Edur fleet, the main force, indeed, of the entire people and their suicidal invasion.\\\"\\n\\nShe glanced at him. \\\"No, we cannot conclude any such thing. We have never known the population of Edur lands.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Atri-Preda, we can hold Fent Reach for weeks. In that time, a relieving army will have arrived and we can crush the grey-skinned bastards.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My mage cadre in the city,\\\" she said after a moment, \\\"amounts to three dubious sorcerors, one of them never sober and the other two seemingly intent on killing each other over some past slight. Finadd, do you seethe darkness of the sea beneath those ships? The residents of Trate know well that dark water, and what it holds.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What are you saying, Atri-Preda?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"By all means ride back with us with your soldiers, Finadd. Or stay and arrange your official surrender with the first elements to land.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's mouth slowly opened.\\n\\nTwilight turned away and walked to the stairs leading down to the courtyard. \\\"I am surrendering Fent Reach, Finadd.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But Atri-Preda! We could withdraw back to Trate! All of us!\\\"\\n\\nShe stopped three steps down. \\\"A third fleet has appeared, Finadd. In Katter Sea. We have already been cutoff.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Errant take us!\\\"\\n\\nTwilight resumed her descent. Under her breath, she muttered, \\\"If only he could...\\\"\\n\\nAll the questions were over. The invasion had begun.\\n\\nMy city is about to be conquered. Again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The old drainage trench had once been a stream, long before the huts were knocked down and the overlords began building their houses of stone. Rubble and foul silts formed the banks, crawling with vermin. But therein my chest some dark fire flamed in quiet rage as I walked the track seeking the lost voice, the voice of that freed watery flow, the pebbles beneath the streaming tongue. Oh I knew so well those smooth stones, the child's treasure of comforting form and the way, when dried, a single drop of tear or rain could make the colour blossom once more the found recollection of its home– this child's treasure and the child was me and the treasure was mine, and mine own child this very morning I discovered, kneeling smeared on the rotting bank playing with shards of broken pots that knew only shades of grey no matter how deep and how streaming these tears.\\n\\nBefore Trate Nameless Fent\\n\\nDreams could pass between the blinks of a man's eyes, answered by wild casting about, disorientation, and an unstoppered flood of discordant emotions. Udinaas found he had slid down, was perched precariously on the ledge, his limbs stiff and aching. The sun had fallen lower, but not by much. Behind him, rising from a crumpled heap, was Feather Witch, the two halves of a broken tile falling from one hand to clatter on the stone a moment before sliding off into the brush and rocks below. Her hair disguised her face, hid the emotions writ there.\\n\\nUdinaas wanted to scream, let loose his grief, and the sourceless anger beneath it. But what was new in being used? What was new in having nothing to reach for, nothing to strive towards? He pulled himself up from the edge of crumbling stone, and looked about.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The army was on the move.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Something had changed. He saw haste below. \\\"We must return,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"To what?\\\" Harsh, bitter.\\n\\n\\\"To what we were before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Slaves, Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've tasted it now. I've tasted it!\\\"\\n\\nHe glanced over at her, watched as she sat straighter, dragging the hair from her eyes, and fixed him with a fierce glare. \\\"You cannot live like this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can't? '\\n\\nShe looked away. Not wanting to see, he guessed. Not wanting to understand.\\n\\n\\\"We're marching to Trate, Feather Witch. '\\n\\n\\\"To conquer. To... enslave.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Details,\\\" he muttered, climbing cautiously to his feet. He offered her a hand. \\\"Mayen wants you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She beats me, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know. You've failed to hide the bruises. '\\n\\n\\\"She tears my clothes off. Uses me. In ways that hurt. I hurt all the time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" Udinaas said, \\\"he doesn't do that to her. Not that there's much... tenderness. He's too young for that, I suppose. Nor has she the power to take charge. Teach him. She's... frustrated.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Enough of your understanding this, understanding that. Enough, Indebted! I don't care about her point of view, I'm not interested in stepping into her shadow, in trying to seethe world how she sees it. None of that matters, when she twists, when she bites, when she pushes... just stop talking, Udinaas. Stop. No more.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take my hand, Feather Witch. It's time. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'd rather bite it off. '\\n\\nI know. He said nothing.\\n\\n\\\"So he doesn't hurt her, does he? '\\n\\n\\\"Not physically,\\\" he replied.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. What he does to her...\\\" she looked up, searching his eyes, \\\"I do to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you'd rather bite. '\\n\\nShe made no reply. Something flickered in her gaze, then she turned away even as she took his hand.\\n\\nHe drew her onto her feet.\\n\\nShe would not look at him. \\\"I'll go down first. Wait a bit. '\\n\\n\\\"All right.\\\"\\n\\nAn army kicked awake, swarming the forest floor. To the north, the ashes of home. To the south, Trate. There would be... vengeance.\\n\\nDetails.\\n\\nA flicker of movement downslope, then... nothing.\\n\\nTrull Sengar continued scanning fora moment longer, then he settled back down behind the tree-fall. \\\"We have been discovered,\\\" he said.\\n\\nAhlrada Ahn grunted. \\\"Now what?\\\"\\n\\nTrull looked to the left and the right. He could barely make out the nearest warriors, motionless and undercover. \\\"That depends,\\\" he muttered. \\\"If they now come in force.\\\"\\n\\nThey waited, as the afternoon waned.\\n\\nSomewhere in the forest below was a Letherii brigade, and within it a mage cadre that had detected the presence of Tiste Edur positioned to defend the bridge. Among the officers, surprise, perhaps consternation. The mages would beat work attempting to discern precise numbers, but that would prove difficult. Something in Edur blood defied them, remained elusive to their sorcerous efforts. A decision would have to be made, and much depended on the personality of the commander. Proceed in a cautious and measured way until direct contact was established, whereupon a succession of probes would determine the strength of the enemy. There were risks, however, to that. Drawing close enough to gauge the sharpness of the enemy's fangs invited a bite that might not let go, leading to a pitched engagement where all the advantage lay with the Tiste Edur. Uphill battles were always costly. And often withdrawal proved bloody and difficult. Worse, there was a good chance of an all-out rout, which would lead to slaughter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Or the commander could order the mage cadre to unleash a sorcerous attack and so lay waste the forest reaches above them. Such an attack, of course, served to expose the mages' position to those Edur warlocks who might be present. And to the wraiths and demons attending them. If the attack was blunted, the cadre was in trouble.\\n\\nFinally, the commander could choose to pullback. Yield the bridge, and return to the solid defences of High Fort, inviting a more traditional battle– the kind the Letherii had fought for centuries, against enemy forces of all sorts, and almost invariably with great success.\\n\\nWas the commander overconfident and precipitous? If so, then Trull Sengar and his fifty warriors would either be slaughtered or forced back to the other side of the bridge, either result proving tactically disastrous for Hanradi Khalag and his advancing warriors. A contested crossing of the bridge would force Fear and Hanradi into unveiling the full extent of the sorcerous power accompanying the army– power intended to shatter the defenders of High Fort. Conversely, a cautious or timid commander would elect to retreat, and that would ensure an Edur success.\\n\\nTrull edged his way backup to peer over the tree-fall. No movement below. The air seemed preternaturally still.\\n\\n\\\"If they don't close soon, \\\"Ahlrada said in a low voice,\\\"they will have lost the advantage. '\\n\\nTrull nodded. Sufficient concerns to occupy his mind, to steal his fullest attention. He did not have the luxury of thinking of other things. This, he decided, was preferable. A relief. And I can stay here, in this tense cast of my mind's thoughts, from now on. It will take me through this war. It has to. Please, take me through this war.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The shadows were long on the slope below, cutting cross-ways, the shafts of dusty sunlight ebbing into golden mist through which insects flitted.\\n\\nA whisper of sound– behind them, then on all sides.\\n\\nWraiths, streaming down, slipping past into the spreading gloom below.\\n\\n\\\"They've arrived, ' Ahlrada said.\\n\\nTrull slid back down and rolled onto his back. Padding between brush and trees upslope, silver-backed wolves. A half-dozen, then a score, lambent eyes flashing from lowered heads.\\n\\nOne beast approached Trull. It suddenly blurred, the air filling with a pungent, spicy scent, and a moment later Trull found himself looking into the amber eyes of B'nagga.\\n\\nThe Jheck grinned. \\\"A thousand paces below, Trull Sengar. They are in full retreat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You made good time,\\\" Ahlrada said.\\n\\nThe grin widened. \\\"The warriors are but two thousand paces from the bridge. My brothers found a body, hidden in the brush. Your work?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An advance scout,\\\" Trull said.\\n\\n\\\"The mages had tied a thread to him. They knew you were coming. No doubt that slowed them even more.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So,\\\" Ahlrada said, \\\"are we to contest their retreat?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was a thought. But no, the wraiths will do naught but hound them. Keep them on edge and moving at double-march. By the time they reach High Fort they will be footsore and bleary-eyed. We won't be giving them much time to rest. \\\"He settled into a crouch.\\\"I have news. First Maiden Fort has fallen. No battle– the garrison had already fled back to Fent Reach. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As anticipated,\\\" Trull said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. If the Letherii choose to make a stand at Fent Reach, it will be a short siege. Even now, our ships have made landing and the warriors march on the city.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No contact with any Letherii fleets?\\\" Trull was surprised. Those transports were vulnerable.\\n\\n\\\"None. The emperor's forces are poised above Trate, undetected as yet. Within the next few days, my friends, there will be four major battles. And, sword willing, the northern frontier shall fall. '\\n\\nAt the very least, we'll have their fullest attention.\\n\\nBlind drunk. A description Seren Pedac sought to explore, with all the fumbling murky intent of a mind poisoned into stupidity. But, somehow, she was failing. Instead of blind, she was painfully aware of the figures on all sides of her small table, the seething press and the loose rubble sound of countless voices. Stupidity had yet to arrive and possibly never would, as stolid sobriety held on, dogged and immovable and indifferent to the seemingly endless cups of wine she drank down.\\n\\nFevered excitement, scores of voices uttering their I-told-you-so variations to herds of nodding heads. Proclamations and predictions, the gleaming words of greed eager to be unleashed on the booty of battlefields crowded with dead Edur. Give \\\"em First Maiden Fort, aye. Why not? Pull the bastards in and in. You saw what the cadre did that night? They'll do it again, this time against the ash-faced bastards themselves. I've got a perch halfway up the lighthouse, paid a fortune for it, I'll see it all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It'll all be over at Fent Reach. They'll get their noses bloodied and that's when the cadre will hit the fleet in Katter Sea. I got an interest in a stretch on Bight Coast, salvage rights. Heading up there as soon as it's over.\\n\\nThey let themselves get surrounded, I tell you. Twilight's just waiting for the siege to settle in. What's that? You saying she surrendered? Errant take us, man, what kind of lies you throwing about inhere? You a damned traitor, you a damned Hull Beddict! Shut that mouth of yours or I'll do it for you-\\n\\nI'll help, Cribal, that's a promise. Sewing lips tight is easy as mending sails an' I been doing that for years-\\n\\nWhere'd he go?\\n\\nAh, never mind him, Cribal-\\n\\nTraitors need to be taught a lesson, Feluda. Come on, I see 'im making for the door-\\n\\nSittin alone don't do no woman no good, sweetheart. Leta decent man take you away from all this...\\n\\nSeren Pedac frowned, looked up at the figure looming over her table. Her mind replied, AH right, even as she scowled and turned away.\\n\\n\\\"Nothing worth its spit is being said here, lass. You want to drink. Fine, jus\\\" sit and drink. All I was offerin'was a quieter place to do it, is all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go away.\\\"\\n\\nInstead, the man sat down. \\\"Been watchin\\\" you all evening. Jus'another Letherii? Asked myself that once and once only. No, I think, not this one. So I ask, and someone says, \\\"That's the Acquitor, Seren Pedac. Was up at the treaty that went sour. Was under contract with Buruk the Pale, the one that hung himself and damned if it wasn't her that found him all fish-eyed and fouled.\\\" And I think, that ain't an easy thing. No wonder she's sittin\\\" there tryin't\\\"get drunk an'it's not working. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She fixed her gaze on him, seeing him clearly for the first time. Seamed face, clean-shaven, hair shoulder-length and the hue of polished iron. His voice sounded again in her head, confirming what she saw. \\\"You're no Letherii. '\\n\\nAbroad smile, even, white teeth. \\\"You got that right, and, no offence, but glad of it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're not Faraed. Nerek. Tarthenal. Not Fent, either, not even Meckros-'\\n\\n\\\"What I am you never heard of, believe me, lass. Along way from home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you want?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Was making an offer, but it needed to be done in quiet. Private-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sure-'\\n\\n\\\"Not like that, though I'd consider my fortunes on the upswing if it was to happen the way you think I meant. No. ' He leaned forward, gesturing her closer as well.\\n\\nHer smile ironic, she tilted over the table until their noses were almost touching. \\\"I can't wait. '\\n\\nHe withdrew a fraction. \\\"Lass, you're a breathin'vineyard. All right, then, listen. We got ourselves a boat-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A boat, and we're leaving this pock-on-Hood's-ass of a kingdom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where to? Korshenn? Pilott, Truce? Kolanse?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What would be the point of that? The first three you named are all paying tribute to Lether, and Kolanse is a mess from all we hear. Acquitor, the world's a lot bigger than you might think-'\\n\\n\\\"Is it? Actually, it's smaller than I think. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Same rubbish, different hole, eh? Maybe you're right. But maybe not. '\\n\\n\\\"Who are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just someone along way from home, like I said. We clawed our way out of Assail, only to find ourselves here, and just by arriving in our damned sieve of a boat, we owed money. Just by steppin\\\" onto the dock, we owed more. It's been seven months, and we're so far in debt Prince K'azz himself couldn't clear our way back out. Livin'off scraps and doin\\\" ugly work and it's rotting us all-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You were a soldier.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Still am, lass.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So join a brigade-\\\"\\n\\nHe rubbed at his face, closed his eyes fora moment, then seemed to reach a decision. He fixed her with his cool, blue eyes. \\\"It's shouting to the Abyss, lass, and not one Letherii's listening. You people are in trouble. Serious trouble. Fent Reach surrendered. Now, Twilight's a smart, able commander, so what made her do that? Think, Acquitor. '\\n\\n\\\"She saw it was hopeless. She saw she couldn't hold the city, and there was noway to retreat. '\\n\\nHe nodded. \\\"You weren't here when the harvest ships returned. You didn't see what delivered'em. We did. Lass, if dhenrabi worship a god then that was it, right therein the harbour. '\\n\\n\\\"Who are dhenrabi?\\\"\\n\\nHe shook his head. \\\"We got room for people worth their salt. And you won't be the only woman, so it's not like that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So why meat all, then?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Because you ain't blind, Seren Pedac.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"'\\n\\nSmiling, she leaned back, then looked away. Not drunk, either. \\\"Who are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It won't mean a thing-'\\n\\n\\\"Tell me anyway.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Iron Bars, Second Blade, Fourth Company, Crimson Guard. Was in the service of Commander Cal-Brinn before we was all scattered between here and Hood's gates. '\\n\\n\\\"Meaningless and long. I'm impressed, Iron Bars. '\\n\\n\\\"Lass, you got more sharp teeth than an enkar'al with a mouthful of rhizan. Probably why I like you so much. '\\n\\nAll right. \\\"I'm not interested in your offer, Iron Bars. '\\n\\n\\\"Try thinking on it. There's time for that, provided you get out of Trate as soon as you can. '\\n\\nShe looked at him. \\\"That doesn't make any sense. '\\n\\n\\\"You'd be right, if our boat was in the harbour here. But it isn't. It's in Letheras. We signed on as crew, through an agent. \\\"He shrugged.\\\"As soon as we get out to sea... '\\n\\n\\\"You'll kill the captain and mates and turn pirate. '\\n\\n\\\"We won't kill anybody if there's away round it, and we're not pirates. We just want to get home. We need to get home. \\\"He studied her fora moment, then rose.\\\"If it works outright, we'll look you up in Letheras.\\\"\\n\\nAll right. \\\"You'd be wasting your time. '\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"Between here and then, Acquitor, a whole lot is going to change. Get out of this city, lass. As soon as you sober up, go. Just go.\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":82,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 22"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Because you ain't blind, Seren Pedac."},{"from":"gpt","value":"'\n\nSmiling, she leaned back, then looked away. Not drunk, either. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"It won't mean a thing-'\n\n\"Tell me anyway.\"\n\n\"Iron Bars, Second Blade, Fourth Company, Crimson Guard. Was in the service of Commander Cal-Brinn before we was all scattered between here and Hood's gates. '\n\n\"Meaningless and long. I'm impressed, Iron Bars. '\n\n\"Lass, you got more sharp teeth than an enkar'al with a mouthful of rhizan. Probably why I like you so much. '\n\nAll right. \"I'm not interested in your offer, Iron Bars. '\n\n\"Try thinking on it. There's time for that, provided you get out of Trate as soon as you can. '\n\nShe looked at him. \"That doesn't make any sense. '\n\n\"You'd be right, if our boat was in the harbour here. But it isn't. It's in Letheras. We signed on as crew, through an agent. \"He shrugged.\"As soon as we get out to sea... '\n\n\"You'll kill the captain and mates and turn pirate. '\n\n\"We won't kill anybody if there's away round it, and we're not pirates. We just want to get home. We need to get home. \"He studied her fora moment, then rose.\"If it works outright, we'll look you up in Letheras.\"\n\nAll right. \"You'd be wasting your time. '\n\nHe shrugged. \"Between here and then, Acquitor, a whole lot is going to change. Get out of this city, lass. As soon as you sober up, go. Just go.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then he was gone.\n\nThey caught him, dragged him into the alley and they're sewing up his mouth– c'mon, let's watch-\n\nJust his mouth? He's a damned traitor. No reason to go easy on the bastard. Sew him up everywhere, see how he likes that-\n\nWish it was Hull Beddict, that's what I wish-\n\nThey'll do a lot worse on'im, mark my words. You just wait and see...\n\nHer blue silks snapping in the wind, Nekal Bara stood atop the lighthouse tower and faced out to sea. Nothing was going as planned. Their pre-emptive attack had destroyed empty villages; the entire Tiste Edur people were on the move. And they're about to arrive on our very doorstep.\n\nThe fleet that had appeared in Katter Sea, poised to interpose its forces to prevent the retreat of Twilight's garrison at Fent Reach, had, upon the city's surrender, simply moved on. Preternaturally swift, the blood-red sails of five hundred raiders now approached Trate Bay. And in the waters beneath those sleek hulls... a thing. Ancient, terrible, eager with hunger. It knew this path. It had been here before.\n\nSince that time, and at the Ceda's command, she had delved deep in her search to discover the nature of the creature the Tiste Edur had bound to their service. The harbour and the bay beyond had once been dry land, a massive limestone shelf beneath which raced vast underground rivers. Erosion had collapsed the shelf in places, creating roughly circular, deep wells. Sometimes the water below continued to flow as part of the rivers. But in some, the percolating effect of the limestone was blocked by concretions overtime, and the water was black and still."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"One such well had become, long ago, a place of worship. Treasures were flung into its depths. Gold, jade, silver and living sacrifices. Drowning voices had screamed in the chill water, cold flesh and bone had settled on the pale floor.\n\nAnd a spirit was fashioned. Fed on blood and despair, beseeching propitiation, the unwilling surrender of mortal lives. There were mysteries to this, she well knew. Had the spirit existed before the worship began, and was simply drawn to the gifts offered? Or was it conjured into existence by the very will of those ancient worshippers? Either way, the result was the same. A creature came into being, and was taught the nature of hunger, of desire. Made into an addict of blood and grief and terror.\n\nThe worshippers vanished. Died out or departed, or driven to such extreme sacrifices as to destroy themselves. There was no telling how deep the bed of bones at the bottom of that well, but, by the end, it must have been appalling in its vastness.\n\nThe spirit was doomed, and should have eventually died. Had not the seas risen to swallow the land, had not its world's walls suddenly vanished, releasing it to all that lay beyond.\n\nShorelines were places of worship the world over. The earliest records surviving from the First Empire made note of that again and again among peoples encountered during the explorations. The verge between sea and land marked the manifestation of the symbolic transition between the known and the unknown. Between life and death, spirit and mind, between an unlimited host of elements and forces contrary yet locked together. Lives were given to the seas, treasures were flung into their depths. And, upon the waters themselves, ships and their crews were dragged into the deep time and again.\n\nFor all that, the spirit had known... competition. And, Nekal Bara suspected, had fared poorly. Weakened, suffering, it had returned to its hole, there beneath the deluge. Returned to die."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There was noway of knowing how the Tiste Edur warlocks had found it, or came to understand its nature and the potential within it. But they had bound it, fed it blood until its strength returned, and it had grown, and with that growth, a burgeoning hunger.\n\nAnd now, I must find away to kill it.\n\nShe could sense its approach, drawing ever nearer beneath the Edur raiders. Along the harbour front below, soldiers were crowding the fortifications. Crews readied at the trebuchets and ballistae. Fires were stoked and racks of hull-breaching quarrels were wheeled out.\n\nArahathan in his black furs had positioned himself at the far end of the main pier and, like her, stood facing the fast-approaching Edur fleet. He would seek to block the spirit's attack, engage it fully for as long as it took for Nekal Bara to magically draw close to the entity and strike at its heart.\n\nShe wished Enedictal had remained in the city, rather than returning to his battalion at Awl. Indeed, she wished the Snakebelts had marched to join them here. Once the spirit was engaged, Enedictal could have then shattered the Edur fleet. She had no idea how much damage she and Arahathan would sustain while killing the spirit– it was possible they would have nothing left with which to destroy the fleet. It might comedown to hand to hand fighting along the harbour front.\n\nAnd that is the absurdity of magic in war– we do little more than negate each other. Unless one cadre finds itself outnumbered...\n\nShe had six minor sorcerors under her command, interspersed among the companies of the Cold Clay Battalion arrayed below. They would have to be sufficient against the Edur warlocks accompanying the fleet."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Nekal Bara was worried, but not unduly so.\n\nThe red sails fluttered. She could just make out the crews, scampering on the foredecks and in the rigging. The fleet was heaving to. Beneath the lead ships, a dark tide surged forward, spreading its midnight bruise into the harbour.\n\nShe felt a sudden fear. It was... huge.\n\nA glance down. To the lone, black-swathed figure at the very end of the main pier. The arms spreading wide.\n\nThe spirit heaved up in a swelling wave, gaining speed as it rushed towards the harbour front. On the docks, soldiers behind shields, a wavering of spear-heads. Someone loosed a ball of flaming pitch from one of the trebuchets. Fascinated, Nekal Bara watched its arcing flight, its smoke-trailing descent, down towards the rising wave.\n\nIt vanished in a smear of steam.\n\nShe heard Arahathan's roar, saw a line of water shiver, then boil just beyond the docks, lifting skyward a wall of steam even as the spirit's bulk seemed to lunge a moment before striking it.\n\nThe concussion sent the lighthouse wavering beneath her feet and she threw her arms out for balance. Two-thirds of the way down, along a narrow iron balcony, onlookers were flung into the air, to pitch screaming down to the rocks below. The balcony twisted like thin wire in the hands of a blacksmith, the fittings exploding in puffs of dust. A terrible groaning rose up through the tower as it rocked back and forth.\n\nSteam and dark water raged in battle, clambering ever higher directly before Arahathan. The sorceror was swallowed by shadow."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The lighthouse was toppling.\n\nNekal Bara faced the harbour, held her arms out, then flung herself from the edge.\n\nVanishing within a tumbling shaft of magic. Slanting downward in coruscating threads of blue fire that swarmed around a blinding, white core.\n\nLike a god's spear, the shaft pierced the flank of the spirit. Tore a path of incandescence into the dark, surging water.\n\nErrant– he's failing! Falling! She sensed, then saw, Arahathan. Red flesh curling away from his bones, blackening, snatched away as if by a fierce whirling wind. She saw his teeth, the lips gone, the grimace suddenly a maddening smile. Eyes wrinkled, then darkening, then collapsing inward.\n\nShe sensed, in that last moment, his surprise, his disbelief-\n\nInto the spirit's flesh, down through layer upon layer of thick, coagulated blood, matted hair, slivered pieces of bone. Encrusted jewellery, mangled coins. Layers of withered newborn corpses, each one wrapped in leather, each one with its forehead stove in, above a face twisted with pain and baffled suffering. Layers. Oh, Mistress, what have we mortals done? Done, and done, and done?\n\nStone tools, pearls, bits of shell-\n\nThrough-\n\nTo find that she had been wrong. Terribly wrong.\n\nThe spirit– naught but a shell, held together by the memory within bone, teeth and hair, by that memory and nothing more.\n\nWithin-\n\nNekal Bara saw that she was about to die. Against all that rose to greet her, she had no defence. None. Could not– could never– Ceda! Kuru Qan! Hear me! See-"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Seren Pedac staggered out into the street. Pushed, spun round, knocked to her knees by fleeing figures.\n\nShe had woken in a dark cellar, surrounded by empty, broken kegs. She had been robbed, most of her armour stripped away. Sword and knife gone. The ache between her legs told her that worse had happened. Lips puffed and cut by kisses she had never felt, her hair tangled and matted with blood, she crawled across greasy cobbles to curl up against a stained brick wall. Stared out numbly on the panicked scene.\n\nSmoke had stolen the sky. Brown, murky light, the distant sound of battle– at the harbour front to her left, and along the north and east walls ahead and to her right. In the street before her, citizens raced in seemingly random directions. Across from her, two men were locked in mortal combat, and she watched as one managed to pin the other, then began pounding the man's head against the cobbles. The hard impacts gave way to soft crunches, and the victor rolled away from the spasming victim, scrambled upright, then limped away.\n\nDoors were being kicked down. Women screamed as their hiding places were discovered.\n\nThere were no Tiste Edur insight.\n\nFrom her right, three men shambling like marauders. One carried a bloodstained club, another a single-handed sickle. The third man was dragging a dead or unconscious girl-child by one foot.\n\nThey saw her. The one with the club smiled. \"We was coming to c'llect you, Acquitor. Woke up wanting more, did ya? '\n\nShe did not recognize any of them, but there was terrible familiarity in their eyes as they looked upon her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The city's fallen, \"the man continued, drawing closer.\"But we got away out, an'we're taking you with us. '\n\nThe one with the sickle laughed. \"We've decided to keep you to ourselves, lass. Don't worry, we'll keep you safe. '\n\nSeren curled tighter against the wall.\n\n\"Hold there!\"\n\nAnew voice. The three men looked up.\n\nIron-haired, blue-eyed– she recognized the newcomer. Maybe. She wasn't sure. She'd never seen armour like that before: she would have remembered the blood-red surcoat. A plain sword at the stranger's left hip, which he was not reaching towards.\n\n\"It's that foreign bastard, \"the man with the club said.\"Find your own. '\n\n\"I just have,\" he replied. \"Been looking for her the last two days-\"\n\n\"She's ours, ' said the sickle-wielder.\n\n\"No closer,\" the third man growled, raising the child in one hand as if he meant to use the body fora weapon.\n\nWhich, Seren now saw, he had done already. Oh, please be dead, child. Please have been dead all along...\n\n\"You know us, foreigner,\" the man with the club said.\n\n\"Oh yes, you're the terrors of the shantytown. I've heard all about your exploits. Which puts meat an advantage.\"\n\n\"How so?\"\n\nThe stranger continued walking closer. She saw something in his eyes, as he said, \"Because you haven't heard a thing about mine. '\n\nClub swung. Sickle flashed. Body whipped through the air.\n\nAnd the girl-child was caught by the stranger, who then reached one handover, palm up, and seemed to push his fingertips under the man's chin."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She didn't understand.\n\nThe man with the club was on the ground. The other had his own sickle sticking from his chest and he stood staring down at it. Then he toppled.\n\nA snap. Flood and spray of blood.\n\nThe stranger stepped back, tucking the girl-child's body under his right arm, the hand of his left holding, like a leather-wrapped handle from a pail, the third man's lower jaw.\n\nHorrible grunting sounds from the staggering figure to her right. Bulging eyes, a spattered gust of breath.\n\nThe stranger tossed the mandible away with its attendant lower palate and tongue. He set the child down, then stepped closer to the last man. \"I don't like what you did. I don't like anything you've done, but most of all, I don't like what you did to this woman here, and that child. So, I am going to make you hurt. A lot.\"\n\nThe man spun as if to flee. Then he slammed onto the cobbles, landing on his chest, his feet taken out from under him– but Seren didn't see how it had happened.\n\nWith serene patience, the stranger crouched over him. Two blurred punches to either side of the man's spine, almost at neck level, and she heard breastbones snap. Blood was pooling around the man's head.\n\nThe stranger shifted to reach down between the man's legs.\n\n\"Stop.\"\n\nHe looked over, brows lifting.\n\n\"Stop. Kill him. Clean. Kill him clean, Iron Bars.\"\n\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\nFrom the buildings opposite, faces framed by windows. Eyes fixed, staring down.\n\n\"Enough,\" she said, the word a croak."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All right.\"\n\nHe leaned back. One punch to the back of the man's head. It folded inward. And all was still.\n\nIron Bars straightened. \"All right?\"\n\nAH right, yes.\n\nThe Crimson Guardsman came closer. \"My fault,\" he said. \"I had to sleep, thought you'd be safe fora bit. I was wrong. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"The child? '\n\nA pained look. \"Run down by horses, I think. Sometime past.\"\n\n\"What's happening? '\n\nTrate's falling. The Edur fleet held off. Until Nekal Bara and Arahathan were finished. Then closed. The defences were swarmed by shadow wraiths. Then the warriors landed. It was bad, Acquitor.\" He glanced over a shoulder, said, \"At about that time, an army came down from inland. Swept the undermanned fortifications and, not a hundred heartbeats ago, finally succeeded in knocking down the North Gate. The Edur are taking their time, killing every soldier they find. No quarter. So far, they've not touched non-combatants. But that's no guarantee of anything, is it?\"\n\nHe helped her to stand, and she flinched at the touch of his hands– those weapons, stained with murder.\n\nIf he noticed he gave nothing away. \"My Blade's waiting. Corlo's managed to find a warren in this damned Hood-pit– first time in the two years we been stuck here. What the Edur brought, he says. That's why. '\n\nShe realized they were walking now. Taking winding alleys and avoiding the main thoroughfares. The sound of slaughter was on all sides. Iron Bars suddenly hesitated, cocked his head. \"Damn, we've been cutoff. '"},{"from":"human","value":"Dragged into the slaughter."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bemused witness to the killing of hapless, disorganized soldiers. Wondering if the moneylenders would be next. Udinaas was left staggering in the wake of the emperor of the Tiste Edur and twelve frenzied warriors as they waded through flesh, cutting lives down as if clearing a path through reeds.\n\nRhulad was displaying skill that did not belong to him. His arms were a blur, his every move heedless and fearless. And he was gibbering, the manic sound punctuated every now and then by a scream that was as much terror as it was rage. Not a warrior triumphant. Neither berserk nor swathed in drenched glory. A killer... killing.\n\nAn Edur warrior near him fell to a Letherii soldier's desperate sword-thrust, and the emperor shrieked, lunged forward. The mottled sword swung, and blood splashed like water. His laughter pulled at his breath, making him gasp. Edur faces flashed furtively towards their savage ruler.\n\nDown the street, carving through a rearguard of some sort. Udinaas stumbled over corpses, writhing, weeping figures. Blind with dying, men called for their mothers, and to these the slave reached down and touched a shoulder, or laid fingertips to slick foreheads, and murmured, \"I'm here, my boy. It's all right. You can go now.\"\n\nThe apologetic priest, chain-snapped forward step by step, whispering hollow blessings, soft lies, forgiving even as he prayed for someone– something– to forgive him in turn. But no-one touched him, no fingertips brushed his brow.\n\nFor the burned villages. Retribution. Where were the moneylenders? This war belonged to them, after all."},{"from":"human","value":"Another hundred paces."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Three more Edur were down. Rhulad and eight brethren. Fighting on. Where was the rest of the army?\n\nSomewhere else.\n\nIf one could always choose the right questions, then every answer could be as obvious. A clever revelation, he was onto something here...\n\nAnother Edur screamed, skidded and fell over, face smacking the street.\n\nRhulad killed two more soldiers, and suddenly no-one stood in their path.\n\nHalting in strange consternation, trapped in the centre of an intersection, drifts of smoke sliding past.\n\nFrom the right, a sudden arrival.\n\nTwo Edur reeled back, mortally wounded.\n\nThe attacker reached outwith his left hand, and a third Edur warrior's head snapped round with aloud crack.\n\nClash of blades, more blood, another Edur toppling, then the attacker was through and wheeling about.\n\nRhulad leapt to meet him. Swords– one heavy and mottled, the other modest, plain– collided, and somehow were bound together with a twist and pronation of the stranger's wrist, whilst his freehand blurred out and over the weapons, palm connecting with Rhulad's forehead.\n\nBreaking the emperor's neck with aloud snap.\n\nMottled sword slid down the attacker's blade and he was already stepping past, his weapon's point already sliding out from the chest of another Edur.\n\nAnother heartbeat, and the last two Tiste Edur warriors were down, their bodies eagerly dispensing blood like payment onto the cobbles.\n\nThe stranger looked about, saw Udinaas, nodded, then waved to an alley-mouth, from which a woman emerged."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She took a half-dozen strides before Udinaas recognized her.\n\nBadly used.\n\nBut no more of that. Not while this man lives.\n\nSeren Pedac took no notice of him, nor of the dead Edur. The stranger grasped her hand.\n\nUdinaas watched them head off down the street, disappear round a corner.\n\nSomewhere behind him, the shouts of Edur warriors, the sound of running feet.\n\nThe slave found he was standing beside Rhulad's body, staring down at it, the bizarre angle of the head on its twisted neck, the hands closed tight about the sword.\n\nWaiting for the mouth to open with mad laughter.\n\n\"Damned strangest armour I've ever seen. '\n\nSeren blinked. \"What?\"\n\n\"But he was good, with that sword. Fast. In another five years he'd have had the experience to have made him deadly. Enough to give anyone trouble. Shimmer, Blues, maybe even Skinner. But that armour! A damned fortune, right therefor the taking. If we'd the time.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"That Tiste Edur, lass.\"\n\n\"Tiste Edur?\"\n\n\"Never mind. There they are.\"\n\nAhead, crouched at the dead end of an alley, six figures. Two women, four men. All in crimson surcoats. Weapons out. Blood on the blades. One, more lightly armoured than the others and holding what looked to be some sort of diadem in his left hand, stepped forward.\n\nAnd said something in a language Seren had never heard before.\n\nIron Bars replied in an impatient growl. He drew Seren closer as the man who'd spoken began gesturing. The air seemed to shimmer all round them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Corlo's opening the warren, lass. We're going through, and if we're lucky we won't run into anything in there. No telling how far we can get. Far enough, I hope.\"\n\n\"Where?\" she asked. \"Where are we going?\"\n\nA murky wall of blackness yawned where the alley's blank wall had been.\n\n\"Letheras, Acquitor. We got a ship awaiting us, remember?\"\n\nStrangest armour I've ever seen.\n\nA damned fortune.\n\n\"Is he dead?\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Is he dead? Did you kill him? That Tiste Edur!\"\n\n\"No choice, lass. He was slowing us up and more were coming.\"\n\nOh, no.\n\nVomit spilling out onto the sand.\n\nAt least, Withal mused, the shrieks had stopped. He waited, seated on grass just above the beach, while the young Edur, on his hands and knees, head hanging down, shuddered and convulsed, coughed and spat.\n\nOff to one side, two of the Nachts, Rind and Pule, were fighting over apiece of driftwood that was falling apart with their efforts. Their games of destruction had become obsessive of late, leading the Meckros weaponsmith to wonder if they were in fact miming a truth on his behalf. Or the isolation was driving them insane.\n\nAnother kind of truth, that one.\n\nHe despised religion. Set no gods in his path. Ascendants were worse than rabid beasts. It was enough that mortals were capable of appalling evil; he wanted nothing to do with their immortal, immeasurably more powerful counterparts."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And this broken god in his squalid tent, his eternal pain and the numbing smoke of the seeds he scattered onto the brazier before him, it was all of apiece to Withal. Suffering made manifest, consumed by the desire to spread the misery of its own existence into the world, into all the worlds. Misery and false escape, pain and mindless surrender. All of apiece.\n\nOn this small island, amidst this empty sea, Withal was lost. Within himself, among a host of faces that were all his own, he was losing the capacity to recognize any of them. Thought and self was reduced, formless and untethered. Wandering amidst a stranger's memories, whilst the world beyond unravelled.\n\nNest building.\n\nFrenzied destruction.\n\nFanged mouth agape in silent, convulsive laughter.\n\nThree jesters repeating the same performance again and again. What did it mean? What obvious lesson was being shown him that he was too blind, too thick, to understand?\n\nThe Edur lad was done, nothing left in his stomach. He lifted his head, eyes stripped naked to the bones of pain and horror. \"No,\" he whispered.\n\nWithal looked away, squinted along the strand.\n\n\"No more... please.\"\n\n\"Never much in the way of sunsets here,\" Withal mused. \"Or sunrises, for that matter.\"\n\n\"You don't know what it's like!\"\n\nThe Edur's scream trailed away.\"The nests are getting more elaborate, \"Withal said.\"I think he's striving fora particular shape. Sloped walls, a triangular entrance. Then Mape wrecks it. What am Ito take from all that?\"\n\n\"He can keep his damned sword. I'm not going. Over there. I'm not going over there and don't try to make me. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I have nothing to do. Nothing.\"\n\nRhulad crawled towards him. \"You made that sword!\" he said in an accusatory rasp.\n\n\"Fire, hammer, anvil and quenching. I've made more swords than I can count. Just iron and sweat. They were broken blades, I think. Those black shards. From some kind of narrow-bladed, overlong knife. Two of them, black and brittle. Just pieces, really. I wonder where he collected them from? '\n\n\"Everything breaks,\" Rhulad said.\n\nWithal glanced over. \"Aye, lad. Everything breaks.\"\n\n\"You could do it.\"\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\n\"Break that sword.\"\n\n\"No. I can't. '\n\n\"Everything breaks!\"\n\n\"Including people, lad.\"\n\n\"That's not good enough. '\n\nWithal shrugged. \"I don't remember much of anything anymore. I think he's stealing my mind. He says he's my god. All I need to do is worship him, he says. And everything will come clear. So tell me, Rhulad Sengar, is it all clear to you? '\n\n\"This evil– it's of your making! '\n\n\"Is it? Maybe you're right. I accepted his bargain. But he lied, you see. He said he'd set me free, once I made the sword. He lies, Rhulad. That much I know. I know that now. This god lies.\"\n\n\"I have power. I am emperor. I've taken a wife. We are at war and Lether shall fall. '\n\nWithal gestured inland. \"And he's waiting for you. '\n\n\"They're frightened of me. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fear breeds its own loyalty, lad. They'll follow. They're waiting too, right now.\"\n\nRhulad clawed at his face, shuddered. \"He killed me. That man– not a Letherii, not a Letherii at all. He killed us. Seven of my brothers. And me. He was so... fast. It seemed he barely moved, and my kin were falling, dying.\"\n\n\"Next time will be harder. You'll be harder. It won't be as easy to find someone to kill you, next time. And the time after that. Do you understand that, lad? It's the essence of that mangled god who's waiting for you.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\"\n\n\"The god? A miserable little shit, Rhulad. Who has your soul in his hands.\"\n\n\"Father Shadow has abandoned us.\"\n\n\"Father Shadow is dead. Or as good as.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"Because if he wasn't, he'd have never let the Crippled God steal you. You and your people. He'd have come marching ashore... ' Withal fell silent.\n\nAnd that, he realized, was what he was coming to. A blood-soaked truth.\n\nHe hated religion, hated the gods. And he was alone.\n\n\"I will kill him. With the sword.\"\n\n\"Fool. There's nothing on this island that he doesn't hear, doesn't see, doesn't know.\"\n\nExcept, maybe, what's in my mind now. And, even if he knew, how could he stop me? No, he doesn't know. I must believe that. After all, if he did, he'd kill me. Right now, he'd kill me."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rhulad climbed to his feet. \"I'm ready for him. '\n\n\"Are you?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nWithal sighed. He glanced over at the two Nachts. Their contested driftwood was a scattering of splinters lying between them. Both creatures were staring down at it, bemused, poking fingers through the mess. The Meckros rose. \"All right then, lad, let's go. '\n\nShe was behind the black glass, within a tunnel of translucent obsidian, and there were no ghosts.\n\n\"Kurald Galain,\" Corlo said in a whisper, casting a glance back at them over one shoulder. \"Unexpected. It's a rotten conquest. That, or the Edur don't even know it, don't even know what they're using.\"\n\nThe air stank of death. Withered flesh, the breath of a crypt. The black stone beneath their feet was greasy and uncertain. Overhead, the ceiling was uneven, barely a hand's width higher than Iron Bars, who was the tallest among the group.\n\n\"It's a damned rats'maze,\" the mage continued, pausing at a branching.\n\n\"Just take us south,\" Iron Bars said in a low growl.\n\n\"Fine, but which way is that?\"\n\nThe soldiers crowded round, muttering and cursing in their strange language.\n\nCorlo faced Seren, his expression strangely taut. \"Any suggestions, Acquitor?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nThe mage said something in their native tongue to Iron Bars, who scowled and replied, \"That's enough, all of you. In Letherii. Since when was rudeness in the creed of the Crimson Guard? Acquitor, this is the Hold of Darkness-'"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There is no Hold of Darkness.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm trying to say it in away that makes sense to you. '\n\n\"All right.\"\n\nCorlo said, \"But, you see, Acquitor, it shouldn't be. '\n\nShe simply looked at him in the gloom.\n\nThe mage rubbed the back of his neck, and she saw the hand come away glistening with sweat. \"These are Tiste Edur, right? Not Tiste Andii. The Hold of Darkness, that's Tiste Andii. The Edur, they were from the, uh, Hold of Shadow. So, it was natural, you see, to expect that the warren would be Kurald Emurlahn. But it isn't. It's Kurald Galain, only it's breached. Over-run. Thick with spirits– Tiste Andii spirits-\"\n\n\"They're not here, \"she said.\"I've seen them. Those spirits. They're not here. '\n\n\"They are, Acquitor. I'm just keeping them away. For now... '\n\n\"But it's proving difficult. '\n\nThe mage nodded reluctantly.\n\n\"And you're lost. '\n\nAnother nod.\n\nShe tried to think, cut through the numbness– which seemed to be the only thing keeping away the pain of her battered flesh. \"You said the spirits are not Edur.\"\n\n\"That's right. Tiste Andii. '\n\n\"What is the relationship between the two? Are they allied?\"\n\nCorlo's eyes narrowed.\"Allied? '\n\n\"Those wraiths,\" Iron Bars said.\n\nThe mage's gaze darted to his commander, then back again to Seren Pedac.\"Those wraiths are bound. Compelled to fight alongside the Edur. Are they Andii spirits? Hood's breath, this is starting to make sense. What else would they be? Not Edur spirits, since no binding magic would be needed, would it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Iron Bars stepped in front of Seren. \"What are you suggesting?\"\n\nShe remembered back to her only contact with the spirits, their hunger. \"Mage Corlo, you say you're keeping them away. Are they trying to attack us? '\n\n\"I'm not sure. '\n\n\"Let one through. Maybe we can talk to it, maybe we can get help.\"\n\n\"Why would it be interested in helping us?\"\n\n\"Make a bargain.\"\n\n\"With what?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Think of something.\"\n\nHe muttered a string of foreign words that she guessed were curses.\n\n\"Let one through,\" Iron Bars said.\n\nMore curses, then Corlo walked a few steps ahead to clear some space. \"Ready weapons,\" he said. \"In case it ain't interested in talking. '\n\nA moment later, the gloom in front of the mage wavered, and something black spread outward like spilled ink. A figure emerged, halting, uncertain.\n\nA woman, tall as an Edur but midnight-skinned, a reddish glint to her long, unbound hair. Green eyes, tilted and large, a face softer and rounder than Seren would have expected given her height and long limbs. She was wearing a leather harness and leggings, and on her shoulders rode the skin of some white-furred beast. She was unarmed.\n\nHer eyes hardened. She spoke, and in her words Seren heard a resemblance to Edur.\n\n\"I hate it when that happens,\" Corlo said.\n\nSeren tried Edur. \"Hello. We apologize for intruding on your world. We do not intend to stay long.\"\n\nThe woman's expression did not change.\"The Betrayers never do. '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"I may speak in the language of the Edur, but they are no allies of ours."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perhaps in that, we share something.\"\n\n\"I was among the first to die in the war,\" the woman said, \"and so not at the hands of an Edur. They cannot take me, cannot force me to fight for them. I and those like me are beyond their grasp.\"\n\n\"Yet your spirit remains trapped,\" Seren said. \"Here, in this place.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\nSeren turned to Iron Bars. \"She asks what we want of her.\"\n\n\"Corlo?\"\n\nThe mage shrugged, then said, \"We need to escape the influence of the Edur. We need to get beyond their reach. Then to return to our world.\"\n\nSeren relayed Corlo's statements to the woman.\n\n\"You are mortal,\" she replied. \"You can pass through when we cannot.\"\n\n\"Can you guide us?\"\n\n\"And what is to be my reward for this service?\"\n\n\"What do you seek?\"\n\nShe considered, then shook her head. \"No. An unfair bargain. My service is not worth the payment I would ask. You require a guide to lead you to the border's edge. I will not deceive. It is not far. You would find it yourselves before too long. '\n\nSeren translated the exchange for the Crimson Guardsmen, then added, \"This is odd...\"\n\nIron Bars smiled. \"An honest broker?\"\n\nShe nodded wryly. \"I am Letherii, after all. Honesty makes me suspicious.\"\n\n\"Ask her what she would have us do for her,\" Iron Bars said.\n\nSeren Pedac did, and the woman held up her right hand, and in it was a small object, encrusted and corroded and unrecognizable. \"The K'Chain Che'Malle counter-attack drove a number of us down to the shoreline, then into the waves. I am a poor fighter. I died on that sea's foaming edge, and my corpse rolled out, drawn by the tide, along the muddy sands, where the mud swallowed it. \"She looked down at the object in her palm.\"This was a ring I wore. Returned tome by a wraith– many wraiths have done this for those of us beyond the reach of the Edur. I would ask that you return me to my bones, to what little of me remains. So that I can find oblivion. But this is too vast a gift, for offering you so little-'"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"How would we go about doing as you ask?\"\n\n\"I would join with the substance of this ring. You would see me no more. And you would need to travel to the shoreline, then cast this into the sea.\"\n\n\"That does not seem difficult.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it isn't. The inequity lies in the exchange of values. '\n\nSeren shook her head. \"We see no inequity. Our desire is of equal value as far as we are concerned. We accept your bargain.\"\n\n\"How do I know you will not betray me?\"\n\nThe Letherii turned to Iron Bars. \"She doesn't trust us. '\n\nThe man strode to halt directly before the Tiste Andii woman. \"Acquitor, tell her I am an Avowed, of the Crimson Guard. If she would, she can seek the meaning of that. By laying her hand on my chest. Tell her I shall honour our pact.\"\n\n\"I've not told you what it is yet. She wants us to throw the thing she's holding into the sea.\"\n\n\" That's it?\"\n\n\"Doing so will end her existence. Which seems to be what she wants.\"\n\n\"Tell her to seek the cast of my soul.\"\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\nThe suspicious look in the woman's eyes grew more pronounced, but she stepped forward and set her left hand on the man's chest.\n\nThe hand flinched away and the woman staggered back a step, shock, then horror, writ on her face. \"How– how could you do– why?\"\n\nSeren said, \"Not the response you sought, I think, Iron Bars. She is... appalled.\"\n\n\"That is of no concern,\" the man replied. \"Does she accept my word?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The woman straightened, then, to Seren's question, she nodded and said,\"I cannot do otherwise. But... I had forgotten... this feeling. '\n\n\"What feeling?\"\n\n\"Sorrow.\"\n\n\"Iron Bars,\" Seren said, \"whatever this'Avowed\" means, she is overwhelmed with... pity.\"\n\n\"Yes well,\" he said, turning away, \"we all make mistakes.\"\n\nThe woman said, \"I will lead you now.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Sandalath Drukorlat.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Sandalath. It grieves me to know that our gift to you is oblivion.\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Those who I once loved and who loved me believe I am gone in truth. There is no need for grief.\"\n\nNo need for grief. Where, then, does the pity lie?\n\n\"Stand up, lads,\" Iron Bars said, \"she's making ready to go. '\n\nMape lay on the knoll like something dead, but the Nacht's head slowly turned as Withal and Rhulad strode into view. She had stolen a hammer from the smithy sometime back, to better facilitate her destruction of Pule's nests, and now carried it with her everywhere. Withal watched askance as the gnarled, black-skinned creature lifted the hammer into view, eyes still fixed on him and the Tiste Edur, as if contemplating murder.\n\nOf the three Nachts, Mape made him the most nervous. Too much intelligence glittered in her small black eyes, too often she watched with something like a smile on her apish face. And the strength the creatures had displayed was sufficient to make any man worried. He knew Mape could tear his arms from his shoulders, were she so inclined."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perhaps the Crippled God had bound them, as demons could be bound, and it was this and this alone that kept the beasts from Withal's throat. An unpleasant notion.\n\n\"What's to stop me, \"Rhulad asked in a growl,\"from driving the sword right through his scrawny chest? '\n\n\"Do not ask that question of me, Edur. Only the Crippled God can answer it. But I don't think it could ever be that easy. He's a clever bastard, and therein that tent his power is probably absolute.\"\n\n\"The vastness of his realm,\" Rhulad said, sneering.\n\nYes. Now why do those words, said in that way, interest me?\n\nThe ragged canvas shelter was directly ahead, smoke drifting from the side that had been drawn open. As they approached, the air grew hotter, drier, the grasses withered and bleached underfoot. The earth seemed strangely blighted.\n\nThey came opposite the entrance. Within, the god's huddled form in the gloom. Tendrils of smoke rising from the brazier.\n\nA cough, then, \"Such anger. Unreasonable, I think, given the efficacy of my gift.\"\n\n\"I don't want to go back, \"Rhulad said.\"Leave me here. Choose someone else. '\n\n\"Unwitting servants to our cause appear... from unexpected sources. Imagine, an Avowed of the Crimson Guard. Be glad it was not Skinner, or indeed Cowl. They would have taken more notice of you, and that would not have been a good thing. We're not yet ready for that. \"A hacking cough.\"Not yet ready. '\n\n\"I'm not going back. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You detest the flesh given you. I understand. But, Rhulad Sengar, the gold is your payment. For the power you seek.\"\n\n\"I want nothing more of that power.\"\n\n\"But you do,\" the Crippled God said, clearly amused. \"Consider the rewards already reaped. The throne of the Tiste Edur, the woman after whom you lusted for years– now in your possession, to do with as you please. Your brothers, bowing one and all before you. And a burgeoning prowess with the sword-\"\n\n\"It's not mine, though, is it? It is all I can do to hold on! The skill does not belong tome– and all can see that! I have earned nothing! '\n\n\"And what value is all that pride you seek, Rhulad Sengar? You mortals baffle me. It is a fool's curse, to measure oneself in endless dissatisfaction. It is not for me to guide you in the rule of your empire. That task belongs to you and you alone. There, make that your place of pride. Besides, has not your strength grown? You have muscles now surpassing your brother Fear's. Cease your whimpering, Edur.\"\n\n\"You are using me!\"\n\nThe Crippled God laughed. \"And Scabandari Bloodeye did not? Oh, I know the tale now. All of it. The seas whisper old truths, Rhulad Sengar. Revered Father Shadow, oh, such an absurd conceit. Murderer, knife-wielder, betrayer-\"\n\n\"Lies!\"\n\n\"-who then led you into your own betrayal. Of your once-allies, the Tiste Andii. You fell upon them at Scabandari's command. You killed those who had fought alongside you. That is the legacy of the Tiste Edur, Rhulad Sengar. Ask Hannan Mosag. He knows. Ask your brother, Fear. Your mother– the women know. Their memory has been far less... selective. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No more of this,\" the Edur pleaded, clawing at his face. \"You would poison me with dishonour. That is your purpose... for all you say.\"\n\n\"Perhaps what I offer,\" the Crippled God murmured, \"is absolution. The opportunity to make amends. It is within you, Rhulad Sengar. The power is yours to shape as you will. The empire shall cast your reflection, no-one else's. Will you flee from that? If that is your choice, then indeed I shall be forced to choose another. One who will prove, perhaps, less honourable. '\n\nThe sword clattered at Rhulad's feet.\n\n\"Choose.\"\n\nWithal watched, saw the Edur's expression change.\n\nWith a scream, Rhulad snatched up the weapon and lunged-\n\n-and was gone.\n\nRasping laughter. \"There is so little, Withal, that surprises meany more.\"\n\nDisgusted, the Meckros turned away.\n\n\"A moment, Withal. I see your weariness, your displeasure. What is it that plagues you so? That is what I ask myself.\"\n\n\"The lad doesn't deserve it-'\n\n\"Oh, but he does. They all do.\"\n\n\"Aye,\" Withal said, eyes level as he stared at the Crippled God, \"that does seem to be the sole judgement you possess. But it's hardly clean, is it? '\n\n\"Careful. My gratitude for what you have done for me wears thin.\"\n\n\"Gratitude?\" Withal's laugh was harsh.\"You are thankful after compelling me into doing your bidding. That's a good one. May you be as generous of thought after I force you into killing me.\" He studied the hooded figure. \"I see your problem, you know. I see it now, and curse myself for having missed it before. You have no realm to command, as do other gods. So you sit there, alone, in your tent, and that is the extent of your realm, isn't it? Broken flesh and foul, stifling air. Skin-thin walls and the heat the old and lame desire. Your world, and you alone in it, and the irony is, you cannot even command your own body. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A wretched cough, then, \"Spare me your sympathy, Meckros. I have given the problem of you considerable thought, and have found a solution, as you shall soon discover. When you do, think on what you have said tome. Now, go.\"\n\n\"You still don't understand, do you? The more pain you deliver to others, god, the more shall be visited upon you. You sow your own misery, and because of that whatever sympathy you might rightly receive is swept away. \"\"I said go, Withal. Build yourself a nest. Mape's waiting.\"\n\nThey emerged onto a windswept sward with the crashing waves of the sea on their right and before them the delta of abroad river. On the river's other side stood a walled city.\n\nSeren Pedac studied the distant buildings, the tall, thin towers that seemed to lean seaward. \"Old Katter,\" she said. \"We're thirty leagues south of Trate. How is that possible? '\n\n\"Warrens,\" Corlo muttered, sagging until he sat on the ground. \"Rotted. Septic, but still, a warren.\"\n\nThe Acquitor made her way down to the beach. The sun was high and hot overhead. I must wash. Get clean. The sea...\n\nIron Bars followed, in one hand the encrusted object where the spirit of a Tiste Andii woman now resided.\n\nShe strode into the water, the foaming waves thrashing round her shins.\n\nThe Avowed flung the object past her– a small splash not far ahead.\n\nThighs, then hips.\n\nClean. Get clean.\n\nTo her chest. A wave rolled, lifted her from the bottom, spun and flung her towards the shore. She clawed herself round until she could push forward once again. Cold salty water rising over her face. Bright, sunlit, silty water, washing sight from her eyes. Water biting at scabbed wounds, stinging her broken lips, water filling her mouth and begging to be drawn inside."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Like this.\n\nHands grasped her, pulled her back. She fought, but could not break loose.\n\nClean!\n\nHer face swept by cold wind, eyes blinking in painful light. Coughing, weeping, she struggled, but the hands dragged her remorselessly onto the beach, flung her onto the sand. Then, as she tried to claw free, arms wrapped tight about her, pinning her own arms, and a voice gasped close to her ear, \"I know, lass. I know what it's about. But it ain't the way.\"\n\nHeaving, helpless sobs, now.\n\nAnd he held her still.\n\n\"Heal her, Corlo.\"\n\n\"I'm damn near done-'\n\n\"Now. And sleep. Make her sleep-\"\n\nNo, you can't die. Not again. I have need of you.\n\nSo many layers, pressing down upon these indurative remnants, a moment of vast pressure, the thick, so thick skin tracing innumerable small deaths. And life was voice, not words, but sound, motion. Where all else was still, silent. Oblivion waited when the last echo faded.\n\nDying the first time should have been enough. This world was foreign, after all. The gate sealed, swept away. Her husband– if he still lived– was long past his grief. Her daughter, perhaps a mother herself by now, a grandmother. She had fed on draconic blood, therein the wake of Anomander. Somewhere, she persisted, and lived free of sorrow.\n\nIt had been important to think that way. Her only weapon against insanity.\n\nNo gifts in death but one.\n\nBut something held her back.\n\nSomething with a voice. These are restless seas indeed. I had not thought my questing would prove so... easy. True, you are not human, but you will do. You will do."},{"from":"human","value":"These remnants, suddenly in motion, grating motion."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fragments, particles too small to see, drawing together. As if remembering to what they had once belonged. And, within the sea, within the silts, waited all that was needed. For flesh, for bone and blood. All these echoes, resurrected, finding shape. She looked on in horror.\n\nWatched, as the body– so familiar, so strange– clawed its way upward through the silts. Silts that lightened, thinned, then burst into a plume that swirled in the currents. Arms reaching upward, a body heaving into view.\n\nShe hovered near, compelled to close, to enter, but knowing it was too soon.\n\nHer body, which she had left so long ago. It was not right. Not fair.\n\nScrambling mindlessly along the sea bottom. Finned creatures darting in and out of sight, drawn to the stirred-up sediments, frightened away by the flailing figure. Multi-legged shapes scrabbling from its path.\n\nA strange blurring, passed through, and then sunlight glittered close overhead. Hands broke the surface, firm sand underfoot, sloping upward.\n\nFace in the air.\n\nAnd she swept forward, plunged into the body, raced like fire within muscle and bone.\n\nSensations. Cold, a wind, the smell of salt and ashore-line's decay.\n\nMother Dark, I am... alive.\n\nThe voice of return came not in laughter, but in screams.\n\nAll had gathered as word of the emperor's death spread. The city was taken, but Rhulad Sengar had been killed. Neck snapped like a sapling. His body lay where it fell, with the slave Udinaas standing guard, a macabre sentinel who did not acknowledge anyone, but simply stared down at the coin-clad corpse."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hannan Mosag. Mayen with Feather Witch trailing. Midik Buhn, now blooded and a warrior in truth. Hundreds of Edur warriors, blood-spattered with glory and slaughter. Silent, pale citizens, terrified of the taut expectancy in the smoky air.\n\nAll witness to the body's sudden convulsions, its piercing screams. Fora ghastly moment, Rhulad's neck remained broken, rocking his head in impossible angles as he staggered to his feet. Then the bone mended, and the head righted itself, sudden light in the hooded eyes.\n\nMore screams, from Letherii now. Figures fleeing.\n\nRhulad's ragged shrieks died and he stood, wavering, the sword trembling in his hands.\n\nUdinaas spoke. \"Emperor, Trate is yours.\"\n\nA sudden spasm, then Rhulad seemed to seethe others for the first time. \"Hannan Mosag, settle the garrison. The rest of the army shall camp outside the city. Send word to your K'risnan with the fleet: they are to make for Old Katter. '\n\nThe Warlock King stepped close and said in a low voice, \"It is true, then. You cannot die.\"\n\nRhulad flinched. \"I die, Hannan Mosag. It is all I know, dying. Leave me now. Udinaas.\"\n\n\"Emperor.\"\n\n\"I need– find– I am...\"\n\n\"Your tent awaits you and Mayen,\" the slave said.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nMidik Buhn spoke, \"Emperor, I shall lead your escort.\"\n\nHis expression confused, Rhulad looked down at his body, the smeared, crusted coins, the spattered furs. \"Yes, brother Midik. An escort.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And we shall find the one who... did this, sire... to you.\"\n\nRhulad's eyes flashed.\"He cannot be defeated. We are helpless before him. He lies... '\n\nMidik was frowning. He glanced at Udinaas.\n\n\"Emperor,\" the slave said, \"he meant the one who killed you and your kin. Herein this street.\"\n\nClawing at his face, Rhulad turned away. \"Of course. He wore... crimson.\"\n\nUdinaas said to Midik, \"I will give you a detailed description.\"\n\nA sharp nod. \"Yes. The city will be searched.\"\n\nBut he's gone, you fool. No, I don't know how I know. Still, the man's gone. With Seren Pedac.\"Of course. '\n\n\"Udinaas!\" A desperate gasp.\n\n\"I am here, Emperor.\"\n\n\"Take me out of this place!\"\n\nIt was known, now, and soon the Ceda would learn of it. But would he understand? How could he? It was impossible, insane.\n\nHe can do nothing. Will he realize this?\n\nThe warrior in gold trailed the slave, step by step, through the fallen city, Mayen and Feather Witch in their wake. Midik Buhn and a dozen warriors flanked them all, weapons at the ready. The passage was uncontested.\n\nWithal sat on a bench in his smithy. Plain walls, stone and plaster, the forge cold and filled with ash. Paved floor, the small workshop three-walled, the open side facing onto a fenced compound where stood a cut-stone-rimmed well, a quenching trough, firewood and a heap of tailings and slag. A hut on the opposite side housed his cot and nothing else."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The extent of his world. Mocking reminder of his profession, the purpose behind living.\n\nThe Crippled God's voice whispered in his mind, Withal. My gift. I am not without sympathy, no matter what you might think. I understood. Nachts are poor company fora man. Go, Withal, down to the beach. Take possession of my gift.\n\nHe slowly rose, bemused. A boat? A raft? A damned log I could ride outwith the tide? He made his way outside.\n\nAnd heard the Nachts, chattering excitedly down on the strand.\n\nWithal walked to the verge, and stood, looking down.\n\nA woman was staggering from the water. Tall, black-skinned, naked, long red hair.\n\nAnd the Meckros turned round, strode away.\n\n\"You bastard-\"\n\nThe Crippled God replied in mock consternation, Is this not what you want? Is she too tall for you? Her eyes too strange? Withal, I do not understand...\n\n\"How could you have done this? Take possession, you said. It's all you know, isn't it? Possession. Things to be used. People. Lives.\"\n\nShe needs your help, Withal. She is lost, alarmed, by the Nachts. Slow to recall her flesh.\n\n\"Later. Leave me alone, now. Leave us both alone.\"\n\nA soft laugh, then a cough. As you wish. Disappointing, this lack of gratitude.\n\n\"Go to the Abyss.\"\n\nNo reply.\n\nWithal entered the hut, stood facing the cot fora time, until he was certain that the Crippled God was not lurking somewhere in his skull. Then he lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He hated religion. Detested gods. But the nest was empty. The nest needed tearing apart. Rebuilding.\n\nThe Meckros had a host of gods for the choosing. But one was older than all the others, and that one belonged to the sea.\n\nWithal began to pray.\n\nIn Mael's name."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"None had seen the like. Chorum's Mill was a Marvel of invention. Wheels upon wheels, Granite and interlocking gears, axles and Spokes and rims of iron, a machine that climbed From that fast river three full levels and ground The finest flour Lether had ever seen– Some say it was the rain, the deluge that filled The water's course through the mill's stony toes. Some say it was the sheer complexity that was The cause of it all, the conceit of a mortal man's Vision. Some say it was the Errant's nudge, fickle And wayward that voiced the sudden roar that dawn, The explosions of stone and the shrieks of iron, And the vast wheels breaking free and bursting Through the thick walls, and the washing women Downstream the foam at their thighs looked up To see their granite doom rolling down– Not a wrinkle left, not a stain survived, and old Misker, perched on Ribble the Mule, well the mule Knew its place as it bolted and leapt head-first Down the well, but poor old Misker hugged the Draw pail on its rope and so swung clear, to Skin his knees on the round's cobbles and swear Loud, the boisterous breath preceding the fateful Descent of toothy death the gearwheel, tall as any Man but far taller than Misker (even perched on His mule) and that would not be hard once it was Done with him, why the rat– oh, did I forget to Mention the rat?\n\nExcerpt from The Rat's Tail (the cause of it all) Chant Prip\n\nStumbling in the gloom, the drunk had fallen into the canal. Tehol had mostly lost sight of him from his position at the edge of the roof, but he could hear splashing and curses, and the scrabbling against the rings set in the stonewall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sighing, Tehol glanced over at the nameless guard Brys had sent. Or one of them, at least. The three brothers looked pretty much identical, and none had given their names. Nothing outward or obvious to impress or inspire fear. And, by the unwavering cast of their lipless, eye-slitted expressions, sadly unqualified as welcome company.\n\n\"Can your friends tell you apart?\" Tehol enquired, then frowned. \"What a strange question to ask of a man. But you must be used to strange questions, since people will assume you were somewhere when you weren't, or, rather, not you, but the other yous, each of whom could be anywhere. It now occurs tome that saying nothing is a fine method for dealing with such confusion, to which each of you have agreed to as the proper response, unless you are the same amongst yourselves, in which case it was a silent agreement. Always the best kind. '\n\nThe drunk, far below, was climbing from the canal, swearing in more languages than Tehol believed existed. \"Will you listen to that? Atrocious. To hear such no doubt foul words uttered with such vehemence– hold on, that's no drunk, that's my manservant!\" Tehol waved and shouted, \"Bugg! What are you doing down there? Is this what I pay you for?\"\n\nThe sodden manservant was looking upward, and he yelled something back that Tehol could not make out. \"What? What did you say?\"\n\n\"You– don't– pay– me! '\n\n\"Oh, tell everyone, why don't you! '\n\nTehol watched as Bugg made his way to the bridge and crossed, then disappeared from view behind the nearby buildings. \"How embarrassing. Time's come fora serious talk with dear old Bugg. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sounds from below, more cursing. Then creaking from the ladder.\n\nBugg's mud-smeared head and face rose into view.\n\n\"Now,\" Tehol said, hands on hips, \"I'm sure I sent you off to do something important, and what do you do? Go falling into the canal. Was that on the list of tasks? I think not. '\n\n\"Are you berating me, master?\"\n\n\"Yes. What did you think?\"\n\n\"More effective, I believe, had you indeed sent me off to do something important. As it was, I was on a stroll, mesmerized by moonlight-\"\n\n\"Don't step there! Back! Back! '\n\nAlarmed, Bugg froze, then edged away.\n\n\"You nearly crushed Ezgara! And could he have got out of the way? I think not!\" Tehol moved closer and knelt beside the insect making its slow way across the roof's uneven surface.\"Oh, look, you startled it! '\n\n\"How can you tell?\" Bugg asked.\n\n\"Well, it's reversed direction, hasn't it? That must be startling, I would imagine.\"\n\n\"You know, master, it was a curio– I didn't think you would make it a pet. '\n\n\"That's because you're devoid of sentiment, Bugg. Whereas Ezgara here is doubly-\"\n\n\"Ovoid?\"\n\n\"Charmingly so.\" Tehol glanced over at the guard, who was staring back at him as was his wont. \"And this man agrees. Or, if not him, then his brothers. Why, one let Ezgara crawl allover his face, and he didn't even blink! '\n\n\"How did Ezgara manage to get onto his face, master?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"And down the other's jerkin, not a flinch."},{"from":"gpt","value":"These are warm-hearted men, Bugg, look well upon them and learn. '\n\n\"I shall, master.\"\n\n\"Now, did you enjoy your swim?\"\n\n\"Not particularly.\"\n\n\"A misstep, you say?\"\n\n\"I thought I heard someone whisper my name-\"\n\n\"Shurq Elalle?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Harlest Eberict? Kettle? Chief Investigator Rucket? Champion Ormly?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Might you have been imagining things?\"\n\n\"Quite possibly. For example, I believe I am being followed by rats.\"\n\n\"You probably are, Bugg. Maybe one of them whispered your name.\"\n\n\"An unpleasant notion, master.\"\n\n\"Yes it is. Do you think it pleases me that my manservant consorts with rats?\"\n\n\"Would you rather go hungry?\" Bugg reached under his shirt.\n\n\"You haven't! '\n\n\"No, it's cat, \"he said, withdrawing a small, skinned, headless and pawless carcass.\"Canal flavoured, alas. '\n\n\"Another gift from Rucket?\"\n\n\"No, oddly enough. The canal.\"\n\n\"Ugh.\"\n\n\"Smells fresh enough-\"\n\n\"What's that wire trailing from it? '\n\nThe manservant lifted the carcass higher, then took the dangling wire between two fingers and followed it back until it vanished in the flesh. He tugged, then grunted.\n\n\"What?\" Tehol asked.\n\n\"The wire leads to a large, barbed hook.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"And the wire's snapped at this end– I thought something broke my fall. \"He tore a small sliver of meat from one of the cat's legs, broke it in two, then placed one piece at each end of the insect named Ezgara. It settled to feed. \"Anyway, a quick rinse and we're ahead by two, if not three meals. Quite a run of fortune, master, of late. '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Yes,\" Tehol mused."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Now I'm nervous. So, have you any news to tell me? '\n\n\"Do you realize, master, that Gerun Eberict would have had to kill on average between ten and fifteen people a day in order to achieve his annual dividend? How does he find the time to do anything else?\"\n\n\"Perhaps he's recruited thugs sharing his insane appetites. '\n\n\"Indeed. Anyway, Shurq has disappeared– both Harlest and Ublala are distraught-\"\n\n\"Why Harlest?\"\n\n\"He had only Ublala to whom he could showoff his new fangs and talons, and Ublala was less than impressed, so much so that he pushed Harlest into the sarcophagus and sealed him in.\"\n\n\"Poor Harlest.\"\n\n\"He adjusted quickly enough,\" said Bugg, \"and now contemplates his dramatic resurrection– whenever it occurs.\"\n\n\"Disturbing news about Shurq Elalle.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It means she didn't change her mind. It means she's going to break into the Tolls Repository. Perhaps even this very night.\"\n\nBugg glanced over at the guard. \"Master...\"\n\n\"Oops, that was careless, wasn't it? \"He rose and walked over.\"He hears all, it's true. My friend, we can at least agree on one thing, can't we? '\n\nThe eyes flickered as the man stared at Tehol.\n\n\"Any thief attempting the Repository is as good as dead, right?\" He smiled, then swung back to face his manservant.\n\nBugg began removing his wet clothes. \"I believe I've caught a chill. '\n\n\"The canal is notoriously noxious-\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 22\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Because you ain't blind, Seren Pedac.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"'\\n\\nSmiling, she leaned back, then looked away. Not drunk, either. \\\"Who are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It won't mean a thing-'\\n\\n\\\"Tell me anyway.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Iron Bars, Second Blade, Fourth Company, Crimson Guard. Was in the service of Commander Cal-Brinn before we was all scattered between here and Hood's gates. '\\n\\n\\\"Meaningless and long. I'm impressed, Iron Bars. '\\n\\n\\\"Lass, you got more sharp teeth than an enkar'al with a mouthful of rhizan. Probably why I like you so much. '\\n\\nAll right. \\\"I'm not interested in your offer, Iron Bars. '\\n\\n\\\"Try thinking on it. There's time for that, provided you get out of Trate as soon as you can. '\\n\\nShe looked at him. \\\"That doesn't make any sense. '\\n\\n\\\"You'd be right, if our boat was in the harbour here. But it isn't. It's in Letheras. We signed on as crew, through an agent. \\\"He shrugged.\\\"As soon as we get out to sea... '\\n\\n\\\"You'll kill the captain and mates and turn pirate. '\\n\\n\\\"We won't kill anybody if there's away round it, and we're not pirates. We just want to get home. We need to get home. \\\"He studied her fora moment, then rose.\\\"If it works outright, we'll look you up in Letheras.\\\"\\n\\nAll right. \\\"You'd be wasting your time. '\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"Between here and then, Acquitor, a whole lot is going to change. Get out of this city, lass. As soon as you sober up, go. Just go.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then he was gone.\\n\\nThey caught him, dragged him into the alley and they're sewing up his mouth– c'mon, let's watch-\\n\\nJust his mouth? He's a damned traitor. No reason to go easy on the bastard. Sew him up everywhere, see how he likes that-\\n\\nWish it was Hull Beddict, that's what I wish-\\n\\nThey'll do a lot worse on'im, mark my words. You just wait and see...\\n\\nHer blue silks snapping in the wind, Nekal Bara stood atop the lighthouse tower and faced out to sea. Nothing was going as planned. Their pre-emptive attack had destroyed empty villages; the entire Tiste Edur people were on the move. And they're about to arrive on our very doorstep.\\n\\nThe fleet that had appeared in Katter Sea, poised to interpose its forces to prevent the retreat of Twilight's garrison at Fent Reach, had, upon the city's surrender, simply moved on. Preternaturally swift, the blood-red sails of five hundred raiders now approached Trate Bay. And in the waters beneath those sleek hulls... a thing. Ancient, terrible, eager with hunger. It knew this path. It had been here before.\\n\\nSince that time, and at the Ceda's command, she had delved deep in her search to discover the nature of the creature the Tiste Edur had bound to their service. The harbour and the bay beyond had once been dry land, a massive limestone shelf beneath which raced vast underground rivers. Erosion had collapsed the shelf in places, creating roughly circular, deep wells. Sometimes the water below continued to flow as part of the rivers. But in some, the percolating effect of the limestone was blocked by concretions overtime, and the water was black and still.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"One such well had become, long ago, a place of worship. Treasures were flung into its depths. Gold, jade, silver and living sacrifices. Drowning voices had screamed in the chill water, cold flesh and bone had settled on the pale floor.\\n\\nAnd a spirit was fashioned. Fed on blood and despair, beseeching propitiation, the unwilling surrender of mortal lives. There were mysteries to this, she well knew. Had the spirit existed before the worship began, and was simply drawn to the gifts offered? Or was it conjured into existence by the very will of those ancient worshippers? Either way, the result was the same. A creature came into being, and was taught the nature of hunger, of desire. Made into an addict of blood and grief and terror.\\n\\nThe worshippers vanished. Died out or departed, or driven to such extreme sacrifices as to destroy themselves. There was no telling how deep the bed of bones at the bottom of that well, but, by the end, it must have been appalling in its vastness.\\n\\nThe spirit was doomed, and should have eventually died. Had not the seas risen to swallow the land, had not its world's walls suddenly vanished, releasing it to all that lay beyond.\\n\\nShorelines were places of worship the world over. The earliest records surviving from the First Empire made note of that again and again among peoples encountered during the explorations. The verge between sea and land marked the manifestation of the symbolic transition between the known and the unknown. Between life and death, spirit and mind, between an unlimited host of elements and forces contrary yet locked together. Lives were given to the seas, treasures were flung into their depths. And, upon the waters themselves, ships and their crews were dragged into the deep time and again.\\n\\nFor all that, the spirit had known... competition. And, Nekal Bara suspected, had fared poorly. Weakened, suffering, it had returned to its hole, there beneath the deluge. Returned to die.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There was noway of knowing how the Tiste Edur warlocks had found it, or came to understand its nature and the potential within it. But they had bound it, fed it blood until its strength returned, and it had grown, and with that growth, a burgeoning hunger.\\n\\nAnd now, I must find away to kill it.\\n\\nShe could sense its approach, drawing ever nearer beneath the Edur raiders. Along the harbour front below, soldiers were crowding the fortifications. Crews readied at the trebuchets and ballistae. Fires were stoked and racks of hull-breaching quarrels were wheeled out.\\n\\nArahathan in his black furs had positioned himself at the far end of the main pier and, like her, stood facing the fast-approaching Edur fleet. He would seek to block the spirit's attack, engage it fully for as long as it took for Nekal Bara to magically draw close to the entity and strike at its heart.\\n\\nShe wished Enedictal had remained in the city, rather than returning to his battalion at Awl. Indeed, she wished the Snakebelts had marched to join them here. Once the spirit was engaged, Enedictal could have then shattered the Edur fleet. She had no idea how much damage she and Arahathan would sustain while killing the spirit– it was possible they would have nothing left with which to destroy the fleet. It might comedown to hand to hand fighting along the harbour front.\\n\\nAnd that is the absurdity of magic in war– we do little more than negate each other. Unless one cadre finds itself outnumbered...\\n\\nShe had six minor sorcerors under her command, interspersed among the companies of the Cold Clay Battalion arrayed below. They would have to be sufficient against the Edur warlocks accompanying the fleet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Nekal Bara was worried, but not unduly so.\\n\\nThe red sails fluttered. She could just make out the crews, scampering on the foredecks and in the rigging. The fleet was heaving to. Beneath the lead ships, a dark tide surged forward, spreading its midnight bruise into the harbour.\\n\\nShe felt a sudden fear. It was... huge.\\n\\nA glance down. To the lone, black-swathed figure at the very end of the main pier. The arms spreading wide.\\n\\nThe spirit heaved up in a swelling wave, gaining speed as it rushed towards the harbour front. On the docks, soldiers behind shields, a wavering of spear-heads. Someone loosed a ball of flaming pitch from one of the trebuchets. Fascinated, Nekal Bara watched its arcing flight, its smoke-trailing descent, down towards the rising wave.\\n\\nIt vanished in a smear of steam.\\n\\nShe heard Arahathan's roar, saw a line of water shiver, then boil just beyond the docks, lifting skyward a wall of steam even as the spirit's bulk seemed to lunge a moment before striking it.\\n\\nThe concussion sent the lighthouse wavering beneath her feet and she threw her arms out for balance. Two-thirds of the way down, along a narrow iron balcony, onlookers were flung into the air, to pitch screaming down to the rocks below. The balcony twisted like thin wire in the hands of a blacksmith, the fittings exploding in puffs of dust. A terrible groaning rose up through the tower as it rocked back and forth.\\n\\nSteam and dark water raged in battle, clambering ever higher directly before Arahathan. The sorceror was swallowed by shadow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The lighthouse was toppling.\\n\\nNekal Bara faced the harbour, held her arms out, then flung herself from the edge.\\n\\nVanishing within a tumbling shaft of magic. Slanting downward in coruscating threads of blue fire that swarmed around a blinding, white core.\\n\\nLike a god's spear, the shaft pierced the flank of the spirit. Tore a path of incandescence into the dark, surging water.\\n\\nErrant– he's failing! Falling! She sensed, then saw, Arahathan. Red flesh curling away from his bones, blackening, snatched away as if by a fierce whirling wind. She saw his teeth, the lips gone, the grimace suddenly a maddening smile. Eyes wrinkled, then darkening, then collapsing inward.\\n\\nShe sensed, in that last moment, his surprise, his disbelief-\\n\\nInto the spirit's flesh, down through layer upon layer of thick, coagulated blood, matted hair, slivered pieces of bone. Encrusted jewellery, mangled coins. Layers of withered newborn corpses, each one wrapped in leather, each one with its forehead stove in, above a face twisted with pain and baffled suffering. Layers. Oh, Mistress, what have we mortals done? Done, and done, and done?\\n\\nStone tools, pearls, bits of shell-\\n\\nThrough-\\n\\nTo find that she had been wrong. Terribly wrong.\\n\\nThe spirit– naught but a shell, held together by the memory within bone, teeth and hair, by that memory and nothing more.\\n\\nWithin-\\n\\nNekal Bara saw that she was about to die. Against all that rose to greet her, she had no defence. None. Could not– could never– Ceda! Kuru Qan! Hear me! See-\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Seren Pedac staggered out into the street. Pushed, spun round, knocked to her knees by fleeing figures.\\n\\nShe had woken in a dark cellar, surrounded by empty, broken kegs. She had been robbed, most of her armour stripped away. Sword and knife gone. The ache between her legs told her that worse had happened. Lips puffed and cut by kisses she had never felt, her hair tangled and matted with blood, she crawled across greasy cobbles to curl up against a stained brick wall. Stared out numbly on the panicked scene.\\n\\nSmoke had stolen the sky. Brown, murky light, the distant sound of battle– at the harbour front to her left, and along the north and east walls ahead and to her right. In the street before her, citizens raced in seemingly random directions. Across from her, two men were locked in mortal combat, and she watched as one managed to pin the other, then began pounding the man's head against the cobbles. The hard impacts gave way to soft crunches, and the victor rolled away from the spasming victim, scrambled upright, then limped away.\\n\\nDoors were being kicked down. Women screamed as their hiding places were discovered.\\n\\nThere were no Tiste Edur insight.\\n\\nFrom her right, three men shambling like marauders. One carried a bloodstained club, another a single-handed sickle. The third man was dragging a dead or unconscious girl-child by one foot.\\n\\nThey saw her. The one with the club smiled. \\\"We was coming to c'llect you, Acquitor. Woke up wanting more, did ya? '\\n\\nShe did not recognize any of them, but there was terrible familiarity in their eyes as they looked upon her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The city's fallen, \\\"the man continued, drawing closer.\\\"But we got away out, an'we're taking you with us. '\\n\\nThe one with the sickle laughed. \\\"We've decided to keep you to ourselves, lass. Don't worry, we'll keep you safe. '\\n\\nSeren curled tighter against the wall.\\n\\n\\\"Hold there!\\\"\\n\\nAnew voice. The three men looked up.\\n\\nIron-haired, blue-eyed– she recognized the newcomer. Maybe. She wasn't sure. She'd never seen armour like that before: she would have remembered the blood-red surcoat. A plain sword at the stranger's left hip, which he was not reaching towards.\\n\\n\\\"It's that foreign bastard, \\\"the man with the club said.\\\"Find your own. '\\n\\n\\\"I just have,\\\" he replied. \\\"Been looking for her the last two days-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's ours, ' said the sickle-wielder.\\n\\n\\\"No closer,\\\" the third man growled, raising the child in one hand as if he meant to use the body fora weapon.\\n\\nWhich, Seren now saw, he had done already. Oh, please be dead, child. Please have been dead all along...\\n\\n\\\"You know us, foreigner,\\\" the man with the club said.\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes, you're the terrors of the shantytown. I've heard all about your exploits. Which puts meat an advantage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How so?\\\"\\n\\nThe stranger continued walking closer. She saw something in his eyes, as he said, \\\"Because you haven't heard a thing about mine. '\\n\\nClub swung. Sickle flashed. Body whipped through the air.\\n\\nAnd the girl-child was caught by the stranger, who then reached one handover, palm up, and seemed to push his fingertips under the man's chin.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She didn't understand.\\n\\nThe man with the club was on the ground. The other had his own sickle sticking from his chest and he stood staring down at it. Then he toppled.\\n\\nA snap. Flood and spray of blood.\\n\\nThe stranger stepped back, tucking the girl-child's body under his right arm, the hand of his left holding, like a leather-wrapped handle from a pail, the third man's lower jaw.\\n\\nHorrible grunting sounds from the staggering figure to her right. Bulging eyes, a spattered gust of breath.\\n\\nThe stranger tossed the mandible away with its attendant lower palate and tongue. He set the child down, then stepped closer to the last man. \\\"I don't like what you did. I don't like anything you've done, but most of all, I don't like what you did to this woman here, and that child. So, I am going to make you hurt. A lot.\\\"\\n\\nThe man spun as if to flee. Then he slammed onto the cobbles, landing on his chest, his feet taken out from under him– but Seren didn't see how it had happened.\\n\\nWith serene patience, the stranger crouched over him. Two blurred punches to either side of the man's spine, almost at neck level, and she heard breastbones snap. Blood was pooling around the man's head.\\n\\nThe stranger shifted to reach down between the man's legs.\\n\\n\\\"Stop.\\\"\\n\\nHe looked over, brows lifting.\\n\\n\\\"Stop. Kill him. Clean. Kill him clean, Iron Bars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you sure?\\\"\\n\\nFrom the buildings opposite, faces framed by windows. Eyes fixed, staring down.\\n\\n\\\"Enough,\\\" she said, the word a croak.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All right.\\\"\\n\\nHe leaned back. One punch to the back of the man's head. It folded inward. And all was still.\\n\\nIron Bars straightened. \\\"All right?\\\"\\n\\nAH right, yes.\\n\\nThe Crimson Guardsman came closer. \\\"My fault,\\\" he said. \\\"I had to sleep, thought you'd be safe fora bit. I was wrong. I'm sorry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The child? '\\n\\nA pained look. \\\"Run down by horses, I think. Sometime past.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What's happening? '\\n\\nTrate's falling. The Edur fleet held off. Until Nekal Bara and Arahathan were finished. Then closed. The defences were swarmed by shadow wraiths. Then the warriors landed. It was bad, Acquitor.\\\" He glanced over a shoulder, said, \\\"At about that time, an army came down from inland. Swept the undermanned fortifications and, not a hundred heartbeats ago, finally succeeded in knocking down the North Gate. The Edur are taking their time, killing every soldier they find. No quarter. So far, they've not touched non-combatants. But that's no guarantee of anything, is it?\\\"\\n\\nHe helped her to stand, and she flinched at the touch of his hands– those weapons, stained with murder.\\n\\nIf he noticed he gave nothing away. \\\"My Blade's waiting. Corlo's managed to find a warren in this damned Hood-pit– first time in the two years we been stuck here. What the Edur brought, he says. That's why. '\\n\\nShe realized they were walking now. Taking winding alleys and avoiding the main thoroughfares. The sound of slaughter was on all sides. Iron Bars suddenly hesitated, cocked his head. \\\"Damn, we've been cutoff. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Dragged into the slaughter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bemused witness to the killing of hapless, disorganized soldiers. Wondering if the moneylenders would be next. Udinaas was left staggering in the wake of the emperor of the Tiste Edur and twelve frenzied warriors as they waded through flesh, cutting lives down as if clearing a path through reeds.\\n\\nRhulad was displaying skill that did not belong to him. His arms were a blur, his every move heedless and fearless. And he was gibbering, the manic sound punctuated every now and then by a scream that was as much terror as it was rage. Not a warrior triumphant. Neither berserk nor swathed in drenched glory. A killer... killing.\\n\\nAn Edur warrior near him fell to a Letherii soldier's desperate sword-thrust, and the emperor shrieked, lunged forward. The mottled sword swung, and blood splashed like water. His laughter pulled at his breath, making him gasp. Edur faces flashed furtively towards their savage ruler.\\n\\nDown the street, carving through a rearguard of some sort. Udinaas stumbled over corpses, writhing, weeping figures. Blind with dying, men called for their mothers, and to these the slave reached down and touched a shoulder, or laid fingertips to slick foreheads, and murmured, \\\"I'm here, my boy. It's all right. You can go now.\\\"\\n\\nThe apologetic priest, chain-snapped forward step by step, whispering hollow blessings, soft lies, forgiving even as he prayed for someone– something– to forgive him in turn. But no-one touched him, no fingertips brushed his brow.\\n\\nFor the burned villages. Retribution. Where were the moneylenders? This war belonged to them, after all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Another hundred paces.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Three more Edur were down. Rhulad and eight brethren. Fighting on. Where was the rest of the army?\\n\\nSomewhere else.\\n\\nIf one could always choose the right questions, then every answer could be as obvious. A clever revelation, he was onto something here...\\n\\nAnother Edur screamed, skidded and fell over, face smacking the street.\\n\\nRhulad killed two more soldiers, and suddenly no-one stood in their path.\\n\\nHalting in strange consternation, trapped in the centre of an intersection, drifts of smoke sliding past.\\n\\nFrom the right, a sudden arrival.\\n\\nTwo Edur reeled back, mortally wounded.\\n\\nThe attacker reached outwith his left hand, and a third Edur warrior's head snapped round with aloud crack.\\n\\nClash of blades, more blood, another Edur toppling, then the attacker was through and wheeling about.\\n\\nRhulad leapt to meet him. Swords– one heavy and mottled, the other modest, plain– collided, and somehow were bound together with a twist and pronation of the stranger's wrist, whilst his freehand blurred out and over the weapons, palm connecting with Rhulad's forehead.\\n\\nBreaking the emperor's neck with aloud snap.\\n\\nMottled sword slid down the attacker's blade and he was already stepping past, his weapon's point already sliding out from the chest of another Edur.\\n\\nAnother heartbeat, and the last two Tiste Edur warriors were down, their bodies eagerly dispensing blood like payment onto the cobbles.\\n\\nThe stranger looked about, saw Udinaas, nodded, then waved to an alley-mouth, from which a woman emerged.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She took a half-dozen strides before Udinaas recognized her.\\n\\nBadly used.\\n\\nBut no more of that. Not while this man lives.\\n\\nSeren Pedac took no notice of him, nor of the dead Edur. The stranger grasped her hand.\\n\\nUdinaas watched them head off down the street, disappear round a corner.\\n\\nSomewhere behind him, the shouts of Edur warriors, the sound of running feet.\\n\\nThe slave found he was standing beside Rhulad's body, staring down at it, the bizarre angle of the head on its twisted neck, the hands closed tight about the sword.\\n\\nWaiting for the mouth to open with mad laughter.\\n\\n\\\"Damned strangest armour I've ever seen. '\\n\\nSeren blinked. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But he was good, with that sword. Fast. In another five years he'd have had the experience to have made him deadly. Enough to give anyone trouble. Shimmer, Blues, maybe even Skinner. But that armour! A damned fortune, right therefor the taking. If we'd the time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That Tiste Edur, lass.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tiste Edur?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never mind. There they are.\\\"\\n\\nAhead, crouched at the dead end of an alley, six figures. Two women, four men. All in crimson surcoats. Weapons out. Blood on the blades. One, more lightly armoured than the others and holding what looked to be some sort of diadem in his left hand, stepped forward.\\n\\nAnd said something in a language Seren had never heard before.\\n\\nIron Bars replied in an impatient growl. He drew Seren closer as the man who'd spoken began gesturing. The air seemed to shimmer all round them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Corlo's opening the warren, lass. We're going through, and if we're lucky we won't run into anything in there. No telling how far we can get. Far enough, I hope.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where?\\\" she asked. \\\"Where are we going?\\\"\\n\\nA murky wall of blackness yawned where the alley's blank wall had been.\\n\\n\\\"Letheras, Acquitor. We got a ship awaiting us, remember?\\\"\\n\\nStrangest armour I've ever seen.\\n\\nA damned fortune.\\n\\n\\\"Is he dead?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is he dead? Did you kill him? That Tiste Edur!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No choice, lass. He was slowing us up and more were coming.\\\"\\n\\nOh, no.\\n\\nVomit spilling out onto the sand.\\n\\nAt least, Withal mused, the shrieks had stopped. He waited, seated on grass just above the beach, while the young Edur, on his hands and knees, head hanging down, shuddered and convulsed, coughed and spat.\\n\\nOff to one side, two of the Nachts, Rind and Pule, were fighting over apiece of driftwood that was falling apart with their efforts. Their games of destruction had become obsessive of late, leading the Meckros weaponsmith to wonder if they were in fact miming a truth on his behalf. Or the isolation was driving them insane.\\n\\nAnother kind of truth, that one.\\n\\nHe despised religion. Set no gods in his path. Ascendants were worse than rabid beasts. It was enough that mortals were capable of appalling evil; he wanted nothing to do with their immortal, immeasurably more powerful counterparts.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And this broken god in his squalid tent, his eternal pain and the numbing smoke of the seeds he scattered onto the brazier before him, it was all of apiece to Withal. Suffering made manifest, consumed by the desire to spread the misery of its own existence into the world, into all the worlds. Misery and false escape, pain and mindless surrender. All of apiece.\\n\\nOn this small island, amidst this empty sea, Withal was lost. Within himself, among a host of faces that were all his own, he was losing the capacity to recognize any of them. Thought and self was reduced, formless and untethered. Wandering amidst a stranger's memories, whilst the world beyond unravelled.\\n\\nNest building.\\n\\nFrenzied destruction.\\n\\nFanged mouth agape in silent, convulsive laughter.\\n\\nThree jesters repeating the same performance again and again. What did it mean? What obvious lesson was being shown him that he was too blind, too thick, to understand?\\n\\nThe Edur lad was done, nothing left in his stomach. He lifted his head, eyes stripped naked to the bones of pain and horror. \\\"No,\\\" he whispered.\\n\\nWithal looked away, squinted along the strand.\\n\\n\\\"No more... please.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never much in the way of sunsets here,\\\" Withal mused. \\\"Or sunrises, for that matter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You don't know what it's like!\\\"\\n\\nThe Edur's scream trailed away.\\\"The nests are getting more elaborate, \\\"Withal said.\\\"I think he's striving fora particular shape. Sloped walls, a triangular entrance. Then Mape wrecks it. What am Ito take from all that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He can keep his damned sword. I'm not going. Over there. I'm not going over there and don't try to make me. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I have nothing to do. Nothing.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad crawled towards him. \\\"You made that sword!\\\" he said in an accusatory rasp.\\n\\n\\\"Fire, hammer, anvil and quenching. I've made more swords than I can count. Just iron and sweat. They were broken blades, I think. Those black shards. From some kind of narrow-bladed, overlong knife. Two of them, black and brittle. Just pieces, really. I wonder where he collected them from? '\\n\\n\\\"Everything breaks,\\\" Rhulad said.\\n\\nWithal glanced over. \\\"Aye, lad. Everything breaks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You could do it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Break that sword.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I can't. '\\n\\n\\\"Everything breaks!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Including people, lad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's not good enough. '\\n\\nWithal shrugged. \\\"I don't remember much of anything anymore. I think he's stealing my mind. He says he's my god. All I need to do is worship him, he says. And everything will come clear. So tell me, Rhulad Sengar, is it all clear to you? '\\n\\n\\\"This evil– it's of your making! '\\n\\n\\\"Is it? Maybe you're right. I accepted his bargain. But he lied, you see. He said he'd set me free, once I made the sword. He lies, Rhulad. That much I know. I know that now. This god lies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have power. I am emperor. I've taken a wife. We are at war and Lether shall fall. '\\n\\nWithal gestured inland. \\\"And he's waiting for you. '\\n\\n\\\"They're frightened of me. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fear breeds its own loyalty, lad. They'll follow. They're waiting too, right now.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad clawed at his face, shuddered. \\\"He killed me. That man– not a Letherii, not a Letherii at all. He killed us. Seven of my brothers. And me. He was so... fast. It seemed he barely moved, and my kin were falling, dying.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Next time will be harder. You'll be harder. It won't be as easy to find someone to kill you, next time. And the time after that. Do you understand that, lad? It's the essence of that mangled god who's waiting for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who is he?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The god? A miserable little shit, Rhulad. Who has your soul in his hands.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Father Shadow has abandoned us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Father Shadow is dead. Or as good as.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How do you know?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because if he wasn't, he'd have never let the Crippled God steal you. You and your people. He'd have come marching ashore... ' Withal fell silent.\\n\\nAnd that, he realized, was what he was coming to. A blood-soaked truth.\\n\\nHe hated religion, hated the gods. And he was alone.\\n\\n\\\"I will kill him. With the sword.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fool. There's nothing on this island that he doesn't hear, doesn't see, doesn't know.\\\"\\n\\nExcept, maybe, what's in my mind now. And, even if he knew, how could he stop me? No, he doesn't know. I must believe that. After all, if he did, he'd kill me. Right now, he'd kill me.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rhulad climbed to his feet. \\\"I'm ready for him. '\\n\\n\\\"Are you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nWithal sighed. He glanced over at the two Nachts. Their contested driftwood was a scattering of splinters lying between them. Both creatures were staring down at it, bemused, poking fingers through the mess. The Meckros rose. \\\"All right then, lad, let's go. '\\n\\nShe was behind the black glass, within a tunnel of translucent obsidian, and there were no ghosts.\\n\\n\\\"Kurald Galain,\\\" Corlo said in a whisper, casting a glance back at them over one shoulder. \\\"Unexpected. It's a rotten conquest. That, or the Edur don't even know it, don't even know what they're using.\\\"\\n\\nThe air stank of death. Withered flesh, the breath of a crypt. The black stone beneath their feet was greasy and uncertain. Overhead, the ceiling was uneven, barely a hand's width higher than Iron Bars, who was the tallest among the group.\\n\\n\\\"It's a damned rats'maze,\\\" the mage continued, pausing at a branching.\\n\\n\\\"Just take us south,\\\" Iron Bars said in a low growl.\\n\\n\\\"Fine, but which way is that?\\\"\\n\\nThe soldiers crowded round, muttering and cursing in their strange language.\\n\\nCorlo faced Seren, his expression strangely taut. \\\"Any suggestions, Acquitor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\nThe mage said something in their native tongue to Iron Bars, who scowled and replied, \\\"That's enough, all of you. In Letherii. Since when was rudeness in the creed of the Crimson Guard? Acquitor, this is the Hold of Darkness-'\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There is no Hold of Darkness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I'm trying to say it in away that makes sense to you. '\\n\\n\\\"All right.\\\"\\n\\nCorlo said, \\\"But, you see, Acquitor, it shouldn't be. '\\n\\nShe simply looked at him in the gloom.\\n\\nThe mage rubbed the back of his neck, and she saw the hand come away glistening with sweat. \\\"These are Tiste Edur, right? Not Tiste Andii. The Hold of Darkness, that's Tiste Andii. The Edur, they were from the, uh, Hold of Shadow. So, it was natural, you see, to expect that the warren would be Kurald Emurlahn. But it isn't. It's Kurald Galain, only it's breached. Over-run. Thick with spirits– Tiste Andii spirits-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They're not here, \\\"she said.\\\"I've seen them. Those spirits. They're not here. '\\n\\n\\\"They are, Acquitor. I'm just keeping them away. For now... '\\n\\n\\\"But it's proving difficult. '\\n\\nThe mage nodded reluctantly.\\n\\n\\\"And you're lost. '\\n\\nAnother nod.\\n\\nShe tried to think, cut through the numbness– which seemed to be the only thing keeping away the pain of her battered flesh. \\\"You said the spirits are not Edur.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's right. Tiste Andii. '\\n\\n\\\"What is the relationship between the two? Are they allied?\\\"\\n\\nCorlo's eyes narrowed.\\\"Allied? '\\n\\n\\\"Those wraiths,\\\" Iron Bars said.\\n\\nThe mage's gaze darted to his commander, then back again to Seren Pedac.\\\"Those wraiths are bound. Compelled to fight alongside the Edur. Are they Andii spirits? Hood's breath, this is starting to make sense. What else would they be? Not Edur spirits, since no binding magic would be needed, would it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Iron Bars stepped in front of Seren. \\\"What are you suggesting?\\\"\\n\\nShe remembered back to her only contact with the spirits, their hunger. \\\"Mage Corlo, you say you're keeping them away. Are they trying to attack us? '\\n\\n\\\"I'm not sure. '\\n\\n\\\"Let one through. Maybe we can talk to it, maybe we can get help.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why would it be interested in helping us?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Make a bargain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"With what?\\\"\\n\\nShe shrugged. \\\"Think of something.\\\"\\n\\nHe muttered a string of foreign words that she guessed were curses.\\n\\n\\\"Let one through,\\\" Iron Bars said.\\n\\nMore curses, then Corlo walked a few steps ahead to clear some space. \\\"Ready weapons,\\\" he said. \\\"In case it ain't interested in talking. '\\n\\nA moment later, the gloom in front of the mage wavered, and something black spread outward like spilled ink. A figure emerged, halting, uncertain.\\n\\nA woman, tall as an Edur but midnight-skinned, a reddish glint to her long, unbound hair. Green eyes, tilted and large, a face softer and rounder than Seren would have expected given her height and long limbs. She was wearing a leather harness and leggings, and on her shoulders rode the skin of some white-furred beast. She was unarmed.\\n\\nHer eyes hardened. She spoke, and in her words Seren heard a resemblance to Edur.\\n\\n\\\"I hate it when that happens,\\\" Corlo said.\\n\\nSeren tried Edur. \\\"Hello. We apologize for intruding on your world. We do not intend to stay long.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman's expression did not change.\\\"The Betrayers never do. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I may speak in the language of the Edur, but they are no allies of ours.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perhaps in that, we share something.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was among the first to die in the war,\\\" the woman said, \\\"and so not at the hands of an Edur. They cannot take me, cannot force me to fight for them. I and those like me are beyond their grasp.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yet your spirit remains trapped,\\\" Seren said. \\\"Here, in this place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you want?\\\"\\n\\nSeren turned to Iron Bars. \\\"She asks what we want of her.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Corlo?\\\"\\n\\nThe mage shrugged, then said, \\\"We need to escape the influence of the Edur. We need to get beyond their reach. Then to return to our world.\\\"\\n\\nSeren relayed Corlo's statements to the woman.\\n\\n\\\"You are mortal,\\\" she replied. \\\"You can pass through when we cannot.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can you guide us?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what is to be my reward for this service?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you seek?\\\"\\n\\nShe considered, then shook her head. \\\"No. An unfair bargain. My service is not worth the payment I would ask. You require a guide to lead you to the border's edge. I will not deceive. It is not far. You would find it yourselves before too long. '\\n\\nSeren translated the exchange for the Crimson Guardsmen, then added, \\\"This is odd...\\\"\\n\\nIron Bars smiled. \\\"An honest broker?\\\"\\n\\nShe nodded wryly. \\\"I am Letherii, after all. Honesty makes me suspicious.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ask her what she would have us do for her,\\\" Iron Bars said.\\n\\nSeren Pedac did, and the woman held up her right hand, and in it was a small object, encrusted and corroded and unrecognizable. \\\"The K'Chain Che'Malle counter-attack drove a number of us down to the shoreline, then into the waves. I am a poor fighter. I died on that sea's foaming edge, and my corpse rolled out, drawn by the tide, along the muddy sands, where the mud swallowed it. \\\"She looked down at the object in her palm.\\\"This was a ring I wore. Returned tome by a wraith– many wraiths have done this for those of us beyond the reach of the Edur. I would ask that you return me to my bones, to what little of me remains. So that I can find oblivion. But this is too vast a gift, for offering you so little-'\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How would we go about doing as you ask?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would join with the substance of this ring. You would see me no more. And you would need to travel to the shoreline, then cast this into the sea.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That does not seem difficult.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps it isn't. The inequity lies in the exchange of values. '\\n\\nSeren shook her head. \\\"We see no inequity. Our desire is of equal value as far as we are concerned. We accept your bargain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How do I know you will not betray me?\\\"\\n\\nThe Letherii turned to Iron Bars. \\\"She doesn't trust us. '\\n\\nThe man strode to halt directly before the Tiste Andii woman. \\\"Acquitor, tell her I am an Avowed, of the Crimson Guard. If she would, she can seek the meaning of that. By laying her hand on my chest. Tell her I shall honour our pact.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've not told you what it is yet. She wants us to throw the thing she's holding into the sea.\\\"\\n\\n\\\" That's it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Doing so will end her existence. Which seems to be what she wants.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tell her to seek the cast of my soul.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well.\\\"\\n\\nThe suspicious look in the woman's eyes grew more pronounced, but she stepped forward and set her left hand on the man's chest.\\n\\nThe hand flinched away and the woman staggered back a step, shock, then horror, writ on her face. \\\"How– how could you do– why?\\\"\\n\\nSeren said, \\\"Not the response you sought, I think, Iron Bars. She is... appalled.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is of no concern,\\\" the man replied. \\\"Does she accept my word?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The woman straightened, then, to Seren's question, she nodded and said,\\\"I cannot do otherwise. But... I had forgotten... this feeling. '\\n\\n\\\"What feeling?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sorrow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Iron Bars,\\\" Seren said, \\\"whatever this'Avowed\\\" means, she is overwhelmed with... pity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes well,\\\" he said, turning away, \\\"we all make mistakes.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman said, \\\"I will lead you now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is your name?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sandalath Drukorlat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, Sandalath. It grieves me to know that our gift to you is oblivion.\\\"\\n\\nShe shrugged. \\\"Those who I once loved and who loved me believe I am gone in truth. There is no need for grief.\\\"\\n\\nNo need for grief. Where, then, does the pity lie?\\n\\n\\\"Stand up, lads,\\\" Iron Bars said, \\\"she's making ready to go. '\\n\\nMape lay on the knoll like something dead, but the Nacht's head slowly turned as Withal and Rhulad strode into view. She had stolen a hammer from the smithy sometime back, to better facilitate her destruction of Pule's nests, and now carried it with her everywhere. Withal watched askance as the gnarled, black-skinned creature lifted the hammer into view, eyes still fixed on him and the Tiste Edur, as if contemplating murder.\\n\\nOf the three Nachts, Mape made him the most nervous. Too much intelligence glittered in her small black eyes, too often she watched with something like a smile on her apish face. And the strength the creatures had displayed was sufficient to make any man worried. He knew Mape could tear his arms from his shoulders, were she so inclined.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perhaps the Crippled God had bound them, as demons could be bound, and it was this and this alone that kept the beasts from Withal's throat. An unpleasant notion.\\n\\n\\\"What's to stop me, \\\"Rhulad asked in a growl,\\\"from driving the sword right through his scrawny chest? '\\n\\n\\\"Do not ask that question of me, Edur. Only the Crippled God can answer it. But I don't think it could ever be that easy. He's a clever bastard, and therein that tent his power is probably absolute.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The vastness of his realm,\\\" Rhulad said, sneering.\\n\\nYes. Now why do those words, said in that way, interest me?\\n\\nThe ragged canvas shelter was directly ahead, smoke drifting from the side that had been drawn open. As they approached, the air grew hotter, drier, the grasses withered and bleached underfoot. The earth seemed strangely blighted.\\n\\nThey came opposite the entrance. Within, the god's huddled form in the gloom. Tendrils of smoke rising from the brazier.\\n\\nA cough, then, \\\"Such anger. Unreasonable, I think, given the efficacy of my gift.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't want to go back, \\\"Rhulad said.\\\"Leave me here. Choose someone else. '\\n\\n\\\"Unwitting servants to our cause appear... from unexpected sources. Imagine, an Avowed of the Crimson Guard. Be glad it was not Skinner, or indeed Cowl. They would have taken more notice of you, and that would not have been a good thing. We're not yet ready for that. \\\"A hacking cough.\\\"Not yet ready. '\\n\\n\\\"I'm not going back. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You detest the flesh given you. I understand. But, Rhulad Sengar, the gold is your payment. For the power you seek.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I want nothing more of that power.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But you do,\\\" the Crippled God said, clearly amused. \\\"Consider the rewards already reaped. The throne of the Tiste Edur, the woman after whom you lusted for years– now in your possession, to do with as you please. Your brothers, bowing one and all before you. And a burgeoning prowess with the sword-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's not mine, though, is it? It is all I can do to hold on! The skill does not belong tome– and all can see that! I have earned nothing! '\\n\\n\\\"And what value is all that pride you seek, Rhulad Sengar? You mortals baffle me. It is a fool's curse, to measure oneself in endless dissatisfaction. It is not for me to guide you in the rule of your empire. That task belongs to you and you alone. There, make that your place of pride. Besides, has not your strength grown? You have muscles now surpassing your brother Fear's. Cease your whimpering, Edur.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are using me!\\\"\\n\\nThe Crippled God laughed. \\\"And Scabandari Bloodeye did not? Oh, I know the tale now. All of it. The seas whisper old truths, Rhulad Sengar. Revered Father Shadow, oh, such an absurd conceit. Murderer, knife-wielder, betrayer-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lies!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"-who then led you into your own betrayal. Of your once-allies, the Tiste Andii. You fell upon them at Scabandari's command. You killed those who had fought alongside you. That is the legacy of the Tiste Edur, Rhulad Sengar. Ask Hannan Mosag. He knows. Ask your brother, Fear. Your mother– the women know. Their memory has been far less... selective. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No more of this,\\\" the Edur pleaded, clawing at his face. \\\"You would poison me with dishonour. That is your purpose... for all you say.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps what I offer,\\\" the Crippled God murmured, \\\"is absolution. The opportunity to make amends. It is within you, Rhulad Sengar. The power is yours to shape as you will. The empire shall cast your reflection, no-one else's. Will you flee from that? If that is your choice, then indeed I shall be forced to choose another. One who will prove, perhaps, less honourable. '\\n\\nThe sword clattered at Rhulad's feet.\\n\\n\\\"Choose.\\\"\\n\\nWithal watched, saw the Edur's expression change.\\n\\nWith a scream, Rhulad snatched up the weapon and lunged-\\n\\n-and was gone.\\n\\nRasping laughter. \\\"There is so little, Withal, that surprises meany more.\\\"\\n\\nDisgusted, the Meckros turned away.\\n\\n\\\"A moment, Withal. I see your weariness, your displeasure. What is it that plagues you so? That is what I ask myself.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The lad doesn't deserve it-'\\n\\n\\\"Oh, but he does. They all do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" Withal said, eyes level as he stared at the Crippled God, \\\"that does seem to be the sole judgement you possess. But it's hardly clean, is it? '\\n\\n\\\"Careful. My gratitude for what you have done for me wears thin.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gratitude?\\\" Withal's laugh was harsh.\\\"You are thankful after compelling me into doing your bidding. That's a good one. May you be as generous of thought after I force you into killing me.\\\" He studied the hooded figure. \\\"I see your problem, you know. I see it now, and curse myself for having missed it before. You have no realm to command, as do other gods. So you sit there, alone, in your tent, and that is the extent of your realm, isn't it? Broken flesh and foul, stifling air. Skin-thin walls and the heat the old and lame desire. Your world, and you alone in it, and the irony is, you cannot even command your own body. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A wretched cough, then, \\\"Spare me your sympathy, Meckros. I have given the problem of you considerable thought, and have found a solution, as you shall soon discover. When you do, think on what you have said tome. Now, go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You still don't understand, do you? The more pain you deliver to others, god, the more shall be visited upon you. You sow your own misery, and because of that whatever sympathy you might rightly receive is swept away. \\\"\\\"I said go, Withal. Build yourself a nest. Mape's waiting.\\\"\\n\\nThey emerged onto a windswept sward with the crashing waves of the sea on their right and before them the delta of abroad river. On the river's other side stood a walled city.\\n\\nSeren Pedac studied the distant buildings, the tall, thin towers that seemed to lean seaward. \\\"Old Katter,\\\" she said. \\\"We're thirty leagues south of Trate. How is that possible? '\\n\\n\\\"Warrens,\\\" Corlo muttered, sagging until he sat on the ground. \\\"Rotted. Septic, but still, a warren.\\\"\\n\\nThe Acquitor made her way down to the beach. The sun was high and hot overhead. I must wash. Get clean. The sea...\\n\\nIron Bars followed, in one hand the encrusted object where the spirit of a Tiste Andii woman now resided.\\n\\nShe strode into the water, the foaming waves thrashing round her shins.\\n\\nThe Avowed flung the object past her– a small splash not far ahead.\\n\\nThighs, then hips.\\n\\nClean. Get clean.\\n\\nTo her chest. A wave rolled, lifted her from the bottom, spun and flung her towards the shore. She clawed herself round until she could push forward once again. Cold salty water rising over her face. Bright, sunlit, silty water, washing sight from her eyes. Water biting at scabbed wounds, stinging her broken lips, water filling her mouth and begging to be drawn inside.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Like this.\\n\\nHands grasped her, pulled her back. She fought, but could not break loose.\\n\\nClean!\\n\\nHer face swept by cold wind, eyes blinking in painful light. Coughing, weeping, she struggled, but the hands dragged her remorselessly onto the beach, flung her onto the sand. Then, as she tried to claw free, arms wrapped tight about her, pinning her own arms, and a voice gasped close to her ear, \\\"I know, lass. I know what it's about. But it ain't the way.\\\"\\n\\nHeaving, helpless sobs, now.\\n\\nAnd he held her still.\\n\\n\\\"Heal her, Corlo.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm damn near done-'\\n\\n\\\"Now. And sleep. Make her sleep-\\\"\\n\\nNo, you can't die. Not again. I have need of you.\\n\\nSo many layers, pressing down upon these indurative remnants, a moment of vast pressure, the thick, so thick skin tracing innumerable small deaths. And life was voice, not words, but sound, motion. Where all else was still, silent. Oblivion waited when the last echo faded.\\n\\nDying the first time should have been enough. This world was foreign, after all. The gate sealed, swept away. Her husband– if he still lived– was long past his grief. Her daughter, perhaps a mother herself by now, a grandmother. She had fed on draconic blood, therein the wake of Anomander. Somewhere, she persisted, and lived free of sorrow.\\n\\nIt had been important to think that way. Her only weapon against insanity.\\n\\nNo gifts in death but one.\\n\\nBut something held her back.\\n\\nSomething with a voice. These are restless seas indeed. I had not thought my questing would prove so... easy. True, you are not human, but you will do. You will do.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"These remnants, suddenly in motion, grating motion.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fragments, particles too small to see, drawing together. As if remembering to what they had once belonged. And, within the sea, within the silts, waited all that was needed. For flesh, for bone and blood. All these echoes, resurrected, finding shape. She looked on in horror.\\n\\nWatched, as the body– so familiar, so strange– clawed its way upward through the silts. Silts that lightened, thinned, then burst into a plume that swirled in the currents. Arms reaching upward, a body heaving into view.\\n\\nShe hovered near, compelled to close, to enter, but knowing it was too soon.\\n\\nHer body, which she had left so long ago. It was not right. Not fair.\\n\\nScrambling mindlessly along the sea bottom. Finned creatures darting in and out of sight, drawn to the stirred-up sediments, frightened away by the flailing figure. Multi-legged shapes scrabbling from its path.\\n\\nA strange blurring, passed through, and then sunlight glittered close overhead. Hands broke the surface, firm sand underfoot, sloping upward.\\n\\nFace in the air.\\n\\nAnd she swept forward, plunged into the body, raced like fire within muscle and bone.\\n\\nSensations. Cold, a wind, the smell of salt and ashore-line's decay.\\n\\nMother Dark, I am... alive.\\n\\nThe voice of return came not in laughter, but in screams.\\n\\nAll had gathered as word of the emperor's death spread. The city was taken, but Rhulad Sengar had been killed. Neck snapped like a sapling. His body lay where it fell, with the slave Udinaas standing guard, a macabre sentinel who did not acknowledge anyone, but simply stared down at the coin-clad corpse.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hannan Mosag. Mayen with Feather Witch trailing. Midik Buhn, now blooded and a warrior in truth. Hundreds of Edur warriors, blood-spattered with glory and slaughter. Silent, pale citizens, terrified of the taut expectancy in the smoky air.\\n\\nAll witness to the body's sudden convulsions, its piercing screams. Fora ghastly moment, Rhulad's neck remained broken, rocking his head in impossible angles as he staggered to his feet. Then the bone mended, and the head righted itself, sudden light in the hooded eyes.\\n\\nMore screams, from Letherii now. Figures fleeing.\\n\\nRhulad's ragged shrieks died and he stood, wavering, the sword trembling in his hands.\\n\\nUdinaas spoke. \\\"Emperor, Trate is yours.\\\"\\n\\nA sudden spasm, then Rhulad seemed to seethe others for the first time. \\\"Hannan Mosag, settle the garrison. The rest of the army shall camp outside the city. Send word to your K'risnan with the fleet: they are to make for Old Katter. '\\n\\nThe Warlock King stepped close and said in a low voice, \\\"It is true, then. You cannot die.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad flinched. \\\"I die, Hannan Mosag. It is all I know, dying. Leave me now. Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Emperor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I need– find– I am...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your tent awaits you and Mayen,\\\" the slave said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nMidik Buhn spoke, \\\"Emperor, I shall lead your escort.\\\"\\n\\nHis expression confused, Rhulad looked down at his body, the smeared, crusted coins, the spattered furs. \\\"Yes, brother Midik. An escort.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And we shall find the one who... did this, sire... to you.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad's eyes flashed.\\\"He cannot be defeated. We are helpless before him. He lies... '\\n\\nMidik was frowning. He glanced at Udinaas.\\n\\n\\\"Emperor,\\\" the slave said, \\\"he meant the one who killed you and your kin. Herein this street.\\\"\\n\\nClawing at his face, Rhulad turned away. \\\"Of course. He wore... crimson.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas said to Midik, \\\"I will give you a detailed description.\\\"\\n\\nA sharp nod. \\\"Yes. The city will be searched.\\\"\\n\\nBut he's gone, you fool. No, I don't know how I know. Still, the man's gone. With Seren Pedac.\\\"Of course. '\\n\\n\\\"Udinaas!\\\" A desperate gasp.\\n\\n\\\"I am here, Emperor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take me out of this place!\\\"\\n\\nIt was known, now, and soon the Ceda would learn of it. But would he understand? How could he? It was impossible, insane.\\n\\nHe can do nothing. Will he realize this?\\n\\nThe warrior in gold trailed the slave, step by step, through the fallen city, Mayen and Feather Witch in their wake. Midik Buhn and a dozen warriors flanked them all, weapons at the ready. The passage was uncontested.\\n\\nWithal sat on a bench in his smithy. Plain walls, stone and plaster, the forge cold and filled with ash. Paved floor, the small workshop three-walled, the open side facing onto a fenced compound where stood a cut-stone-rimmed well, a quenching trough, firewood and a heap of tailings and slag. A hut on the opposite side housed his cot and nothing else.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The extent of his world. Mocking reminder of his profession, the purpose behind living.\\n\\nThe Crippled God's voice whispered in his mind, Withal. My gift. I am not without sympathy, no matter what you might think. I understood. Nachts are poor company fora man. Go, Withal, down to the beach. Take possession of my gift.\\n\\nHe slowly rose, bemused. A boat? A raft? A damned log I could ride outwith the tide? He made his way outside.\\n\\nAnd heard the Nachts, chattering excitedly down on the strand.\\n\\nWithal walked to the verge, and stood, looking down.\\n\\nA woman was staggering from the water. Tall, black-skinned, naked, long red hair.\\n\\nAnd the Meckros turned round, strode away.\\n\\n\\\"You bastard-\\\"\\n\\nThe Crippled God replied in mock consternation, Is this not what you want? Is she too tall for you? Her eyes too strange? Withal, I do not understand...\\n\\n\\\"How could you have done this? Take possession, you said. It's all you know, isn't it? Possession. Things to be used. People. Lives.\\\"\\n\\nShe needs your help, Withal. She is lost, alarmed, by the Nachts. Slow to recall her flesh.\\n\\n\\\"Later. Leave me alone, now. Leave us both alone.\\\"\\n\\nA soft laugh, then a cough. As you wish. Disappointing, this lack of gratitude.\\n\\n\\\"Go to the Abyss.\\\"\\n\\nNo reply.\\n\\nWithal entered the hut, stood facing the cot fora time, until he was certain that the Crippled God was not lurking somewhere in his skull. Then he lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He hated religion. Detested gods. But the nest was empty. The nest needed tearing apart. Rebuilding.\\n\\nThe Meckros had a host of gods for the choosing. But one was older than all the others, and that one belonged to the sea.\\n\\nWithal began to pray.\\n\\nIn Mael's name.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"None had seen the like. Chorum's Mill was a Marvel of invention. Wheels upon wheels, Granite and interlocking gears, axles and Spokes and rims of iron, a machine that climbed From that fast river three full levels and ground The finest flour Lether had ever seen– Some say it was the rain, the deluge that filled The water's course through the mill's stony toes. Some say it was the sheer complexity that was The cause of it all, the conceit of a mortal man's Vision. Some say it was the Errant's nudge, fickle And wayward that voiced the sudden roar that dawn, The explosions of stone and the shrieks of iron, And the vast wheels breaking free and bursting Through the thick walls, and the washing women Downstream the foam at their thighs looked up To see their granite doom rolling down– Not a wrinkle left, not a stain survived, and old Misker, perched on Ribble the Mule, well the mule Knew its place as it bolted and leapt head-first Down the well, but poor old Misker hugged the Draw pail on its rope and so swung clear, to Skin his knees on the round's cobbles and swear Loud, the boisterous breath preceding the fateful Descent of toothy death the gearwheel, tall as any Man but far taller than Misker (even perched on His mule) and that would not be hard once it was Done with him, why the rat– oh, did I forget to Mention the rat?\\n\\nExcerpt from The Rat's Tail (the cause of it all) Chant Prip\\n\\nStumbling in the gloom, the drunk had fallen into the canal. Tehol had mostly lost sight of him from his position at the edge of the roof, but he could hear splashing and curses, and the scrabbling against the rings set in the stonewall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sighing, Tehol glanced over at the nameless guard Brys had sent. Or one of them, at least. The three brothers looked pretty much identical, and none had given their names. Nothing outward or obvious to impress or inspire fear. And, by the unwavering cast of their lipless, eye-slitted expressions, sadly unqualified as welcome company.\\n\\n\\\"Can your friends tell you apart?\\\" Tehol enquired, then frowned. \\\"What a strange question to ask of a man. But you must be used to strange questions, since people will assume you were somewhere when you weren't, or, rather, not you, but the other yous, each of whom could be anywhere. It now occurs tome that saying nothing is a fine method for dealing with such confusion, to which each of you have agreed to as the proper response, unless you are the same amongst yourselves, in which case it was a silent agreement. Always the best kind. '\\n\\nThe drunk, far below, was climbing from the canal, swearing in more languages than Tehol believed existed. \\\"Will you listen to that? Atrocious. To hear such no doubt foul words uttered with such vehemence– hold on, that's no drunk, that's my manservant!\\\" Tehol waved and shouted, \\\"Bugg! What are you doing down there? Is this what I pay you for?\\\"\\n\\nThe sodden manservant was looking upward, and he yelled something back that Tehol could not make out. \\\"What? What did you say?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You– don't– pay– me! '\\n\\n\\\"Oh, tell everyone, why don't you! '\\n\\nTehol watched as Bugg made his way to the bridge and crossed, then disappeared from view behind the nearby buildings. \\\"How embarrassing. Time's come fora serious talk with dear old Bugg. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sounds from below, more cursing. Then creaking from the ladder.\\n\\nBugg's mud-smeared head and face rose into view.\\n\\n\\\"Now,\\\" Tehol said, hands on hips, \\\"I'm sure I sent you off to do something important, and what do you do? Go falling into the canal. Was that on the list of tasks? I think not. '\\n\\n\\\"Are you berating me, master?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. What did you think?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"More effective, I believe, had you indeed sent me off to do something important. As it was, I was on a stroll, mesmerized by moonlight-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't step there! Back! Back! '\\n\\nAlarmed, Bugg froze, then edged away.\\n\\n\\\"You nearly crushed Ezgara! And could he have got out of the way? I think not!\\\" Tehol moved closer and knelt beside the insect making its slow way across the roof's uneven surface.\\\"Oh, look, you startled it! '\\n\\n\\\"How can you tell?\\\" Bugg asked.\\n\\n\\\"Well, it's reversed direction, hasn't it? That must be startling, I would imagine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know, master, it was a curio– I didn't think you would make it a pet. '\\n\\n\\\"That's because you're devoid of sentiment, Bugg. Whereas Ezgara here is doubly-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ovoid?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Charmingly so.\\\" Tehol glanced over at the guard, who was staring back at him as was his wont. \\\"And this man agrees. Or, if not him, then his brothers. Why, one let Ezgara crawl allover his face, and he didn't even blink! '\\n\\n\\\"How did Ezgara manage to get onto his face, master?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And down the other's jerkin, not a flinch.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"These are warm-hearted men, Bugg, look well upon them and learn. '\\n\\n\\\"I shall, master.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now, did you enjoy your swim?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not particularly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A misstep, you say?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I thought I heard someone whisper my name-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shurq Elalle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Harlest Eberict? Kettle? Chief Investigator Rucket? Champion Ormly?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Might you have been imagining things?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Quite possibly. For example, I believe I am being followed by rats.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You probably are, Bugg. Maybe one of them whispered your name.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An unpleasant notion, master.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes it is. Do you think it pleases me that my manservant consorts with rats?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Would you rather go hungry?\\\" Bugg reached under his shirt.\\n\\n\\\"You haven't! '\\n\\n\\\"No, it's cat, \\\"he said, withdrawing a small, skinned, headless and pawless carcass.\\\"Canal flavoured, alas. '\\n\\n\\\"Another gift from Rucket?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, oddly enough. The canal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ugh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Smells fresh enough-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What's that wire trailing from it? '\\n\\nThe manservant lifted the carcass higher, then took the dangling wire between two fingers and followed it back until it vanished in the flesh. He tugged, then grunted.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Tehol asked.\\n\\n\\\"The wire leads to a large, barbed hook.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And the wire's snapped at this end– I thought something broke my fall. \\\"He tore a small sliver of meat from one of the cat's legs, broke it in two, then placed one piece at each end of the insect named Ezgara. It settled to feed. \\\"Anyway, a quick rinse and we're ahead by two, if not three meals. Quite a run of fortune, master, of late. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes,\\\" Tehol mused.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Now I'm nervous. So, have you any news to tell me? '\\n\\n\\\"Do you realize, master, that Gerun Eberict would have had to kill on average between ten and fifteen people a day in order to achieve his annual dividend? How does he find the time to do anything else?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps he's recruited thugs sharing his insane appetites. '\\n\\n\\\"Indeed. Anyway, Shurq has disappeared– both Harlest and Ublala are distraught-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why Harlest?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He had only Ublala to whom he could showoff his new fangs and talons, and Ublala was less than impressed, so much so that he pushed Harlest into the sarcophagus and sealed him in.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Poor Harlest.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He adjusted quickly enough,\\\" said Bugg, \\\"and now contemplates his dramatic resurrection– whenever it occurs.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Disturbing news about Shurq Elalle.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It means she didn't change her mind. It means she's going to break into the Tolls Repository. Perhaps even this very night.\\\"\\n\\nBugg glanced over at the guard. \\\"Master...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oops, that was careless, wasn't it? \\\"He rose and walked over.\\\"He hears all, it's true. My friend, we can at least agree on one thing, can't we? '\\n\\nThe eyes flickered as the man stared at Tehol.\\n\\n\\\"Any thief attempting the Repository is as good as dead, right?\\\" He smiled, then swung back to face his manservant.\\n\\nBugg began removing his wet clothes. \\\"I believe I've caught a chill. '\\n\\n\\\"The canal is notoriously noxious-\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":83,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 28"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Retreating Letherii forces had stripped the countryside ahead of the emperor and his army. The military food and materiel caches that Hull Beddict knew of were all emptied. If not for the shadow wraiths, supplying the Tiste Edur army would have been impossible– the invasion would have stalled. Unacceptable, Rhulad had decided. The enemy was reeling. It was necessary to keep it so.\n\nUdinaas remembered eating smoked eel from Moss River, onetime when the trader ship had docked in Dresh. Delicious, once one got used to the furry skin, which was to be chewed but not swallowed. He had since heard, from another slave, that the eels had been transplanted into Dresh Lake, producing a strain that was both bigger and nastier. It had turned out that those eels captured in Moss River were juveniles, and few ever reached adulthood since there was a razor-jawed species of predatory fish resident in the river. No such fish in Dresh Lake. Adolescent swimmers from Dresh started disappearing before anyone realized the adult eels were responsible. Razor-jawed fish were netted from the river and tossed into the lake, but their behaviour changed, turning them into frenzy feeders. Adult swimmers from Dresh started vanishing. The slave who had been relating all this then laughed and finished with, \"So they poisoned the whole lake, killed everything. And now no-one can swim in it!\"\n\nFrom this, Udinaas surmised, various lessons could be drawn, should one be inclined to draw lessons from multiple acts of stupidity.\n\nThey had camped on the road, a day's march west of Ribs. The emperor was suffering from some kind of fever. Healers were tending to him, and the last Udinaas had heard, Rhulad was sleeping. It was late afternoon, and the sun's light was painting the river's surface red and gold."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Udinaas walked along the stony strand, flinging rocks out onto the water every now and then, shattering the lurid hues. At the moment, he was not feeling anything like a slave, or an Indebted. He marched in the shadow of the emperor, for all to see, for all to wonder at.\n\nHe heard boots crunching on pebbles and turned to see Hull Beddict scrambling down onto the strand. A big man, on whom every oversized muscle seemed to brood, somehow. There was fever in his eyes as well, but unlike Rhulad this heat had nothing to do with illness. \"Udinaas.\"\n\nThe slave watched the man approach, fighting his instinctive urge towards deference. The time for that was past, after all. He just wasn't sure what belonged in its stead.\n\n\"I have been looking for you.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"The emperor's condition... '\n\nUdinaas shrugged. \"A marsh fever, nothing more-\"\n\n\"I was not speaking of that, slave.\"\n\n\"I am not your slave, Hull Beddict.\"\n\n\"I am sorry. You are right.\"\n\nUdinaas collected another stone. He wiped the grit from its underside before throwing it out over the water. They watched it splash, then Udinaas said, \"I understand your need to distinguish yourself from the other Letherii marching with this army. Even so, we are all bound to servitude, and the varying shades of that are not as relevant as they once were.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you have a point, Udinaas, but I don't quite understand what you're getting at.\"\n\nHe brushed the grit from his hands. \"Who better to teach the newly conquered Letherii than the Edur's original Letherii slaves? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You anticipate anew status for you and your fellow slaves, then?\"\n\n\"Maybe. How are the Tiste Edur to rule? Much remains to be answered, Hull Beddict. I gather you intend to involve yourself in that particular reshaping, if you can.\"\n\nThe man's smile was sour.\"It seems I am to have little or no role in much of anything, Udinaas. '\n\n\"Then the Errant looks kindly upon you,\" Udinaas said.\n\n\"I am not surprised you might see it that way.\"\n\n\"It is a waste of time, Hull Beddict, to fashion intricate plans for restitution. What you did before, all you did before– the mistakes, the bad decisions– they are dead, for everyone but you. None of it has purchased a future claim to glory, none of it has earned you anything.\"\n\n\"Has not the emperor heeded my advice?\"\n\n\"In this war? When it suited him. But I trust you are not expecting any consideration in return.\" Udinaas turned, met Hull's eyes.\"Ah, I think you are. '\n\n\"Reciprocity, Udinaas. Surely the Tiste Edur understand that, since it is so essential within their own culture.\"\n\n\"There is no reciprocity when you display expectation, Hull Beddict. Poof! It vanishes. And that was just my point earlier: there is much that we can teach the future conquered Letherii.\"\n\n\"I am blood-bound to Binadas,\" Hull said, \"yet you accuse me of insensitivity to the mores of the Tiste Edur.\" His expression was wry. \"I am not often chastised in such things. You remind me of Seren Pedac.\"\n\n\"The Acquitor who escorted you? I saw her, in Trate.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hull stepped close, suddenly intent. \"During the battle?\"\n\nUdinaas nodded. \"She was in bad shape, but alive. She'd found a worthy escort of her own– I have no doubt she still lives. '\n\n\"An escort of her own? Who?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure. Foreigners. One of them killed Rhulad and his chosen brothers. \"Udinaas collected another stone.\"Look at that, Hull Beddict, a river of gold. Flowing into the sunset. ' He flung the stone, broke the mirrored perfection. Momentarily.\n\n\"You witnessed that killing.\"\n\n\"I did. Whoever that foreigner was, he was terrifying.\"\n\n\"More terrifying than Rhulad's return? '\n\nUdinaas said nothing fora time, then he stepped away, down to the water's edge. He stared into the shallows, saw the muddy bottom swarming with newborn eels.\"Do you know what is coming, Hull Beddict? '\n\n\"No. Do you?\"\n\n\"Dresh Lake. That's what's coming.\"\n\n\"I don't understand. '\n\n\"Doesn't matter. Don't mind me, Hull Beddict. Well, I'd best return. The emperor is awake. '\n\nHull followed him up from the strand. \"Things like that,\" he said. \"He's awake. How do you know? '\n\n\"A stirring in the shadows,\" Udinaas said. \"Rhulad sets the world to a tremble. Well,\" he amended, \"a small part of it. But it's growing. In any case, his fever has broken. He is weak, but alert. '\n\n\"Tell me,\" Hull said as they walked into the vast camp, \"about Feather Witch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Udinaas grimaced. \"Why?\"\n\n\"She is no longer Mayen's slave. She now serves the Edur healers. Was that your work? '\n\n\"The emperor's command, Hull Beddict. '\n\n\"You claim no influence on him? Few would believe that now.\"\n\n\"Reciprocity.\"\n\n\"And in return, you give Rhulad what?\"\n\nFriendship. \"I do not advise him, Hull Beddict. I do not seek to influence him. I cannot answer your question.\" Rather, I won't.\n\n\"She affects to hold only hatred for you, Udinaas. But I am not convinced.\"\n\n\"Oh, I am.\"\n\n\"I think, perhaps, she has given her heart to you. Yet would fight it, for all the pointless prohibitions and prejudices of our people. What is the extent of your debt, Udinaas?\"\n\n\"My debt? My father's debt. Seven hundred and twenty-two docks, from the day I was taken as a slave. '\n\nHull reached out and stopped him. \"That's it? '\n\n\"A Beddict might well say that. For most Letherii, that is insurmountable. Especially given the interest.\" Udinaas resumed walking.\n\nHull came up alongside him. \"Who holds it?\"\n\n\"A minor lender in Letheras. Why are you asking?\"\n\n\"The lender's name? '\n\n\"Huldo.\"\n\n\"Huldo.\" After a moment, Hull snorted.\n\n\"You find that amusing?\"\n\n\"I do. Udinaas, my brother Tehol owns Huldo.\"\n\n\"Maybe once. As I understand it, Tehol owns nothing these days.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Let me tell you a story about my brother."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was, I guess, around ten years old, when a family debt was purchased by a particularly unscrupulous lender. The plan was to force us to relinquish a certain holding, and so the debt was called. We couldn't pay, not all at once, and of course the lender knew it. Now, it was at the time assumed by all that Tehol was at school everyday during this crisis, and indeed, that, young as he was, he had no idea of the trouble our parents were in. Only much later did certain facts come to light. The fact that Tehol had finessed a debt of his own, over his tutor. Nothing large, but he was able to coerce the tutor into saying nothing about his absences, whilst he operated a business venture of his own down at a flow-out on the river. Two employees, both Nerek, sifting sewage. This particular out-flow issued from an estate district– extraordinary what treasures could be recovered. Jewellery, mostly. Rings, earrings, pearls. In any case, it seemed there was a windfall, a necklace, and the result was Tehol and his two Nerek employees found themselves suddenly flush-'\n\n\"By selling the necklace?\"\n\n\"Oh no, from the reward. Their business was returning lost items. Shortly thereafter, the lender pressuring our family received payment in full on our debt, and was then subsequently financially gutted when a host of holdings on him were called.\"\n\nUdinaas grunted. \"Grateful patrons, indeed.\"\n\n\"Probably. We never found out. And Tehol never explained a damned thing. It took me over a year to piece some of it together. My point is, Udinaas, Tehol's genius is of the diabolical kind. Destitute? Not a chance. Retired from business dealings? Impossible. I am now quite skilled at tracking my brother, you see. Huldo's not the only lender Tehol owns.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So,\" Udinaas said as they approached the emperor's tent,\"I am Indebted to the Beddicts. '\n\n\"Not anymore,\" Hull said. \"I am clearing it. Right now. I am sure Tehol will forgive me, assuming I ever get a chance to corner him.\"\n\nUdinaas looked over at the man. Then he nodded. \"I see. Reciprocity.\"\n\n\"I am without expectation, Udinaas.\"\n\n\"Good. I knew you were a fast learner.\"\n\nHull Beddict halted outside the entrance. \"I enjoyed speaking to you,\" he said.\n\nUdinaas hesitated, then smiled.\n\nSeated on his throne, sweat streaming down between and over the gold coins on his face, neck and chest, some horrible insight burning in his eyes, the emperor trembled as if rabid. \"Udinaas,\" he croaked. \"As you can see, we are well.\"\n\n\"These southlands, Emperor, hold strange diseases-\" \"We were not sick. We were... travelling.\" They were alone in the chamber. Hannan Mosag was overseeing the warriors, where some old feuds between tribes were threatening to breach the unity. Mayen was cloistered among the women, for it was said that Uruth Sengar was coming, summoned via the K'risnan. The air in the tent smelled of sour sweat.\n\n\"A long and difficult journey, then,\" Udinaas said. \"Do you wish some wine? Food?\"\n\n\"No. Not yet. We have... done something. A terrible thing. To achieve an alliance. When we strike the Letherii army outside Letheras, you shall see what has been won this day. We are... pleased. Yes, pleased.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yet frightened. By your own power.\"\n\nThe eyes flickered, fixed on Udinaas. \"We can hide little from you, it seems. Yes, frightened. We... I... have drowned an entire world. A fragment of Kurald Emurlahn, upon which our ships will soon travel. Seeking our lost kin. And... champions.\" He clawed at his face. \"I drowned a world.\"\n\nThe subject needed deflection, Udinaas decided. \"Champions? I do not understand, Emperor.\"\n\nA moment to recover, then a nod. \"Worthy foes, Udinaas. Skilled fighters capable of killing us. They are needed.\"\n\n\"For your power to grow yet stronger.\"\n\n'Yes. Stronger. It is necessary. So many things are necessary, now\n\nUdinaas risked a glance away as he said, \"It is right to fear, then, Emperor.\"\n\n\"It is? Explain.\"\n\n\"Fear bespeaks of wisdom. Recognition of responsibility.\"\n\n\"Wisdom. Yes, it must be so, mustn't it? We had not considered that before. We fear, because we are becoming wise. '\n\nOh, you poor lad. How can I do this? \"How will you incite these... champions?\"\n\nRhulad shivered, then raised the sword in his right hand. \"Who among them will turn away from such a challenge? Those who do are not worth fighting. Or, if they are yet reluctant, they will be compelled. This world is vast, Udinaas, far vaster than you might think. There are other lands, other empires. There are formidable peoples, races. We will search far. We will find those useful to us. And then, one day, we will conquer. Every kingdom. Every continent.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"You will need to deceive those champions, Emperor."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Into believing that killing you means their victory. You will have to make it seem that it is your ego that forces such challenges. They must know nothing of the sword's power, of its demands upon you. '\n\n\"Yes, you speak true, Udinaas. Together, we will shape the future. You will want for nothing.\"\n\n\"Emperor, I want for nothing now. I need no promises. Please, I did not mean to offend by that. What I meant was, there is no need for promises.\"\n\nSudden pain in Rhulad's dark eyes, a grief and sorrow that rent at Udinaas, somewhere deep inside. It was all he could do to continue meeting the emperor's gaze.\n\n\"We would have some wine, now, Udinaas.\" Atone of profound sorrow. \"Two goblets, for you and me. We shall drink, and think of nothing. We shall talk, perhaps, of inconsequential matters.\"\n\nUdinaas strode to the table where sat a jug of Letherii wine. \"I visited Dresh, once,\" he said as he poured out two cups full. \"And ate smoked Moss River eel. Would you like me to tell about Moss River eels, Emperor?\" He carried the two goblets over to the Edur seated on the throne.\n\n\"Is it inconsequential?\"\n\nUdinaas hesitated, then nodded. \"It is.\"\n\n\"Then, yes, Udinaas. We would.\"\n\nSeren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen rode at a canter. Half a league ahead was the town of Dissent. It had once been walled, but local builders had dismantled most of the stonework long ago. The town had since grown outward in a mostly chaotic manner, swallowing commons and nearby farms. But now Dissent was barely visible, devoured in turn by at least three encamped armies."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Crimson Rampant Brigade,\" Seren said, scanning the distant banners. \"Snakebelt Battalion, and the Riven Brigade.\"\n\n\"Can we ride straight through?\" Iron Bars asked.\n\nShe glanced across at him, then nodded. \"I think so. My apologies. I'm a little shocked, that's all. If this is all that's left of the frontier armies... '\n\n\"The ground ahead is not ideal fora battle,\" the Avowed judged. \"I'd be surprised if the king intended to await the Edur here. Can you think of anywhere else close by that might be better suited? '\n\n\"Brans Keep, in the hills a few leagues northeast of Dissent.\"\n\n\"And Dissent is the nearest major town?\"\n\n\"Apart from Letheras itself,\" Seren said.\n\n\"Then this is temporary encampment. When the Tiste Edur draw closer, those three armies will march to Brans Keep. Assuming the warlord commanding them has any wits at all. In any case, Acquitor, other Letherii forces might already be waiting there, at Brans Keep. It's a question of logistics, keeping these ones here. '\n\n\"I hope you are right. Then again, I wonder if it will make any difference.\"\n\n\"We're far from the sea, Seren, \"Iron Bars said.\"That demon the Edur have chained can't reach here, and that evens things some.\"\n\nA worthy try, Iron Bars. \"Another day to Outkeep, then we should reach Letheras the following day, well before dusk.\"\n\n\"Could we hasten that, Acquitor? These soldiers camped ahead, might they be prepared to exchange horses?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If I insist, yes.\"\n\n\"Based on your desire to speak to the king.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And will you? Speak to the king, that is.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nHe said nothing fora time, whilst she waited. Then, \"And in Letheras, what will you do once you've arrived? '\n\n\"I expect I will have some dusting to do.\"\n\n\"Sorry?\"\n\n\"My house is closed up. I've not had a chance to send a message to my staff– all two of them. '\n\n\"That doesn't sound very secure– no-one to guard your possessions. '\n\nShe smiled. \"I have nothing of value, Iron Bars. Thieves are welcome to it. Well, I'd prefer if they left me my furniture– my neighbours are diligent enough, I suppose, to prevent anything like that. '\n\nThe Avowed stared ahead fora moment. \"We must needs depart your company, then, Acquitor. To make contact with our new employer. Presumably, we'll be shipping out soon after. '\n\nBefore the city's occupied and sealed up.\"I imagine so. '\n\n\"There might be room aboard...\"\n\n\"I am Letherii, Iron Bars.\" She shook her head. \"I am done with travelling fora time, I think.\"\n\n\"Understandable. Anyway, the offer's open. '\n\n\"Thank you.\" So here I run again.\n\nCorlo, riding behind them, called out, \"Easy on that, lass. Mockra's dangerous when you don't control it.\"\n\nThe Avowed turned his head, studied her.\n\nShe shrugged."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"An old man emerged from the ditch, a creature Of mud and wild autumn winds capering Like a hare across a bouldered field, across And through the stillness of time unhinged That sprawls patient and unexpectant in the Place where battle lies spent, unmoving and Never again moving bodies strewn and Death-twisted like lost languages tracking Contorted glyphs on a barrow door, and he Read well the aftermath, the disarticulated script Rent and dissolute the pillars of self toppled Like termite towers all spilled out round his Dancing feet, and he shouted in gleeful Revelation the truth he'd found, in these Red-fleshed pronouncements–\"There is peace! \"He shrieked.\"There is peace! \"and it was No difficult thing, where I satin the saddle Above salt-rimed horseflesh to lift my crossbow Aim and loose the quarrel, skewering the madman To his proclamation.\"Now, \"said I, in the Silence that followed,\"Now, there is peace. '\n\nThe Lay of Skinner Fisher kel Tath\n\nOn facing hills, the smouldering ruins of first reach in the low, flat floodplain between, the two armies of the Tiste Edur came within sight of one another. Wraiths swarmed through the ashes, weapons were lifted high, triumphant cries piercing the still morning air.\n\nThe convergence was, of course, incomplete. The third, easternmost force, led by Tomad Sengar and Binadas, was still striking south down Mappers' Road towards White Point. It would join with these two armies, Trull knew, somewhere close to Brans Keep, and there the fate of Lether, and indeed of the Edur empire, would be decided in a single battle.\n\nHe stood leaning on his spear, feeling no inclination to join his voice to the fierce tumult buffeting him from all sides. Just north of the ruins in the floodplain below, a hundred or more starlings cavorted and wheeled, their own cries drowned out, a detail that somehow transformed their dance into a fevered, nightmarish display."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In the distant line of warriors opposite, a space was clearing, a single dominant standard bobbing forward, beneath it a figure flashing gold, holding high a sword.\n\nThe warcries redoubled.\n\nTrull flinched at the deafening sound. He pulled his gaze away from Rhulad on that far hilltop and saw Fear approaching.\n\n\"Trull! B'nagga, you and I– horses await us– we ride now to our emperor! '\n\nHe nodded, uneasy with the ferocity evident in Fear's eyes.\"Lead on, brother. '\n\nThe ride across to Rhulad's army was a strange experience. Trull did not like horses that much, and liked riding them even less. He was jolted again and again, jarring the scene on all sides. They rode across burnt ground, heaps of the remains of butchered livestock lining the tracks approaching the town. And the roaring of the warriors was a wave at their backs, pushing them onwards.\n\nThen, halfway across, the sensation shifted, spun entirely round, as the voices of the warriors in the emperor's army engulfed them. Their horses balked, and it was a struggle to make them resume the approach.\n\nAs they climbed the slope, Trull could see his brother Rhulad more clearly. He was barely recognizable, hulking now beneath the weight of the coins. His forehead was exposed, revealing skin the colour of dirty snow, the contrast darkening the pits of his eyes. His teeth were bared, but it seemed as much a grimace of pain as anything else. Hannan Mosag stood on the emperor's left, the slave Udinaas on the right. Hull Beddict was positioned three paces behind the Warlock King. Mayen and Uruth were nowhere to be seen."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Arriving, they reined in and dismounted. Slaves appeared to lead the horses away.\n\nFear strode forward to kneel before the emperor. Across the valley, another surge of sound.\n\n\"My brother,\" Rhulad said in his rasping, broken voice. \"Rise before us.\" The emperor stepped close and settled a coin-backed hand on Fear's shoulder.\"There is much I must say to you, but later. '\n\n\"As you command, Emperor.\"\n\nRhulad's haunted eyes shifted.\"Trull. '\n\nHe knelt and studied the ground before him. \"Emperor.\"\n\n\"Rise. We have words for you as well.\"\n\nNo doubt. \"Mother arrived safely?\"\n\nA flash of irritation. \"She did.\" It seemed he would say something more to Trull, but then he changed his mind and faced B'nagga.\"The Jheck are well, B'nagga?\"\n\nA fierce grin. \"They are, Emperor.\"\n\n\"We are pleased. Hannan Mosag would speak to you regarding the impending lie of battle. A tent has been prepared for such matters. Hull Beddict has drawn us detailed maps.\"\n\nB'nagga bowed, then walked to the Warlock King. The two departed, trailed by Hull Beddict.\n\n\"Our brothers,\" Rhulad said, the sword shaking in his left hand. \"Come, we will take food and drink in our own tent. Udinaas, precede us.\"\n\nThe slave strode into the mass of warriors. The Edur melted back before the nondescript Letherii, and into his wake walked the emperor, Fear and Trull.\n\nThey reached the command tent a short while later, after traversing an avenue walled in flesh, waving weapons and frenzied warcries. Wraiths stood guard to either side of the entrance. As soon as the slave and the three brothers entered, Rhulad spun round and halted Trull with one hand. \"How far do you intend to push me, Trull?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He looked down at the hand pressed against his chest. \"It seems you are the one doing the pushing, Rhulad.\"\n\nA moment of taut silence, then his brother barked a laugh and stepped back. \"Words from our past, yes? As we once were, before...\" a wave of the sword, \"all this.\" His ravaged gaze fixed on Trull fora moment. \"We have missed you.\" He smiled at Fear. \"Missed you both. Udinaas, find us some wine!\"\n\n\"A Letherii drink,\" Fear said.\n\n\"I have acquired a taste for it, brother.\"\n\nTrull and Fear followed Rhulad into the inner chamber, where the slave was already pouring three cups of dark wine into Letherii-made goblets of silver and gold. Trull felt unbalanced, the sudden breach in Rhulad's façade shocking him, hurting him somewhere inside for reasons he could not immediately fathom.\n\nEschewing the throne dominating the centre of the room, the emperor settled down in a leather-slung tripod chair near the food-laden table along one wall. Two identical chairs flanked him. Rhulad gestured. \"Come, brothers, sit with us. We know, we understand well, it seemed all we were was but ashes, and the love we shared, as brothers, was so sadly strained, then.\"\n\nTrull could see that even Fear was stunned, as they sat down in the low chairs.\n\n\"We must not run from our memories,\" Rhulad said, as Udinaas brought him his cup. \"The blood of kin need not always burn, brothers. There must betimes when it simply... warms us.\"\n\nFear cleared his throat. \"We have... missed you as well, Emperor-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Enough! No titles. Rhulad, so our father named me, as he named all his sons, each in turn from the host of ancestors of the Sengar line. It is too easy to forget.\"\n\nUdinaas set a cup into Fear's hand. Fingers closed of their own accord.\n\nTrull glanced up as the slave approached him with the last cup. He met the Letherii's eyes, was startled by what he saw in them. He reached out and accepted the wine.\"Thank you, Udinaas. '\n\nA flinch from Rhulad. \"He is mine,\" he said in a tight voice.\n\nTrull's eyes widened.\"Of course, Rhulad. '\n\n\"Good. Yes. Fear, I must tell you of Mayen.\"\n\nSlowly leaning back, Trull studied the wine trembling in the cup in his hands. The slave's gaze, the message it seemed to convey. All is well.\n\n\"I did not,\" Fear ventured hesitantly, \"see her earlier...\"\n\n\"No, nor our mother. Mayen has been unwell.\" Rhulad shot Fear a nervous glance. \"I am sorry, brother. I should not have... should not have done that. And now, well, you see...\" He drained his wine in a single motion. \"Udinaas, more. Tell him. Explain, Udinaas, so that Fear understands.\"\n\nThe slave refilled the cup, then stepped back. \"She is with child,\" he said, meeting Fear's gaze.\"There is no doubt, now, that her heart belongs to you. Rhulad would have wished otherwise. At first, in any case. But not now. He understands. But the child, that has made matters difficult. Complicated. '"},{"from":"human","value":"The cup in Fear's hand had not visibly moved, but Trull could see that it was close to spilling, as if a numbness was stealing the strength of the limb.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Go on, ' Fear managed.\n\n\"There is no precedent, no rules among your people,\" Udinaas resumed. \"Rhulad would relinquish his marriage to her, he would undo all that has been done. But for the child, do you see, Fear Sengar?\"\n\n\"That child will be heir-\"\n\nRhulad interrupted with a harsh laugh. \"No heir, Fear. Ever. Don't you see? The throne shall be my eternal burden. '\n\nBurden. By the Sisters, what has awakened you, Rhulad? Who has awakened you? Trull snapped his gaze back to Udinaas, and mentally reeled in sudden realization. Udinaas? This... this slave?\n\nUdinaas was nodding, eyes still on Fear's own.\"The warrior that raises that child will be its father, in all things but the naming. There will be no deception. All will know. If there is to be a stigma... '\n\n\"It will be for me to deal with,\" Fear said. \"Should I choose to stand beside Mayen, once wife to the emperor, with a child not my own to raise as my wife's first-born. '\n\n\"It is as you say, Fear Sengar,\" Udinaas said. Then he stepped back.\n\nTrull slowly straightened, reached with one hand and gently righted the cup in Fear's grip. Startled, his brother looked at him, then nodded.\"Rhulad, what does Mother say to all this? '\n\n\"Mayen has been punishing herself with white nectar. It is not an easy thing to defeat, such... dependency. Uruth endeavours...\"\n\nA soft groan from Fear, as he closed his eyes.\n\nTrull watched Rhulad stretch out as if to touch Fear, watched him hesitate, then glance across to Trull."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Who nodded. Yes. Now.\n\nA momentary contact, that seemed to shoot through Fear, snapping his eyes open.\n\n\"Brother,\" Rhulad said, \"I am sorry.\"\n\nFear studied his youngest brother's face, then said,\"We are all sorry, Rhulad. For... so much. What has Uruth said of the child? Is it well? '\n\n\"Physically, yes, but it knows its mother's hunger. This will be... difficult. I know, you do not deserve any of this, Fear-'\n\n\"Perhaps, Rhulad, but I will accept the burden. For Mayen. And for you.\"\n\nNo-one spoke after that, not for sometime. They drank their wine, and it seemed to Trull that something was present, some part of his life he'd thought– not long gone, but non-existent in the first place. They sat, the three of them. Brothers, and nothing more.\n\nNight descended outside. Udinaas served food and still more wine. Sometime later, Trull rose, the alcohol softening details, and wandered through the chambers of the tent, his departure barely noticed by Rhulad and Fear.\n\nIna small room walled in by canvas, he found Udinaas.\n\nThe slave was sitting on a small stool, eating his own supper. He looked up in surprise at Trull's sudden arrival.\n\n\"Please,\" Trull said, \"resume your meal. You have earned it, Udinaas.\"\n\n\"Is there something you wish of me, Trull Sengar?\"\n\n\"No. Yes. What have you done?\"\n\nThe slave cocked his head. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"With... him. What have you done, Udinaas?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Not much, Trull Sengar.\"\n\n\"No, I need an answer. What are you to him?\"\n\nUdinaas set down his plate, drank a mouthful of wine. \"A subject who's not afraid of him, I suppose. '\n\n\"That's... all? Wait, yes, I see. But then I wonder, why? Why are you not afraid of him? '\n\nUdinaas sighed, and Trull realized how exhausted the slave was. \"You, all the Edur, you seethe sword. Or the gold. You see... the power. The terrifying, brutal power.\" He shrugged. \"I see what it takes from him, what it costs Rhulad. I am Letherii, after all,\" he added with a grimace. \"I understand the notion of debt.\" He looked up. \"Trull Sengar, I am his friend. That is all.\"\n\nTrull studied the slave fora half-dozen heartbeats. \"Never betray him, Udinaas. Never.\"\n\nThe Letherii's gaze skittered away. He drank more wine.\n\n\"Udinaas-\"\n\n\"I heard you,\" the man said in a grating voice.\n\nTrull turned to leave. Then he paused and glanced back. \"I have no wish to depart on such terms. So, Udinaas, for what you have done, for what you have given him, thank you.\"\n\nThe slave nodded without looking up. He reached down to retrieve his plate.\n\nTrull returned to the central chamber to find that Hannan Mosag had arrived, and was speaking to Rhulad.\n\n\"... Hull believes it lies near a town downriver from here. A day's journey, perhaps. But, Emperor, a necessary journey none the less. '"},{"from":"human","value":"Rhulad looked away, glared at the far wall."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The armies must goon. To Brans Keep. No delays, no detours. I will go, and Fear and Trull as well. Hull Beddict, to guide us. Udinaas, of course.\"\n\n\"A K'risnan, \"the Warlock King said,\"and our new demonic allies, the two Kenryll'ah.\"\n\n\"Very well, those as well. We shall meet you at Brans Keep.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Trull asked. \"What has happened?\"\n\n\"Something has been freed,\" Hannan Mosag said. \"And it must be dealt with.\"\n\n\"Freed by whom, and for what purpose?\"\n\nThe Warlock King shrugged. \"I know not who was responsible. But I assume it was freed to fight us.\"\n\n\"A demon of some sort?\"\n\n\"Yes. I can only sense its presence, its will. I cannot identify it. The town is named Brous.\"\n\nTrull slowly nodded. \"Would that Binadas were with us,\" he said.\n\nRhulad glanced up. \"Why?\"\n\nTrull smiled, said nothing.\n\nAfter a moment, Fear grunted, then nodded.\n\nRhulad matched Trull's smile.\"Yes, \"he said,\"would that he were. '\n\nHannan Mosag looked at the three of them in turn. \"I do not understand.\"\n\nThe emperor's laugh was harsh, only slightly bitter.\"You send us on another quest, Warlock King. '\n\nHannan Mosag visibly blanched.\n\nSeeing that, Rhulad laughed again, this time in pure amusement.\n\nAfter a moment, both Fear and Trull joined him, whilst Hannan Mosag stared at them all in disbelief."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They had drunk too much wine, Trull told himself later. That was all. Far too much wine.\n\nSeren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen guided their horses down from the road, across the ditch, and drew rein at the edge of a greenfield. The vanguard of the Merchants'Battalion had emerged from the city's gates, and the Acquitor could see Preda Unnutal Hebaz at the forefront, riding a blue-grey horse, white-maned, that tossed its head in irritation, hooves stamping with impatience.\n\n\"If she's not careful, \"Iron Bars observed,\"that beast will start bucking. And she'll find herself on her arse in the middle of the road.\"\n\n\"That would bean ill omen indeed,\" Seren said.\n\nAfter a moment, the Preda managed to calm the horse.\n\n\"I take it we have something of await before us,\" Iron Bars said.\n\n\"King's Battalion and Merchants'Battalion at the very least. I don't know what other forces are in Letheras. I wouldn't think the south battalions and brigades have had time to reach here, which is unfortunate.\" She thought fora moment, then said, \"If we cross this field, we can take the river road and enter through Fishers\" Gate. It will mean crossing two-thirds of the city to reach my home, but for you, Avowed, well, presumably the ship you're signed on with will be close by.\"\n\nIron Bars shrugged. \"We're delivering you to your door, Acquitor. '\n\n\"That's not necessary-'\n\n\"Even so, it is what we intend to do.\"\n\n\"Then, if you don't mind... '\n\n\"Fishers\" Gate it shall be. Lead on, Acquitor. '"},{"from":"human","value":"The rearguard elements of the King's Battalion had turned in the concourse before the Eternal Domicile and were now marching up the Avenue of the Seventh Closure."},{"from":"gpt","value":"King Ezgara Diskanar, who had stood witness on the balcony of the First Wing since his official despatch of the Preda at dawn, finally swung about and made his way inside. The investiture was about to begin, but Brys Beddict knew he had sometime before his presence was required.\n\nFour of his own guard were on the balcony with him. Brys gestured one over. \"Find me a messenger.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nBrys waited, staring out over the city. The air was oppressive with more than just humidity and heat. After the passing of the battalion's rearguard, few citizens ventured into its wake. The battle at Brans Keep was still days away, but it seemed that most of the city's residents– those who remained– had elected to stay in their homes as much as possible.\n\nThe messenger arrived, a woman he had employed often and one he knew he could trust.\n\n\"Deliver a missive to my brother, Tehol, at his home.\"\n\n\"He will be on his roof?\"\n\n\"I expect so, and that is the message– he is to stay there. Now, an additional message, to the Shavankrat brother guarding Tehol. A name. Gerun Eberict. That is all.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Go, then.\"\n\nShe quickly left. Brys strode into the narrow corridor that tracked the length of the wing on the second tier. At the far end steps descended to an antechamber that was part of the central dome complex. There, he found Finadd Moroch Nevath, sitting on a stone bench.\n\n\"Brys, I have been waiting for you.\"\n\n\"Not too long, I hope. What do you wish of me, Finadd?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Do you believe in gods?\"\n\nStartled, Brys was silent fora moment, then said, \"I am afraid I do not seethe relevance of that question.\"\n\nMoroch Nevath reached into a pouch at his hip and withdrew a battered tile, such as might be found among market readers. \"When did you last speak with Turudal Brizad?\"\n\n\"The First Consort has not been in the palace– either palace, since yesterday,\" Brys said. \"First Eunuch Nifadas ordered an extensive search, and it has been concluded that Turudal has fled. Not entirely surprising-\"\n\nMoroch tossed him the tile. Instinctively, Brys caught it in his left hand. He looked down at the ceramic plaque. Yellowed at the edges, latticed with cracks, the illustration reduced to a series of stylized scratches that Brys none the less recognized. \"The tile of the Errant. What of it, Moroch?\"\n\nThe soldier rose to his feet. He'd lost weight, Brys noted, and seemed to have aged ten years since joining the treaty delegation.\"He's been here. All along. The bastard's been right under our noses, Brys Beddict. '\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"The Errant. The First Consort. Turudal Brizad.\"\n\n\"That is... ridiculous.\"\n\n\"I have a somewhat harsher word for it, Brys.\"\n\nThe Champion glanced away from the man standing before him. \"How did you come to this extraordinary conclusion, Moroch?\"\n\n\"There have been Turudal Brizads every generation– oh, different names, but it's him. Scenes on tapestries, paintings. Walk the royal collection, Brys– everything's out in the hallway, about to be moved. It was right there, for anyone to see, should they find reason to look.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And what reason did you have, Moroch?\"\n\nA grimace. \"He asked me to do something for him.\"\n\nBrys grunted. \"He's a god. \"Supposedly.\"Why should he need your help? '\n\n\"Because he says you will be too busy.\"\n\nBrys thought back to his last conversation with Turudal Brizad.... the end of my objectivity. Something like that, as the man was walking away. \"I admit to some... scepticism, Moroch Nevath.\"\n\n\"Set it aside for the moment, Brys. I am hereto ask your advice. Assume the worst.\"\n\n\"A god asks for your help? I suppose one must consider possible motivations, and the consequences of accepting or rejecting the request.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Will doing as he asks be to the benefit of Lether?\"\n\n\"He says it will.\"\n\n\"Where is he now?\"\n\n\"In the city, somewhere. He was watching the last of the refugees allowed in this morning, on the wall, or so one of my guards reported.\"\n\n\"Then, I would think, Moroth, that you must do as he asks.\"\n\n\"Over the duty of protecting the king?\"\n\n\"I imagine the god assumes that task will be mine.\"\n\n\"We are almost equal, you and I, Brys.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"You may believe that you are the better between us. I believe otherwise.\"\n\n\"The decision was not ours to make, Moroch.\"\n\nMoroch studied him fora half-dozen heartbeats, then said, \"I thank you for the advice, Finadd.\"\n\n\"I hesitate to say it, Moroch Nevath, but the Errant be with you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Not funny,\" the swordsman muttered as he strode away.\n\nBrys made his way into the dome complex. He came to the main corridor, halting to study the layout once more. The walls had been scrubbed, the dust on the floor mopped away. Guards and functionaries were moving about, readying for the investiture. Many glances were cast in the direction of the figure sleeping halfway down the corridor, curled upon the centre tile.\n\nSighing, Brys approached Kuru Qan. \"Ceda.\"\n\nThe old man made a sound, then turned over so that his back was to Brys.\n\n\"Wake up, Ceda. Please.\"\n\nHead lifting, Kuru Qan groped for the twin lenses lying on the floor nearby, drew them to his face. \"Who calls?\"\n\n\"It is Brys Beddict.\"\n\n\"Ah, Finadd.\" Kuru Qan twisted round and peered up. \"You look well.\"\n\nYou do not. \"Ceda, the investiture is about to begin. Unless you would have King Ezgara Diskanar step around you during his solemn march, you will have to move.\"\n\n\"No!\" The old man spread himself out on the flagstone. \"I must not! This is mine. My place.\"\n\n\"You insist that he step to one side on his approach? Ceda, you risk the king's anger-'\n\n\"Relevant? Not in the least.\" His fingers scrabbled on the stone. \"This is mine. Warn him, Finadd. Warn the king.\"\n\n\"About what?\"\n\n\"I will not be moved. Any who would try will be blasted into ashes. Ashes, Brys Beddict.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Brys glanced around. A small crowd had gathered to listen to the exchange. The Finadd scowled. \"Be on your way, all of you.\" People scrambled.\n\nTemporarily alone once more, Brys crouched down before the Ceda. \"You had paints and brushes with you last time. What happened to them?\"\n\n\"Paints and brushes?\" The eyes blinked behind the lenses. \"Gone. Gone away. The king wants you now, Finadd. He is ready to begin the procession. Nifadas is coming– he will complain, but no matter. It will be a small audience, won't it. Relevant? Oh yes. Best the king ignore me– explain that to him, Brys. '\n\nThe Finadd straightened. \"I shall, Ceda.\"\n\n\"Excellent. Now, be on your way.\"\n\n\"This doesn't smell right. '\n\nTrull looked over at the Kenryll'ah demon that had spoken. It was taller than the Tiste Edur on their horses. A face of sharper features than those on Lilac, black as chiselled basalt, the upper and lower canines protruding and glinting silver. A fur-lined collar, a vest of bronze scales, salt-rimed and dark with patination. A heavy leather belt on which was slung a huge scabbarded tulwar. Leather leggings, grey and supple. The other demon, standing at its side, differed only in the choice of weapons, a massive matlock gripped in two gauntleted hands.\n\nThis second Kenryll'ah bared its teeth.\"Making me hungry. '\n\n\"Split bones,\" the other said. \"Marrow.\"\n\nThe stench the two were referring to was that of rotting corpses. They had reached the edge of the clearing, beyond which was the palisade wall of the town of Brous. In the field were barrows, and one long excavated trench. There was no-one insight."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Brothers,\" the emperor said, \"dismount and ready your weapons.\"\n\nTrull swung down from his horse. He turned. \"K'risnan, can you sense anything? '\n\nThe young Arapay warlock's face was sickly. He nodded.\"In the town, I think. It knows we're here.\"\n\nRhulad closed both hands on the grip of his sword and raised it to centre guard position. \"Udinaas, remain with the horses. Fear, on my left. Trull, my right. K'risnan, stay behind us five paces. Demons, out to either side. '\n\n\"Can't we eat first? '\n\n\"Or pee? I need topee.\"\n\n\"You should have thought of that before we left,\" the first demon said.\n\n\"And you should have eaten. We've plenty of spare horses, you know. '\n\nThe emperor hissed. \"Silence, both of you. We've had to listen to you the entire journey. No more, lest I decide to kill you first. '\n\n\"That wouldn't be wise, \"the second Kenryll'ah said. \"I smell more than meat, I smell the one thing still alive in there, and it isn't pleasant. '\n\n\"I taste it,\" the first demon said. \"And it makes me want to retch.\"\n\n\"You should have thought of retching before we left,\" the second one said.\n\n\"I think of retching every time I look at you.\"\n\n\"Enough!\"\n\n\"I apologize for my brother,\" the first demon said.\n\n\"And I for mine,\" the second one added.\n\nStrange tyrants. Trull unslung his spear and strode to Rhulad's side."},{"from":"human","value":"They made their way across the clearing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Reaching the pit, they saw the first of the bodies. Broken and tossed at the base of the deep, ragged excavation, like an open mass burial. Workers and soldiers. Flesh dark and bloating in the heat. Flies swarmed.\n\nThey skirted the pit and approached the town. The gates opposite them had been knocked down, inward, the heavy doors shattered. Somewhere in the town a dog was barking.\n\nThe street was strewn with corpses just inside the wall. The doors of every house and building within sight had been stove in. Ahead and to the right, two horses stood yoked to a wagon that had been knocked over. Exhaustion and the strain of the yokes had driven one of the beasts into an awkward sitting position. Trull hesitated, then walked over to them, drawing the knife at his belt. The others paused and watched as he cut the horses loose. Neither animal was in any condition to flee, but they slowly made their way outside on trembling, uncertain legs.\n\nTrull returned to his position beside Rhulad.\n\n\"It's coming, ' the first demon said.\n\nFurther down the main street a flock of starlings swirled into view, spinning between the buildings. Ina mass of black, the birds seemed to boil towards the Tiste Edur and the Kenryll'ah. Striding in the midst of the birds, a tall figure, spectral, its skin white, its hair pallid yellow and hanging in limp strands. It was wearing a leather harness that looked wrinkled and blackened with rot. There was something strange about its limbs.\n\n\"He is unarmed,\" Fear said.\n\n\"Yet,\" the K'risnan hissed behind them,\"he is the one. '\n\nThe starlings spun higher, alighting on roof edges to either side, as the figure halted ten paces away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Peaceful,\" it said in Letherii, \"is it not?\"\n\nRhulad spoke. \"I am Emperor Rhulad of the Tiste Edur. Who, and what, are you, stranger?\"\n\n\"I am Forkrul Assail. I am named Serenity.\"\n\n\"You area demon, then?\"\n\nThe head cocked. \"I am?\"\n\n\"This is not your world.\"\n\n\"It isn't? '\n\nRhulad half turned. \"K'risnan, banish him. '\n\n\"I cannot, Emperor.\"\n\n\"The tumult of your presence invites discord,\" Serenity said.\n\nWatching the Forkrul Assail's movements, Trull realized that it possessed extra joints in the arms and the legs, and there was some kind of hinge across the creature's breastbone. Its motion was oddly loose.\n\n\"Discord?\" Rhulad asked.\n\n\"I desire peace once more.\"\n\nFear spoke. \"If it is peace you seek, Serenity, then you need only turn and walkaway. Leave.\"\n\n\"To leave here is to arrive elsewhere. I cannot retreat from disorder, for it shall surely follow. Peace must be asserted where one finds oneself. Only when discord is resolved will there be peace.\" The Forkrul Assail then stepped forward.\n\n\"\"Ware! ' one of the demons snarled.\n\nSerenity surged closer, even as the starlings exploded skyward once more.\n\nTrull's weapon possessed the greatest reach, but he did not attempt to stab the creature. Its arms were lifted to fend off the attack, and Trull chose to batter at those with a high sweep of the spear shaft. Like a serpent, Serenity's right arm writhed around the shaft, binding the weapon. A sudden flex and the Blackwood cracked, then splintered, the red core welling into view down the length of the split. Trull had little time to feel shock, as Serenity's left hand lashed out."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Two fingertips touched Trull's temple-\n\nHe was already pitching himself to the side, but at the contact he felt his neck wrenched round. Had he remained standing, had he resisted, his neck would now be broken. As it was, ducking, shoulder dipping, he was flung downward, thrown off his feet.\n\nFear had charged in low, a beat behind Trull's high attack, slashing diagonally down and into take the Forkrul Assail at the knee.\n\nBut the leg folded back, the knee reversing its angle, whilst at the same time Serenity reached down with his left hand and grasped the sword-blade. The Forkrul Assail plucked it from Fear's hand, fingers clenching, crushing the iron.\n\nFor all their failures, Trull and Fear had done what was demanded of them. Their flank attacks had preceded Rhulad's, with the intention of opening Serenity to the emperor's attack. Rhulad's mottled sword was a blur, whistling in the air– yet not once making contact, as the Forkrul Assail seemed to simply flow around it.\n\nFlinging Fear's bent sword aside, Serenity stepped in.\n\nAnd plunged his fingers like spikes into Rhulad's chest, pushing past the coins, sliding between ribs, and piercing his heart, then snapping back out.\n\nThe emperor crumpled.\n\nSerenity swung to face Fear.\n\nThen leapt back, eight paces or more through the air, narrowly avoiding a matlock that struck the dirt of the street and sank deep.\n\nSerenity back-pedalled further as the other demon pursued, the massive tulwar dancing like a dagger in its hands.\n\nTrull scrambled to his feet. He spun, intending to collect another spear from the cache he'd left strapped to his horse-"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"-and found Udinaas rushing towards him, the weapons cradled in his arms.\n\nTrull pulled one free, then turned once more, leaping over Rhulad's body. Ahead, the Forkrul Assail had darted to the left, ducking beneath a slash of the tulwar, hands lashing out even as the demon kicked it hard in the side.\n\nSerenity was thrown by the blow, thudded on the ground and rolled, twice, before regaining its feet.\n\nBut Trull had heard the crack of ribs in that kick.\n\nThe demon closed once more from the Forkrul Assail's right.\n\nA moment before they closed, Trull launched his spear.\n\nSerenity did not see it coming. Struck solidly just below the left collarbone, the creature was spun round by the impact. The demon's tulwar chopped down into its right thigh, ringing as it bit into bone. The demon wrenched it loose.\n\nTrull reached back and another spear was placed in his hand. He moved closer.\n\nStaggering back, the Forkrul Assail had plucked the spear from its shoulder and was fending off the tulwar slashes with its hands, pushing against the flat of the blade. The other demon was rushing in from the other side, matlock raised high.\n\nPale bluish blood streaming from the two wounds– which seemed to be closing even as Trull watched– Serenity leapt back once more, then turned and ran.\n\nThe Kenryll'ah prepared to pursue.\n\n\"Halt!\" Trull shouted. \"Leave it!\"\n\nUdinaas was standing above Rhulad's body. A few paces away stood the K'risnan, his young face frozen into an expression of terror. He was shaking his head in denial, again and again."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"K'risnan. '\n\nWild eyes fixed on Trull. \"It... threw me back. My power... when the emperor died... all, flung back...\"\n\nThe demons approached.\n\n\"Leave it to us,\" the first one said, whipping blood from the tulwar.\n\n\"Yes,\" nodded the other. \"We've never before heard of these Forkrul Assail, but we've decided.\"\n\n\"We don't like them, ' the first demon said.\n\n\"Not in the least.\"\n\n\"We will hunt it down and tell it so.\"\n\nFear spoke. \"Udinaas, how long...\" His eyes were on Rhulad.\n\n\"Not long,\" the slave replied.\n\n\"Do we wait?\"\n\n\"It would be best, I think,\" said Udinaas.\n\nRubbing at his face, Fear walked over to his sword. He picked it up, examined it, then tossed it aside. He looked across at Trull.\n\nTrull said, \"It broke Blackwood.\"\n\nA grimace. \"I saw. That second spear, that was well thrown, brother.\"\n\nStill, the brothers knew. Without the Kenryll'ah, they would now be dead.\n\nThe first demon spoke. \"May we pursue now?\"\n\nFear hesitated, then nodded. \"Go.\"\n\nThe two Kenryll'ah swung round and headed up the street.\n\n\"We can eat on the way.\"\n\n\"Good idea, brother.\"\n\nSomewhere in the town, the dog was still barking.\n\n\"We have to help him,\" Sandalath Drukorlat said.\n\nWithal glanced over at her. They were standing on the sward's verge overlooking the beach. The Tiste Edur youth was curled up in the sand below. Still shrieking.\"It's not his first visit,\" Withal said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"How is your head?\" she asked after a moment.\n\n\"It hurts.\"\n\nThe Tiste Edur fell silent, shuddering, then the youth's head jerked up. He stared at Withal and the Tiste Andii woman standing beside the Meckros weaponsmith. Then back again.\"Withal! '\n\nThe smith's brows rose, although the motion made him wince, and he said,\"He normally doesn't talk tome much.\" To the youth, \"Rhulad. I am not so cruel as to say welcome.\"\n\n\"Who is she? Who is that... betrayer!\"\n\nSandalath snorted. \"Pathetic. This is the god's sword-wielder? A mistake. '\n\n\"If it is,\" Withal said in a low voice, \"I have no intention of telling him so.\"\n\nRhulad clambered to his feet. \"It killed me.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Withal replied. \"It did, whatever'it\" was.\"\n\n\"A Forkrul Assail.\"\n\nSandalath stiffened. \"You should be more careful, Edur, in choosing your enemies.\"\n\nA laugh close to hysteria, as Rhulad made his way up from the beach. \"Choose, woman? I choose nothing.\"\n\n\"Few ever do, Edur.\"\n\n\"What is she doing here, Withal?\"\n\n\"The Crippled God thought I needed company. Beyond three insane Nachts.\"\n\n\"You are lovers?\"\n\n\"Don't be absurd, ' Sandalath said, sneering.\n\n\"Like she said,\" Withal added.\n\nRhulad stepped past them. \"I need my sword,\" he muttered, walking inland."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"They turned to watch him.\n\n\"His sword,\" Sandalath murmured. \"The one the god had you make?\"\n\nWithal nodded. \"But I am not to blame.\"\n\n\"You were compelled.\"\n\n\"I was.\"\n\n\"It's not the weapon that's evil, it's the one wielding it. '\n\nHe studied her. \"I don't care if you crack my skull again. I am really starting to hate you. '\n\n\"I assure you my sentiments are identical regarding you.\"\n\nWithal turned away. \"I'm going to my shack. '\n\n\"Of course you are,\" she snapped behind him. \"To beg and mumble to your god. As if it'd bother listening to such pathetic mewling. '\n\n\"I'm hoping, \"Withal said over his shoulder,\"that it'll take pity on me.\"\n\n\"Why should it?\"\n\nHe did not reply, and wisely kept his answering smile to himself.\n\nStanding ten paces to the side of the throne, Brys Beddict watched as King Ezgara Diskanar walked solemnly into the domed chamber. Distracted irritation was on the king's face, since his journey had required a detour around the prone, shivering form of the Ceda, Kuru Qan, but that was behind him now, and Brys saw Ezgara slowly resume his stern expression.\n\nAwaiting him in the throne room was a handful of officials and guards. First Eunuch Nifadas was positioned to the right of the throne, holding the Lether crown on a blood-red pillow. First Concubine Nisall knelt at the foot of the dais, on the left side. Along with Brys and six of his guardsmen, Finadd Gerun Eberict was present with six of his own soldiers of the Palace Guard."},{"from":"human","value":"And that was all."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The investiture on this, the day of the Seventh Closure– or close enough since no-one could agree on that specific date– was to be witnessed by these few. Not as originally planned, of course. But there had been more riots, the last one the bloodiest of them all. The king's name had become a curse among the citizenry. The list of invitations had been truncated as a matter of security, and even then, Brys was nervous about Gerun Eberict's presence.\n\nThe king neared the dais, his robes sliding silken on the polished marble floor in his wake.\n\n\"This day,\" Nifadas intoned, \"Lether becomes an empire.\"\n\nThe guards executed the salute reserved for the royal line and held it, motionless as statues.\n\nEzgara Diskanar stepped up onto the dais and slowly turned round.\n\nThe First Eunuch moved to stand before him and raised the pillow.\n\nThe king took the crown and fitted it onto his head.\n\n\"This day,\" Nifadas said, stepped back, \"Lether is ruled by an emperor.\" He turned. \"Emperor Ezgara Diskanar.\"\n\nThe guards released their salute.\n\nAnd that is it.\n\nEzgara sat on the throne.\n\nLooking old and frail and lost.\n\nThe windows were shuttered tight. Weeds snarled the path, vines had run wild up the walls to either side of the stepped entrance. From the street behind them came the stench of smoke, and a distant roar from somewhere in the Creeper Quarter inland, beyond Settle Lake, indicated that yet another riot had begun.\n\nFrom the Fishers'Gate, Seren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen had walked their horses down littered streets. Signs of looting, the occasional corpse, a soldier's dead horse, and figures scurrying from their path into alleys and side avenues. Burnt-outbuildings, packs of hungry feral dogs drawn in from the abandoned farmlands and forests, refugee families huddled here and there, the King's City of Lether seemed to have succumbed to depraved barbarity with the enemy still leagues beyond the horizon."},{"from":"human","value":"She was stunned at how swiftly it had all crumbled, and more than a little frightened."},{"from":"gpt","value":"For all her disgust and contempt for the ways of her people, there had remained, somewhere buried deep, a belief in its innate resiliency. But here, before her, was the evidence of sudden, thorough collapse. Greed and savagery unleashed, fear and panic triggering brutality and ruthless indifference.\n\nThey passed bodies of citizens who had been long in dying, simply left in the street while they bled out.\n\nDown one broad avenue, near the canal, a mob had passed through, perhaps only half a day earlier. There was evidence that soldiers had battled against it, and had been pushed back into a fighting withdrawal. Flanking buildings and estates had been trashed and looted. The street was sticky with blood, and the tracks of dozens of wagons were evident, indicating that here, at least, the city's garrison had returned to takeaway corpses.\n\nIron Bars and his Guardsmen said little during the journey, and now, gathered before her home, they remained on their horses, hands on weapons and watchful.\n\nSeren dismounted.\n\nAfter a moment, Iron Bars and Corlo did the same.\n\n\"Don't look broken into, ' the mage said.\n\n\"As I said,\" Seren replied, \"nothing inside is worth taking.\"\n\n\"I don't like this, \"the Avowed muttered.\"If trouble comes knocking, Acquitor... '\n\n\"It won't, \"she said.\"These riots won't last. The closer the Edur army gets, the quieter things will become.\"\n\n\"That's not what happened in Trate. '\n\n\"True, but this will be different.\"\n\n\"I don't see why you'd think so,\" Iron Bars said, shaking his head."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Go find your ship, Avowed,\" Seren said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She turned to the others. \"Thank you, all of you. I am honoured to have known you and travelled in your company.\"\n\n\"Go safe, lass,\" Corlo said.\n\nShe settled a hand on the mage's shoulder. Held his eyes, but said nothing.\n\nHe nodded. \"Easy on that.\"\n\n\"You heard?\"\n\n\"I did. And I've the headache to prove it. '\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Try to remember, Seren Pedac, Mockra is a subtle warren.\"\n\n\"I will try.\" She faced Iron Bars.\n\n\"Once I've found our employer and planted my squad, \"he said,\"I'll pay you another visit, so we needn't get all soft here and now. '\n\n\"All right.\"\n\n\"A day, no longer, then I'll see you again, Acquitor. '\n\nShe nodded.\n\nThe Avowed and his mage swung themselves back into their saddles. The troop rode off.\n\nSeren watched them fora moment, then turned about and walked up the path. The key to the elaborate lock was under the second flagstone.\n\nThe door squealed when she pushed it back, and the smell of dust swept out to engulf her. She entered, shutting the door.\n\nGloom, and silence.\n\nShe did not move fora time, the corridor stretching before her. The door at its end was open, and she could see into the room beyond, which was lit by cloth-filtered sunlight coming from the courtyard at the back. A high-backed chair in that far room faced her, draped in muslin cloth.\n\nOne step, then another. On, down the corridor. Just before the entrance to the room, the mouldering body of a dead owl, lying as if asleep on the floor. She edged round it, then stepped into the room, noting the slight breeze coming from the broken window where the owl had presumably entered from the courtyard."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 28\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Retreating Letherii forces had stripped the countryside ahead of the emperor and his army. The military food and materiel caches that Hull Beddict knew of were all emptied. If not for the shadow wraiths, supplying the Tiste Edur army would have been impossible– the invasion would have stalled. Unacceptable, Rhulad had decided. The enemy was reeling. It was necessary to keep it so.\\n\\nUdinaas remembered eating smoked eel from Moss River, onetime when the trader ship had docked in Dresh. Delicious, once one got used to the furry skin, which was to be chewed but not swallowed. He had since heard, from another slave, that the eels had been transplanted into Dresh Lake, producing a strain that was both bigger and nastier. It had turned out that those eels captured in Moss River were juveniles, and few ever reached adulthood since there was a razor-jawed species of predatory fish resident in the river. No such fish in Dresh Lake. Adolescent swimmers from Dresh started disappearing before anyone realized the adult eels were responsible. Razor-jawed fish were netted from the river and tossed into the lake, but their behaviour changed, turning them into frenzy feeders. Adult swimmers from Dresh started vanishing. The slave who had been relating all this then laughed and finished with, \\\"So they poisoned the whole lake, killed everything. And now no-one can swim in it!\\\"\\n\\nFrom this, Udinaas surmised, various lessons could be drawn, should one be inclined to draw lessons from multiple acts of stupidity.\\n\\nThey had camped on the road, a day's march west of Ribs. The emperor was suffering from some kind of fever. Healers were tending to him, and the last Udinaas had heard, Rhulad was sleeping. It was late afternoon, and the sun's light was painting the river's surface red and gold.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Udinaas walked along the stony strand, flinging rocks out onto the water every now and then, shattering the lurid hues. At the moment, he was not feeling anything like a slave, or an Indebted. He marched in the shadow of the emperor, for all to see, for all to wonder at.\\n\\nHe heard boots crunching on pebbles and turned to see Hull Beddict scrambling down onto the strand. A big man, on whom every oversized muscle seemed to brood, somehow. There was fever in his eyes as well, but unlike Rhulad this heat had nothing to do with illness. \\\"Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\nThe slave watched the man approach, fighting his instinctive urge towards deference. The time for that was past, after all. He just wasn't sure what belonged in its stead.\\n\\n\\\"I have been looking for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The emperor's condition... '\\n\\nUdinaas shrugged. \\\"A marsh fever, nothing more-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was not speaking of that, slave.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am not your slave, Hull Beddict.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry. You are right.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas collected another stone. He wiped the grit from its underside before throwing it out over the water. They watched it splash, then Udinaas said, \\\"I understand your need to distinguish yourself from the other Letherii marching with this army. Even so, we are all bound to servitude, and the varying shades of that are not as relevant as they once were.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps you have a point, Udinaas, but I don't quite understand what you're getting at.\\\"\\n\\nHe brushed the grit from his hands. \\\"Who better to teach the newly conquered Letherii than the Edur's original Letherii slaves? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You anticipate anew status for you and your fellow slaves, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe. How are the Tiste Edur to rule? Much remains to be answered, Hull Beddict. I gather you intend to involve yourself in that particular reshaping, if you can.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's smile was sour.\\\"It seems I am to have little or no role in much of anything, Udinaas. '\\n\\n\\\"Then the Errant looks kindly upon you,\\\" Udinaas said.\\n\\n\\\"I am not surprised you might see it that way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is a waste of time, Hull Beddict, to fashion intricate plans for restitution. What you did before, all you did before– the mistakes, the bad decisions– they are dead, for everyone but you. None of it has purchased a future claim to glory, none of it has earned you anything.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Has not the emperor heeded my advice?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In this war? When it suited him. But I trust you are not expecting any consideration in return.\\\" Udinaas turned, met Hull's eyes.\\\"Ah, I think you are. '\\n\\n\\\"Reciprocity, Udinaas. Surely the Tiste Edur understand that, since it is so essential within their own culture.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is no reciprocity when you display expectation, Hull Beddict. Poof! It vanishes. And that was just my point earlier: there is much that we can teach the future conquered Letherii.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am blood-bound to Binadas,\\\" Hull said, \\\"yet you accuse me of insensitivity to the mores of the Tiste Edur.\\\" His expression was wry. \\\"I am not often chastised in such things. You remind me of Seren Pedac.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Acquitor who escorted you? I saw her, in Trate.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hull stepped close, suddenly intent. \\\"During the battle?\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas nodded. \\\"She was in bad shape, but alive. She'd found a worthy escort of her own– I have no doubt she still lives. '\\n\\n\\\"An escort of her own? Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not sure. Foreigners. One of them killed Rhulad and his chosen brothers. \\\"Udinaas collected another stone.\\\"Look at that, Hull Beddict, a river of gold. Flowing into the sunset. ' He flung the stone, broke the mirrored perfection. Momentarily.\\n\\n\\\"You witnessed that killing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did. Whoever that foreigner was, he was terrifying.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"More terrifying than Rhulad's return? '\\n\\nUdinaas said nothing fora time, then he stepped away, down to the water's edge. He stared into the shallows, saw the muddy bottom swarming with newborn eels.\\\"Do you know what is coming, Hull Beddict? '\\n\\n\\\"No. Do you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dresh Lake. That's what's coming.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't understand. '\\n\\n\\\"Doesn't matter. Don't mind me, Hull Beddict. Well, I'd best return. The emperor is awake. '\\n\\nHull followed him up from the strand. \\\"Things like that,\\\" he said. \\\"He's awake. How do you know? '\\n\\n\\\"A stirring in the shadows,\\\" Udinaas said. \\\"Rhulad sets the world to a tremble. Well,\\\" he amended, \\\"a small part of it. But it's growing. In any case, his fever has broken. He is weak, but alert. '\\n\\n\\\"Tell me,\\\" Hull said as they walked into the vast camp, \\\"about Feather Witch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Udinaas grimaced. \\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She is no longer Mayen's slave. She now serves the Edur healers. Was that your work? '\\n\\n\\\"The emperor's command, Hull Beddict. '\\n\\n\\\"You claim no influence on him? Few would believe that now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Reciprocity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And in return, you give Rhulad what?\\\"\\n\\nFriendship. \\\"I do not advise him, Hull Beddict. I do not seek to influence him. I cannot answer your question.\\\" Rather, I won't.\\n\\n\\\"She affects to hold only hatred for you, Udinaas. But I am not convinced.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I am.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think, perhaps, she has given her heart to you. Yet would fight it, for all the pointless prohibitions and prejudices of our people. What is the extent of your debt, Udinaas?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My debt? My father's debt. Seven hundred and twenty-two docks, from the day I was taken as a slave. '\\n\\nHull reached out and stopped him. \\\"That's it? '\\n\\n\\\"A Beddict might well say that. For most Letherii, that is insurmountable. Especially given the interest.\\\" Udinaas resumed walking.\\n\\nHull came up alongside him. \\\"Who holds it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A minor lender in Letheras. Why are you asking?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The lender's name? '\\n\\n\\\"Huldo.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Huldo.\\\" After a moment, Hull snorted.\\n\\n\\\"You find that amusing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do. Udinaas, my brother Tehol owns Huldo.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Maybe once. As I understand it, Tehol owns nothing these days.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Let me tell you a story about my brother.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was, I guess, around ten years old, when a family debt was purchased by a particularly unscrupulous lender. The plan was to force us to relinquish a certain holding, and so the debt was called. We couldn't pay, not all at once, and of course the lender knew it. Now, it was at the time assumed by all that Tehol was at school everyday during this crisis, and indeed, that, young as he was, he had no idea of the trouble our parents were in. Only much later did certain facts come to light. The fact that Tehol had finessed a debt of his own, over his tutor. Nothing large, but he was able to coerce the tutor into saying nothing about his absences, whilst he operated a business venture of his own down at a flow-out on the river. Two employees, both Nerek, sifting sewage. This particular out-flow issued from an estate district– extraordinary what treasures could be recovered. Jewellery, mostly. Rings, earrings, pearls. In any case, it seemed there was a windfall, a necklace, and the result was Tehol and his two Nerek employees found themselves suddenly flush-'\\n\\n\\\"By selling the necklace?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh no, from the reward. Their business was returning lost items. Shortly thereafter, the lender pressuring our family received payment in full on our debt, and was then subsequently financially gutted when a host of holdings on him were called.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas grunted. \\\"Grateful patrons, indeed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Probably. We never found out. And Tehol never explained a damned thing. It took me over a year to piece some of it together. My point is, Udinaas, Tehol's genius is of the diabolical kind. Destitute? Not a chance. Retired from business dealings? Impossible. I am now quite skilled at tracking my brother, you see. Huldo's not the only lender Tehol owns.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So,\\\" Udinaas said as they approached the emperor's tent,\\\"I am Indebted to the Beddicts. '\\n\\n\\\"Not anymore,\\\" Hull said. \\\"I am clearing it. Right now. I am sure Tehol will forgive me, assuming I ever get a chance to corner him.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas looked over at the man. Then he nodded. \\\"I see. Reciprocity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am without expectation, Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good. I knew you were a fast learner.\\\"\\n\\nHull Beddict halted outside the entrance. \\\"I enjoyed speaking to you,\\\" he said.\\n\\nUdinaas hesitated, then smiled.\\n\\nSeated on his throne, sweat streaming down between and over the gold coins on his face, neck and chest, some horrible insight burning in his eyes, the emperor trembled as if rabid. \\\"Udinaas,\\\" he croaked. \\\"As you can see, we are well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"These southlands, Emperor, hold strange diseases-\\\" \\\"We were not sick. We were... travelling.\\\" They were alone in the chamber. Hannan Mosag was overseeing the warriors, where some old feuds between tribes were threatening to breach the unity. Mayen was cloistered among the women, for it was said that Uruth Sengar was coming, summoned via the K'risnan. The air in the tent smelled of sour sweat.\\n\\n\\\"A long and difficult journey, then,\\\" Udinaas said. \\\"Do you wish some wine? Food?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Not yet. We have... done something. A terrible thing. To achieve an alliance. When we strike the Letherii army outside Letheras, you shall see what has been won this day. We are... pleased. Yes, pleased.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yet frightened. By your own power.\\\"\\n\\nThe eyes flickered, fixed on Udinaas. \\\"We can hide little from you, it seems. Yes, frightened. We... I... have drowned an entire world. A fragment of Kurald Emurlahn, upon which our ships will soon travel. Seeking our lost kin. And... champions.\\\" He clawed at his face. \\\"I drowned a world.\\\"\\n\\nThe subject needed deflection, Udinaas decided. \\\"Champions? I do not understand, Emperor.\\\"\\n\\nA moment to recover, then a nod. \\\"Worthy foes, Udinaas. Skilled fighters capable of killing us. They are needed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For your power to grow yet stronger.\\\"\\n\\n'Yes. Stronger. It is necessary. So many things are necessary, now\\n\\nUdinaas risked a glance away as he said, \\\"It is right to fear, then, Emperor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is? Explain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fear bespeaks of wisdom. Recognition of responsibility.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wisdom. Yes, it must be so, mustn't it? We had not considered that before. We fear, because we are becoming wise. '\\n\\nOh, you poor lad. How can I do this? \\\"How will you incite these... champions?\\\"\\n\\nRhulad shivered, then raised the sword in his right hand. \\\"Who among them will turn away from such a challenge? Those who do are not worth fighting. Or, if they are yet reluctant, they will be compelled. This world is vast, Udinaas, far vaster than you might think. There are other lands, other empires. There are formidable peoples, races. We will search far. We will find those useful to us. And then, one day, we will conquer. Every kingdom. Every continent.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You will need to deceive those champions, Emperor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Into believing that killing you means their victory. You will have to make it seem that it is your ego that forces such challenges. They must know nothing of the sword's power, of its demands upon you. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, you speak true, Udinaas. Together, we will shape the future. You will want for nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Emperor, I want for nothing now. I need no promises. Please, I did not mean to offend by that. What I meant was, there is no need for promises.\\\"\\n\\nSudden pain in Rhulad's dark eyes, a grief and sorrow that rent at Udinaas, somewhere deep inside. It was all he could do to continue meeting the emperor's gaze.\\n\\n\\\"We would have some wine, now, Udinaas.\\\" Atone of profound sorrow. \\\"Two goblets, for you and me. We shall drink, and think of nothing. We shall talk, perhaps, of inconsequential matters.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas strode to the table where sat a jug of Letherii wine. \\\"I visited Dresh, once,\\\" he said as he poured out two cups full. \\\"And ate smoked Moss River eel. Would you like me to tell about Moss River eels, Emperor?\\\" He carried the two goblets over to the Edur seated on the throne.\\n\\n\\\"Is it inconsequential?\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas hesitated, then nodded. \\\"It is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then, yes, Udinaas. We would.\\\"\\n\\nSeren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen rode at a canter. Half a league ahead was the town of Dissent. It had once been walled, but local builders had dismantled most of the stonework long ago. The town had since grown outward in a mostly chaotic manner, swallowing commons and nearby farms. But now Dissent was barely visible, devoured in turn by at least three encamped armies.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Crimson Rampant Brigade,\\\" Seren said, scanning the distant banners. \\\"Snakebelt Battalion, and the Riven Brigade.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can we ride straight through?\\\" Iron Bars asked.\\n\\nShe glanced across at him, then nodded. \\\"I think so. My apologies. I'm a little shocked, that's all. If this is all that's left of the frontier armies... '\\n\\n\\\"The ground ahead is not ideal fora battle,\\\" the Avowed judged. \\\"I'd be surprised if the king intended to await the Edur here. Can you think of anywhere else close by that might be better suited? '\\n\\n\\\"Brans Keep, in the hills a few leagues northeast of Dissent.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And Dissent is the nearest major town?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Apart from Letheras itself,\\\" Seren said.\\n\\n\\\"Then this is temporary encampment. When the Tiste Edur draw closer, those three armies will march to Brans Keep. Assuming the warlord commanding them has any wits at all. In any case, Acquitor, other Letherii forces might already be waiting there, at Brans Keep. It's a question of logistics, keeping these ones here. '\\n\\n\\\"I hope you are right. Then again, I wonder if it will make any difference.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We're far from the sea, Seren, \\\"Iron Bars said.\\\"That demon the Edur have chained can't reach here, and that evens things some.\\\"\\n\\nA worthy try, Iron Bars. \\\"Another day to Outkeep, then we should reach Letheras the following day, well before dusk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Could we hasten that, Acquitor? These soldiers camped ahead, might they be prepared to exchange horses?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If I insist, yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Based on your desire to speak to the king.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And will you? Speak to the king, that is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nHe said nothing fora time, whilst she waited. Then, \\\"And in Letheras, what will you do once you've arrived? '\\n\\n\\\"I expect I will have some dusting to do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sorry?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My house is closed up. I've not had a chance to send a message to my staff– all two of them. '\\n\\n\\\"That doesn't sound very secure– no-one to guard your possessions. '\\n\\nShe smiled. \\\"I have nothing of value, Iron Bars. Thieves are welcome to it. Well, I'd prefer if they left me my furniture– my neighbours are diligent enough, I suppose, to prevent anything like that. '\\n\\nThe Avowed stared ahead fora moment. \\\"We must needs depart your company, then, Acquitor. To make contact with our new employer. Presumably, we'll be shipping out soon after. '\\n\\nBefore the city's occupied and sealed up.\\\"I imagine so. '\\n\\n\\\"There might be room aboard...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am Letherii, Iron Bars.\\\" She shook her head. \\\"I am done with travelling fora time, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Understandable. Anyway, the offer's open. '\\n\\n\\\"Thank you.\\\" So here I run again.\\n\\nCorlo, riding behind them, called out, \\\"Easy on that, lass. Mockra's dangerous when you don't control it.\\\"\\n\\nThe Avowed turned his head, studied her.\\n\\nShe shrugged.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An old man emerged from the ditch, a creature Of mud and wild autumn winds capering Like a hare across a bouldered field, across And through the stillness of time unhinged That sprawls patient and unexpectant in the Place where battle lies spent, unmoving and Never again moving bodies strewn and Death-twisted like lost languages tracking Contorted glyphs on a barrow door, and he Read well the aftermath, the disarticulated script Rent and dissolute the pillars of self toppled Like termite towers all spilled out round his Dancing feet, and he shouted in gleeful Revelation the truth he'd found, in these Red-fleshed pronouncements–\\\"There is peace! \\\"He shrieked.\\\"There is peace! \\\"and it was No difficult thing, where I satin the saddle Above salt-rimed horseflesh to lift my crossbow Aim and loose the quarrel, skewering the madman To his proclamation.\\\"Now, \\\"said I, in the Silence that followed,\\\"Now, there is peace. '\\n\\nThe Lay of Skinner Fisher kel Tath\\n\\nOn facing hills, the smouldering ruins of first reach in the low, flat floodplain between, the two armies of the Tiste Edur came within sight of one another. Wraiths swarmed through the ashes, weapons were lifted high, triumphant cries piercing the still morning air.\\n\\nThe convergence was, of course, incomplete. The third, easternmost force, led by Tomad Sengar and Binadas, was still striking south down Mappers' Road towards White Point. It would join with these two armies, Trull knew, somewhere close to Brans Keep, and there the fate of Lether, and indeed of the Edur empire, would be decided in a single battle.\\n\\nHe stood leaning on his spear, feeling no inclination to join his voice to the fierce tumult buffeting him from all sides. Just north of the ruins in the floodplain below, a hundred or more starlings cavorted and wheeled, their own cries drowned out, a detail that somehow transformed their dance into a fevered, nightmarish display.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In the distant line of warriors opposite, a space was clearing, a single dominant standard bobbing forward, beneath it a figure flashing gold, holding high a sword.\\n\\nThe warcries redoubled.\\n\\nTrull flinched at the deafening sound. He pulled his gaze away from Rhulad on that far hilltop and saw Fear approaching.\\n\\n\\\"Trull! B'nagga, you and I– horses await us– we ride now to our emperor! '\\n\\nHe nodded, uneasy with the ferocity evident in Fear's eyes.\\\"Lead on, brother. '\\n\\nThe ride across to Rhulad's army was a strange experience. Trull did not like horses that much, and liked riding them even less. He was jolted again and again, jarring the scene on all sides. They rode across burnt ground, heaps of the remains of butchered livestock lining the tracks approaching the town. And the roaring of the warriors was a wave at their backs, pushing them onwards.\\n\\nThen, halfway across, the sensation shifted, spun entirely round, as the voices of the warriors in the emperor's army engulfed them. Their horses balked, and it was a struggle to make them resume the approach.\\n\\nAs they climbed the slope, Trull could see his brother Rhulad more clearly. He was barely recognizable, hulking now beneath the weight of the coins. His forehead was exposed, revealing skin the colour of dirty snow, the contrast darkening the pits of his eyes. His teeth were bared, but it seemed as much a grimace of pain as anything else. Hannan Mosag stood on the emperor's left, the slave Udinaas on the right. Hull Beddict was positioned three paces behind the Warlock King. Mayen and Uruth were nowhere to be seen.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Arriving, they reined in and dismounted. Slaves appeared to lead the horses away.\\n\\nFear strode forward to kneel before the emperor. Across the valley, another surge of sound.\\n\\n\\\"My brother,\\\" Rhulad said in his rasping, broken voice. \\\"Rise before us.\\\" The emperor stepped close and settled a coin-backed hand on Fear's shoulder.\\\"There is much I must say to you, but later. '\\n\\n\\\"As you command, Emperor.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad's haunted eyes shifted.\\\"Trull. '\\n\\nHe knelt and studied the ground before him. \\\"Emperor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rise. We have words for you as well.\\\"\\n\\nNo doubt. \\\"Mother arrived safely?\\\"\\n\\nA flash of irritation. \\\"She did.\\\" It seemed he would say something more to Trull, but then he changed his mind and faced B'nagga.\\\"The Jheck are well, B'nagga?\\\"\\n\\nA fierce grin. \\\"They are, Emperor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are pleased. Hannan Mosag would speak to you regarding the impending lie of battle. A tent has been prepared for such matters. Hull Beddict has drawn us detailed maps.\\\"\\n\\nB'nagga bowed, then walked to the Warlock King. The two departed, trailed by Hull Beddict.\\n\\n\\\"Our brothers,\\\" Rhulad said, the sword shaking in his left hand. \\\"Come, we will take food and drink in our own tent. Udinaas, precede us.\\\"\\n\\nThe slave strode into the mass of warriors. The Edur melted back before the nondescript Letherii, and into his wake walked the emperor, Fear and Trull.\\n\\nThey reached the command tent a short while later, after traversing an avenue walled in flesh, waving weapons and frenzied warcries. Wraiths stood guard to either side of the entrance. As soon as the slave and the three brothers entered, Rhulad spun round and halted Trull with one hand. \\\"How far do you intend to push me, Trull?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He looked down at the hand pressed against his chest. \\\"It seems you are the one doing the pushing, Rhulad.\\\"\\n\\nA moment of taut silence, then his brother barked a laugh and stepped back. \\\"Words from our past, yes? As we once were, before...\\\" a wave of the sword, \\\"all this.\\\" His ravaged gaze fixed on Trull fora moment. \\\"We have missed you.\\\" He smiled at Fear. \\\"Missed you both. Udinaas, find us some wine!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A Letherii drink,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"I have acquired a taste for it, brother.\\\"\\n\\nTrull and Fear followed Rhulad into the inner chamber, where the slave was already pouring three cups of dark wine into Letherii-made goblets of silver and gold. Trull felt unbalanced, the sudden breach in Rhulad's façade shocking him, hurting him somewhere inside for reasons he could not immediately fathom.\\n\\nEschewing the throne dominating the centre of the room, the emperor settled down in a leather-slung tripod chair near the food-laden table along one wall. Two identical chairs flanked him. Rhulad gestured. \\\"Come, brothers, sit with us. We know, we understand well, it seemed all we were was but ashes, and the love we shared, as brothers, was so sadly strained, then.\\\"\\n\\nTrull could see that even Fear was stunned, as they sat down in the low chairs.\\n\\n\\\"We must not run from our memories,\\\" Rhulad said, as Udinaas brought him his cup. \\\"The blood of kin need not always burn, brothers. There must betimes when it simply... warms us.\\\"\\n\\nFear cleared his throat. \\\"We have... missed you as well, Emperor-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Enough! No titles. Rhulad, so our father named me, as he named all his sons, each in turn from the host of ancestors of the Sengar line. It is too easy to forget.\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas set a cup into Fear's hand. Fingers closed of their own accord.\\n\\nTrull glanced up as the slave approached him with the last cup. He met the Letherii's eyes, was startled by what he saw in them. He reached out and accepted the wine.\\\"Thank you, Udinaas. '\\n\\nA flinch from Rhulad. \\\"He is mine,\\\" he said in a tight voice.\\n\\nTrull's eyes widened.\\\"Of course, Rhulad. '\\n\\n\\\"Good. Yes. Fear, I must tell you of Mayen.\\\"\\n\\nSlowly leaning back, Trull studied the wine trembling in the cup in his hands. The slave's gaze, the message it seemed to convey. All is well.\\n\\n\\\"I did not,\\\" Fear ventured hesitantly, \\\"see her earlier...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, nor our mother. Mayen has been unwell.\\\" Rhulad shot Fear a nervous glance. \\\"I am sorry, brother. I should not have... should not have done that. And now, well, you see...\\\" He drained his wine in a single motion. \\\"Udinaas, more. Tell him. Explain, Udinaas, so that Fear understands.\\\"\\n\\nThe slave refilled the cup, then stepped back. \\\"She is with child,\\\" he said, meeting Fear's gaze.\\\"There is no doubt, now, that her heart belongs to you. Rhulad would have wished otherwise. At first, in any case. But not now. He understands. But the child, that has made matters difficult. Complicated. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The cup in Fear's hand had not visibly moved, but Trull could see that it was close to spilling, as if a numbness was stealing the strength of the limb.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Go on, ' Fear managed.\\n\\n\\\"There is no precedent, no rules among your people,\\\" Udinaas resumed. \\\"Rhulad would relinquish his marriage to her, he would undo all that has been done. But for the child, do you see, Fear Sengar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That child will be heir-\\\"\\n\\nRhulad interrupted with a harsh laugh. \\\"No heir, Fear. Ever. Don't you see? The throne shall be my eternal burden. '\\n\\nBurden. By the Sisters, what has awakened you, Rhulad? Who has awakened you? Trull snapped his gaze back to Udinaas, and mentally reeled in sudden realization. Udinaas? This... this slave?\\n\\nUdinaas was nodding, eyes still on Fear's own.\\\"The warrior that raises that child will be its father, in all things but the naming. There will be no deception. All will know. If there is to be a stigma... '\\n\\n\\\"It will be for me to deal with,\\\" Fear said. \\\"Should I choose to stand beside Mayen, once wife to the emperor, with a child not my own to raise as my wife's first-born. '\\n\\n\\\"It is as you say, Fear Sengar,\\\" Udinaas said. Then he stepped back.\\n\\nTrull slowly straightened, reached with one hand and gently righted the cup in Fear's grip. Startled, his brother looked at him, then nodded.\\\"Rhulad, what does Mother say to all this? '\\n\\n\\\"Mayen has been punishing herself with white nectar. It is not an easy thing to defeat, such... dependency. Uruth endeavours...\\\"\\n\\nA soft groan from Fear, as he closed his eyes.\\n\\nTrull watched Rhulad stretch out as if to touch Fear, watched him hesitate, then glance across to Trull.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Who nodded. Yes. Now.\\n\\nA momentary contact, that seemed to shoot through Fear, snapping his eyes open.\\n\\n\\\"Brother,\\\" Rhulad said, \\\"I am sorry.\\\"\\n\\nFear studied his youngest brother's face, then said,\\\"We are all sorry, Rhulad. For... so much. What has Uruth said of the child? Is it well? '\\n\\n\\\"Physically, yes, but it knows its mother's hunger. This will be... difficult. I know, you do not deserve any of this, Fear-'\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps, Rhulad, but I will accept the burden. For Mayen. And for you.\\\"\\n\\nNo-one spoke after that, not for sometime. They drank their wine, and it seemed to Trull that something was present, some part of his life he'd thought– not long gone, but non-existent in the first place. They sat, the three of them. Brothers, and nothing more.\\n\\nNight descended outside. Udinaas served food and still more wine. Sometime later, Trull rose, the alcohol softening details, and wandered through the chambers of the tent, his departure barely noticed by Rhulad and Fear.\\n\\nIna small room walled in by canvas, he found Udinaas.\\n\\nThe slave was sitting on a small stool, eating his own supper. He looked up in surprise at Trull's sudden arrival.\\n\\n\\\"Please,\\\" Trull said, \\\"resume your meal. You have earned it, Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is there something you wish of me, Trull Sengar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Yes. What have you done?\\\"\\n\\nThe slave cocked his head. \\\"What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"With... him. What have you done, Udinaas?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Not much, Trull Sengar.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, I need an answer. What are you to him?\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas set down his plate, drank a mouthful of wine. \\\"A subject who's not afraid of him, I suppose. '\\n\\n\\\"That's... all? Wait, yes, I see. But then I wonder, why? Why are you not afraid of him? '\\n\\nUdinaas sighed, and Trull realized how exhausted the slave was. \\\"You, all the Edur, you seethe sword. Or the gold. You see... the power. The terrifying, brutal power.\\\" He shrugged. \\\"I see what it takes from him, what it costs Rhulad. I am Letherii, after all,\\\" he added with a grimace. \\\"I understand the notion of debt.\\\" He looked up. \\\"Trull Sengar, I am his friend. That is all.\\\"\\n\\nTrull studied the slave fora half-dozen heartbeats. \\\"Never betray him, Udinaas. Never.\\\"\\n\\nThe Letherii's gaze skittered away. He drank more wine.\\n\\n\\\"Udinaas-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I heard you,\\\" the man said in a grating voice.\\n\\nTrull turned to leave. Then he paused and glanced back. \\\"I have no wish to depart on such terms. So, Udinaas, for what you have done, for what you have given him, thank you.\\\"\\n\\nThe slave nodded without looking up. He reached down to retrieve his plate.\\n\\nTrull returned to the central chamber to find that Hannan Mosag had arrived, and was speaking to Rhulad.\\n\\n\\\"... Hull believes it lies near a town downriver from here. A day's journey, perhaps. But, Emperor, a necessary journey none the less. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Rhulad looked away, glared at the far wall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The armies must goon. To Brans Keep. No delays, no detours. I will go, and Fear and Trull as well. Hull Beddict, to guide us. Udinaas, of course.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A K'risnan, \\\"the Warlock King said,\\\"and our new demonic allies, the two Kenryll'ah.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well, those as well. We shall meet you at Brans Keep.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Trull asked. \\\"What has happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something has been freed,\\\" Hannan Mosag said. \\\"And it must be dealt with.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Freed by whom, and for what purpose?\\\"\\n\\nThe Warlock King shrugged. \\\"I know not who was responsible. But I assume it was freed to fight us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A demon of some sort?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. I can only sense its presence, its will. I cannot identify it. The town is named Brous.\\\"\\n\\nTrull slowly nodded. \\\"Would that Binadas were with us,\\\" he said.\\n\\nRhulad glanced up. \\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\nTrull smiled, said nothing.\\n\\nAfter a moment, Fear grunted, then nodded.\\n\\nRhulad matched Trull's smile.\\\"Yes, \\\"he said,\\\"would that he were. '\\n\\nHannan Mosag looked at the three of them in turn. \\\"I do not understand.\\\"\\n\\nThe emperor's laugh was harsh, only slightly bitter.\\\"You send us on another quest, Warlock King. '\\n\\nHannan Mosag visibly blanched.\\n\\nSeeing that, Rhulad laughed again, this time in pure amusement.\\n\\nAfter a moment, both Fear and Trull joined him, whilst Hannan Mosag stared at them all in disbelief.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They had drunk too much wine, Trull told himself later. That was all. Far too much wine.\\n\\nSeren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen guided their horses down from the road, across the ditch, and drew rein at the edge of a greenfield. The vanguard of the Merchants'Battalion had emerged from the city's gates, and the Acquitor could see Preda Unnutal Hebaz at the forefront, riding a blue-grey horse, white-maned, that tossed its head in irritation, hooves stamping with impatience.\\n\\n\\\"If she's not careful, \\\"Iron Bars observed,\\\"that beast will start bucking. And she'll find herself on her arse in the middle of the road.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That would bean ill omen indeed,\\\" Seren said.\\n\\nAfter a moment, the Preda managed to calm the horse.\\n\\n\\\"I take it we have something of await before us,\\\" Iron Bars said.\\n\\n\\\"King's Battalion and Merchants'Battalion at the very least. I don't know what other forces are in Letheras. I wouldn't think the south battalions and brigades have had time to reach here, which is unfortunate.\\\" She thought fora moment, then said, \\\"If we cross this field, we can take the river road and enter through Fishers\\\" Gate. It will mean crossing two-thirds of the city to reach my home, but for you, Avowed, well, presumably the ship you're signed on with will be close by.\\\"\\n\\nIron Bars shrugged. \\\"We're delivering you to your door, Acquitor. '\\n\\n\\\"That's not necessary-'\\n\\n\\\"Even so, it is what we intend to do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then, if you don't mind... '\\n\\n\\\"Fishers\\\" Gate it shall be. Lead on, Acquitor. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The rearguard elements of the King's Battalion had turned in the concourse before the Eternal Domicile and were now marching up the Avenue of the Seventh Closure.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"King Ezgara Diskanar, who had stood witness on the balcony of the First Wing since his official despatch of the Preda at dawn, finally swung about and made his way inside. The investiture was about to begin, but Brys Beddict knew he had sometime before his presence was required.\\n\\nFour of his own guard were on the balcony with him. Brys gestured one over. \\\"Find me a messenger.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\nBrys waited, staring out over the city. The air was oppressive with more than just humidity and heat. After the passing of the battalion's rearguard, few citizens ventured into its wake. The battle at Brans Keep was still days away, but it seemed that most of the city's residents– those who remained– had elected to stay in their homes as much as possible.\\n\\nThe messenger arrived, a woman he had employed often and one he knew he could trust.\\n\\n\\\"Deliver a missive to my brother, Tehol, at his home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He will be on his roof?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I expect so, and that is the message– he is to stay there. Now, an additional message, to the Shavankrat brother guarding Tehol. A name. Gerun Eberict. That is all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go, then.\\\"\\n\\nShe quickly left. Brys strode into the narrow corridor that tracked the length of the wing on the second tier. At the far end steps descended to an antechamber that was part of the central dome complex. There, he found Finadd Moroch Nevath, sitting on a stone bench.\\n\\n\\\"Brys, I have been waiting for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not too long, I hope. What do you wish of me, Finadd?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Do you believe in gods?\\\"\\n\\nStartled, Brys was silent fora moment, then said, \\\"I am afraid I do not seethe relevance of that question.\\\"\\n\\nMoroch Nevath reached into a pouch at his hip and withdrew a battered tile, such as might be found among market readers. \\\"When did you last speak with Turudal Brizad?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The First Consort has not been in the palace– either palace, since yesterday,\\\" Brys said. \\\"First Eunuch Nifadas ordered an extensive search, and it has been concluded that Turudal has fled. Not entirely surprising-\\\"\\n\\nMoroch tossed him the tile. Instinctively, Brys caught it in his left hand. He looked down at the ceramic plaque. Yellowed at the edges, latticed with cracks, the illustration reduced to a series of stylized scratches that Brys none the less recognized. \\\"The tile of the Errant. What of it, Moroch?\\\"\\n\\nThe soldier rose to his feet. He'd lost weight, Brys noted, and seemed to have aged ten years since joining the treaty delegation.\\\"He's been here. All along. The bastard's been right under our noses, Brys Beddict. '\\n\\n\\\"What are you talking about?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Errant. The First Consort. Turudal Brizad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is... ridiculous.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have a somewhat harsher word for it, Brys.\\\"\\n\\nThe Champion glanced away from the man standing before him. \\\"How did you come to this extraordinary conclusion, Moroch?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There have been Turudal Brizads every generation– oh, different names, but it's him. Scenes on tapestries, paintings. Walk the royal collection, Brys– everything's out in the hallway, about to be moved. It was right there, for anyone to see, should they find reason to look.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And what reason did you have, Moroch?\\\"\\n\\nA grimace. \\\"He asked me to do something for him.\\\"\\n\\nBrys grunted. \\\"He's a god. \\\"Supposedly.\\\"Why should he need your help? '\\n\\n\\\"Because he says you will be too busy.\\\"\\n\\nBrys thought back to his last conversation with Turudal Brizad.... the end of my objectivity. Something like that, as the man was walking away. \\\"I admit to some... scepticism, Moroch Nevath.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Set it aside for the moment, Brys. I am hereto ask your advice. Assume the worst.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A god asks for your help? I suppose one must consider possible motivations, and the consequences of accepting or rejecting the request.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Will doing as he asks be to the benefit of Lether?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He says it will.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where is he now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the city, somewhere. He was watching the last of the refugees allowed in this morning, on the wall, or so one of my guards reported.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then, I would think, Moroth, that you must do as he asks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Over the duty of protecting the king?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I imagine the god assumes that task will be mine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are almost equal, you and I, Brys.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You may believe that you are the better between us. I believe otherwise.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The decision was not ours to make, Moroch.\\\"\\n\\nMoroch studied him fora half-dozen heartbeats, then said, \\\"I thank you for the advice, Finadd.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hesitate to say it, Moroch Nevath, but the Errant be with you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Not funny,\\\" the swordsman muttered as he strode away.\\n\\nBrys made his way into the dome complex. He came to the main corridor, halting to study the layout once more. The walls had been scrubbed, the dust on the floor mopped away. Guards and functionaries were moving about, readying for the investiture. Many glances were cast in the direction of the figure sleeping halfway down the corridor, curled upon the centre tile.\\n\\nSighing, Brys approached Kuru Qan. \\\"Ceda.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man made a sound, then turned over so that his back was to Brys.\\n\\n\\\"Wake up, Ceda. Please.\\\"\\n\\nHead lifting, Kuru Qan groped for the twin lenses lying on the floor nearby, drew them to his face. \\\"Who calls?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is Brys Beddict.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, Finadd.\\\" Kuru Qan twisted round and peered up. \\\"You look well.\\\"\\n\\nYou do not. \\\"Ceda, the investiture is about to begin. Unless you would have King Ezgara Diskanar step around you during his solemn march, you will have to move.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" The old man spread himself out on the flagstone. \\\"I must not! This is mine. My place.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You insist that he step to one side on his approach? Ceda, you risk the king's anger-'\\n\\n\\\"Relevant? Not in the least.\\\" His fingers scrabbled on the stone. \\\"This is mine. Warn him, Finadd. Warn the king.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"About what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will not be moved. Any who would try will be blasted into ashes. Ashes, Brys Beddict.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Brys glanced around. A small crowd had gathered to listen to the exchange. The Finadd scowled. \\\"Be on your way, all of you.\\\" People scrambled.\\n\\nTemporarily alone once more, Brys crouched down before the Ceda. \\\"You had paints and brushes with you last time. What happened to them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Paints and brushes?\\\" The eyes blinked behind the lenses. \\\"Gone. Gone away. The king wants you now, Finadd. He is ready to begin the procession. Nifadas is coming– he will complain, but no matter. It will be a small audience, won't it. Relevant? Oh yes. Best the king ignore me– explain that to him, Brys. '\\n\\nThe Finadd straightened. \\\"I shall, Ceda.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Excellent. Now, be on your way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This doesn't smell right. '\\n\\nTrull looked over at the Kenryll'ah demon that had spoken. It was taller than the Tiste Edur on their horses. A face of sharper features than those on Lilac, black as chiselled basalt, the upper and lower canines protruding and glinting silver. A fur-lined collar, a vest of bronze scales, salt-rimed and dark with patination. A heavy leather belt on which was slung a huge scabbarded tulwar. Leather leggings, grey and supple. The other demon, standing at its side, differed only in the choice of weapons, a massive matlock gripped in two gauntleted hands.\\n\\nThis second Kenryll'ah bared its teeth.\\\"Making me hungry. '\\n\\n\\\"Split bones,\\\" the other said. \\\"Marrow.\\\"\\n\\nThe stench the two were referring to was that of rotting corpses. They had reached the edge of the clearing, beyond which was the palisade wall of the town of Brous. In the field were barrows, and one long excavated trench. There was no-one insight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Brothers,\\\" the emperor said, \\\"dismount and ready your weapons.\\\"\\n\\nTrull swung down from his horse. He turned. \\\"K'risnan, can you sense anything? '\\n\\nThe young Arapay warlock's face was sickly. He nodded.\\\"In the town, I think. It knows we're here.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad closed both hands on the grip of his sword and raised it to centre guard position. \\\"Udinaas, remain with the horses. Fear, on my left. Trull, my right. K'risnan, stay behind us five paces. Demons, out to either side. '\\n\\n\\\"Can't we eat first? '\\n\\n\\\"Or pee? I need topee.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should have thought of that before we left,\\\" the first demon said.\\n\\n\\\"And you should have eaten. We've plenty of spare horses, you know. '\\n\\nThe emperor hissed. \\\"Silence, both of you. We've had to listen to you the entire journey. No more, lest I decide to kill you first. '\\n\\n\\\"That wouldn't be wise, \\\"the second Kenryll'ah said. \\\"I smell more than meat, I smell the one thing still alive in there, and it isn't pleasant. '\\n\\n\\\"I taste it,\\\" the first demon said. \\\"And it makes me want to retch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should have thought of retching before we left,\\\" the second one said.\\n\\n\\\"I think of retching every time I look at you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Enough!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I apologize for my brother,\\\" the first demon said.\\n\\n\\\"And I for mine,\\\" the second one added.\\n\\nStrange tyrants. Trull unslung his spear and strode to Rhulad's side.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"They made their way across the clearing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Reaching the pit, they saw the first of the bodies. Broken and tossed at the base of the deep, ragged excavation, like an open mass burial. Workers and soldiers. Flesh dark and bloating in the heat. Flies swarmed.\\n\\nThey skirted the pit and approached the town. The gates opposite them had been knocked down, inward, the heavy doors shattered. Somewhere in the town a dog was barking.\\n\\nThe street was strewn with corpses just inside the wall. The doors of every house and building within sight had been stove in. Ahead and to the right, two horses stood yoked to a wagon that had been knocked over. Exhaustion and the strain of the yokes had driven one of the beasts into an awkward sitting position. Trull hesitated, then walked over to them, drawing the knife at his belt. The others paused and watched as he cut the horses loose. Neither animal was in any condition to flee, but they slowly made their way outside on trembling, uncertain legs.\\n\\nTrull returned to his position beside Rhulad.\\n\\n\\\"It's coming, ' the first demon said.\\n\\nFurther down the main street a flock of starlings swirled into view, spinning between the buildings. Ina mass of black, the birds seemed to boil towards the Tiste Edur and the Kenryll'ah. Striding in the midst of the birds, a tall figure, spectral, its skin white, its hair pallid yellow and hanging in limp strands. It was wearing a leather harness that looked wrinkled and blackened with rot. There was something strange about its limbs.\\n\\n\\\"He is unarmed,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"Yet,\\\" the K'risnan hissed behind them,\\\"he is the one. '\\n\\nThe starlings spun higher, alighting on roof edges to either side, as the figure halted ten paces away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Peaceful,\\\" it said in Letherii, \\\"is it not?\\\"\\n\\nRhulad spoke. \\\"I am Emperor Rhulad of the Tiste Edur. Who, and what, are you, stranger?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am Forkrul Assail. I am named Serenity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You area demon, then?\\\"\\n\\nThe head cocked. \\\"I am?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is not your world.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It isn't? '\\n\\nRhulad half turned. \\\"K'risnan, banish him. '\\n\\n\\\"I cannot, Emperor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The tumult of your presence invites discord,\\\" Serenity said.\\n\\nWatching the Forkrul Assail's movements, Trull realized that it possessed extra joints in the arms and the legs, and there was some kind of hinge across the creature's breastbone. Its motion was oddly loose.\\n\\n\\\"Discord?\\\" Rhulad asked.\\n\\n\\\"I desire peace once more.\\\"\\n\\nFear spoke. \\\"If it is peace you seek, Serenity, then you need only turn and walkaway. Leave.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To leave here is to arrive elsewhere. I cannot retreat from disorder, for it shall surely follow. Peace must be asserted where one finds oneself. Only when discord is resolved will there be peace.\\\" The Forkrul Assail then stepped forward.\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Ware! ' one of the demons snarled.\\n\\nSerenity surged closer, even as the starlings exploded skyward once more.\\n\\nTrull's weapon possessed the greatest reach, but he did not attempt to stab the creature. Its arms were lifted to fend off the attack, and Trull chose to batter at those with a high sweep of the spear shaft. Like a serpent, Serenity's right arm writhed around the shaft, binding the weapon. A sudden flex and the Blackwood cracked, then splintered, the red core welling into view down the length of the split. Trull had little time to feel shock, as Serenity's left hand lashed out.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Two fingertips touched Trull's temple-\\n\\nHe was already pitching himself to the side, but at the contact he felt his neck wrenched round. Had he remained standing, had he resisted, his neck would now be broken. As it was, ducking, shoulder dipping, he was flung downward, thrown off his feet.\\n\\nFear had charged in low, a beat behind Trull's high attack, slashing diagonally down and into take the Forkrul Assail at the knee.\\n\\nBut the leg folded back, the knee reversing its angle, whilst at the same time Serenity reached down with his left hand and grasped the sword-blade. The Forkrul Assail plucked it from Fear's hand, fingers clenching, crushing the iron.\\n\\nFor all their failures, Trull and Fear had done what was demanded of them. Their flank attacks had preceded Rhulad's, with the intention of opening Serenity to the emperor's attack. Rhulad's mottled sword was a blur, whistling in the air– yet not once making contact, as the Forkrul Assail seemed to simply flow around it.\\n\\nFlinging Fear's bent sword aside, Serenity stepped in.\\n\\nAnd plunged his fingers like spikes into Rhulad's chest, pushing past the coins, sliding between ribs, and piercing his heart, then snapping back out.\\n\\nThe emperor crumpled.\\n\\nSerenity swung to face Fear.\\n\\nThen leapt back, eight paces or more through the air, narrowly avoiding a matlock that struck the dirt of the street and sank deep.\\n\\nSerenity back-pedalled further as the other demon pursued, the massive tulwar dancing like a dagger in its hands.\\n\\nTrull scrambled to his feet. He spun, intending to collect another spear from the cache he'd left strapped to his horse-\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"-and found Udinaas rushing towards him, the weapons cradled in his arms.\\n\\nTrull pulled one free, then turned once more, leaping over Rhulad's body. Ahead, the Forkrul Assail had darted to the left, ducking beneath a slash of the tulwar, hands lashing out even as the demon kicked it hard in the side.\\n\\nSerenity was thrown by the blow, thudded on the ground and rolled, twice, before regaining its feet.\\n\\nBut Trull had heard the crack of ribs in that kick.\\n\\nThe demon closed once more from the Forkrul Assail's right.\\n\\nA moment before they closed, Trull launched his spear.\\n\\nSerenity did not see it coming. Struck solidly just below the left collarbone, the creature was spun round by the impact. The demon's tulwar chopped down into its right thigh, ringing as it bit into bone. The demon wrenched it loose.\\n\\nTrull reached back and another spear was placed in his hand. He moved closer.\\n\\nStaggering back, the Forkrul Assail had plucked the spear from its shoulder and was fending off the tulwar slashes with its hands, pushing against the flat of the blade. The other demon was rushing in from the other side, matlock raised high.\\n\\nPale bluish blood streaming from the two wounds– which seemed to be closing even as Trull watched– Serenity leapt back once more, then turned and ran.\\n\\nThe Kenryll'ah prepared to pursue.\\n\\n\\\"Halt!\\\" Trull shouted. \\\"Leave it!\\\"\\n\\nUdinaas was standing above Rhulad's body. A few paces away stood the K'risnan, his young face frozen into an expression of terror. He was shaking his head in denial, again and again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"K'risnan. '\\n\\nWild eyes fixed on Trull. \\\"It... threw me back. My power... when the emperor died... all, flung back...\\\"\\n\\nThe demons approached.\\n\\n\\\"Leave it to us,\\\" the first one said, whipping blood from the tulwar.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" nodded the other. \\\"We've never before heard of these Forkrul Assail, but we've decided.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We don't like them, ' the first demon said.\\n\\n\\\"Not in the least.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will hunt it down and tell it so.\\\"\\n\\nFear spoke. \\\"Udinaas, how long...\\\" His eyes were on Rhulad.\\n\\n\\\"Not long,\\\" the slave replied.\\n\\n\\\"Do we wait?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It would be best, I think,\\\" said Udinaas.\\n\\nRubbing at his face, Fear walked over to his sword. He picked it up, examined it, then tossed it aside. He looked across at Trull.\\n\\nTrull said, \\\"It broke Blackwood.\\\"\\n\\nA grimace. \\\"I saw. That second spear, that was well thrown, brother.\\\"\\n\\nStill, the brothers knew. Without the Kenryll'ah, they would now be dead.\\n\\nThe first demon spoke. \\\"May we pursue now?\\\"\\n\\nFear hesitated, then nodded. \\\"Go.\\\"\\n\\nThe two Kenryll'ah swung round and headed up the street.\\n\\n\\\"We can eat on the way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good idea, brother.\\\"\\n\\nSomewhere in the town, the dog was still barking.\\n\\n\\\"We have to help him,\\\" Sandalath Drukorlat said.\\n\\nWithal glanced over at her. They were standing on the sward's verge overlooking the beach. The Tiste Edur youth was curled up in the sand below. Still shrieking.\\\"It's not his first visit,\\\" Withal said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How is your head?\\\" she asked after a moment.\\n\\n\\\"It hurts.\\\"\\n\\nThe Tiste Edur fell silent, shuddering, then the youth's head jerked up. He stared at Withal and the Tiste Andii woman standing beside the Meckros weaponsmith. Then back again.\\\"Withal! '\\n\\nThe smith's brows rose, although the motion made him wince, and he said,\\\"He normally doesn't talk tome much.\\\" To the youth, \\\"Rhulad. I am not so cruel as to say welcome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who is she? Who is that... betrayer!\\\"\\n\\nSandalath snorted. \\\"Pathetic. This is the god's sword-wielder? A mistake. '\\n\\n\\\"If it is,\\\" Withal said in a low voice, \\\"I have no intention of telling him so.\\\"\\n\\nRhulad clambered to his feet. \\\"It killed me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Withal replied. \\\"It did, whatever'it\\\" was.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A Forkrul Assail.\\\"\\n\\nSandalath stiffened. \\\"You should be more careful, Edur, in choosing your enemies.\\\"\\n\\nA laugh close to hysteria, as Rhulad made his way up from the beach. \\\"Choose, woman? I choose nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Few ever do, Edur.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is she doing here, Withal?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Crippled God thought I needed company. Beyond three insane Nachts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are lovers?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't be absurd, ' Sandalath said, sneering.\\n\\n\\\"Like she said,\\\" Withal added.\\n\\nRhulad stepped past them. \\\"I need my sword,\\\" he muttered, walking inland.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They turned to watch him.\\n\\n\\\"His sword,\\\" Sandalath murmured. \\\"The one the god had you make?\\\"\\n\\nWithal nodded. \\\"But I am not to blame.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You were compelled.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I was.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's not the weapon that's evil, it's the one wielding it. '\\n\\nHe studied her. \\\"I don't care if you crack my skull again. I am really starting to hate you. '\\n\\n\\\"I assure you my sentiments are identical regarding you.\\\"\\n\\nWithal turned away. \\\"I'm going to my shack. '\\n\\n\\\"Of course you are,\\\" she snapped behind him. \\\"To beg and mumble to your god. As if it'd bother listening to such pathetic mewling. '\\n\\n\\\"I'm hoping, \\\"Withal said over his shoulder,\\\"that it'll take pity on me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why should it?\\\"\\n\\nHe did not reply, and wisely kept his answering smile to himself.\\n\\nStanding ten paces to the side of the throne, Brys Beddict watched as King Ezgara Diskanar walked solemnly into the domed chamber. Distracted irritation was on the king's face, since his journey had required a detour around the prone, shivering form of the Ceda, Kuru Qan, but that was behind him now, and Brys saw Ezgara slowly resume his stern expression.\\n\\nAwaiting him in the throne room was a handful of officials and guards. First Eunuch Nifadas was positioned to the right of the throne, holding the Lether crown on a blood-red pillow. First Concubine Nisall knelt at the foot of the dais, on the left side. Along with Brys and six of his guardsmen, Finadd Gerun Eberict was present with six of his own soldiers of the Palace Guard.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"And that was all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The investiture on this, the day of the Seventh Closure– or close enough since no-one could agree on that specific date– was to be witnessed by these few. Not as originally planned, of course. But there had been more riots, the last one the bloodiest of them all. The king's name had become a curse among the citizenry. The list of invitations had been truncated as a matter of security, and even then, Brys was nervous about Gerun Eberict's presence.\\n\\nThe king neared the dais, his robes sliding silken on the polished marble floor in his wake.\\n\\n\\\"This day,\\\" Nifadas intoned, \\\"Lether becomes an empire.\\\"\\n\\nThe guards executed the salute reserved for the royal line and held it, motionless as statues.\\n\\nEzgara Diskanar stepped up onto the dais and slowly turned round.\\n\\nThe First Eunuch moved to stand before him and raised the pillow.\\n\\nThe king took the crown and fitted it onto his head.\\n\\n\\\"This day,\\\" Nifadas said, stepped back, \\\"Lether is ruled by an emperor.\\\" He turned. \\\"Emperor Ezgara Diskanar.\\\"\\n\\nThe guards released their salute.\\n\\nAnd that is it.\\n\\nEzgara sat on the throne.\\n\\nLooking old and frail and lost.\\n\\nThe windows were shuttered tight. Weeds snarled the path, vines had run wild up the walls to either side of the stepped entrance. From the street behind them came the stench of smoke, and a distant roar from somewhere in the Creeper Quarter inland, beyond Settle Lake, indicated that yet another riot had begun.\\n\\nFrom the Fishers'Gate, Seren Pedac and the Crimson Guardsmen had walked their horses down littered streets. Signs of looting, the occasional corpse, a soldier's dead horse, and figures scurrying from their path into alleys and side avenues. Burnt-outbuildings, packs of hungry feral dogs drawn in from the abandoned farmlands and forests, refugee families huddled here and there, the King's City of Lether seemed to have succumbed to depraved barbarity with the enemy still leagues beyond the horizon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"She was stunned at how swiftly it had all crumbled, and more than a little frightened.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For all her disgust and contempt for the ways of her people, there had remained, somewhere buried deep, a belief in its innate resiliency. But here, before her, was the evidence of sudden, thorough collapse. Greed and savagery unleashed, fear and panic triggering brutality and ruthless indifference.\\n\\nThey passed bodies of citizens who had been long in dying, simply left in the street while they bled out.\\n\\nDown one broad avenue, near the canal, a mob had passed through, perhaps only half a day earlier. There was evidence that soldiers had battled against it, and had been pushed back into a fighting withdrawal. Flanking buildings and estates had been trashed and looted. The street was sticky with blood, and the tracks of dozens of wagons were evident, indicating that here, at least, the city's garrison had returned to takeaway corpses.\\n\\nIron Bars and his Guardsmen said little during the journey, and now, gathered before her home, they remained on their horses, hands on weapons and watchful.\\n\\nSeren dismounted.\\n\\nAfter a moment, Iron Bars and Corlo did the same.\\n\\n\\\"Don't look broken into, ' the mage said.\\n\\n\\\"As I said,\\\" Seren replied, \\\"nothing inside is worth taking.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't like this, \\\"the Avowed muttered.\\\"If trouble comes knocking, Acquitor... '\\n\\n\\\"It won't, \\\"she said.\\\"These riots won't last. The closer the Edur army gets, the quieter things will become.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's not what happened in Trate. '\\n\\n\\\"True, but this will be different.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't see why you'd think so,\\\" Iron Bars said, shaking his head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Go find your ship, Avowed,\\\" Seren said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She turned to the others. \\\"Thank you, all of you. I am honoured to have known you and travelled in your company.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go safe, lass,\\\" Corlo said.\\n\\nShe settled a hand on the mage's shoulder. Held his eyes, but said nothing.\\n\\nHe nodded. \\\"Easy on that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You heard?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did. And I've the headache to prove it. '\\n\\n\\\"Sorry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Try to remember, Seren Pedac, Mockra is a subtle warren.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will try.\\\" She faced Iron Bars.\\n\\n\\\"Once I've found our employer and planted my squad, \\\"he said,\\\"I'll pay you another visit, so we needn't get all soft here and now. '\\n\\n\\\"All right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A day, no longer, then I'll see you again, Acquitor. '\\n\\nShe nodded.\\n\\nThe Avowed and his mage swung themselves back into their saddles. The troop rode off.\\n\\nSeren watched them fora moment, then turned about and walked up the path. The key to the elaborate lock was under the second flagstone.\\n\\nThe door squealed when she pushed it back, and the smell of dust swept out to engulf her. She entered, shutting the door.\\n\\nGloom, and silence.\\n\\nShe did not move fora time, the corridor stretching before her. The door at its end was open, and she could see into the room beyond, which was lit by cloth-filtered sunlight coming from the courtyard at the back. A high-backed chair in that far room faced her, draped in muslin cloth.\\n\\nOne step, then another. On, down the corridor. Just before the entrance to the room, the mouldering body of a dead owl, lying as if asleep on the floor. She edged round it, then stepped into the room, noting the slight breeze coming from the broken window where the owl had presumably entered from the courtyard.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":84,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 31"},{"from":"human","value":"The west gate was open and unguarded."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The lead elements of the Edur army had closed to within a thousand paces, advancing with caution. Ranging to either side of the column, in the ditches and across the fields, the first of the Soletaken wolves came into view.\n\nBugg sighed, looked over at the other occupant along the wall. \"You will have to work fast, I think.\"\n\nThe artist was a well-known and easily recognized figure in Letheras. Amass of hair that began on his head and swept down to join with the wild beard covering jaw and neck, his nub of a nose and small blue eyes the only visible features on his face. He was short and wiry, and painted with agitated capering– often perched on one leg– smearing paint on surfaces that always seemed too small for the image he was seeking to capture. This failing of perspective had long since been elevated into a technique, then a legitimate style, in so far as artistic styles could be legitimate. At Bugg's comment he scowled and rose upon one leg, the foot of the other against the knee.\"The scene, you fool! It is burned into my mind, here behind this eye, the left one. I forget nothing. Every detail. Historians will praise my work this day, you'll see. Praise!\"\n\n\"Are you done, then?\"\n\n\"Very nearly, very very nearly, yes, nearly done. Every detail. I have done it again. That's what they will say. Yes, I have done it again. '\n\n\"May I see?\"\n\nSudden suspicion.\n\nBugg added, \"I am something of an historian myself.\"\n\n\"You are? Have I read you? Are you famous?\"\n\n\"Famous? Probably. But I doubt you've read me, since I've yet to write anything down.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ah, a lecturer!\"\n\n\"A scholar, swimming across the ocean of history.\"\n\n\"I like that. I could paint that.\"\n\n\"So, may I see your painting?\"\n\nA grand gesture with a multicoloured hand. \"Come along, then, old friend. See my genius for yourself.\"\n\nThe board perched on its easel was wider than it was high, in the manner of a landscape painting or, indeed, a record of some momentous vista of history. At least two arm-lengths wide. Bugg walked round fora look at the image captured on the surface.\n\nAnd saw two colours, divided in a rough diagonal. Scratchy red to the right, muddy brown to the left. \"Extraordinary,\" Bugg said. \"And what is it you have rendered here?\"\n\n\"What is it? Are you blind?\" The painter pointed with a brush. \"The column! Those approaching Edur, the vast army! The standard, of course. The standard!\"\n\nBugg squinted across the distance to the tiny patch of red that was the vanguard's lead standard.\"Ah, of course. Now I see. '\n\n\"And my brilliance blinds you, yes?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, all comprehension has been stolen from my eyes indeed.\"\n\nThe artist deftly switched legs and perched pensively, frowning out at the Edur column. \"Of course, they're closer now. I wish I'd brought another board, so I could elaborate yet further on the detail.\"\n\n\"Well, you could always use this wall.\"\n\nBushy brows arched. \"That's... clever. You area scholar indeed. '\n\n\"I must be going, now.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, stop distracting me. I need to focus, you know. Focus.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bugg quietly made his way down the stone stairs. \"A fine lesson,\" he muttered under his breath as he reached street level. Details... so many things to do this day.\n\nHe walked deserted streets, avoiding the major intersections where barricades had been raised and soldiers moved about in nervous expectation. The occasional furtive figure darted into and out of view as he went on.\n\nA short time later the manservant rounded a corner, paused, then approached the ruined temple. Standing near it was Turudal Brizad, who looked over as Bugg reached his side.\n\n\"Any suggestions?\" the god known as the Errant asked.\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"The mortal I requested for this task has not appeared.\"\n\n\"Oh. That's not good, since the Jheck are at the gates even as we speak. '\n\n\"And the first Edur from the ships have disembarked, yes.\"\n\n\"Why not act for yourself?\" Bugg asked.\n\n\"I cannot. My aspect enforces certain... prohibitions.\"\n\n\"Ah, the nudge, the pull or the push.\"\n\n\"Yes, only that.\"\n\n\"You have been about as direct as you can be.\"\n\nThe Errant nodded.\n\n\"Well, I see your dilemma,\" Bugg said.\n\n\"Thus my query– do you have any suggestions?\"\n\nThe manservant considered fora time, whilst the god waited patiently, then he sighed and said, \"Perhaps. Wait here. If I am successful, I will send someone to you.\"\n\n\"All right. I trust you will not be overlong.\"\n\n\"I hope not. Depends on my powers of persuasion.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Then I am encouraged.\"\n\nWithout another word, Bugg headed off. He quickened his pace as he made his way towards the docks. Fortunately, it was not far, and he arrived at Front Street to see that only the main piers had been commandeered by the landing warriors of the Tiste Edur. They were taking their time, he noted, a sign of their confidence. No-one was opposing their landing. Bugg hurried along Front Street until he came to the lesser berths. Where he found his destination, a two-masted, sleek colt of a ship that needed new paint but seemed otherwise relatively sound. There was no-one visible on its deck, but as soon as he crossed the gangway he heard voices, then the thump of boots.\n\nBugg had reached the mid-deck when the cabin door swung open and two armed women emerged, swords out.\n\nBugg halted and held up his hands.\n\nThree more figures appeared once the two women stepped to either side. A tall, grey-maned man in a crimson surcoat, and a second man who was clearly a mage of some sort. The third arrival Bugg recognized.\n\n\"Good morning, Shand. So this is where Tehol sent you.\"\n\n\"Bugg. What in the Errant's name do you want? '\n\n\"Well said, lass. And are these fine soldiers Shurq Elalle's newly hired crew? '\n\n\"Who is this man?\" the grey-haired man asked Shand.\n\nShe scowled. \"My employer's manservant. And your employer works for my employer. His arrival means there's going to be trouble. Goon, Bugg, we're listening. '\n\n\"First, how about some introductions, Shand?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She rolled her eyes. \"Iron Bars-\"\n\n\"An Avowed of the Crimson Guard,\" Bugg cut in, smiling. \"Forgive me. Goon, please.\"\n\n\"Corlo-\"\n\n\"His High Mage. Again, forgive me, but that will have to do. I have very little time. I need these Guardsmen.\"\n\n\"You need us for what?\" Iron Bars asked.\n\n\"You have to kill the god of the Soletaken Jheck.\"\n\nThe Avowed's expression darkened.\"Soletaken. We've crossed paths with Soletaken before.\"\n\nBugg nodded. \"If the Jheck reach their god, they will of course protect it-\"\n\n\"How faraway?\"\n\n\"Just a few streets, in an abandoned temple.\"\n\nIron Bars nodded. \"This god, is it Soletaken or D'ivers? '\n\n\"D'ivers. '\n\nThe Avowed turned to Corlo, who said, \"Ready up, soldiers, we've some fighting ahead. '\n\nShand stared at them. \"What do I tell Shurq if she shows up in the meantime?\"\n\n\"We won't belong, ' Iron Bars said, drawing his sword.\n\n\"Wait!\" Shand swung to Bugg. \"You! How did you know they'd be here? '\n\nThe manservant shrugged. \"Errant's nudge, I suppose. Take care, Shand, and say hello to Hejun and Rissarh for me, won't you?\"\n\n---\n\nFifty paces' worth of empty cobbled road between them and the yawning gates of Letheras. Trull Sengar leaned on his spear and glanced over at Rhulad."},{"from":"human","value":"The emperor, fur-shouldered and hulking, was pacing like a beast, eyes fixed on the gateway."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hannan Mosag and his surviving K'risnan had advanced ten paces in the midst of shadow wraiths, the latter now sliding forward.\n\nThe wraiths reached the gate, hovered a moment, then swept into the city.\n\nHannan Mosag turned and strode back to where the emperor and his brothers waited. \"It is as we sensed, Emperor. The Ceda's presence is nowhere to be found. There are but a handful of minor mages among the garrison. The wraiths and demons will take care of them. We should be able to carve our way through the barricades and reach the Eternal Domicile by noon. A fitting time for you to ascend the throne. '\n\n\"Barricades,\" Rhulad said, nodding. \"Good. We wish to fight. Udinaas!\"\n\n\"Here.\" The slave stepped forward.\n\n\"This time, Udinaas, you will accompany the Household, under Uruth's charge. '\n\n\"Emperor?\"\n\n\"We shall not risk you, Udinaas. Should we fall, however, you will be sent to us immediately.\"\n\nThe slave bowed and stepped back.\n\nRhulad swung to where stood his father and three brothers. \"We shall enter Letheras now. We shall claim our empire. Ready your weapons, blood of ours.\"\n\nThey began moving forward.\n\nTrull's gaze held on Hannan Mosag fora moment longer, wondering what the Warlock King was hiding, then he followed his brothers.\n\nHull Beddict was among the second company to enter Letheras, and twenty paces in from the gate he stepped to one side and halted, watching as the wary Edur marched on. None paid him any attention. From the nearby buildings, pallid faces looked down from windows and through slightly parted shutters. From out over the docks gulls wheeled and cried out in a cacophony of panic. Somewhere ahead, down the main avenue, the fighting began at the first barricade. There was a thump of sorcery, then screams."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A meaningless waste of life. He hoped not all the garrison soldiers would be so foolishly brave. There was no longer any reason for fighting. Lether was conquered. All that was left was to depose the ineffectual king and his treacherous advisers. The one truly just act of this war, as far as Hull Beddict was concerned.\n\nHis grieving for his brother Brys was done. Although Brys was not yet dead, his death was none the less ascertain an outcome as could exist. The King's Champion would die defending the king. It was tragic, and unnecessary, but it would be the last tradition acted out by the Letherii, and nothing Hull or anyone else could door say would prevent it.\n\nAll the ashes had settled in Hull's mind. The slaughter behind them, the murder waiting ahead of them. He had betrayed, to see an end to the corrupt insanity of his people. That the victory demanded the death of Brys offered the final layer of ash to shroud Hull's soul. There would be no absolution.\n\nEven so, one responsibility remained with Hull. As the third company of Tiste Edur entered through the gates, he turned and made his way down aside alley.\n\nHe needed to speak to Tehol. To explain things. To tell his brother that he knew of the deceptions, the schemes. Tehol was, he hoped, the one man in Letheras who would not hate Hull for what he had done. He needed to speak to him.\n\nHe needed something like forgiveness.\n\nFor not being thereto save their parents all those years ago.\n\nFor not being thereto save Brys now.\n\nForgiveness, a simple thing.\n\nUdinaas stood among the other slaves of the Sengar household, awaiting their turn to enter Letheras. Word had already come that there was fighting ahead, somewhere. Uruth stood nearby, and with her was Mayen, wrapped in a heavy cloak, her face looking ravaged, eyes like a thing hunted. Uruth remained close, as if fearing an escape attempt from the younger woman. Not out of compassion for Mayen, however. The child was all that mattered now."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Poor Mayen.\n\nHe knew how she felt. Something like a fever gripped him, an urgency in his blood. Sweat trickled down his body beneath his tunic. His skin felt on fire. He held himself still, on the edge, he feared, of losing control.\n\nThe sensation had come on suddenly, like an inner wave of panic, a faceless terror. Worsening-\n\nHead spinning, it was a moment before he realized what was happening. Then horror flooded through Udinaas.\n\nThe Wyval.\n\nIt was coming to life within him.\n\nB'nagga in the lead, the Jheck entered the city. Soletaken, loping with heads sunk low, one and all seeking the scent of their god. And finding it within the fear-sour currents drifting through Letheras, an impatience, a sentience consumed with rage.\n\nGleeful howls, rising to fill the city, reverberating down the streets, from over nine thousand wolves. Striking terror amongst cowering citizens. Nine thousand wolves, white-furred, racing on a score of convergent routes towards the old temple, an inward rush of bestial madness.\n\nB'nagga joined his voice to the chilling howls, his heart filled with savage joy. The Pack awaited them. Demons, wraiths, Tiste Edur and damned emperors were as nothing now. Momentary allies of convenience. What would rise herein Letheras was the ascension of the Jheck. An empire of Soletaken, with a god-emperor upon the throne. Rhulad torn to pieces, every Edur sundered into bloody, sweet-tasting meat, rich marrow from split bones, skulls broken open, brains devoured."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"This day would end in such slaughter that none who survived would forget.\n\nThis day, B'nagga told himself with a silent laugh, belonged to the Jheck.\n\nSeventy-three of his company's finest soldiers formed a shield wall behind Moroch Nevath. They held the principal bridge crossing Main Canal, a suitable site for this pathetic drama. Best of all, the Third Tiers were arrayed behind them, on which citizens had now appeared. Spectators– a Letherii talent. No doubt wagers were being made, and at least Moroch Nevath would have an audience.\n\nThe hooded looks, the rumours of his cowardice at High Fort, would cease this day. It wasn't much, but it would suffice.\n\nHe recalled he had promised to do something for Turudal Brizad, but the man's outrageous claims had not quite convinced Moroch. Tales of gods and such, coming from a painted consort at that, well, that would have to wait another day, another lifetime. Leave the foppish lover of the lost queen and that obnoxious chancellor to fight his own battles. Moroch wanted to cross blades with the Tiste Edur.\n\nIf they let him. A squalid death beneath a wave of sorcery was more likely.\n\nA grunt from one of his soldiers.\n\nMoroch nodded, seeing the first of the Edur approaching from the main avenue. \"Hold that shield wall,\" he said in a growl, moving to stand five paces in front of it. \"It's a small company– let's send their souls to the Errant's piss-hole. '\n\nIn answer to his bold words, shouts from the soldiers, voices made ugly with blood-lust. Swords hammering shield-rims."},{"from":"human","value":"Moroch smiled."},{"from":"gpt","value":"They've seen us.\"Look at them, comrades– see how they hesitate. '\n\nBellowed challenges from the soldiers.\n\nThe Tiste Edur resumed their march. In their lead, a warrior draped in gold.\n\nWhom Moroch had seen before. \"Errant bless me,\" he whispered, then spun round. \"The emperor! The one in gold!\" And turned back, taking four more strides until he was at the very edge of the bridge. Raising his sword. \"Rhulad of the Edur!\" he shouted. \"Come and face me, you damned freak! Come forward and die!\"\n\nBugg pointed down the street. \"See that man? That's Turudal Brizad. That is who you are doing this favour for. If he's not grateful, give him an earful. I have to get going, but I will be back shortly-\"\n\nThe air filled suddenly with howling, coming from the north and west.\n\n\"Oh, damn,\" Bugg said. \"You'd better get going. And I'd better stay too,\" he added, heading off towards the Errant.\n\n\"Corlo,\" Iron Bars snapped as they followed the manservant.\n\n\"Oh, it's befuddled, some, Avowed. Can't hear a thing besides.\"\n\nIron Bars nodded. \"Weapons ready. We're wasting no time on this. How many in there, Corlo? '\n\n\"Six, their favourite number.\"\n\n\"Let's go. '\n\nBugg had moved ahead and was fifteen paces from Turudal, who had turned to face him, when the Avowed and his squad thumped past, gaining speed.\n\nAs they closed on the Errant the god, brows lifting, pointed towards the entrance to the ruined temple."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Crimson Guardsmen shifted course, reaching full sprint as they passed Turudal Brizad.\n\nBugg heard Iron Bars say to the god, \"Pleased-to-meet-you-see-you-later,\" and then the Avowed and his soldiers were past. Straight for the dark entrance, then plunging inside.\n\nBestial screams, human shouts, the deafening thunder of sorcery-\n\n\"He's mine! ' Rhulad said in a snarl, lifting his sword and stalking towards the lone Letherii swordsman at this end of the bridge.\n\nHannan Mosag called, \"Emperor! Leave these to my K'risnan-'\n\nRhulad spun round. \"No!\" he shrieked. \"We shall fight! We are warriors! These Letherii deserve to die honourably! We will hear nothing more from you!\" The emperor swung back. \"This, this brave swordsman. I want him.\"\n\nBeside Trull, Fear muttered, \"He wants to be killed by him. I recognize that Letherii. He was with the delegation.\"\n\nTrull nodded. The Finadd, a Letherii captain and bodyguard to Prince Quillas– he could not recall the man's name.\n\nIt was clear that Rhulad had not recognized him.\n\nMottled sword held at the ready, the emperor approached.\n\nMoroch Nevath smiled. Rhulad Sengar, who had died, only to return. If the rumours were true, he had died again in Trate. But this time, I will make him stay dead. I will cut him to pieces. He waited, watching the emperor's approach.\n\nFavouring the right side, the right foot edging ahead of the other, a detail telling Moroch that Rhulad had been trained to use a single-handed sword, rather than this two-handed monstrosity now wavering about before him like an oversized club."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The sudden charge was not unexpected, only the speed of that weapon as the blade whirled towards Moroch's head. He barely managed to avoid getting his skull sliced in half, ducking and pitching to his right. A deafening clang, the shock ripping through him as the sword bit into his helmet, caught, then tore it from his head.\n\nMoroch sprang back, staying as low as possible, then straightened once more. The top third of his own sword was slick with blood. He had met the charge with a stop-hit.\n\nOpposite him, Rhulad staggered back, blood pulsing from his right thigh.\n\nThe lead leg was always vulnerable.\n\nLet's see you dance now, Emperor.\n\nMoroch shook off the numbing effects of the blow to his head. Muscles and tendons in his neck and back were screaming silent pain, and he knew that he had taken damage. For the moment, however, neither arm had seized in answer to the trauma.\n\nA shriek, as Rhulad attacked once more.\n\nTwo-handed thrust, broken timing– a moment's hesitation, sufficient to avoid Moroch's all-too-quick parry– then finishing in a full lunge.\n\nThe Finadd twisted his body in an effort to avoid the sword-point. Searing fire above his right hip as the mottled blade's edge sawed deep. A wet, red rush, spraying out to the side. Now inside the weapon's reach, Moroch drove his own sword in from a sharp angle, stabbing the tip into the emperor's left armpit. The bite of gold coin, the grating resistance of ribs, then inward, gouging along the inside of Rhulad's shoulder blade, striving for the spine."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The mottled sword seemed to leap with a will of its own, reversing grip, hands lifting high, point down. A diagonal thrust, entering above Moroch's right hipbone, down through his groin.\n\nRhulad pushed down from the grip end, the point chewing through the Finadd's lower intestines, until the pommel clunked on the paving stones beneath them, then the emperor straightened, pushing the weapon backup, through Moroch's torso, alongside his heart, through his left lung, the point bursting free just behind his clavicle on that side.\n\nDying, Moroch threw the last of his strength against his own weapon, seeing Rhulad bow around its embedded point. Then a snap, as the emperor's spine broke.\n\nCrimson smile broadening, Moroch Nevath sagged to the slick stones, even as Rhulad pitched down.\n\nAnother figure loomed over him, then. One of Rhulad's brothers.\n\nWho spoke as if from along distance away. \"Tell me your name, Finadd.\"\n\nMoroch sought to answer, but he was drowning in blood. I am Moroch Nevath. And I have killed your damned emperor.\n\n\"Are you the King's Champion in truth? Your soldiers on the bridge seem to be yelling that– King's Champion... is that who you are, Finadd?\"\n\nNo.\n\nYou bastards have not met him yet.\n\nWith that pleasing thought, Moroch Nevath died.\n\nSo swift the healing, so terribly swift the return of life. Surrounded by the wolf howls reverberating through Letheras in a chorus of the damned, the emperor voiced a scream that tore the air.\n\nThe company of soldiers on the bridge were silenced, staring as Rhulad, sheathed in blood, staggered upright, tugging the sword from the Finadd's body, then skidding with a lurch as he stepped to one side. Righting himself, his eyes filled with madness and terror."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Udinaas!\"\n\nDesperately alone. A soul writhing in agony.\n\n\"Udinaas!\"\n\nTwo hundred paces away on the main avenue, Uruth Sengar heard her son's frantic cry. She spun, seeking the slave among those walking in her wake. At that moment, Mayen shrieked, pushed her way clear of the other women, and was suddenly running– into an alley. And gone.\n\nFrozen, Uruth hesitated, then with a hiss returned her attention to the slaves cowering in front of her.\n\n\"Udinaas! Where are you?\"\n\nBlank, terrified looks met her. Familiar faces one and all. But among them, nowhere could she find Udinaas.\n\nThe slave was gone.\n\nUruth plunged among them, fists flailing. \"Find him! Find Udinaas!\"\n\nA sudden hate raged through her. For Udinaas. For all the Letherii.\n\nBetrayed. My son is betrayed.\n\nOh, how they would pay.\n\nShe could hear sounds of fighting now throughout the city, as the invaders poured into the streets and were met by desperate soldiers. Frightened, moving about from one place of cover to the next in the overgrown yard, the child Kettle began to cry. She was alone.\n\nThe five killers were almost free. Their barrow was breaking apart, thick fissures welling in the dark, wet earth, submerged rocks grinding and snapping together. The muted sounds of five voices joined in a chant as heavy as drums... rising, coming ever closer to the surface.\n\n\"Oh,\" she moaned, \"where is everybody? Where are my friends?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kettle staggered over to the barrow containing her only ally. He was there, so very close. She reached down-\n\n-and was dragged in, a heaving passage of hot soil, then through, stumbling, slipping on a muddy bank. Before her sprawled a fetid swamp beneath a grey sky.\n\nAnd, almost within arm's reach, a figure was climbing from the dark water. White-skinned, longhair smeared with mud.\"Kettle! \"The voice a strained grasp.\"Behind you– reach-'\n\nShe turned round.\n\nTwo swords, points thrust into the mud.\n\n\"Kettle– take them– give them-\"\n\nA wet gasp, and she spun back, to seethe bared arms of another figure, clawing up to wrap about her friend– a woman's arms, lean, ribboned in muscle. He was dragged back– she saw him drive an elbow into the fiercely twisting, black-streaked face that rose suddenly from the slime. Connecting hard in a splatter of blood. But the clutching hands would not let go.\n\nAnd they both sank back into the swirling foam.\n\nWhimpering, Kettle crawled over to the swords. She tugged them from the mud, then clambered back to the water's edge.\n\nLimbs appeared amidst the thrashing waves.\n\nShivering, Kettle waited.\n\nSo easy, now, a slave once more, as the Wyval suffused his body, stealing the will of every muscle, every organ, the charging blood in his veins. Udinaas could barely see through his own eyes, as street after street blurred past. Sudden moments of brutal clarity, as he came upon three Soletaken wolves– which turned as one with snarls and bared fangs– and was among them, his hands now talons, the thumb-long claws tearing into wolf-flesh, curling round ribs and ripping them loose. A massive, gnarled fist, slamming into the side of a lunging, snapping head, breaking bone– the wolf's head suddenly lolling, the eyes blank in death."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then, motion once more.\n\nHis master needed him. Needed him now. No time to lose.\n\nA slave. Absolved of all responsibility, nothing more than a tool.\n\nAnd this, Udinaas knew, was the poison of surrender.\n\nClose, now, and closing.\n\nThere is nothing new in being used. Look upon these sprawled corpses, after all. Poor Letherii soldiers lying dead for no reason. Defending the corpse of a kingdom, citizens once more everyone of them. The kingdom that does not move, the kingdom in service to the god of dust– you will find the temples in crooked alleys, in the cracks between cobbles.\n\nYou will find, my friends, no sweeter world than this, where honour and faith and freedom are notions levelled one and all, layers as thin as hate, envy and betrayal. Every notion vulnerable to any sordid breeze, stirred up, stirred together. A world without demands to challenge the confused haze of holy apathy.\n\nThe god of dust rises dominant-\n\nAhead, a dozen wolves, charging straight for him.\n\nThere would, it seemed, be a delay.\n\nUdinaas bared his teeth.\n\n\"How are you managing it?\" Bugg asked.\n\nThe Errant glanced over. \"The wolves?\"\n\n\"They're everywhere but here, and they should have arrived long ago. '\n\nThe god shrugged. \"I keep nudging them away. It's not as difficult as I feared, although their leader is too clever by far– much harder to deceive. Besides, the beasts keep running into other... opposition. '\n\n\"What kind of opposition?\"\n\n\"Other.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The shouts from within the temple ceased then. Silence, no movement from the dark doorway. A half-dozen heartbeats, then, a muttering of voices and swearing.\n\nThe mage, Corlo, appeared, backing out and dragging a limp body in his wake, a body leaving twin trails of blood from its heels.\n\nConcerned, Bugg stepped forward. \"Is she alive?\"\n\nCorlo, himself amass of cuts and bruises, cast the manservant a slightly wild look. \"No, dammit.\"\n\n\"I am sorry for that,\" the Errant murmured.\n\nMore Guardsmen were emerging from the doorway. All were wounded, one of them badly, his left arm torn loose at the shoulder and dangling from a few pink-white tendons. His eyes were glazed with shock.\n\nCorlo glared at Turudal Brizad. \"Can you do any healing? Before the rest of us bleed out-\"\n\nIron Bars stepped from the ruined temple, sheathing his sword. He was covered in blood but none of it was his. His expression was alarmingly dark. \"We were expecting wolves, damn you,\" he said in a low growl as he stared at the Errant, who had closed to lay hands upon the most grievously injured soldier, raising new flesh to bind the arm once more to the shoulder as the soldier's face twisted with pain.\n\nTurudal Brizad shrugged. \"There was little time to elaborate on what you were about to fight, Avowed. In case you have forgotten.\"\n\n\"Damned cats,\" he said.\n\n\"Lizard cats, you mean,\" one of the Guardsmen said, spitting blood onto the street. \"Sometimes I think nature is insane.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You got that right, Halfpeck,\" Corlo said, reaching down to close the eyelids of the dead woman lying at his feet.\n\nIron Bars suddenly moved, a blur, past the Errant, both hands lifting-\n\n-as a huge white wolf, claws skittering, pitched round from an alley mouth and, head ducking, lunged towards Turudal Brizad, who had only just begun to turn round.\n\nThe Avowed caught it in mid-leap, left hand closing on its right leg just beneath the shoulder, right hand clutching its neck beneath the beast's jaws. He heaved the wolf high, pivoted and smashed it headfirst onto the street. Crushing snout, skull and shoulders. Limbs kicking spasmodically, the Soletaken flopped onto its back, yellow vomit spurting, urine arcing as it died. A moment later, all movement from the limbs ceased, although the urine continued to stream, the arc dwindling, then collapsing.\n\nIron Bars stepped back.\n\nHalfpeck suddenly laughed. \"It pissed on you!\"\n\n\"Be quiet,\" Iron Bars said, looking down at his wet legs. \"Hood take me, that stinks.\"\n\n\"We should get back to the ship,\" Corlo said. \"There's wolves allover the place and I don't think I can keep them away much longer.\"\n\nTurudal Brizad; \"But I can. Especially now.\"\n\nBugg asked, \"What's changed, apart from the Pack getting chopped to pieces? '\n\nThe Errant pointed down at the dead Soletaken. \"That was B'nagga, the leader of the Jheck. \"He shot Bugg a look, astonished and half disbelieving.\"You chose well, ' he said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"This squad managed to escape Assail,\" Bugg said, shrugging.\n\nThe god's eyes widened. He turned to Iron Bars.\"I will ensure you a clear path to your ship-'\n\n\"Oh, damn,\" Bugg cut in, slowly turning. \"They're getting out. '\n\n\"More trouble?\" Iron Bars asked, looking round, his hand drifting close to the sword at his hip.\n\n\"Not here,\" Bugg said. \"But not far.\" He faced the Avowed, gauging.\n\nIron Bars frowned, then said, \"Corlo, take the squad back to the ship. All right, old man, lead the way.\"\n\n\"You don't have to do this-'\n\n\"Yes I do. With that wolf pissing on me I feel the need to lose my temper. It's another fight, isn't it?\"\n\nBugg nodded. \"Might make the Pack seem like kittens, Iron Bars.\"\n\n\"Might? Will it or won't it? '\n\n\"All right, we might well lose this one.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" the Avowed snapped. \"Let's get it over with. '\n\nThe manservant sighed. \"Follow me, then. It's a dead Azath House we're heading to.\"\n\n\"Dead? Hood take me, a garden fete.\"\n\nA garden fete? Dear me, I like this man. \"And we're inviting ourselves, Avowed. Still with me? '\n\nIron Bars looked across at Corlo, who had stopped to listen, his face bloodless as he repeatedly shook his head in denial. The Avowed grunted. \"Once you've dropped \"em off, come and find us, Corlo. And try and make your arrival timely.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Avowed-\"\n\n\"Go.\"\n\nBugg glanced at the Errant. \"You coming?\"\n\n\"In spirit,\" he replied. \"There is another matter I must attend to, I am afraid. Oh,\" he added as Bugg and Iron Bars turned to go, \"dear manservant, I thank you. And you as well, Avowed. Tell me, Iron Bars, how many of the Avowed remain among the Crimson Guard?\"\n\n\"No idea. A few hundred, I'd imagine. '\n\n\"Scattered here and there...\"\n\nThe grey-haired soldier smiled. \"For the moment.\"\n\nBugg said, \"We shall have to run, I think.\"\n\n\"Can you keep up?\" Iron Bars asked.\n\n\"As swift as a charging wave, that's me, ' Bugg said.\n\nBrys stood alone in the corridor. The howling was, thankfully, over. It was the only sound that had managed to penetrate the walls. There was noway to know if the garrison was fighting in the city beyond the Eternal Domicile. It seemed such a pointless thing...\n\nHis breath caught upon hearing a strange sound. Brys lowered his gaze, fixed it upon the Ceda, who was lying curled tight in the chamber beyond, with his back to Brys and the throne room behind him.\n\nKuru Qan's head shifted slightly, then rose a fraction from the floor.\n\nAnd, from the Ceda, there came low laughter.\n\nThe path was unmistakable. Keening with glee, the demon drew itself to the cave's entrance, contracting its massive, corpulent presence, the bloated flesh of its body, away from the river's broad span. Inward, gathering, hovering before the tunnel beneath the city, where old swamp water still flowed, putrid and sweet, a flavour like sweet nectar to the demon."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ready now, at last, for the lunge, the breaking away from the grip of its master. Who was so regrettably preoccupied at the moment.\n\nNow.\n\nSurging forward, filling the cave, then into the narrow, twisting tunnel.\n\nTo the heart. The wondrous, blessed heart of power.\n\nJoy and hunger burning like twin fires within it. Close, so close now.\n\nSquirming down, the path narrowing, squeezing with the vast pressure of overlying stone and earth. A little further.\n\nReaching out, the space suddenly opening, blissfully wide and high, spreading out to all sides, the water welcoming in its warmth.\n\nA storm of long-still silts sweeping up, blinding, shadows of dead things cavorting before its countless eyes.\n\nThe heart, the enormous cavern beneath the lake, the city's very soul– the power-\n\nAnd Brys heard Kuru Qan speak.\n\n\"Now, friend Bugg.\"\n\nThirty paces from the overgrown yard of the Azath tower, Bugg skidded to a halt. He cocked his head, then smiled.\n\nAhead, Iron Bars slowed, then turned round. \"What?\"\n\n\"Find the girl,\" the manservant said. \"I'll join you when I can. '\n\n\"Bugg?\"\n\n\"In a moment, Avowed. I must do something first.\"\n\nThe Crimson Guardsman hesitated, then nodded and swung back.\n\nBugg closed his eyes. Jaghut witch, hear me. Recall my favour at the quarry? The time has come for... reciprocity.\n\nShe replied in his mind, distant, yet swiftly closing. \"I hear you, little man. I know what you seek. Ah, you area clever one indeed...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oh, I cannot take all the credit, this time.\n\nThe demon expanded to fill the cavern. The heart was all about, the power seeping into enliven its flesh. The chains of binding melted away.\n\nNow, it need only reach out and grasp hold.\n\nThe strength of a thousand gods awaited it.\n\nReaching.\n\nCountless grasping, clutching hands.\n\nFinding... nothing.\n\nThen, a mortal's voice-\n\nFrom the Ceda, two more words, uttered low and clear, \"Got you.\"\n\nA lie! Illusion! Deceit! The demon raged, spun in a conflagration of brown silt, seeking the way out– only to find the tunnel mouth sealed. A smooth surface, fiercely cold, the cold burning– the demon recoiled.\n\nThen, the lake overhead. Upward– fast, faster-\n\nUrsto Hoobutt and his sometime lover, Pinosel, were both drunk as they awaited the fall of Letheras. They had been singing, celebrating the end of their debts, sprawled on the mouldy walkway surrounding Settle Lake amidst nervous rats and head-jutting pigeons.\n\nWhen the wine ran out, they began bickering.\n\nIt had begun innocently enough, as Pinosel loosed aloud sigh and said, \"And now you can marry me.\"\n\nIt was a moment before her words registered, upon which, bleary-eyed, he looked over in disbelief. \"Marry you? Wha's wrong wi\"\"ow it is now, Cherrytart? '\n\n\"What's wrong? It's respectable I want, you fat, flea-bit oaf. I earned it. Respectable. You marry me, Ursto Hoobutt, now that the Edurians done conquered us. Marry me!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All right, I will.\"\n\n\"When?\" she demanded, sensing the out he was angling towards.\n\n\"When... when...\" Hah! He had his answer-\n\nAnd, at that instant, the fetid green water of Settle Lake, sprawled out before them like a turgid plain of seaweed fertilizer, paled into murky white. And clouds began rising from its now frozen surface.\n\nAn icy breeze swept over Ursto Hoobutt and Pinosel.\n\nThere was a sudden deep thump from somewhere beneath the frozen lake's ice, although not a single crack showed.\n\nUrsto Hoobutt stared, disbelieving, Opened his mouth, then closed it.\n\nThen his shoulders sagged. \"Today, love. I'll marry ya today... '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When the gods of dust were young They swam in blood.\n\nWhiteforth's Dream on the Day of the Seventh Closure Fever Witch\n\nShurq Elalle walked down the tunnel to the crypt door. her thoughts were on Gerun Eberict; her concern was for Tehol Beddict. The Finadd was of the most vicious sort, after all, and Tehol seemed so... helpless. Oh, fit enough, probably quite capable of running fast and far should the need arise. But it was clear that Tehol had no intention of running anywhere. The silent bodyguards Brys had assigned to him were some comfort, although, the way Gerun worked, they might prove little more than a minor inconvenience.\n\nIf that was not troubling enough, there was the ominous silence from Kettle at the dead Azath tower. Was that a result of the child's returning to life, thus severing the link that bound the dead? Or had something terrible happened?\n\nShe reached the portal and pushed it open.\n\nLight flared from a lantern, and she saw Ublala seated on the sarcophagus, the lantern on his lap as he adjusted the flame.\n\nShe saw his expression and frowned. \"What is wrong, my love?\"\n\n\"There's no time, \"he said, rising, bumping his head on the ceiling, then ducking into a hunch.\"Bad things. I was about to go. \"He set the lantern down on the lid.\"Couldn't wait for you any longer. I've got to go. '\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"It's the Seregahl, \"he mumbled, hands wringing.\"It's bad.\"\n\n\"The Seregahl? The old Tarthenal gods? Ublala, what are you talking about?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I have to go.\" He headed for the doorway.\n\n\"Ublala, what about Harlest? Where are you going?\"\n\n\"The old tower.\" He was in the tunnel, his words dwindling. \"I love you, Shurq Elalle...\"\n\nShe stared at the empty doorway. Love? That sounded... final.\n\nShurq Elalle went to the sarcophagus and slid the lid to one side.\n\n\"Aarrgh! Hiss! Hiss! Hiss-\"\n\n\"Stop that, Harlest!\" She batted the clawing hands away. \"Get out of there. We have to go-\"\n\n\"Where?\" Harlest slowly sat up, practising baring his long fangs and making growling sounds.\n\nShe studied him fora moment, then said, \"A cemetery.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" Harlest sighed, \"that's perfect. '\n\nSitting in the street, in a pool of darkening blood, the emperor of the Tiste Edur had one handheld against his face and seemed to be trying to claw his eyes out. He still screamed every now and then, a shrill, wordless release of raw anguish.\n\nOn the bridge, thirty paces distant, the Letherii soldiers were silent and motionless behind their shields. Other citizens of the city were visible along the edge of the canal on the other side, a row of onlookers, their numbers growing.\n\nTrull Sengar felt a hand settle on his shoulder and he turned to find Uruth, her face twisted with distress.\n\n\"Son, something must be done– he's losing his mind-'\n\nUdinaas, the damned slave who had become so essential, so integral to Rhulad– to the young Edur's sanity– had vanished. And now the emperor railed, recognizing no-one, froth on his lips, his cries those of a panicked beast.\"He must be hunted down, \"Trull said.\"That slave. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"There is more-\"\n\nHannan Mosag had moved to stand close to Rhulad, and now spoke, his words carrying easily. \"Emperor Rhulad, hear me! This is a day of dark truths. Your slave, Udinaas, has done what we would expect of a Letherii. Their hearts are filled with treachery and they serve none but themselves. Rhulad, Udinaas has runaway.\" He paused, then said, \"From you.\"\n\nThe triumph was poorly hidden as the Warlock King continued. \"He has made himself into your white nectar, and now leaves you in pain. This is a world without faith, Emperor. Only your kin can be trusted-\"\n\nRhulad's head snapped up, features ravaged with hurt, a dark fire in his eyes.\"Trusted? You, Hannan Mosag? My brothers? Mayen? \"Blood-smeared gold, matted bear fur, sword-blade threaded through bits of human meat and intestines, the emperor staggered upright, chest heaving with emotion.\"You are all as nothing to us. Liars, cheats, betrayers! All of you! \"He whipped the sword, spattering red and pink fragments onto the cobbles and against the shins of those standing nearest him, and bared his teeth.\"The emperor shall reflect his people, \"he rasped, an ugly grin spreading.\"Reflect, as it must be. '\n\nTrull saw Fear take a step forward, halting as Rhulad's sword shot upward, the point hovering at Fear's throat.\n\n\"Oh no, brother, we want nothing from you. We want nothing from any of you. Except obedience. An empire must be shaped, and that shaping shall be by the emperor's hands. Warlock King! '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sire?\"\n\nThe sword slid away from Fear's throat, waved carelessly towards the soldiers blocking the bridge.\"Get rid of them. '\n\nBinadas among them, the K'risnan shambled forward at Hannan Mosag's gesture. Behind them were four slaves with two large leather sacks which they dragged over the cobbles to where the K'risnan waited in a row. Noting the sacks, the Warlock King shook his head.\"Not here, I think. Something... simpler. \"He faced the emperor.\"A moment, sire, in which to prepare. I shall do this myself. '\n\nUruth tugged Trull round again. \"It is more than just Udinaas,\" she said. \"Mayen has escaped.\"\n\nHe stared at her, not quite comprehending. \"Escaped?\"\n\n\"We must find her...\"\n\n\"She ran away... from us? From her own people?\"\n\n\"It is the hunger, Trull. Please.\"\n\nAfter a moment, he pulled away, looked round until he saw a company of warriors grouped behind Theradas and Midik Buhn. Trull walked over to them.\n\nTheradas scowled. \"What do you want, Trull Sengar?\"\n\n\"The emperor's mother has orders for you and your warriors, Theradas. '\n\nHis expression lost its ferocity, was replaced with uncertainty. \"What are they?\"\n\n\"Mayen is lost, somewhere in the city. She must be found. As for Udinaas... if you see him...\"\n\n\"If we see him he will die terribly, Trull Sengar.\"\n\nHe betrayed Rhulad. When I warned him... Trull glanced over at Rhulad. A return from this madness? Not likely. It was too late. \"As you like, Theradas. Just find Mayen.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He watched them head off, then turned and met Uruth's eyes. She nodded.\n\nThe soldiers on the bridge knew what was coming. He saw them duck lower behind their shields. Pointless. Pathetic, yet there was courage here, among these Letherii. Udinaas, I did not... did not think you would-\n\nA seething, spitting grey wave rose suddenly at the foot of the bridge, churning higher.\n\nThe shield wall flinched back, contracted.\n\nThe wave plunged forward.\n\nFrom the banks of the canal to either side citizens shrieked and scattered-\n\n-as the sorcery rushed over the bridge, striking the soldiers in a spray of blood and strips of flesh. A heartbeat, then past, spreading out to wash over the fleeing citizens. Devouring them in writhing hunger.\n\nTrull saw it strike nearby buildings, smashing down doors and bursting through shuttered windows. Screams.\n\n\"Enough!\" Rhulad roared, stepping towards Hannan Mosag, who lowered his arms, which looked twisted and gnarled.\n\nThe sorcery vanished, leaving only heaps of bones, polished shields and armour on the bridge. From the sundered buildings, silence. Hannan Mosag sagged, and Trull saw how misshapen he had become beneath his furs.\n\nThe emperor suddenly giggled. \"So eager, Hannan Mosag! Your secret god is so eager!\"\n\nSecret god? Trull looked over at Fear, and found his brother staring back.\n\n\"Brothers,\" the emperor cried, waving his sword, \"we march to the Eternal Domicile! To the throne! None can deny us! And should they dare, their flesh shall be rendered from their bones! They will know pain. They will suffer! Brothers, this shall be a day of suffering\"– he seemed to find sweetness in tasting the word– \"for all who would oppose us! Now, walk with your Sire!\""},{"from":"human","value":"He is..."},{"from":"gpt","value":"transformed. Lost to us. And all for the treachery of a slave...\n\nAn overgrown yard, just visible through the old, battered stones of the gateway. From the skeletal, twisted branches of leaning trees, something like steam billowed upward. There was no-one about. Iron Bars slowed his steps and looked backup the street. That manservant had yet to appear from beyond the corner of the building he had jogged round moments earlier.\n\n\"Fine, then,\" the Avowed muttered, drawing his sword, \"we'll just have to see for ourselves... ' He approached the gateway, strode onto the winding stone path. The squat, square tower was opposite, stained and leaning and dead. From his left, the sounds of stones grinding together, the snap of wood, and thumps that trembled the ground beneath his feet. Over there, then.\n\nIron Bars walked into the yard.\n\nRound a mud-smeared barrow, over a fallen tree, to come to a halt ten paces from what had once been an extensive, elongated mound, now torn apart and steaming, mud sliding down as five huge figures dragged themselves free. Flesh darkened by peat, skin mapped by the tracks of countless roots, dangling hair the colour of copper. Tugging weapons free– massive two-handed swords of black, polished wood.\n\nThe five were chanting.\n\nIron Bars grunted. \"Tartheno Toblakai. Hood-damned Fenn. Well, this won't be fun. '\n\nOne of the warriors heard him and fixed black, murky eyes on the Avowed. The chant ceased, and it spoke. \"A child, my brothers.\"\n\n\"The one who spoke through the earth?\" another asked.\n\n\"I don't know. Does it matter? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It would not help us, that child. We have promised a terrible death.\"\n\n\"Then let us-\"\n\nThe Toblakai's words were cut short as Iron Bars rushed forward.\n\nA roar, a keening sweep of a wooden sword flung into the path of the Avowed's own weapon, which slid under, point gliding back round and over the warrior's enormous wrist, following in its swishing wake, to intercept the instinctive back-swing. Slashing through hard, thick skin, the edge scoring against muscle tough as wood.\n\nA huge presence lunging in from the Avowed's right. But Iron Bars continued forward, ducking beneath the first Toblakai's arm, then pivoting round as the second attacker slammed into the first warrior. Disengaging his sword, thrusting upward, seeking the soft space between the lower mandibles– a jerk of the giant's head, and the Avowed's sword point speared its right eye, plunging deep in a spurt of what seemed to be swamp water.\n\nA shriek.\n\nIron Bars found himself scrambling over the ruined barrow, the other Toblakai stumbling as they swung round to face him again– with a heap of boulders, mud and ripped-uproots in the way.\n\nThe Avowed leapt down onto level ground once more.\n\nBlack blood dripping from one arm, a hand pressed over a gouged socket and burst eye, the Toblakai he had attacked was staggering back.\n\nThe other four were spreading out, silent now, intent.\n\nUntil they could edge round the entire barrow, their approach would be difficult, the footing treacherous.\n\nOne down. Iron Bars was pleased-\n\nAnd then the fifth one shook itself and straightened. One-eyed, but turning to face the Avowed once more."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You hurt our brother,\" one said.\n\n\"There's more to come, ' Iron Bars said.\n\n\"It's not good, hurting gods. '\n\nGods?\n\n\"We are the Seregahl,\" the lead Toblakai said. \"Before you hurt us, you might have begged for mercy. You might have knelt in worship, and perhaps we would have accepted you. But not now.\"\n\n\"No,\" the Avowed agreed, \"I suppose not.\"\n\n\"That is all you would say?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Nothing else comes to mind.\"\n\n\"You are frowning. Why?\"\n\n\"Well, I've already killed a god today, \"Iron Bars said.\"If I'd known this was going to be a day for killing gods, I might have paced myself better.\"\n\nThe five were silent fora moment, then the first one said, \"What god have you killed this day, stranger?\"\n\n\"The Pack.\"\n\nA hiss from the Toblakai on the far right. \"The ones that escaped us! The fast ones!\"\n\n\"They were fast,\" Iron Bars said, nodding. \"But not, it seems, fast enough.\"\n\n\"D'ivers. '\n\n\"Yes,\" the Avowed said. \"Six of them... and only five of you.\"\n\nThe first Toblakai said to its brothers, \"Careful with this one, then.\"\n\n\"We are free,\" the one-eyed one growled. \"We must kill this one to remain so.\"\n\n\"True. This is cause enough.\"\n\nThey began advancing again.\n\nIron Bars inwardly sighed. At least he'd made them nervous. And that might serve to keep him alive a little while longer. Then again, he reminded himself, he'd faced worse."},{"from":"human","value":"Well, maybe not."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Maybe? Who am I kidding?\n\nHe shifted his weight, rising to the balls of his feet, readying himself to begin the dance. The dance of staying alive.\n\nUntil help came.\n\nHelp... from a short, pudgy, balding man. Oh, Hood, Iron Bars, just try and stay alive as long as you can– maybe they'll die of exhaustion.\n\n\"Look,\" one whined, \"he's smiling. '\n\nUnseen storms, raging through the streets, battering the city. Bugg's head was aching with the chaos of power, of the clash of fierce wills. He could still feel the impotent fury of the ancient god trapped beneath the ice of Settle Lake– the Ceda's trap had worked well indeed, and even now the ice was slowly thickening, closing in around the creature in the sealed cavern, and before the sunset it would find itself encased in the ice, feeling the unbearable cold seeping into its being, stealing sensation, stealing its life.\n\nGood things came of being nice to a Jaghut, something the T'lan Imass never understood.\n\nBugg made his way towards the end of the alley beyond which the old Azath tower was visible. He hoped Iron Bars had not done anything precipitous, such as entering the yard alone. Kettle would have warned him against that in any case. With luck, the child's buried ally was buried no longer. The Avowed was intended to give support, that was all, and only if necessity demanded it. This wasn't that man's fight, after all-\n\nHis steps slowed suddenly, as a cold dread swept through him. He quested outwith his senses, and detected movement where there should not be movement, an awakening of wills, intentions burning bright, threads of fate converging..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The manservant turned round, and began running.\n\nFour of his ablest killers approached Gerun Eberict from up the street. The Finadd raised a hand to halt those behind him.\n\n\"Finadd,\" the squad leader said upon arriving, \"we had some luck. The brother at the far lookout was flushed out into the street by a pack of Edur. He took six of the bastards down with him. Once the Edur left I sent Crillo out to make sure he was dead-\"\n\n\"He was cut to pieces,\" Crillo interrupted, grinning.\n\n\"-and he was at that,\" the squad leader resumed, with a glare at Crillo, whose grin broadened.\n\n\"And the other?\" Gerun asked, scanning the vicinity. It wouldn't do to run into a company of Tiste Edur right now.\n\nThe squad leader scowled. \"Crillo got'im. A damned lucky knife-throw-'\n\n\"No luck at all,\" Crillo cut in. \"Poor bastard never knew it was coming-\"\n\n\"Because he'd caught out the rest of us-'\n\n\"They're both dead? \"Gerun asked. Then shook his head.\"Luck indeed. It should not have been that easy. All right, that leaves the one on the roof. He'll have been looking for signals from his brothers and he won't be seeing them now. Meaning, he'll know we're coming. '\n\n\"It's just one man, Finadd-'\n\n\"A Shavankrats, Crillo. Don't get overconfident just because the Errant's nudged our way so far. All right, we stay as a group now-\" He stopped, then gestured everyone low.\n\nThirty paces ahead and coming from aside alley, alone figure ran into the street. A Tiste Edur woman. Like a startled deer she froze, head darting. Before she had a chance to look their way, she heard something behind her and bolted. A metallic flash in her right hand revealed that she carried a knife of some sort."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gerun Eberict grunted. She was heading the same direction as he was. An undefended Tiste Edur woman. He would enjoy her before killing her. Once his other business was out of the way, of course. Might let the lads have ago, too. Crillo first, for the work he'd already done getting rid of Brys's damned guards.\n\nThe Finadd straightened. \"After her, then, since it's on the way. '\n\nDark laughs from his troop.\n\n\"Take point, Crillo.\"\n\nThey set out.\n\nFaces behind shutters at second floor windows– the whole city cowered like half-drowned rats. It was disgusting. But they were showing him, weren't they, showing him how few deserved to live. This new empire of the Tiste Edur would belittle different, he suspected. There would need to be controllers, deliverers of swift and incorruptible justice. People would continue to be rude. Would continue to litter the streets. And there would still be people who were just plain ugly, earning the mercy of Gerun's knife. He would have his work, as before, to make this city a place of beauty-\n\nThey had reached the place where the woman had emerged from the alley. Crillo was turning round, pointing in the direction she had run, when a spear struck his head, spinning him round in amass of blood, brain and shattered bone.\n\nFrom the alley rushed a score or more Tiste Edur warriors.\n\n\"Take them!\" Gerun Eberict commanded, and was pleased to see his men surge forward.\n\nPast the Finadd, who then stepped back.\n\nI can always get more men.\n\nAnd ran.\n\nOnto the trail of the woman. Coincidentally, of course. His real target was Tehol Beddict. He'd take her down first, leave her trussed and gagged close by, to await his return. More difficult, now, since he was alone. Tehol's bodyguard would be a challenge, but when one's sword edges were painted with poison, even the slightest cut would be sufficient to kill the man. Quickly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There!\n\nThe woman had been hiding in a niche twenty paces ahead. She bolted at his approach.\n\nGerun broke into a sprint.\n\nOh, he wanted her now. She was beautiful. He saw the knife in her hand and laughed. It was a fish knife– he'd seen the Letherii slaves using them in that Hiroth village.\n\nRunning hard, he quickly gained on her.\n\nAcross another street, into another alley.\n\nClose, now, to Tehol Beddict's home. But he could reach her in time– five more steps-\n\n\"There's trouble. '\n\nStunned, Tehol Beddict turned. \"Not mute after all...\" His words trailed away at seeing the unease in the bodyguard's eyes.\"Serious trouble, then. '\n\n\"My brothers are both dead. Gerun Eberict is coming.\" \"This city's full of Edur, \"Tehol said, throwing both hands up to encompass avast sweep of rooftops, tiers and bridges.\"Ranging round like wolves. And then there's those real wolves-\"\n\n\"It's Gerun. '\n\nTehol studied the man. \"All right. He's on the way fora visit. What should we do about it? '\n\n\"They can come up the walls, the way your thief friend does. We need to get below. We need a place with one door and only one door.\"\n\n\"Well, there's the warehouse opposite– I know it quite well-'\n\n\"Let's go, then. '\n\nThe guard went to the hatch, knelt at its edge and cautiously looked down into the room below. He waved Tehol forward, then began the descent.\n\nMoments later they stood in the room. The guard headed to the entrance, tugged the hanging back a fraction and peered outside. \"Looks clear. I'll lead, to that wall-'"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The warehouse wall. There's a watchman, Chalas-'\n\n\"If he's still there I'd be surprised.\"\n\n\"You have a point. All right. When we get to the wall, we head right. Round the corner and in through the office door, the first one we'll come to. The main sliding doors will be barred. '\n\n\"And if the office door is locked?\"\n\n\"I know where the key's hidden. '\n\nThe guard nodded.\n\nThey stepped into the narrow corridor, turned left and approached the street.\n\nThree more strides.\n\nShe threw a desperate look over her shoulder, then lunged forward in a sudden burst of speed.\n\nGerun snarled, reaching outwith one hand.\n\nA whimpering sound escaped her, and she raised the knife just as she reached the mouth of the alley.\n\nAnd thrust it into her own chest.\n\nGerun was a hand's width behind her, coming opposite aside corridor between two warehouses, when he was grasped hard, pulled off his feet, and yanked into the dark corridor.\n\nA fist crashed into his face, shattering his nose. Stunned, he was helpless as the sword was plucked from his hand, the helmet dragged from his head.\n\nThe massive hands lifted him and slammed him hard against a wall. Once, twice, three times, and with each impact the back of Gerun's head crunched against the cut stone. Then he was smashed onto the greasy cobbles, breaking his right shoulder and clavicle. Consciousness slipped away. When it returned a moment later he was vaguely aware of a huge, hulking figure crouched over him in the gloom.\n\nA massive hand snapped down to cover Gerun's mouth and the figure froze."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The sound of running feet in the alleyway, a dozen, maybe more, all moccasined, the rasp of weapons. Then past.\n\nBlearily, Gerun Eberict stared up at an unfamiliar face. A mixed blood. Half Tarthenal, half Nerek.\n\nThe huge man crouched closer. \"For what you did to her,\" he said in a hoarse whisper. \"And don't think it'll be quick...\"\n\nThe handover his mouth, Gerun could say nothing. Could ask no questions. And he had plenty of those.\n\nIt was clear, however, that the mixed blood wasn't interested.\n\nAnd that, Gerun said to himself, was too bad.\n\nTehol was three paces behind the guard, who was nearing the warehouse wall, when a scraping noise alerted him. He looked to his right, in time to see an Edur woman stagger out from an alley. A knife handle jutted from her chest, and blood was streaming down.\n\nDumb misery in her eyes, she saw Tehol. Reached out a red-stained hand, then fell, landing on her left side and skidding slightly on the cobbles before coming to a stop.\n\n\"Guard!\" Tehol hissed, changing direction. \"She's hurt-'\n\nFrom the warehouse wall: \"No!\"\n\nAs Tehol reached her, he looked up to see Tiste Edur warriors rushing from the alley mouth. A spear sailed towards him-\n\n-and was intercepted by the guard lunging in from Tehol's left side. The weapon caught the man under his left arm, snapping ribs as it sank deep into his chest. With a soft groan, the guard stumbled past, then sprawled onto the street, blood pouring from his mouth and nose."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tehol went perfectly still.\n\nThe Edur ranged out cautiously, until they formed a rough circle around Tehol and the dead woman. One checked on the bodyguard, turning the man over with one foot. It was clear that the man was also dead.\n\nIn trader tongue, one of the Tiste Edur said, \"You have killed her.\"\n\nTehol shook his head. \"No. She ran into view, already wounded. I was coming to... to help. I am sorry...\"\n\nThe warrior sneered, then said to the younger Edur beside him, \"Midik, see if this Letherii is armed.\"\n\nThe one named Midik stepped up to Tehol. Reached out to pat him down, then snorted. \"He's wearing rags, Theradas. There is no place he could hide anything. '\n\nA third warrior said, \"He killed Mayen. We should take him back-\"\n\n\"No,\" Theradas growled. He sheathed his sword and pushed Midik to one side as he came close to Tehol. \"Look at this one,\" he said in a growl. \"See the insolence in his eyes.\"\n\n\"You do poorly at reading a Letherii's expression, ' Tehol said sadly.\n\n\"That is too bad, for you.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Tehol replied, \"I imagine-\"\n\nTheradas struck him with a gloved fist.\n\nPitching Tehol's head back, his nose cracking loudly. He bent over, both hands to his face, then afoot slammed down diagonally against his right shin, snapping both bones. He fell. A heel crunched down on his chest, breaking ribs.\n\nTehol could feel his body trying to curl up as heels and fists battered at him. Afoot smashed down on his left cheek, crushing bone and bursting that eye. White fire blazed in his brain, swiftly darkening to murky black."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 31\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The west gate was open and unguarded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The lead elements of the Edur army had closed to within a thousand paces, advancing with caution. Ranging to either side of the column, in the ditches and across the fields, the first of the Soletaken wolves came into view.\\n\\nBugg sighed, looked over at the other occupant along the wall. \\\"You will have to work fast, I think.\\\"\\n\\nThe artist was a well-known and easily recognized figure in Letheras. Amass of hair that began on his head and swept down to join with the wild beard covering jaw and neck, his nub of a nose and small blue eyes the only visible features on his face. He was short and wiry, and painted with agitated capering– often perched on one leg– smearing paint on surfaces that always seemed too small for the image he was seeking to capture. This failing of perspective had long since been elevated into a technique, then a legitimate style, in so far as artistic styles could be legitimate. At Bugg's comment he scowled and rose upon one leg, the foot of the other against the knee.\\\"The scene, you fool! It is burned into my mind, here behind this eye, the left one. I forget nothing. Every detail. Historians will praise my work this day, you'll see. Praise!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you done, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very nearly, very very nearly, yes, nearly done. Every detail. I have done it again. That's what they will say. Yes, I have done it again. '\\n\\n\\\"May I see?\\\"\\n\\nSudden suspicion.\\n\\nBugg added, \\\"I am something of an historian myself.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are? Have I read you? Are you famous?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Famous? Probably. But I doubt you've read me, since I've yet to write anything down.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ah, a lecturer!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A scholar, swimming across the ocean of history.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I like that. I could paint that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, may I see your painting?\\\"\\n\\nA grand gesture with a multicoloured hand. \\\"Come along, then, old friend. See my genius for yourself.\\\"\\n\\nThe board perched on its easel was wider than it was high, in the manner of a landscape painting or, indeed, a record of some momentous vista of history. At least two arm-lengths wide. Bugg walked round fora look at the image captured on the surface.\\n\\nAnd saw two colours, divided in a rough diagonal. Scratchy red to the right, muddy brown to the left. \\\"Extraordinary,\\\" Bugg said. \\\"And what is it you have rendered here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is it? Are you blind?\\\" The painter pointed with a brush. \\\"The column! Those approaching Edur, the vast army! The standard, of course. The standard!\\\"\\n\\nBugg squinted across the distance to the tiny patch of red that was the vanguard's lead standard.\\\"Ah, of course. Now I see. '\\n\\n\\\"And my brilliance blinds you, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes, all comprehension has been stolen from my eyes indeed.\\\"\\n\\nThe artist deftly switched legs and perched pensively, frowning out at the Edur column. \\\"Of course, they're closer now. I wish I'd brought another board, so I could elaborate yet further on the detail.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, you could always use this wall.\\\"\\n\\nBushy brows arched. \\\"That's... clever. You area scholar indeed. '\\n\\n\\\"I must be going, now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes, stop distracting me. I need to focus, you know. Focus.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bugg quietly made his way down the stone stairs. \\\"A fine lesson,\\\" he muttered under his breath as he reached street level. Details... so many things to do this day.\\n\\nHe walked deserted streets, avoiding the major intersections where barricades had been raised and soldiers moved about in nervous expectation. The occasional furtive figure darted into and out of view as he went on.\\n\\nA short time later the manservant rounded a corner, paused, then approached the ruined temple. Standing near it was Turudal Brizad, who looked over as Bugg reached his side.\\n\\n\\\"Any suggestions?\\\" the god known as the Errant asked.\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The mortal I requested for this task has not appeared.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh. That's not good, since the Jheck are at the gates even as we speak. '\\n\\n\\\"And the first Edur from the ships have disembarked, yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not act for yourself?\\\" Bugg asked.\\n\\n\\\"I cannot. My aspect enforces certain... prohibitions.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, the nudge, the pull or the push.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, only that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have been about as direct as you can be.\\\"\\n\\nThe Errant nodded.\\n\\n\\\"Well, I see your dilemma,\\\" Bugg said.\\n\\n\\\"Thus my query– do you have any suggestions?\\\"\\n\\nThe manservant considered fora time, whilst the god waited patiently, then he sighed and said, \\\"Perhaps. Wait here. If I am successful, I will send someone to you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right. I trust you will not be overlong.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hope not. Depends on my powers of persuasion.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Then I am encouraged.\\\"\\n\\nWithout another word, Bugg headed off. He quickened his pace as he made his way towards the docks. Fortunately, it was not far, and he arrived at Front Street to see that only the main piers had been commandeered by the landing warriors of the Tiste Edur. They were taking their time, he noted, a sign of their confidence. No-one was opposing their landing. Bugg hurried along Front Street until he came to the lesser berths. Where he found his destination, a two-masted, sleek colt of a ship that needed new paint but seemed otherwise relatively sound. There was no-one visible on its deck, but as soon as he crossed the gangway he heard voices, then the thump of boots.\\n\\nBugg had reached the mid-deck when the cabin door swung open and two armed women emerged, swords out.\\n\\nBugg halted and held up his hands.\\n\\nThree more figures appeared once the two women stepped to either side. A tall, grey-maned man in a crimson surcoat, and a second man who was clearly a mage of some sort. The third arrival Bugg recognized.\\n\\n\\\"Good morning, Shand. So this is where Tehol sent you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bugg. What in the Errant's name do you want? '\\n\\n\\\"Well said, lass. And are these fine soldiers Shurq Elalle's newly hired crew? '\\n\\n\\\"Who is this man?\\\" the grey-haired man asked Shand.\\n\\nShe scowled. \\\"My employer's manservant. And your employer works for my employer. His arrival means there's going to be trouble. Goon, Bugg, we're listening. '\\n\\n\\\"First, how about some introductions, Shand?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She rolled her eyes. \\\"Iron Bars-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An Avowed of the Crimson Guard,\\\" Bugg cut in, smiling. \\\"Forgive me. Goon, please.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Corlo-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His High Mage. Again, forgive me, but that will have to do. I have very little time. I need these Guardsmen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You need us for what?\\\" Iron Bars asked.\\n\\n\\\"You have to kill the god of the Soletaken Jheck.\\\"\\n\\nThe Avowed's expression darkened.\\\"Soletaken. We've crossed paths with Soletaken before.\\\"\\n\\nBugg nodded. \\\"If the Jheck reach their god, they will of course protect it-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How faraway?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just a few streets, in an abandoned temple.\\\"\\n\\nIron Bars nodded. \\\"This god, is it Soletaken or D'ivers? '\\n\\n\\\"D'ivers. '\\n\\nThe Avowed turned to Corlo, who said, \\\"Ready up, soldiers, we've some fighting ahead. '\\n\\nShand stared at them. \\\"What do I tell Shurq if she shows up in the meantime?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We won't belong, ' Iron Bars said, drawing his sword.\\n\\n\\\"Wait!\\\" Shand swung to Bugg. \\\"You! How did you know they'd be here? '\\n\\nThe manservant shrugged. \\\"Errant's nudge, I suppose. Take care, Shand, and say hello to Hejun and Rissarh for me, won't you?\\\"\\n\\n---\\n\\nFifty paces' worth of empty cobbled road between them and the yawning gates of Letheras. Trull Sengar leaned on his spear and glanced over at Rhulad.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The emperor, fur-shouldered and hulking, was pacing like a beast, eyes fixed on the gateway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hannan Mosag and his surviving K'risnan had advanced ten paces in the midst of shadow wraiths, the latter now sliding forward.\\n\\nThe wraiths reached the gate, hovered a moment, then swept into the city.\\n\\nHannan Mosag turned and strode back to where the emperor and his brothers waited. \\\"It is as we sensed, Emperor. The Ceda's presence is nowhere to be found. There are but a handful of minor mages among the garrison. The wraiths and demons will take care of them. We should be able to carve our way through the barricades and reach the Eternal Domicile by noon. A fitting time for you to ascend the throne. '\\n\\n\\\"Barricades,\\\" Rhulad said, nodding. \\\"Good. We wish to fight. Udinaas!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Here.\\\" The slave stepped forward.\\n\\n\\\"This time, Udinaas, you will accompany the Household, under Uruth's charge. '\\n\\n\\\"Emperor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We shall not risk you, Udinaas. Should we fall, however, you will be sent to us immediately.\\\"\\n\\nThe slave bowed and stepped back.\\n\\nRhulad swung to where stood his father and three brothers. \\\"We shall enter Letheras now. We shall claim our empire. Ready your weapons, blood of ours.\\\"\\n\\nThey began moving forward.\\n\\nTrull's gaze held on Hannan Mosag fora moment longer, wondering what the Warlock King was hiding, then he followed his brothers.\\n\\nHull Beddict was among the second company to enter Letheras, and twenty paces in from the gate he stepped to one side and halted, watching as the wary Edur marched on. None paid him any attention. From the nearby buildings, pallid faces looked down from windows and through slightly parted shutters. From out over the docks gulls wheeled and cried out in a cacophony of panic. Somewhere ahead, down the main avenue, the fighting began at the first barricade. There was a thump of sorcery, then screams.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A meaningless waste of life. He hoped not all the garrison soldiers would be so foolishly brave. There was no longer any reason for fighting. Lether was conquered. All that was left was to depose the ineffectual king and his treacherous advisers. The one truly just act of this war, as far as Hull Beddict was concerned.\\n\\nHis grieving for his brother Brys was done. Although Brys was not yet dead, his death was none the less ascertain an outcome as could exist. The King's Champion would die defending the king. It was tragic, and unnecessary, but it would be the last tradition acted out by the Letherii, and nothing Hull or anyone else could door say would prevent it.\\n\\nAll the ashes had settled in Hull's mind. The slaughter behind them, the murder waiting ahead of them. He had betrayed, to see an end to the corrupt insanity of his people. That the victory demanded the death of Brys offered the final layer of ash to shroud Hull's soul. There would be no absolution.\\n\\nEven so, one responsibility remained with Hull. As the third company of Tiste Edur entered through the gates, he turned and made his way down aside alley.\\n\\nHe needed to speak to Tehol. To explain things. To tell his brother that he knew of the deceptions, the schemes. Tehol was, he hoped, the one man in Letheras who would not hate Hull for what he had done. He needed to speak to him.\\n\\nHe needed something like forgiveness.\\n\\nFor not being thereto save their parents all those years ago.\\n\\nFor not being thereto save Brys now.\\n\\nForgiveness, a simple thing.\\n\\nUdinaas stood among the other slaves of the Sengar household, awaiting their turn to enter Letheras. Word had already come that there was fighting ahead, somewhere. Uruth stood nearby, and with her was Mayen, wrapped in a heavy cloak, her face looking ravaged, eyes like a thing hunted. Uruth remained close, as if fearing an escape attempt from the younger woman. Not out of compassion for Mayen, however. The child was all that mattered now.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Poor Mayen.\\n\\nHe knew how she felt. Something like a fever gripped him, an urgency in his blood. Sweat trickled down his body beneath his tunic. His skin felt on fire. He held himself still, on the edge, he feared, of losing control.\\n\\nThe sensation had come on suddenly, like an inner wave of panic, a faceless terror. Worsening-\\n\\nHead spinning, it was a moment before he realized what was happening. Then horror flooded through Udinaas.\\n\\nThe Wyval.\\n\\nIt was coming to life within him.\\n\\nB'nagga in the lead, the Jheck entered the city. Soletaken, loping with heads sunk low, one and all seeking the scent of their god. And finding it within the fear-sour currents drifting through Letheras, an impatience, a sentience consumed with rage.\\n\\nGleeful howls, rising to fill the city, reverberating down the streets, from over nine thousand wolves. Striking terror amongst cowering citizens. Nine thousand wolves, white-furred, racing on a score of convergent routes towards the old temple, an inward rush of bestial madness.\\n\\nB'nagga joined his voice to the chilling howls, his heart filled with savage joy. The Pack awaited them. Demons, wraiths, Tiste Edur and damned emperors were as nothing now. Momentary allies of convenience. What would rise herein Letheras was the ascension of the Jheck. An empire of Soletaken, with a god-emperor upon the throne. Rhulad torn to pieces, every Edur sundered into bloody, sweet-tasting meat, rich marrow from split bones, skulls broken open, brains devoured.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"This day would end in such slaughter that none who survived would forget.\\n\\nThis day, B'nagga told himself with a silent laugh, belonged to the Jheck.\\n\\nSeventy-three of his company's finest soldiers formed a shield wall behind Moroch Nevath. They held the principal bridge crossing Main Canal, a suitable site for this pathetic drama. Best of all, the Third Tiers were arrayed behind them, on which citizens had now appeared. Spectators– a Letherii talent. No doubt wagers were being made, and at least Moroch Nevath would have an audience.\\n\\nThe hooded looks, the rumours of his cowardice at High Fort, would cease this day. It wasn't much, but it would suffice.\\n\\nHe recalled he had promised to do something for Turudal Brizad, but the man's outrageous claims had not quite convinced Moroch. Tales of gods and such, coming from a painted consort at that, well, that would have to wait another day, another lifetime. Leave the foppish lover of the lost queen and that obnoxious chancellor to fight his own battles. Moroch wanted to cross blades with the Tiste Edur.\\n\\nIf they let him. A squalid death beneath a wave of sorcery was more likely.\\n\\nA grunt from one of his soldiers.\\n\\nMoroch nodded, seeing the first of the Edur approaching from the main avenue. \\\"Hold that shield wall,\\\" he said in a growl, moving to stand five paces in front of it. \\\"It's a small company– let's send their souls to the Errant's piss-hole. '\\n\\nIn answer to his bold words, shouts from the soldiers, voices made ugly with blood-lust. Swords hammering shield-rims.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Moroch smiled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"They've seen us.\\\"Look at them, comrades– see how they hesitate. '\\n\\nBellowed challenges from the soldiers.\\n\\nThe Tiste Edur resumed their march. In their lead, a warrior draped in gold.\\n\\nWhom Moroch had seen before. \\\"Errant bless me,\\\" he whispered, then spun round. \\\"The emperor! The one in gold!\\\" And turned back, taking four more strides until he was at the very edge of the bridge. Raising his sword. \\\"Rhulad of the Edur!\\\" he shouted. \\\"Come and face me, you damned freak! Come forward and die!\\\"\\n\\nBugg pointed down the street. \\\"See that man? That's Turudal Brizad. That is who you are doing this favour for. If he's not grateful, give him an earful. I have to get going, but I will be back shortly-\\\"\\n\\nThe air filled suddenly with howling, coming from the north and west.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, damn,\\\" Bugg said. \\\"You'd better get going. And I'd better stay too,\\\" he added, heading off towards the Errant.\\n\\n\\\"Corlo,\\\" Iron Bars snapped as they followed the manservant.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, it's befuddled, some, Avowed. Can't hear a thing besides.\\\"\\n\\nIron Bars nodded. \\\"Weapons ready. We're wasting no time on this. How many in there, Corlo? '\\n\\n\\\"Six, their favourite number.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let's go. '\\n\\nBugg had moved ahead and was fifteen paces from Turudal, who had turned to face him, when the Avowed and his squad thumped past, gaining speed.\\n\\nAs they closed on the Errant the god, brows lifting, pointed towards the entrance to the ruined temple.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Crimson Guardsmen shifted course, reaching full sprint as they passed Turudal Brizad.\\n\\nBugg heard Iron Bars say to the god, \\\"Pleased-to-meet-you-see-you-later,\\\" and then the Avowed and his soldiers were past. Straight for the dark entrance, then plunging inside.\\n\\nBestial screams, human shouts, the deafening thunder of sorcery-\\n\\n\\\"He's mine! ' Rhulad said in a snarl, lifting his sword and stalking towards the lone Letherii swordsman at this end of the bridge.\\n\\nHannan Mosag called, \\\"Emperor! Leave these to my K'risnan-'\\n\\nRhulad spun round. \\\"No!\\\" he shrieked. \\\"We shall fight! We are warriors! These Letherii deserve to die honourably! We will hear nothing more from you!\\\" The emperor swung back. \\\"This, this brave swordsman. I want him.\\\"\\n\\nBeside Trull, Fear muttered, \\\"He wants to be killed by him. I recognize that Letherii. He was with the delegation.\\\"\\n\\nTrull nodded. The Finadd, a Letherii captain and bodyguard to Prince Quillas– he could not recall the man's name.\\n\\nIt was clear that Rhulad had not recognized him.\\n\\nMottled sword held at the ready, the emperor approached.\\n\\nMoroch Nevath smiled. Rhulad Sengar, who had died, only to return. If the rumours were true, he had died again in Trate. But this time, I will make him stay dead. I will cut him to pieces. He waited, watching the emperor's approach.\\n\\nFavouring the right side, the right foot edging ahead of the other, a detail telling Moroch that Rhulad had been trained to use a single-handed sword, rather than this two-handed monstrosity now wavering about before him like an oversized club.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The sudden charge was not unexpected, only the speed of that weapon as the blade whirled towards Moroch's head. He barely managed to avoid getting his skull sliced in half, ducking and pitching to his right. A deafening clang, the shock ripping through him as the sword bit into his helmet, caught, then tore it from his head.\\n\\nMoroch sprang back, staying as low as possible, then straightened once more. The top third of his own sword was slick with blood. He had met the charge with a stop-hit.\\n\\nOpposite him, Rhulad staggered back, blood pulsing from his right thigh.\\n\\nThe lead leg was always vulnerable.\\n\\nLet's see you dance now, Emperor.\\n\\nMoroch shook off the numbing effects of the blow to his head. Muscles and tendons in his neck and back were screaming silent pain, and he knew that he had taken damage. For the moment, however, neither arm had seized in answer to the trauma.\\n\\nA shriek, as Rhulad attacked once more.\\n\\nTwo-handed thrust, broken timing– a moment's hesitation, sufficient to avoid Moroch's all-too-quick parry– then finishing in a full lunge.\\n\\nThe Finadd twisted his body in an effort to avoid the sword-point. Searing fire above his right hip as the mottled blade's edge sawed deep. A wet, red rush, spraying out to the side. Now inside the weapon's reach, Moroch drove his own sword in from a sharp angle, stabbing the tip into the emperor's left armpit. The bite of gold coin, the grating resistance of ribs, then inward, gouging along the inside of Rhulad's shoulder blade, striving for the spine.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The mottled sword seemed to leap with a will of its own, reversing grip, hands lifting high, point down. A diagonal thrust, entering above Moroch's right hipbone, down through his groin.\\n\\nRhulad pushed down from the grip end, the point chewing through the Finadd's lower intestines, until the pommel clunked on the paving stones beneath them, then the emperor straightened, pushing the weapon backup, through Moroch's torso, alongside his heart, through his left lung, the point bursting free just behind his clavicle on that side.\\n\\nDying, Moroch threw the last of his strength against his own weapon, seeing Rhulad bow around its embedded point. Then a snap, as the emperor's spine broke.\\n\\nCrimson smile broadening, Moroch Nevath sagged to the slick stones, even as Rhulad pitched down.\\n\\nAnother figure loomed over him, then. One of Rhulad's brothers.\\n\\nWho spoke as if from along distance away. \\\"Tell me your name, Finadd.\\\"\\n\\nMoroch sought to answer, but he was drowning in blood. I am Moroch Nevath. And I have killed your damned emperor.\\n\\n\\\"Are you the King's Champion in truth? Your soldiers on the bridge seem to be yelling that– King's Champion... is that who you are, Finadd?\\\"\\n\\nNo.\\n\\nYou bastards have not met him yet.\\n\\nWith that pleasing thought, Moroch Nevath died.\\n\\nSo swift the healing, so terribly swift the return of life. Surrounded by the wolf howls reverberating through Letheras in a chorus of the damned, the emperor voiced a scream that tore the air.\\n\\nThe company of soldiers on the bridge were silenced, staring as Rhulad, sheathed in blood, staggered upright, tugging the sword from the Finadd's body, then skidding with a lurch as he stepped to one side. Righting himself, his eyes filled with madness and terror.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Udinaas!\\\"\\n\\nDesperately alone. A soul writhing in agony.\\n\\n\\\"Udinaas!\\\"\\n\\nTwo hundred paces away on the main avenue, Uruth Sengar heard her son's frantic cry. She spun, seeking the slave among those walking in her wake. At that moment, Mayen shrieked, pushed her way clear of the other women, and was suddenly running– into an alley. And gone.\\n\\nFrozen, Uruth hesitated, then with a hiss returned her attention to the slaves cowering in front of her.\\n\\n\\\"Udinaas! Where are you?\\\"\\n\\nBlank, terrified looks met her. Familiar faces one and all. But among them, nowhere could she find Udinaas.\\n\\nThe slave was gone.\\n\\nUruth plunged among them, fists flailing. \\\"Find him! Find Udinaas!\\\"\\n\\nA sudden hate raged through her. For Udinaas. For all the Letherii.\\n\\nBetrayed. My son is betrayed.\\n\\nOh, how they would pay.\\n\\nShe could hear sounds of fighting now throughout the city, as the invaders poured into the streets and were met by desperate soldiers. Frightened, moving about from one place of cover to the next in the overgrown yard, the child Kettle began to cry. She was alone.\\n\\nThe five killers were almost free. Their barrow was breaking apart, thick fissures welling in the dark, wet earth, submerged rocks grinding and snapping together. The muted sounds of five voices joined in a chant as heavy as drums... rising, coming ever closer to the surface.\\n\\n\\\"Oh,\\\" she moaned, \\\"where is everybody? Where are my friends?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kettle staggered over to the barrow containing her only ally. He was there, so very close. She reached down-\\n\\n-and was dragged in, a heaving passage of hot soil, then through, stumbling, slipping on a muddy bank. Before her sprawled a fetid swamp beneath a grey sky.\\n\\nAnd, almost within arm's reach, a figure was climbing from the dark water. White-skinned, longhair smeared with mud.\\\"Kettle! \\\"The voice a strained grasp.\\\"Behind you– reach-'\\n\\nShe turned round.\\n\\nTwo swords, points thrust into the mud.\\n\\n\\\"Kettle– take them– give them-\\\"\\n\\nA wet gasp, and she spun back, to seethe bared arms of another figure, clawing up to wrap about her friend– a woman's arms, lean, ribboned in muscle. He was dragged back– she saw him drive an elbow into the fiercely twisting, black-streaked face that rose suddenly from the slime. Connecting hard in a splatter of blood. But the clutching hands would not let go.\\n\\nAnd they both sank back into the swirling foam.\\n\\nWhimpering, Kettle crawled over to the swords. She tugged them from the mud, then clambered back to the water's edge.\\n\\nLimbs appeared amidst the thrashing waves.\\n\\nShivering, Kettle waited.\\n\\nSo easy, now, a slave once more, as the Wyval suffused his body, stealing the will of every muscle, every organ, the charging blood in his veins. Udinaas could barely see through his own eyes, as street after street blurred past. Sudden moments of brutal clarity, as he came upon three Soletaken wolves– which turned as one with snarls and bared fangs– and was among them, his hands now talons, the thumb-long claws tearing into wolf-flesh, curling round ribs and ripping them loose. A massive, gnarled fist, slamming into the side of a lunging, snapping head, breaking bone– the wolf's head suddenly lolling, the eyes blank in death.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then, motion once more.\\n\\nHis master needed him. Needed him now. No time to lose.\\n\\nA slave. Absolved of all responsibility, nothing more than a tool.\\n\\nAnd this, Udinaas knew, was the poison of surrender.\\n\\nClose, now, and closing.\\n\\nThere is nothing new in being used. Look upon these sprawled corpses, after all. Poor Letherii soldiers lying dead for no reason. Defending the corpse of a kingdom, citizens once more everyone of them. The kingdom that does not move, the kingdom in service to the god of dust– you will find the temples in crooked alleys, in the cracks between cobbles.\\n\\nYou will find, my friends, no sweeter world than this, where honour and faith and freedom are notions levelled one and all, layers as thin as hate, envy and betrayal. Every notion vulnerable to any sordid breeze, stirred up, stirred together. A world without demands to challenge the confused haze of holy apathy.\\n\\nThe god of dust rises dominant-\\n\\nAhead, a dozen wolves, charging straight for him.\\n\\nThere would, it seemed, be a delay.\\n\\nUdinaas bared his teeth.\\n\\n\\\"How are you managing it?\\\" Bugg asked.\\n\\nThe Errant glanced over. \\\"The wolves?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They're everywhere but here, and they should have arrived long ago. '\\n\\nThe god shrugged. \\\"I keep nudging them away. It's not as difficult as I feared, although their leader is too clever by far– much harder to deceive. Besides, the beasts keep running into other... opposition. '\\n\\n\\\"What kind of opposition?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Other.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The shouts from within the temple ceased then. Silence, no movement from the dark doorway. A half-dozen heartbeats, then, a muttering of voices and swearing.\\n\\nThe mage, Corlo, appeared, backing out and dragging a limp body in his wake, a body leaving twin trails of blood from its heels.\\n\\nConcerned, Bugg stepped forward. \\\"Is she alive?\\\"\\n\\nCorlo, himself amass of cuts and bruises, cast the manservant a slightly wild look. \\\"No, dammit.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry for that,\\\" the Errant murmured.\\n\\nMore Guardsmen were emerging from the doorway. All were wounded, one of them badly, his left arm torn loose at the shoulder and dangling from a few pink-white tendons. His eyes were glazed with shock.\\n\\nCorlo glared at Turudal Brizad. \\\"Can you do any healing? Before the rest of us bleed out-\\\"\\n\\nIron Bars stepped from the ruined temple, sheathing his sword. He was covered in blood but none of it was his. His expression was alarmingly dark. \\\"We were expecting wolves, damn you,\\\" he said in a low growl as he stared at the Errant, who had closed to lay hands upon the most grievously injured soldier, raising new flesh to bind the arm once more to the shoulder as the soldier's face twisted with pain.\\n\\nTurudal Brizad shrugged. \\\"There was little time to elaborate on what you were about to fight, Avowed. In case you have forgotten.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Damned cats,\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"Lizard cats, you mean,\\\" one of the Guardsmen said, spitting blood onto the street. \\\"Sometimes I think nature is insane.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You got that right, Halfpeck,\\\" Corlo said, reaching down to close the eyelids of the dead woman lying at his feet.\\n\\nIron Bars suddenly moved, a blur, past the Errant, both hands lifting-\\n\\n-as a huge white wolf, claws skittering, pitched round from an alley mouth and, head ducking, lunged towards Turudal Brizad, who had only just begun to turn round.\\n\\nThe Avowed caught it in mid-leap, left hand closing on its right leg just beneath the shoulder, right hand clutching its neck beneath the beast's jaws. He heaved the wolf high, pivoted and smashed it headfirst onto the street. Crushing snout, skull and shoulders. Limbs kicking spasmodically, the Soletaken flopped onto its back, yellow vomit spurting, urine arcing as it died. A moment later, all movement from the limbs ceased, although the urine continued to stream, the arc dwindling, then collapsing.\\n\\nIron Bars stepped back.\\n\\nHalfpeck suddenly laughed. \\\"It pissed on you!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be quiet,\\\" Iron Bars said, looking down at his wet legs. \\\"Hood take me, that stinks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We should get back to the ship,\\\" Corlo said. \\\"There's wolves allover the place and I don't think I can keep them away much longer.\\\"\\n\\nTurudal Brizad; \\\"But I can. Especially now.\\\"\\n\\nBugg asked, \\\"What's changed, apart from the Pack getting chopped to pieces? '\\n\\nThe Errant pointed down at the dead Soletaken. \\\"That was B'nagga, the leader of the Jheck. \\\"He shot Bugg a look, astonished and half disbelieving.\\\"You chose well, ' he said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"This squad managed to escape Assail,\\\" Bugg said, shrugging.\\n\\nThe god's eyes widened. He turned to Iron Bars.\\\"I will ensure you a clear path to your ship-'\\n\\n\\\"Oh, damn,\\\" Bugg cut in, slowly turning. \\\"They're getting out. '\\n\\n\\\"More trouble?\\\" Iron Bars asked, looking round, his hand drifting close to the sword at his hip.\\n\\n\\\"Not here,\\\" Bugg said. \\\"But not far.\\\" He faced the Avowed, gauging.\\n\\nIron Bars frowned, then said, \\\"Corlo, take the squad back to the ship. All right, old man, lead the way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You don't have to do this-'\\n\\n\\\"Yes I do. With that wolf pissing on me I feel the need to lose my temper. It's another fight, isn't it?\\\"\\n\\nBugg nodded. \\\"Might make the Pack seem like kittens, Iron Bars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Might? Will it or won't it? '\\n\\n\\\"All right, we might well lose this one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine,\\\" the Avowed snapped. \\\"Let's get it over with. '\\n\\nThe manservant sighed. \\\"Follow me, then. It's a dead Azath House we're heading to.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dead? Hood take me, a garden fete.\\\"\\n\\nA garden fete? Dear me, I like this man. \\\"And we're inviting ourselves, Avowed. Still with me? '\\n\\nIron Bars looked across at Corlo, who had stopped to listen, his face bloodless as he repeatedly shook his head in denial. The Avowed grunted. \\\"Once you've dropped \\\"em off, come and find us, Corlo. And try and make your arrival timely.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Avowed-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go.\\\"\\n\\nBugg glanced at the Errant. \\\"You coming?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In spirit,\\\" he replied. \\\"There is another matter I must attend to, I am afraid. Oh,\\\" he added as Bugg and Iron Bars turned to go, \\\"dear manservant, I thank you. And you as well, Avowed. Tell me, Iron Bars, how many of the Avowed remain among the Crimson Guard?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No idea. A few hundred, I'd imagine. '\\n\\n\\\"Scattered here and there...\\\"\\n\\nThe grey-haired soldier smiled. \\\"For the moment.\\\"\\n\\nBugg said, \\\"We shall have to run, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can you keep up?\\\" Iron Bars asked.\\n\\n\\\"As swift as a charging wave, that's me, ' Bugg said.\\n\\nBrys stood alone in the corridor. The howling was, thankfully, over. It was the only sound that had managed to penetrate the walls. There was noway to know if the garrison was fighting in the city beyond the Eternal Domicile. It seemed such a pointless thing...\\n\\nHis breath caught upon hearing a strange sound. Brys lowered his gaze, fixed it upon the Ceda, who was lying curled tight in the chamber beyond, with his back to Brys and the throne room behind him.\\n\\nKuru Qan's head shifted slightly, then rose a fraction from the floor.\\n\\nAnd, from the Ceda, there came low laughter.\\n\\nThe path was unmistakable. Keening with glee, the demon drew itself to the cave's entrance, contracting its massive, corpulent presence, the bloated flesh of its body, away from the river's broad span. Inward, gathering, hovering before the tunnel beneath the city, where old swamp water still flowed, putrid and sweet, a flavour like sweet nectar to the demon.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ready now, at last, for the lunge, the breaking away from the grip of its master. Who was so regrettably preoccupied at the moment.\\n\\nNow.\\n\\nSurging forward, filling the cave, then into the narrow, twisting tunnel.\\n\\nTo the heart. The wondrous, blessed heart of power.\\n\\nJoy and hunger burning like twin fires within it. Close, so close now.\\n\\nSquirming down, the path narrowing, squeezing with the vast pressure of overlying stone and earth. A little further.\\n\\nReaching out, the space suddenly opening, blissfully wide and high, spreading out to all sides, the water welcoming in its warmth.\\n\\nA storm of long-still silts sweeping up, blinding, shadows of dead things cavorting before its countless eyes.\\n\\nThe heart, the enormous cavern beneath the lake, the city's very soul– the power-\\n\\nAnd Brys heard Kuru Qan speak.\\n\\n\\\"Now, friend Bugg.\\\"\\n\\nThirty paces from the overgrown yard of the Azath tower, Bugg skidded to a halt. He cocked his head, then smiled.\\n\\nAhead, Iron Bars slowed, then turned round. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Find the girl,\\\" the manservant said. \\\"I'll join you when I can. '\\n\\n\\\"Bugg?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In a moment, Avowed. I must do something first.\\\"\\n\\nThe Crimson Guardsman hesitated, then nodded and swung back.\\n\\nBugg closed his eyes. Jaghut witch, hear me. Recall my favour at the quarry? The time has come for... reciprocity.\\n\\nShe replied in his mind, distant, yet swiftly closing. \\\"I hear you, little man. I know what you seek. Ah, you area clever one indeed...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oh, I cannot take all the credit, this time.\\n\\nThe demon expanded to fill the cavern. The heart was all about, the power seeping into enliven its flesh. The chains of binding melted away.\\n\\nNow, it need only reach out and grasp hold.\\n\\nThe strength of a thousand gods awaited it.\\n\\nReaching.\\n\\nCountless grasping, clutching hands.\\n\\nFinding... nothing.\\n\\nThen, a mortal's voice-\\n\\nFrom the Ceda, two more words, uttered low and clear, \\\"Got you.\\\"\\n\\nA lie! Illusion! Deceit! The demon raged, spun in a conflagration of brown silt, seeking the way out– only to find the tunnel mouth sealed. A smooth surface, fiercely cold, the cold burning– the demon recoiled.\\n\\nThen, the lake overhead. Upward– fast, faster-\\n\\nUrsto Hoobutt and his sometime lover, Pinosel, were both drunk as they awaited the fall of Letheras. They had been singing, celebrating the end of their debts, sprawled on the mouldy walkway surrounding Settle Lake amidst nervous rats and head-jutting pigeons.\\n\\nWhen the wine ran out, they began bickering.\\n\\nIt had begun innocently enough, as Pinosel loosed aloud sigh and said, \\\"And now you can marry me.\\\"\\n\\nIt was a moment before her words registered, upon which, bleary-eyed, he looked over in disbelief. \\\"Marry you? Wha's wrong wi\\\"\\\"ow it is now, Cherrytart? '\\n\\n\\\"What's wrong? It's respectable I want, you fat, flea-bit oaf. I earned it. Respectable. You marry me, Ursto Hoobutt, now that the Edurians done conquered us. Marry me!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All right, I will.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When?\\\" she demanded, sensing the out he was angling towards.\\n\\n\\\"When... when...\\\" Hah! He had his answer-\\n\\nAnd, at that instant, the fetid green water of Settle Lake, sprawled out before them like a turgid plain of seaweed fertilizer, paled into murky white. And clouds began rising from its now frozen surface.\\n\\nAn icy breeze swept over Ursto Hoobutt and Pinosel.\\n\\nThere was a sudden deep thump from somewhere beneath the frozen lake's ice, although not a single crack showed.\\n\\nUrsto Hoobutt stared, disbelieving, Opened his mouth, then closed it.\\n\\nThen his shoulders sagged. \\\"Today, love. I'll marry ya today... '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When the gods of dust were young They swam in blood.\\n\\nWhiteforth's Dream on the Day of the Seventh Closure Fever Witch\\n\\nShurq Elalle walked down the tunnel to the crypt door. her thoughts were on Gerun Eberict; her concern was for Tehol Beddict. The Finadd was of the most vicious sort, after all, and Tehol seemed so... helpless. Oh, fit enough, probably quite capable of running fast and far should the need arise. But it was clear that Tehol had no intention of running anywhere. The silent bodyguards Brys had assigned to him were some comfort, although, the way Gerun worked, they might prove little more than a minor inconvenience.\\n\\nIf that was not troubling enough, there was the ominous silence from Kettle at the dead Azath tower. Was that a result of the child's returning to life, thus severing the link that bound the dead? Or had something terrible happened?\\n\\nShe reached the portal and pushed it open.\\n\\nLight flared from a lantern, and she saw Ublala seated on the sarcophagus, the lantern on his lap as he adjusted the flame.\\n\\nShe saw his expression and frowned. \\\"What is wrong, my love?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's no time, \\\"he said, rising, bumping his head on the ceiling, then ducking into a hunch.\\\"Bad things. I was about to go. \\\"He set the lantern down on the lid.\\\"Couldn't wait for you any longer. I've got to go. '\\n\\n\\\"Where?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's the Seregahl, \\\"he mumbled, hands wringing.\\\"It's bad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Seregahl? The old Tarthenal gods? Ublala, what are you talking about?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I have to go.\\\" He headed for the doorway.\\n\\n\\\"Ublala, what about Harlest? Where are you going?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The old tower.\\\" He was in the tunnel, his words dwindling. \\\"I love you, Shurq Elalle...\\\"\\n\\nShe stared at the empty doorway. Love? That sounded... final.\\n\\nShurq Elalle went to the sarcophagus and slid the lid to one side.\\n\\n\\\"Aarrgh! Hiss! Hiss! Hiss-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Stop that, Harlest!\\\" She batted the clawing hands away. \\\"Get out of there. We have to go-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where?\\\" Harlest slowly sat up, practising baring his long fangs and making growling sounds.\\n\\nShe studied him fora moment, then said, \\\"A cemetery.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh,\\\" Harlest sighed, \\\"that's perfect. '\\n\\nSitting in the street, in a pool of darkening blood, the emperor of the Tiste Edur had one handheld against his face and seemed to be trying to claw his eyes out. He still screamed every now and then, a shrill, wordless release of raw anguish.\\n\\nOn the bridge, thirty paces distant, the Letherii soldiers were silent and motionless behind their shields. Other citizens of the city were visible along the edge of the canal on the other side, a row of onlookers, their numbers growing.\\n\\nTrull Sengar felt a hand settle on his shoulder and he turned to find Uruth, her face twisted with distress.\\n\\n\\\"Son, something must be done– he's losing his mind-'\\n\\nUdinaas, the damned slave who had become so essential, so integral to Rhulad– to the young Edur's sanity– had vanished. And now the emperor railed, recognizing no-one, froth on his lips, his cries those of a panicked beast.\\\"He must be hunted down, \\\"Trull said.\\\"That slave. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There is more-\\\"\\n\\nHannan Mosag had moved to stand close to Rhulad, and now spoke, his words carrying easily. \\\"Emperor Rhulad, hear me! This is a day of dark truths. Your slave, Udinaas, has done what we would expect of a Letherii. Their hearts are filled with treachery and they serve none but themselves. Rhulad, Udinaas has runaway.\\\" He paused, then said, \\\"From you.\\\"\\n\\nThe triumph was poorly hidden as the Warlock King continued. \\\"He has made himself into your white nectar, and now leaves you in pain. This is a world without faith, Emperor. Only your kin can be trusted-\\\"\\n\\nRhulad's head snapped up, features ravaged with hurt, a dark fire in his eyes.\\\"Trusted? You, Hannan Mosag? My brothers? Mayen? \\\"Blood-smeared gold, matted bear fur, sword-blade threaded through bits of human meat and intestines, the emperor staggered upright, chest heaving with emotion.\\\"You are all as nothing to us. Liars, cheats, betrayers! All of you! \\\"He whipped the sword, spattering red and pink fragments onto the cobbles and against the shins of those standing nearest him, and bared his teeth.\\\"The emperor shall reflect his people, \\\"he rasped, an ugly grin spreading.\\\"Reflect, as it must be. '\\n\\nTrull saw Fear take a step forward, halting as Rhulad's sword shot upward, the point hovering at Fear's throat.\\n\\n\\\"Oh no, brother, we want nothing from you. We want nothing from any of you. Except obedience. An empire must be shaped, and that shaping shall be by the emperor's hands. Warlock King! '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sire?\\\"\\n\\nThe sword slid away from Fear's throat, waved carelessly towards the soldiers blocking the bridge.\\\"Get rid of them. '\\n\\nBinadas among them, the K'risnan shambled forward at Hannan Mosag's gesture. Behind them were four slaves with two large leather sacks which they dragged over the cobbles to where the K'risnan waited in a row. Noting the sacks, the Warlock King shook his head.\\\"Not here, I think. Something... simpler. \\\"He faced the emperor.\\\"A moment, sire, in which to prepare. I shall do this myself. '\\n\\nUruth tugged Trull round again. \\\"It is more than just Udinaas,\\\" she said. \\\"Mayen has escaped.\\\"\\n\\nHe stared at her, not quite comprehending. \\\"Escaped?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We must find her...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She ran away... from us? From her own people?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is the hunger, Trull. Please.\\\"\\n\\nAfter a moment, he pulled away, looked round until he saw a company of warriors grouped behind Theradas and Midik Buhn. Trull walked over to them.\\n\\nTheradas scowled. \\\"What do you want, Trull Sengar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The emperor's mother has orders for you and your warriors, Theradas. '\\n\\nHis expression lost its ferocity, was replaced with uncertainty. \\\"What are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mayen is lost, somewhere in the city. She must be found. As for Udinaas... if you see him...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If we see him he will die terribly, Trull Sengar.\\\"\\n\\nHe betrayed Rhulad. When I warned him... Trull glanced over at Rhulad. A return from this madness? Not likely. It was too late. \\\"As you like, Theradas. Just find Mayen.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He watched them head off, then turned and met Uruth's eyes. She nodded.\\n\\nThe soldiers on the bridge knew what was coming. He saw them duck lower behind their shields. Pointless. Pathetic, yet there was courage here, among these Letherii. Udinaas, I did not... did not think you would-\\n\\nA seething, spitting grey wave rose suddenly at the foot of the bridge, churning higher.\\n\\nThe shield wall flinched back, contracted.\\n\\nThe wave plunged forward.\\n\\nFrom the banks of the canal to either side citizens shrieked and scattered-\\n\\n-as the sorcery rushed over the bridge, striking the soldiers in a spray of blood and strips of flesh. A heartbeat, then past, spreading out to wash over the fleeing citizens. Devouring them in writhing hunger.\\n\\nTrull saw it strike nearby buildings, smashing down doors and bursting through shuttered windows. Screams.\\n\\n\\\"Enough!\\\" Rhulad roared, stepping towards Hannan Mosag, who lowered his arms, which looked twisted and gnarled.\\n\\nThe sorcery vanished, leaving only heaps of bones, polished shields and armour on the bridge. From the sundered buildings, silence. Hannan Mosag sagged, and Trull saw how misshapen he had become beneath his furs.\\n\\nThe emperor suddenly giggled. \\\"So eager, Hannan Mosag! Your secret god is so eager!\\\"\\n\\nSecret god? Trull looked over at Fear, and found his brother staring back.\\n\\n\\\"Brothers,\\\" the emperor cried, waving his sword, \\\"we march to the Eternal Domicile! To the throne! None can deny us! And should they dare, their flesh shall be rendered from their bones! They will know pain. They will suffer! Brothers, this shall be a day of suffering\\\"– he seemed to find sweetness in tasting the word– \\\"for all who would oppose us! Now, walk with your Sire!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He is...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"transformed. Lost to us. And all for the treachery of a slave...\\n\\nAn overgrown yard, just visible through the old, battered stones of the gateway. From the skeletal, twisted branches of leaning trees, something like steam billowed upward. There was no-one about. Iron Bars slowed his steps and looked backup the street. That manservant had yet to appear from beyond the corner of the building he had jogged round moments earlier.\\n\\n\\\"Fine, then,\\\" the Avowed muttered, drawing his sword, \\\"we'll just have to see for ourselves... ' He approached the gateway, strode onto the winding stone path. The squat, square tower was opposite, stained and leaning and dead. From his left, the sounds of stones grinding together, the snap of wood, and thumps that trembled the ground beneath his feet. Over there, then.\\n\\nIron Bars walked into the yard.\\n\\nRound a mud-smeared barrow, over a fallen tree, to come to a halt ten paces from what had once been an extensive, elongated mound, now torn apart and steaming, mud sliding down as five huge figures dragged themselves free. Flesh darkened by peat, skin mapped by the tracks of countless roots, dangling hair the colour of copper. Tugging weapons free– massive two-handed swords of black, polished wood.\\n\\nThe five were chanting.\\n\\nIron Bars grunted. \\\"Tartheno Toblakai. Hood-damned Fenn. Well, this won't be fun. '\\n\\nOne of the warriors heard him and fixed black, murky eyes on the Avowed. The chant ceased, and it spoke. \\\"A child, my brothers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The one who spoke through the earth?\\\" another asked.\\n\\n\\\"I don't know. Does it matter? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It would not help us, that child. We have promised a terrible death.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then let us-\\\"\\n\\nThe Toblakai's words were cut short as Iron Bars rushed forward.\\n\\nA roar, a keening sweep of a wooden sword flung into the path of the Avowed's own weapon, which slid under, point gliding back round and over the warrior's enormous wrist, following in its swishing wake, to intercept the instinctive back-swing. Slashing through hard, thick skin, the edge scoring against muscle tough as wood.\\n\\nA huge presence lunging in from the Avowed's right. But Iron Bars continued forward, ducking beneath the first Toblakai's arm, then pivoting round as the second attacker slammed into the first warrior. Disengaging his sword, thrusting upward, seeking the soft space between the lower mandibles– a jerk of the giant's head, and the Avowed's sword point speared its right eye, plunging deep in a spurt of what seemed to be swamp water.\\n\\nA shriek.\\n\\nIron Bars found himself scrambling over the ruined barrow, the other Toblakai stumbling as they swung round to face him again– with a heap of boulders, mud and ripped-uproots in the way.\\n\\nThe Avowed leapt down onto level ground once more.\\n\\nBlack blood dripping from one arm, a hand pressed over a gouged socket and burst eye, the Toblakai he had attacked was staggering back.\\n\\nThe other four were spreading out, silent now, intent.\\n\\nUntil they could edge round the entire barrow, their approach would be difficult, the footing treacherous.\\n\\nOne down. Iron Bars was pleased-\\n\\nAnd then the fifth one shook itself and straightened. One-eyed, but turning to face the Avowed once more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You hurt our brother,\\\" one said.\\n\\n\\\"There's more to come, ' Iron Bars said.\\n\\n\\\"It's not good, hurting gods. '\\n\\nGods?\\n\\n\\\"We are the Seregahl,\\\" the lead Toblakai said. \\\"Before you hurt us, you might have begged for mercy. You might have knelt in worship, and perhaps we would have accepted you. But not now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" the Avowed agreed, \\\"I suppose not.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is all you would say?\\\"\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"Nothing else comes to mind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are frowning. Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I've already killed a god today, \\\"Iron Bars said.\\\"If I'd known this was going to be a day for killing gods, I might have paced myself better.\\\"\\n\\nThe five were silent fora moment, then the first one said, \\\"What god have you killed this day, stranger?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Pack.\\\"\\n\\nA hiss from the Toblakai on the far right. \\\"The ones that escaped us! The fast ones!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They were fast,\\\" Iron Bars said, nodding. \\\"But not, it seems, fast enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"D'ivers. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" the Avowed said. \\\"Six of them... and only five of you.\\\"\\n\\nThe first Toblakai said to its brothers, \\\"Careful with this one, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are free,\\\" the one-eyed one growled. \\\"We must kill this one to remain so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True. This is cause enough.\\\"\\n\\nThey began advancing again.\\n\\nIron Bars inwardly sighed. At least he'd made them nervous. And that might serve to keep him alive a little while longer. Then again, he reminded himself, he'd faced worse.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Well, maybe not.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Maybe? Who am I kidding?\\n\\nHe shifted his weight, rising to the balls of his feet, readying himself to begin the dance. The dance of staying alive.\\n\\nUntil help came.\\n\\nHelp... from a short, pudgy, balding man. Oh, Hood, Iron Bars, just try and stay alive as long as you can– maybe they'll die of exhaustion.\\n\\n\\\"Look,\\\" one whined, \\\"he's smiling. '\\n\\nUnseen storms, raging through the streets, battering the city. Bugg's head was aching with the chaos of power, of the clash of fierce wills. He could still feel the impotent fury of the ancient god trapped beneath the ice of Settle Lake– the Ceda's trap had worked well indeed, and even now the ice was slowly thickening, closing in around the creature in the sealed cavern, and before the sunset it would find itself encased in the ice, feeling the unbearable cold seeping into its being, stealing sensation, stealing its life.\\n\\nGood things came of being nice to a Jaghut, something the T'lan Imass never understood.\\n\\nBugg made his way towards the end of the alley beyond which the old Azath tower was visible. He hoped Iron Bars had not done anything precipitous, such as entering the yard alone. Kettle would have warned him against that in any case. With luck, the child's buried ally was buried no longer. The Avowed was intended to give support, that was all, and only if necessity demanded it. This wasn't that man's fight, after all-\\n\\nHis steps slowed suddenly, as a cold dread swept through him. He quested outwith his senses, and detected movement where there should not be movement, an awakening of wills, intentions burning bright, threads of fate converging...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The manservant turned round, and began running.\\n\\nFour of his ablest killers approached Gerun Eberict from up the street. The Finadd raised a hand to halt those behind him.\\n\\n\\\"Finadd,\\\" the squad leader said upon arriving, \\\"we had some luck. The brother at the far lookout was flushed out into the street by a pack of Edur. He took six of the bastards down with him. Once the Edur left I sent Crillo out to make sure he was dead-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He was cut to pieces,\\\" Crillo interrupted, grinning.\\n\\n\\\"-and he was at that,\\\" the squad leader resumed, with a glare at Crillo, whose grin broadened.\\n\\n\\\"And the other?\\\" Gerun asked, scanning the vicinity. It wouldn't do to run into a company of Tiste Edur right now.\\n\\nThe squad leader scowled. \\\"Crillo got'im. A damned lucky knife-throw-'\\n\\n\\\"No luck at all,\\\" Crillo cut in. \\\"Poor bastard never knew it was coming-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because he'd caught out the rest of us-'\\n\\n\\\"They're both dead? \\\"Gerun asked. Then shook his head.\\\"Luck indeed. It should not have been that easy. All right, that leaves the one on the roof. He'll have been looking for signals from his brothers and he won't be seeing them now. Meaning, he'll know we're coming. '\\n\\n\\\"It's just one man, Finadd-'\\n\\n\\\"A Shavankrats, Crillo. Don't get overconfident just because the Errant's nudged our way so far. All right, we stay as a group now-\\\" He stopped, then gestured everyone low.\\n\\nThirty paces ahead and coming from aside alley, alone figure ran into the street. A Tiste Edur woman. Like a startled deer she froze, head darting. Before she had a chance to look their way, she heard something behind her and bolted. A metallic flash in her right hand revealed that she carried a knife of some sort.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gerun Eberict grunted. She was heading the same direction as he was. An undefended Tiste Edur woman. He would enjoy her before killing her. Once his other business was out of the way, of course. Might let the lads have ago, too. Crillo first, for the work he'd already done getting rid of Brys's damned guards.\\n\\nThe Finadd straightened. \\\"After her, then, since it's on the way. '\\n\\nDark laughs from his troop.\\n\\n\\\"Take point, Crillo.\\\"\\n\\nThey set out.\\n\\nFaces behind shutters at second floor windows– the whole city cowered like half-drowned rats. It was disgusting. But they were showing him, weren't they, showing him how few deserved to live. This new empire of the Tiste Edur would belittle different, he suspected. There would need to be controllers, deliverers of swift and incorruptible justice. People would continue to be rude. Would continue to litter the streets. And there would still be people who were just plain ugly, earning the mercy of Gerun's knife. He would have his work, as before, to make this city a place of beauty-\\n\\nThey had reached the place where the woman had emerged from the alley. Crillo was turning round, pointing in the direction she had run, when a spear struck his head, spinning him round in amass of blood, brain and shattered bone.\\n\\nFrom the alley rushed a score or more Tiste Edur warriors.\\n\\n\\\"Take them!\\\" Gerun Eberict commanded, and was pleased to see his men surge forward.\\n\\nPast the Finadd, who then stepped back.\\n\\nI can always get more men.\\n\\nAnd ran.\\n\\nOnto the trail of the woman. Coincidentally, of course. His real target was Tehol Beddict. He'd take her down first, leave her trussed and gagged close by, to await his return. More difficult, now, since he was alone. Tehol's bodyguard would be a challenge, but when one's sword edges were painted with poison, even the slightest cut would be sufficient to kill the man. Quickly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There!\\n\\nThe woman had been hiding in a niche twenty paces ahead. She bolted at his approach.\\n\\nGerun broke into a sprint.\\n\\nOh, he wanted her now. She was beautiful. He saw the knife in her hand and laughed. It was a fish knife– he'd seen the Letherii slaves using them in that Hiroth village.\\n\\nRunning hard, he quickly gained on her.\\n\\nAcross another street, into another alley.\\n\\nClose, now, to Tehol Beddict's home. But he could reach her in time– five more steps-\\n\\n\\\"There's trouble. '\\n\\nStunned, Tehol Beddict turned. \\\"Not mute after all...\\\" His words trailed away at seeing the unease in the bodyguard's eyes.\\\"Serious trouble, then. '\\n\\n\\\"My brothers are both dead. Gerun Eberict is coming.\\\" \\\"This city's full of Edur, \\\"Tehol said, throwing both hands up to encompass avast sweep of rooftops, tiers and bridges.\\\"Ranging round like wolves. And then there's those real wolves-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's Gerun. '\\n\\nTehol studied the man. \\\"All right. He's on the way fora visit. What should we do about it? '\\n\\n\\\"They can come up the walls, the way your thief friend does. We need to get below. We need a place with one door and only one door.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, there's the warehouse opposite– I know it quite well-'\\n\\n\\\"Let's go, then. '\\n\\nThe guard went to the hatch, knelt at its edge and cautiously looked down into the room below. He waved Tehol forward, then began the descent.\\n\\nMoments later they stood in the room. The guard headed to the entrance, tugged the hanging back a fraction and peered outside. \\\"Looks clear. I'll lead, to that wall-'\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The warehouse wall. There's a watchman, Chalas-'\\n\\n\\\"If he's still there I'd be surprised.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have a point. All right. When we get to the wall, we head right. Round the corner and in through the office door, the first one we'll come to. The main sliding doors will be barred. '\\n\\n\\\"And if the office door is locked?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know where the key's hidden. '\\n\\nThe guard nodded.\\n\\nThey stepped into the narrow corridor, turned left and approached the street.\\n\\nThree more strides.\\n\\nShe threw a desperate look over her shoulder, then lunged forward in a sudden burst of speed.\\n\\nGerun snarled, reaching outwith one hand.\\n\\nA whimpering sound escaped her, and she raised the knife just as she reached the mouth of the alley.\\n\\nAnd thrust it into her own chest.\\n\\nGerun was a hand's width behind her, coming opposite aside corridor between two warehouses, when he was grasped hard, pulled off his feet, and yanked into the dark corridor.\\n\\nA fist crashed into his face, shattering his nose. Stunned, he was helpless as the sword was plucked from his hand, the helmet dragged from his head.\\n\\nThe massive hands lifted him and slammed him hard against a wall. Once, twice, three times, and with each impact the back of Gerun's head crunched against the cut stone. Then he was smashed onto the greasy cobbles, breaking his right shoulder and clavicle. Consciousness slipped away. When it returned a moment later he was vaguely aware of a huge, hulking figure crouched over him in the gloom.\\n\\nA massive hand snapped down to cover Gerun's mouth and the figure froze.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The sound of running feet in the alleyway, a dozen, maybe more, all moccasined, the rasp of weapons. Then past.\\n\\nBlearily, Gerun Eberict stared up at an unfamiliar face. A mixed blood. Half Tarthenal, half Nerek.\\n\\nThe huge man crouched closer. \\\"For what you did to her,\\\" he said in a hoarse whisper. \\\"And don't think it'll be quick...\\\"\\n\\nThe handover his mouth, Gerun could say nothing. Could ask no questions. And he had plenty of those.\\n\\nIt was clear, however, that the mixed blood wasn't interested.\\n\\nAnd that, Gerun said to himself, was too bad.\\n\\nTehol was three paces behind the guard, who was nearing the warehouse wall, when a scraping noise alerted him. He looked to his right, in time to see an Edur woman stagger out from an alley. A knife handle jutted from her chest, and blood was streaming down.\\n\\nDumb misery in her eyes, she saw Tehol. Reached out a red-stained hand, then fell, landing on her left side and skidding slightly on the cobbles before coming to a stop.\\n\\n\\\"Guard!\\\" Tehol hissed, changing direction. \\\"She's hurt-'\\n\\nFrom the warehouse wall: \\\"No!\\\"\\n\\nAs Tehol reached her, he looked up to see Tiste Edur warriors rushing from the alley mouth. A spear sailed towards him-\\n\\n-and was intercepted by the guard lunging in from Tehol's left side. The weapon caught the man under his left arm, snapping ribs as it sank deep into his chest. With a soft groan, the guard stumbled past, then sprawled onto the street, blood pouring from his mouth and nose.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tehol went perfectly still.\\n\\nThe Edur ranged out cautiously, until they formed a rough circle around Tehol and the dead woman. One checked on the bodyguard, turning the man over with one foot. It was clear that the man was also dead.\\n\\nIn trader tongue, one of the Tiste Edur said, \\\"You have killed her.\\\"\\n\\nTehol shook his head. \\\"No. She ran into view, already wounded. I was coming to... to help. I am sorry...\\\"\\n\\nThe warrior sneered, then said to the younger Edur beside him, \\\"Midik, see if this Letherii is armed.\\\"\\n\\nThe one named Midik stepped up to Tehol. Reached out to pat him down, then snorted. \\\"He's wearing rags, Theradas. There is no place he could hide anything. '\\n\\nA third warrior said, \\\"He killed Mayen. We should take him back-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Theradas growled. He sheathed his sword and pushed Midik to one side as he came close to Tehol. \\\"Look at this one,\\\" he said in a growl. \\\"See the insolence in his eyes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You do poorly at reading a Letherii's expression, ' Tehol said sadly.\\n\\n\\\"That is too bad, for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Tehol replied, \\\"I imagine-\\\"\\n\\nTheradas struck him with a gloved fist.\\n\\nPitching Tehol's head back, his nose cracking loudly. He bent over, both hands to his face, then afoot slammed down diagonally against his right shin, snapping both bones. He fell. A heel crunched down on his chest, breaking ribs.\\n\\nTehol could feel his body trying to curl up as heels and fists battered at him. Afoot smashed down on his left cheek, crushing bone and bursting that eye. White fire blazed in his brain, swiftly darkening to murky black.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":85,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 32"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tehol gave him an innocent smile.\n\nIt was momentary, as more of the memories of this day stirred awake. \"Chalas,\" he said after a moment. \"That old fool.\"\n\n\"You have friends, Tehol Beddict.\"\n\n\"And that poor guard. He threw himself in front of that spear. Friends– yes, what's happened to everyone else? Do you know? Is Shurq all right? Kettle? '\n\nBugg grunted, clearly distracted by something, then said, \"I think they're fine. '\n\n\"Do you want to go and see for certain?\"\n\nHe glanced down. \"Not really. I can be very selfish at times, you know.\"\n\n\"No, I didn't. But I admit, I do have a question. Only I don't know how to ask it.\"\n\nBugg studied him fora long moment, then he snorted, said, \"You have no idea, Tehol, how boring it can be... existing for all eternity.\"\n\n\"Fine, but... a manservant?\"\n\nBugg hesitated, then slowly shook his head, and met Tehol's gaze.\"My association with you, Tehol, has been an unceasing delight. You resurrected in me the pleasure of existence, and you cannot comprehend how rare that is. '\n\n\"But... a manservant!\"\n\nBugg drew a deep breath. \"I think it's time to make you forget this day, my friend. '\n\n\"Forget? Forget what? Is there anything to eat around here?\"\n\nHe'd wanted to believe. In all the possible glories. The world could be made simple, there need be no complexity, he'd so wanted it to be simple. He walked through the strangely silent city. Signs of fighting here and there. Dead Letherii soldiers, mostly. They should have given up. As would anyone professing to some rationality, but it seemed this was not the day for what was reasonable and straightforward. On this day, madness held dominion, flowing in invisible currents through this city."},{"from":"human","value":"Through these poor Letherii."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Through the Tiste Edur.\n\nFear Sengar walked on, unmindful of where his steps took him. All his life, he had been gifted with a single, easily defined role. To fashion warriors among his people. And, when the need arose, to lead them into battle. There had been no great tragedies to mar his youth, and he'd stridden, not stumbled, into adulthood.\n\nThere had been no time when he'd felt alone. Alone in the frightened sense, that is. Solitude was born of decision, and could be as easily yielded when its purpose was done. There had been Trull. And Binadas, and then Rhulad. But, first and foremost, Trull. A warrior with skill unmatched when it came to fighting with the spear, yet without blood-lust– and blood-lust was a curse, he well knew, among the Edur. The hunger that swept away all discipline, that could reduce a well-trained fighter into a savage, weapons swinging wild, that strange, seething silence of the Tiste Edur pulled from cool thought. Among other peoples, he knew, that descent was announced with screams and howls and shrieks. An odd difference, and one that, for some unknown reason, deeply troubled Fear Sengar.\n\nAnd then, looking upon this Champion of the Letherii king, this brother of Hull Beddict– Fear could not recall if he'd ever heard his name, but if he had, he'd forgotten it. That itself was a crime. He would have to learn that man's name. It was important to learn it.\n\nFear was skilled with his sword. One of the finest sword-wielders among the Tiste Edur, a truth he simply accepted, with neither pride nor affected modesty. And, he knew, had he stood face to face with that Champion in the throne room, he would have lasted sometime. Some fair time, and might well have, on occasion, surprised the Letherii. But Fear had no illusions about who would have been left standing when all was done."},{"from":"human","value":"He wanted to weep."},{"from":"gpt","value":"For that Champion. For his king. For Rhulad, the brother he'd failed again and again. For Trull, whom he had now abandoned– to a choice no warrior should be forced to make.\n\nBecause he had failed Rhulad yet again. Trull could see that, surely. There was noway to hide the cowardice raging through Fear. Not from his closest, most cherished brother. Who gave voice to all my doubts, my terrors, so that I could defy them– so that I could be seen to defy them.\n\nShaped by Hannan Mosag... all of this. He understood that now. From the very first, the brutal unification of the tribes, the secret pact with the unknown god had already been made. So obvious, now. The Warlock King had turned his back on Father Shadow, and why not, since Scabandari Bloodeye was gone. Gone, never to return.\n\nNot even Hannan Mosag, then, but long ago. That was when this path first began. Long, long ago.\n\nThere had been a moment, back then, when everything was still simple. He was certain of it. Before the fated choices were made. And to all that had occurred since, there was only one who could give answer, and that was Father Shadow himself.\n\nHe walked the dusty streets, past corpses lying here and there like passed-out revellers from some wild fete the night before. Barring the blood, the scattered weapons.\n\nHe was... lost. They had asked too much of him, far too much. Therein that throne room. We carried his body back. Across the ice wastes. I thought I had sent Trull to his death. So many failures, and everyone of them mine. There must be other ways... other ways..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Motionless, now, looking down upon a body.\n\nMayen.\n\nThe hunger, he saw, was gone from her face. Finally, there was nothing but peace there. As he'd seen before, when he'd looked upon her sleeping. Or singing with the other maidens. When he'd carried the sword which she then took into her hands. To bury at the threshold of her home. He would not think of other times, when he caught a certain darkness in her eyes, and was left wondering on the twisting of her mind– such things a man could not know, could never know. Fearful mysteries, the ones that lured a man into love, into fascination and, at times, into trembling terror.\n\nHer face held none of that now. Only peace. Sleeping, like the child within her, hereon this street.\n\nFear crouched, then knelt beside her. He closed a hand on the horn grip of the fisher knife, then pulled it from her chest. He studied the knife. A slave's tool. A small sigil was carved near its base, one he recognized.\n\nThe knife had belonged to Udinaas.\n\nWas this his gift? An offering of peace? Or simply one more act of deadly vengeance against the family of Edur who had owned him? Who had stolen his freedom? He abandoned Rhulad. As I have done. For that, I have no right to hate. But... what of this?\n\nHe rose, tucking the knife into his belt.\n\nMayen was dead. The child he would have loved was dead. Some force was here, some force eager to take everything away from him.\n\nAnd he did not know what to do.\n\nWeeping, ceaseless, weeping from the blood-spattered, twisted form lying on the floor of the throne room. On his knees ten paces away, Trull had his hands to his ears, wanting it to end, wanting someone to end it. This moment... it was trapped, deep within itself. It would not end. An eternal chorus of piteous crying, reaching into his skull."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hannan Mosag was dragging himself towards the throne, so bent and mangled he was barely able to move more than a few hand's widths at a time before the pain in his body forced him to pause once again.\n\nAmong the Letherii, only one remained, his reappearance a mystery, yet he stood, expression serene yet watchful, near the far wall. Young, handsome and somehow... soft. Not a soldier, then. He had said nothing, seeming content to observe.\n\nWhere were the other Edur? Trull could not understand. They had left Binadas, unconscious but alive, at the far end of the corridor. He turned his head in that direction, saw the huddled shapes of the queen and her son beside the entranceway. The prince looked either dead or asleep. The queen simply watched Hannan Mosag's tortured progress towards the dais, teeth gleaming in a wet smile.\n\nI need to find Father. He will know what to do... no, there is nothing to know, is there? Just as there is... nothing to do. Nothing at all, and that was the horror of it.\n\n\"Please... Trull...\"\n\nTrull shook his head, trying not to hear.\n\n\"All I wanted... you, and Fear, and Binadas. I wanted you to... include me. Not a child any longer, you see? That's all, Trull. '\n\nHannan Mosag grunted a laugh. \"Respect, Trull. That is what he wanted. Where does that come from, then? A sword? A wealth of coins burned into your skin? A title? That presumptuous, obnoxious we he's always using now? None of those? How about stealing his brother's wife?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Be quiet,\" Trull said.\n\n\"Do not speak to your king that way, Trull Sengar. It will... cost you.\"\n\n\"I am to quail at your threats, Warlock King?\"\n\nTrull let his hands fall away from his ears. The gesture had been useless. This chamber carried the slightest whisper. Besides, there could be no deafness without when there was none within. He caught slight movement from the Letherii at the far wall and looked over to see that he had turned his head, attention fixed now upon the entranceway. The man suddenly frowned.\n\nThen Trull heard footsteps. Heavy, dragging. A sound of metal, and something like streaming water.\n\nHannan Mosag twisted round where he lay. \"What? What comes? Trull– find a weapon, quickly!\"\n\nTrull did not move.\n\nRhulad's weeping resumed, indifferent to all else.\n\nThe thudding footsteps came closer.\n\nA moment later, an apparition shambled into view, blood pouring down from its gauntleted hands. Nearly the size of a Tarthenal, it was sheathed in black, stained iron plates, studded with green rivets. A great helm with caged eye-slits hid the face within, the grille-work hanging ragged on its shoulders and beneath its armoured chin. The figure was encrusted with barnacles at the joins of its elbows, knees and ankles. In one hand it carried a sword of Letherii steel, down which the blood flowed ceaselessly.\n\nRhulad hissed, \"What is it, Trull? What has come?\"\n\nThe monstrosity paused just within the entrance. Head creaking as it looked round, it fixed its focus, it seemed, on the corpse of the King's Champion. It resumed walking forward, leaving twin trails of blood."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Trull!\" Rhulad shrieked.\n\nThe creature halted, looked down at the emperor lying on the floor. After a moment, a heavy voice rumbled from within the helm. \"You are gravely injured.\"\n\nTrembling, Rhulad laughed, a sound close to hysteria. \"Injured? Oh yes. Cut to pieces!\"\n\n\"You will live.\"\n\nHannan Mosag said in a growl, \"Begone, demon. Lest I banish you.\"\n\n\"You can try,\" it said. And moved forward once more. Until it stood directly in front of the Champion's body.\"I see no wounds, yet he lies dead. This honourable mortal. '\n\n\"Poison,\" said the Letherii at the far wall.\n\nThe creature looked over. \"I know you. I know all your names.\"\n\n\"I imagine you do, Guardian,\" the man replied.\n\n\"Poison. Tell me, did you... push him in that direction?\"\n\n\"It is my aspect,\" the Letherii said, shrugging. \"I am driven to... poignancy. Tell me, does your god know you are here?\"\n\n\"I will speak to him soon. Words of chastisement are necessary.\"\n\nThe man laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. \"I imagine they are at that.\"\n\nThe Guardian looked once more upon the Champion. \"He held the names. Of all those who were almost forgotten. This... this is a great loss.\"\n\n\"No,\" the Letherii said, \"those names are not lost. Not yet. But they will be... soon.\"\n\n\"I need... someone, then.\"\n\n\"And you will find him.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Guardian regarded the Letherii once more. \"I am... pushed?\"\n\nThe man shrugged again.\n\nThe Guardian reached down, closed a firm grip on the Champion's sword-belt, then lifted him from the floor and slung him over its left shoulder. Standing in a spreading pool of blood, it turned about.\n\nAnd looked upon Rhulad Sengar. \"They show no mercy, your friends,\" it said.\n\n\"No?\" Rhulad's laugh became a cough. He gasped, then said,\"I am beginning to see... otherwise-'\n\n\"I have learned mercy,\" the Guardian said, and thrust down with his sword.\n\nInto Rhulad's back, severing the spine.\n\nTrull Sengar lurched to his feet, stared, disbelieving-\n\n-as the Letherii man whispered, \"And... once more.\"\n\nThe Guardian walked towards the entrance, ignoring Hannan Mosag's enraged bellow as it passed the Warlock King.\n\nTrull stumbled forward, around the motionless form of his brother, until he reached Hannan Mosag. Snapped a hand down and dragged the Warlock King up, until he held him close. \"The throne?\" Trull asked in a rasp. \"You just lost it, bastard.\" He flung Hannan Mosag back down onto the floor. \"I need to find Fear. Tell him,\" Trull said as he walked to the entranceway, \"tell him, Mosag, that I went to find Fear. I am sending in the others-\"\n\nRhulad spasmed behind him, then shrieked.\n\nSo be it.\n\nThe Wyval clawed its way free from the barrow, dripping red-streaked mud, flanks heaving. A moment later the wraith appeared, dragging the unconscious form of a Letherii man."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Shurq Elalle rose from where she had crouched beside Ublala, stroking his brow and wondering at the stupid smile plastered on his features, and, placing her hands on her hips, surveyed the scene. Five sprawled bodies, toppled trees, the stench of rotting earth. Two of her employees near the facing wall of the Azath tower, the mage tending to the Avowed's wounds. Avowed. What kind of tide is that, anyway?\n\nCloser to the gate, Kettle and the tall, white-skinned warrior with the two Letherii swords.\n\nImpressively naked, she noted, walking over. \"If I am not mistaken,\" she said to him, \"you are of the same blood as the Tiste Edur.\"\n\nA slight frown as he looked down upon her. \"No. I am Tiste Andii.\"\n\n\"If you say so. Now that you have finished off those... things, I take it your allegiance to the Azath tower is at an end.\"\n\nHe glanced over at it with his strange, red eyes. \"We were never... friends,\" he said, then faintly smiled. \"But it is dead. I am not bound to anyone's service but my own. \"Studied her once again.\"And there are things I must do... for myself. '\n\nKettle spoke. \"Can I come with you?\"\n\n\"That would please me, child,\" the warrior said.\n\nShurq Elalle narrowed her eyes. \"You made a promise, didn't you? \"she asked him.\"To the tower, and though it is dead the promise remains to be honoured. '\n\n\"She will be safe, so long as she chooses to remain with me,\" the warrior said, nodding."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Shurq looked round once more, then said, \"This city is now ruled by the Tiste Edur. Will they take undue note of you?\"\n\n\"Accompanied by a Wyval, a wraith and the unconscious slave he insists on keeping with him, I would imagine so.\"\n\n\"Best, then,\" she said, \"you left Letheras without being seen.\"\n\n\"Agreed. Do you have a suggestion?\"\n\n\"Not yet-\"\n\n\"I have...\"\n\nThey turned to seethe Avowed and his mage, the latter lending the former his shoulder as they slowly approached. It had been Iron Bars who had spoken.\n\n\"You,\" Shurq Elalle said, \"work for me, now. No volunteering allowed.\"\n\nHe grinned. \"Aye, but all I'm saying is they need an escort. Someone who knows all the secret ways out of this city. It's the least I can do, since this Tiste Andii saved my life.\"\n\n\"Thinking of things before I do does not bode well fora good working relationship,\" Shurq Elalle said.\n\n\"Apologies, ma'am. I won't do it again, I promise.\"\n\n\"You think I'm being petty, don't you?\"\n\n\"Of course not. After all, the undead are never petty.\"\n\nShe crossed her arms. \"No? See that pit over there? There's an undead man named Harlest hiding in it, waiting to scare someone with his talons and fangs. '\n\nThey all turned to study the pit in the yard of the Azath tower. From which they could now hear faint singing.\n\n\"Hood's balls, \"Iron Bars muttered.\"When do we sail? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Shurq Elalle shrugged. \"As soon as they let us. And who is Hood?\"\n\nThe white-skinned warrior replied distractedly, \"The Lord of Death, and yes, he has balls.\"\n\nEveryone turned to stare at the warrior, who shrugged.\n\nShurq grunted, then said, \"Don't make me laugh. '\n\nKettle pointed up. \"I like that. In your forehead, Mother. I like that.\"\n\n\"And let's keep it there, shall we? ' Fortunately, no-one seemed to grasp the significance of her comment.\n\nThe warrior said to Iron Bars. \"Your suggestion?\"\n\nThe Avowed nodded.\n\nTehol Beddict, lying atop the sarcophagus, was sleeping. Bugg had been staring down at him, thoughtful, when he heard the sound of footsteps almost directly behind him. He slowly swung about as the Guardian emerged from the wall of water that marked the tunnel mouth.\n\nThe apparition was carrying a body over one shoulder. It halted and was silent as it studied the manservant.\n\nHere, in this tomb emptied of water, in this place where an Elder god's will held all back, the Guardian did not bleed.\n\nBugg sighed. \"Oh, he will grieve for this,\" he said, finally recognizing the Letherii on the Guardian's shoulder.\n\n\"The Errant says the names remain alive within him,\" the creature said.\n\n\"The names? Ah, yes. Of course.\"\n\n\"You abandoned us, Mael.\"\n\n\"I know. I am sorry.\"\n\nThe Guardian stepped past him and stopped beside the sarcophagus. Its helmed head tilted down as it observed Tehol Beddict. \"This one shares his blood.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A brother, yes.\"\n\n\"He shall carry the memory of the names, then.\" It looked over. \"Do you object to this?\"\n\nBugg shook his head. \"How can I?\"\n\n\"That is true. You cannot. You have lost the right.\"\n\nThe manservant said nothing. He watched as the Guardian grasped hold of one of Brys's hands and set it down upon Tehol's brow. A moment, then it was done. The apparition stepped away, headed towards the far wall of water.\n\n\"Wait, please,\" Bugg said.\n\nIt paused, looked back.\n\n\"Where will you take him?\"\n\n\"Into the deep, where else, Elder One?\"\n\nBugg frowned. \"In that place...\"\n\n\"Yes. There shall be two Guardians now and forevermore.\"\n\n\"Will that eternal service please him, do you think?\"\n\nThe apparition cocked its head. \"I do not know. Does it please me?\"\n\nWith that ambiguous question hanging in the still air, the Guardian carried the body of Brys Beddict into the water.\n\nAfter along moment, Bugg turned back to regard Tehol. His friend would wake with a terrible headache, he knew.\n\nNothing to be done for it, alas. Except, perhaps, for some tea... I've a particularly nasty herbal mix that'll make him forget his headache. And if there is anyone in the world who will appreciate that, it is Tehol Beddict of Letheras.\n\nBut first, I'd better get him out of this tomb.\n\nThere were bodies lying in the throne room of the Eternal Domicile. The one halfway down the dais, face to the bloody tiles, still made Feather Witch's breath catch, her heart thud loud in her chest. Fear or excitement, she knew not which– perhaps both. King Ezgara Diskanar, flung down from the throne, where Rhulad Sengar of the Tiste Edur now sat, and the darkness in the emperor's eyes seemed beyond measure."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"There had been pain in this chamber– she could feel its bitter wake, hanging still in the air. And Rhulad had been its greatest fount. Betrayals, more betrayals than any mortal could bear. She knew this was truth, knew it in her heart.\n\nBefore the emperor stood Tomad and Uruth, flanking the trembling, huddled form of Hannan Mosag, who had paid a dear price for this day of triumph. It seemed that he awaited something, a posture of terrified expectation, his eyes downcast. Yet Rhulad appeared content to ignore the Warlock King. For now, he would indulge his sour triumph.\n\nEven so, where was Fear Sengar? And Trull? Feather Witch had assisted Uruth intending to Binadas, who remained unconscious and would continue so until the healing was done. But, apart from Rhulad's parents, the only others of the emperor's inner court present were a handful of his adopted brothers, Choram Irard, Kholb Harat and Matra Brith. The Buhns were absent, as was the Jheck warchief, B'nagga.\n\nTwo Letherii remained, apart from the pathetic wreckages of Queen Janall and Prince Quillas. And already the Chancellor, Triban Gnol, had knelt before Rhulad and proclaimed his eternal service. The other Letherii drew Feather Witch's attention again and again. Consort to the queen, Turudal Brizad gave the appearance of being almost indifferent to all he was witnessing herein the Eternal Domicile.\n\nAnd he was handsome, extraordinarily handsome.\n\nMore than once, she had met his gaze, and saw in his eyes– even from across the room– a certain avid interest that sent tremors through her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She remained a step behind Uruth, her new mistress, ever attentive, whilst commanders came and went with their irrelevant reports. Fighting here, an end to fighting there, the docks secured. The first of the emissaries from the protectorates eagerly awaited audience in the ruined hallway beyond.\n\nThe empire was born.\n\nAnd she had witnessed, and more than witnessed. A knife, pushed into the hands of Mayen, and word had come that she had been found. Dead. No more would Feather Witch cower beneath her fury. The whore was dead.\n\nRhulad's first command was to begin a hunt. For Udinaas. His adopted brothers were given a company of warriors each and sent out to find the slave. The search would be relentless, she knew, and in the end, Udinaas would be captured. And made to pay for his betrayal.\n\nShe did not know what to think about that. But the thought had run through her once– and only once, quickly driven away afterwards– a hope, a fervent prayer to the Errant that Udinaas would escape. That he would never be found. That at least one Letherii would defy this emperor, defeat him. And in defeating him thus, would break Rhulad's heart yet again.\n\nThe world has drawn breath... and now breathes once more. As steady as ever, as unbroken in rhythm as the tides.\n\nShe could see, through the cleverly fashioned, slitted windows high in the dome overhead, the deepening of the light, and she knew the sun was setting on this day.\n\nA day in which a kingdom was conquered, and a day in which that which was conquered began its inevitable destruction of the conquerors.\n\nFor such was the rhythm of these particular tides. Now, with the coming of night, when the shadows drew long, and what remained of the world turned away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"For that is what the Tiste Edur believe, is it not? Until midnight, all is turned away, silent and motionless. Awaiting the last tide.\n\nOn his throne, Rhulad Sengar sat, draped in the gold of Lether, and the dying light gleamed in his hooded eyes. Darkened the stains on the sword held in his right hand, point to the dais.\n\nAnd Feather Witch, her eyes cast downward once more after that momentary glance, downward as required, saw, lying in the join of the dais, a severed finger. Small, like a child's. She stared at it, fascinated, filled with a sudden desire. To possess it. There was power in such things, after all. Power a witch could use.\n\nAssuming the person it had belonged to had been important.\n\nWell, I shall find that out soon enough.\n\nDusk was claiming the throne room. Someone would have to light lanterns, and soon.\n\nShe had not left the room. There had been no reason to. She had sat, motionless, empty, numb to the sounds of fighting, to the howling wolves, to the distant screams in the city beyond. And told herself, every now and then, that she waited. The end of one thing brought the birth of another, after all.\n\nLives and loves, the gamut of existence was marked by such things. A breaking of paths, the ragged, uneven ever-forward stumble. Blood dried, eventually. Turned to dust. The corpses of kings were laid down and sealed in darkness and set away, to be forgotten. Graves were dug for fallen soldiers, vast pits like mouths in the earth, opened in hunger, and all the bodies were tumbled down, each exhaling a last gasp of lime dust. Survivors grieved, fora time, and looked upon empty rooms and empty beds, the scattering of possessions no-one possessed any longer, and wondered what was to come, what would be written anew on the wiped-clean slate. Wondering, how can I goon?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kingdoms and empires, wars and causes, she was sick of them.\n\nShe wanted to begone. Away, so faraway that nothing of her life from before mattered in the least. No memories to drive her steps in this direction or that.\n\nCorlo had warned her. Not to fall into the cycle of weeping. So now she sat dry-eyed, and let the city beyond weep for itself. She was done with such things.\n\nA knock upon the door.\n\nSeren Pedac looked down the hallway, her heart lurching.\n\nA heavy sound, now repeated, insistent.\n\nThe Acquitor rose from the chair, tottering at the tingling in her legs– she had not moved in along time– then made her way unevenly forward.\n\nDusk had arrived. She had not noticed that. Someone has decided. Someone has ended this day. Why would they do that?\n\nAbsurd thoughts, pushed into her mind as if from somewhere outside, intones of faint irony, drawled out like a secret joke.\n\nAt the door now. Flinching as the knock sounded again, at a level opposite her face.\n\nSeren opened it.\n\nTo find, standing before her, Fear and Trull Sengar.\n\nTrull could not understand it, but it had seemed his steps were being guided, down this alley, along that street, through the vast city with unerring precision until he saw, in the gloom ahead, his brother. Walking with purpose over a minor bridge of the main canal. Turning in surprise at Trull's hoarse shout. Then waiting until his brother caught up to him.\n\n\"Rhulad is resurrected,\" Trull said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fear looked away, squinted into the shadows of the seemingly motionless water of the canal. \"By your hand, Trull?\"\n\n\"No. I... failed in that. Something else. A demon of some sort. It came for the Champion– I don't know why, but it carried the man's body away. After killing Rhulad in what it saw as an act of mercy.\" Trull grimaced. \"A gift of the ignorant. Fear-\"\n\n\"No. I will not return.\"\n\nTrull stared at him. \"Listen tome, please. I believe, if we work together, we can guide him back. From madness. For the Sisters\" sake, Fear, we must try. For our people-'\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"You... would leave me to this?\"\n\nSudden pain in Fear's face, but he refused to meet his brother's eyes. \"I must go. I understand something now, you see. This is not of Rhulad's making. Nor Hannan Mosag's. It is Father Shadow's, Trull. '\n\n\"Scabandari Bloodeye is dead-\"\n\n\"Not his spirit. It remains... somewhere. I intend to find it.\"\n\n\"To what end?\"\n\n\"We have been usurped. All of us. By the one behind that sword. No-one else can save us, Trull. I mean to find Scabandari Bloodeye. If he is bound, I mean to free him. His spirit. We shall return together, or not at all.\"\n\nTrull knew his brother well enough to cease arguing. Fear had found anew purpose, and with it he intended to flee... from everything, and everyone, else. \"How will you get out of the city? They will be looking for us– it's probable they are doing so even now. '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Hull once told me that Seren Pedac had her home here.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fear shook his head. \"I don't know, I don't understand it myself, but I believe she might help.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nFear shook his head.\n\n\"How do you know where she lives?\"\n\n\"I don't. But it's... this way.\"\n\nHe began walking. Trull quickly caught up to him and gripped his arm. \"Listen– no, I don't mean to prevent you. But listen tome, please. '\n\n\"Very well, but let us walk in the meantime.\"\n\n\"All right. Do you not wonder at all this, Fear? How did I find you? It should have been impossible, yet here we are. And now you, and this house– the Acquitor's house– Fear, something is guiding us. We are being manipulated-'\n\nHis brother's smile was wry.\"What of it? '\n\nTo that, Trull had no answer. Silent, he walked with Fear. Coming upon a score of dead Letherii, he paused to collect a sword and scabbard. He strapped it on, ignoring Fear's raised brows, not out of some ambivalent emotion, but because he himself did not know why he had picked up the weapon. They walked on.\n\nUntil they came to a modest house.\n\nTrull's chest seemed to clench tight upon seeing her standing in the doorway. He could not understand it– no, he could, but it was impossible. Absurd. He'd only seen Seren Pedac a few times. Had but exchanged a few score words, if that. Yet, as he studied her face, the shock writ there, so at odds with the appalling depth in her eyes, he felt himself falling forward in his mind-\n\n\"What?\" she asked, gaze darting between him and Fear. \"What are you...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I need your help,\" Fear said.\n\n\"I cannot... I don't see how... '\n\nSisters take me, I would give my heart to this woman. This Letherii...\n\nFear said, \"I am fleeing. My brother, the emperor. I need a guide to take me through the city unseen. Tonight.\"\n\n\"How did you find me?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I don't even know why... why I have this belief that only you can help me.\"\n\nShe looked then at Trull, and he saw her eyes hold on his for what seemed along moment, slowly widening. \"And you, Trull Sengar?\" she asked. \"Are coming with us?\"\n\nWith us. She will do this. Why? What need within her does this answer? The pressure in his chest constricted suddenly, even as the fateful words left him. \"I cannot, Acquitor. I failed Rhulad this day. I must try... again. I must try to save him.\"\n\nSomething like resignation filled her eyes.\n\nAs if he had wounded something that already bore a thousand scars.\n\nAnd Trull wanted to cry out. Instead, he said, \"I am sorry. But I will await your return– both of you-\"\n\n\"We shall return here?\" she asked, glancing at Fear. \"Why?\"\n\n\"To end this,\" Fear said.\n\n\"To end what?\"\n\n\"The tyranny born here tonight, Seren Pedac.\"\n\n\"You would kill Rhulad? Your own brother?\"\n\n\"Kill him? That would notwork, as you know. No. But I shall find another way. I shall.\"\n\nOh, who has grasped hold of my soul tins night? He found himself unhitching the sword, heard himself saying, \"I don't know if you have a weapon, Acquitor, \"and knew his own disbelief at the absurdity of his own words, the shallowness of his reasoning,\"so I will give you mine... ' And he was holding the sheathed sword out to her."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At the threshold of her home.\n\nFear turned, studied him, but Trull could not look away from her, not even to see what must be realization dawning in his face.\n\nLetherii though she was, Seren Pedac clearly understood, her gaze becoming confused, then clearing. \"Just that, I take it. A weapon... for me to use.\"\n\nNo. \"Yes... Acquitor. A weapon...\"\n\nShe accepted it, but the gesture was without meaning now.\n\nTrull found himself stepping back. \"I have to go now. I will tell Rhulad I saw you, Fear, down at the docks.\"\n\n\"You cannot save him, brother,\" Fear said.\n\n\"I can but try. Go well, Fear.\"\n\nAnd he was walking away. It was best, he decided through sudden tears. They would probably never return. Nor would she have accepted the sword. Which was why she asked him before reaching out for it. A weapon to use. Only that.\n\nHe was being a fool. A moment of profound weakness, a love that made no sense, no sense at all. No, better by far the way it had played out. She'd understood, and so she'd made certain. No other meaning. No proclamation. Simply a gesture in the night.\n\nA weapon to use. Only that.\n\nThey remained standing at the threshold. Trull was gone, his footsteps swallowed by distance. Fear studied Seren Pedac as she looked down at the sword in her hands. Then, glancing up, she saw his fixed regard and smiled wryly.\n\n\"Your brother... startled me. Fora moment, I thought... never mind.\"\n\nThen why, Seren Pedac, is there such pain in your eyes? Fear hesitated, was about to speak, when a child's voice spoke behind him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Are you Seren Pedac?\"\n\nHe spun round, sword hissing from its scabbard.\n\nThe Acquitor stepped past, holding out a hand to stay him. \"Do I know you?\" she asked the small girl standing at the gate.\n\n\"I am Kettle. Iron Bars said you would help us. We need to leave the city. With no-one seeing.\"\n\n\"We?\"\n\nThe girl walked forward, and behind her came a tall, robed and hooded figure. Then a shadow wraith, dragging a body.\n\nA startled sound from Seren. \"Errant fend, this is about to get a lot harder.\"\n\nFear said to her, \"Acquitor, I would berate you for your generosity this night, had it not included me. Can you still manage this?\"\n\nShe was studying the tall, hooded figure as she replied, \"Probably. There are tunnels...\"\n\nFear faced the girl and her party once more. His gaze focused on the wraith. \"You, why are you not serving the emperor this night?\"\n\n\"I am unbound, Fear Sengar. You are fleeing? This is... unexpected.\"\n\nHe disliked the amusement in its voice. \"And who is that you are pulling behind you?\"\n\n\"The slave Udinaas.\"\n\nFear said to Seren, \"They will be hunting in earnest for these ones, Acquitor. For that slave.\"\n\n\"I remember him,\" she said.\n\n\"His betrayal of the emperor has exacted a high price,\" Fear said. \"More, I believe he killed Mayen-\"\n\n\"Believe what you like,\" the wraith said, \"but you are wrong. You forget, Fear Sengar, this man is a slave. A thing to be used, and used he has been. By me, by the Wyval that even now circles us in the dark overhead. For what befell Rhulad, for Mayen– neither of these tragedies belong to Udinaas.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As you say.\n\n\"We can argue this later,\" Seren said. \"Kettle, who is this disguised man?\"\n\nShe was about to answer when the figure said, \"I am Selekis, of the Azath tower.\"\n\n\"From the Azath tower?\" Seren asked. \"Amusing. Well, you're as tall as an Edur, Selekis. Can we not see your face? '\n\n\"I would rather not, Seren Pedac. Not yet, in any case.\" It seemed its hidden gaze was on Fear as it continued, \"Perhaps later, once we have quitted this city and have the time to discuss our eventual destinations. It maybe, indeed, that we will travel together for sometime.\"\n\n\"I think not,\" Fear said. \"I go to find Father Shadow.\"\n\n\"Indeed? And Scabandari Bloodeye still lives?\"\n\nShocked, Fear said nothing. He must be a Tiste Edur. One of the other tribes, perhaps. Also fleeing. No different from me, then.\n\n\"All of you,\" Seren said, \"inside. We should scrape together some supplies, although I am certain the Rat Catchers\" Guild will be able to supply us... fora price. '\n\nThe wraith softly laughed. \"It is the Letherii way, of course...\"\n\n---\n\nShurq Elalle stepped clear of the ladder and onto the roof. The sun was up, and people could be seen on the tiers, a little slower in their walking than was usual. Uncertain, filled perhaps with some trepidation. There were Tiste Edur, after all, patrolling in squads. Whilst yet others, in larger groups, were moving through the city as if looking for someone in particular."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tehol Beddict and his manservant were standing on the side overlooking the canal, their backs to Shurq as she approached. Tehol glanced over a shoulder and gave her a warm smile. He looked... different.\n\n\"Tehol Beddict,\" she said as she came to stand beside him, \"one of your eyes is blue.\"\n\n\"Is it? Must be some kind of nefarious infection, Shurq, since I can barely see with it besides.\"\n\n\"It'll clear up in time, ' Bugg said.\n\n\"So,\" Shurq said, \"have you resumed plotting the end of civilization, Tehol?\"\n\n\"I have, and a delicious end it will be.\"\n\nShe grunted. \"I'll send you Shand, Hejun and Rissarh, then-'\n\n\"Don't you dare. Deliver them to the islands. I work better alone. '\n\n\"Alone?\"\n\n\"Well, with Bugg here, of course. Every man needs a manservant, after all.\"\n\n\"I imagine so. Well, I am here, then, to say goodbye.\"\n\n\"Off for some pirating, are we?\"\n\n\"Why not? I'm simply elaborating on a well-established career. '\n\nTehol looked to Bugg, and said, \"The thief who sank...\"\n\n\"... has resurfaced,\" Bugg finished.\n\nThe two men smiled at each other.\n\nShurq Elalle turned away. \"Well, that's one thing I won't miss.\"\n\n---\n\nAfter she was gone, Tehol and Bugg stared out fora while longer at the reawakening city of Letheras. The city occupied, the throne usurped, strangers in the streets looking rather... lost."},{"from":"human","value":"The two-headed insect clung to Tehol's shoulder and would not move."},{"from":"gpt","value":"After a time, Tehol rubbed at his weak eye and sighed.\"You know, Bugg, I am glad you didn't do it.\"\n\n\"Do what?\"\n\n\"Make me forget.\"\n\n\"I figured you could handle it.\"\n\n\"You're right. I can. At least, this way, I can grieve. '\n\n\"In your own way.\"\n\n\"In my own way, yes. The only way I know how.\"\n\n\"I know, master.\"\n\nA short while later, Bugg turned about and walked towards the hatch. \"I'll be back shortly. '\n\n\"Right. And when you do, cleanup down there.\"\n\nThe manservant paused at the hatch, considered, then said, \"I think I will find the time to do just that, master.\"\n\n\"Excellent. Now I'm going to bed. '\n\n\"Good idea, master.\"\n\n\"Well, of course it is, Bugg. It's mine, isn't it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And it is this moment, my friends, When you must look away, As the world unfurls anew In shapes announced both bright And sordid, in dark and light And the sprawl of all existence That lies between.\n\nFisher kel Tath\n\nThe hole was vast and deep. The two Kenryll'ah demon princes stood at its edge, staring down into it, as they had been for sometime.\n\nFinally, one said, \"How far down do you think it goes, brother?\"\n\n\"I suspect, brother,\" the other replied, \"if we were to vacate our bladders into this abyss the streams would fray into mist long before they reached bottom.\"\n\n\"I suspect you are right. And that Forkrul Assail went down there, didn't he? '\n\n\"He did. Headfirst.\"\n\n\"You shouldn't have thrown him, then. '\n\n\"You are wrong, brother. I simply threw him in the wrong direction.\"\n\n\"That, or the world suddenly turned.\"\n\n\"Unlikely. This place doesn't do things like that. '\n\n\"You're right. It is proving exceedingly dull, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Exceedingly.\"\n\n\"Well, shall we?\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\nThe two demons began loosening straps on their ornate baldrics. Dropping flaps. Shifting their stances to adequate width.\n\nAnd they stood there, side by side, until, perfectly timed, their flows were done.\n\nThe storm had risen sudden, impressively fierce as it raged on the seas. Three Nachts huddled at his feet, Withal stood on the beach, feeling the faint wisps of wind that managed to reach through the sorcerous barrier surrounding the island, brushing against his face like a woman's breath."},{"from":"human","value":"A sweet woman, to be more precise."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Unlike the one standing beside him. This tall, iron-eyed, foul-mouthed, humourless apparition who followed him around and never seemed to sleep and certainly would not let Kim sleep, not a single damned night the whole night through, not once. Always asking, asking and asking. What are you going to do? Besides praying?\n\nWell, what else could he do?\n\nRhulad Sengar came and went, more insane with each time. Shrieks, laughter, screams and wails. How many times could a man die?\n\nWe'll see, I suppose.\n\n\"That storm,\" Sandalath said, \"it wants to get through, doesn't it? '\n\nHe nodded. He could feel its wrath, and its impotence.\n\n\"It's waiting for something, \"she continued.\"Waiting for someone... to do something. '\n\nHe repressed the urge to hither– she'd kill him if he did– wait. Wait. Wait.\"Hold on, \"he whispered.\"Hold on... I've thought of something...\"\n\n\"A miracle!\" she shouted, throwing up her hands. \"Oh, I know! Let's pray! '\n\nAnd now he saw it, on the very edge of the thrashing waves beyond the reef. Saw it, and pointed. \"There! A boat, you black-hearted witch! A boat!\"\n\n\"So what? So what? Why don't you do something? '\n\nHe spun round, startling the Nachts, and began running.\n\nThere was anger, plenty of anger, giving strength to his strides. Oh, so much anger. Deliverers of suffering deserved what was coming to them, didn't they? Oh yes, they surely did. The Nachts had been showing him. Over and over again, the mad grinning apes. Over and over."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Build a nest.\n\nKick it down.\n\nBuild a nest.\n\nKick... it... down!\n\nHe saw the hut, that squalid, insipid hovel crouched thereon the dead plain. Sensed the Crippled God's sudden awareness, sudden probings into his mind. But oh no, he laughed silently, it couldn't work it out. Couldn't fathom the endless refrain filling his skull.\n\nBuild a nest! Kick it down!\n\nHe reached the hut, not where the doorway made its slash in the wall, but from a blindside. And, with all his weight, the swordsmith flung himself into that flimsy structure.\n\nIt collapsed inward, Withal on top, landing upon a squawking figure beneath. Spitting, hissing with rage and indignation.\n\nWithal grasped handfuls of rotten canvas, heaved himself back upright, and dragged the tent away. Pegs snapping, ties breaking. Dragged it away from that horrid little bastard god.\n\nIt shrieked, the brazier tumbling, coals spilling out, sparks lodging in the god's ratty robes, where they smouldered-\n\n\"You will die for this, mortal!\"\n\nWithal stumbled back, laughing.\n\nAnd, from behind, the wind suddenly arrived.\n\nAlmost knocking him down.\n\nHe turned into it, facing the beach once more, and saw the stormclouds billowing, rushing in, growing ever higher, towering, spreading their shadow upon the island.\n\nLeaning into the gale, Withal ran back to the beach.\n\nThrashing, foaming waves on all sides, but there, before him, a stretch of calm. A stretch opposite Sandalath and the capering, dancing Nachts."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Along which the boat slid gracefully through the reef, its lone sail luffing lightly as it glided to shore, grating to a halt five paces from the waterline.\n\nWithal reached the sand in time to see a squat, nondescript man clamber down from the side and wade ashore.\n\n\"This,\" he said to Withal in the Letherii trader's tongue,\"is for you. Take your friends and make sail. '\n\n\"Who are you?\" Sandalath demanded.\n\n\"Oh, be quiet!\" Withal snarled. \"Climb in, woman!\"\n\nThe Nachts had already done so, and were scrambling about the rigging.\n\nScowling, the Tiste Andii woman hurried towards the boat.\n\nWithal stared at the man.\n\nWho grimaced, then said, \"Aye, Withal of Meckros, you pray hard enough...\"\n\n\"I knew it.\"\n\n\"Now, get going. You'll find away of calm through. '\n\n\"And you, Mael?\"\n\n\"I'll drop in later. I've things for you to do, Withal. But for now,\" he faced inland, \"I am going to beat a god senseless.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Help the author by continuing the tale.\\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\\nTitle: Midnight Tides\\nChapter: 32\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tehol gave him an innocent smile.\\n\\nIt was momentary, as more of the memories of this day stirred awake. \\\"Chalas,\\\" he said after a moment. \\\"That old fool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have friends, Tehol Beddict.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And that poor guard. He threw himself in front of that spear. Friends– yes, what's happened to everyone else? Do you know? Is Shurq all right? Kettle? '\\n\\nBugg grunted, clearly distracted by something, then said, \\\"I think they're fine. '\\n\\n\\\"Do you want to go and see for certain?\\\"\\n\\nHe glanced down. \\\"Not really. I can be very selfish at times, you know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, I didn't. But I admit, I do have a question. Only I don't know how to ask it.\\\"\\n\\nBugg studied him fora long moment, then he snorted, said, \\\"You have no idea, Tehol, how boring it can be... existing for all eternity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine, but... a manservant?\\\"\\n\\nBugg hesitated, then slowly shook his head, and met Tehol's gaze.\\\"My association with you, Tehol, has been an unceasing delight. You resurrected in me the pleasure of existence, and you cannot comprehend how rare that is. '\\n\\n\\\"But... a manservant!\\\"\\n\\nBugg drew a deep breath. \\\"I think it's time to make you forget this day, my friend. '\\n\\n\\\"Forget? Forget what? Is there anything to eat around here?\\\"\\n\\nHe'd wanted to believe. In all the possible glories. The world could be made simple, there need be no complexity, he'd so wanted it to be simple. He walked through the strangely silent city. Signs of fighting here and there. Dead Letherii soldiers, mostly. They should have given up. As would anyone professing to some rationality, but it seemed this was not the day for what was reasonable and straightforward. On this day, madness held dominion, flowing in invisible currents through this city.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Through these poor Letherii.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Through the Tiste Edur.\\n\\nFear Sengar walked on, unmindful of where his steps took him. All his life, he had been gifted with a single, easily defined role. To fashion warriors among his people. And, when the need arose, to lead them into battle. There had been no great tragedies to mar his youth, and he'd stridden, not stumbled, into adulthood.\\n\\nThere had been no time when he'd felt alone. Alone in the frightened sense, that is. Solitude was born of decision, and could be as easily yielded when its purpose was done. There had been Trull. And Binadas, and then Rhulad. But, first and foremost, Trull. A warrior with skill unmatched when it came to fighting with the spear, yet without blood-lust– and blood-lust was a curse, he well knew, among the Edur. The hunger that swept away all discipline, that could reduce a well-trained fighter into a savage, weapons swinging wild, that strange, seething silence of the Tiste Edur pulled from cool thought. Among other peoples, he knew, that descent was announced with screams and howls and shrieks. An odd difference, and one that, for some unknown reason, deeply troubled Fear Sengar.\\n\\nAnd then, looking upon this Champion of the Letherii king, this brother of Hull Beddict– Fear could not recall if he'd ever heard his name, but if he had, he'd forgotten it. That itself was a crime. He would have to learn that man's name. It was important to learn it.\\n\\nFear was skilled with his sword. One of the finest sword-wielders among the Tiste Edur, a truth he simply accepted, with neither pride nor affected modesty. And, he knew, had he stood face to face with that Champion in the throne room, he would have lasted sometime. Some fair time, and might well have, on occasion, surprised the Letherii. But Fear had no illusions about who would have been left standing when all was done.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He wanted to weep.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For that Champion. For his king. For Rhulad, the brother he'd failed again and again. For Trull, whom he had now abandoned– to a choice no warrior should be forced to make.\\n\\nBecause he had failed Rhulad yet again. Trull could see that, surely. There was noway to hide the cowardice raging through Fear. Not from his closest, most cherished brother. Who gave voice to all my doubts, my terrors, so that I could defy them– so that I could be seen to defy them.\\n\\nShaped by Hannan Mosag... all of this. He understood that now. From the very first, the brutal unification of the tribes, the secret pact with the unknown god had already been made. So obvious, now. The Warlock King had turned his back on Father Shadow, and why not, since Scabandari Bloodeye was gone. Gone, never to return.\\n\\nNot even Hannan Mosag, then, but long ago. That was when this path first began. Long, long ago.\\n\\nThere had been a moment, back then, when everything was still simple. He was certain of it. Before the fated choices were made. And to all that had occurred since, there was only one who could give answer, and that was Father Shadow himself.\\n\\nHe walked the dusty streets, past corpses lying here and there like passed-out revellers from some wild fete the night before. Barring the blood, the scattered weapons.\\n\\nHe was... lost. They had asked too much of him, far too much. Therein that throne room. We carried his body back. Across the ice wastes. I thought I had sent Trull to his death. So many failures, and everyone of them mine. There must be other ways... other ways...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Motionless, now, looking down upon a body.\\n\\nMayen.\\n\\nThe hunger, he saw, was gone from her face. Finally, there was nothing but peace there. As he'd seen before, when he'd looked upon her sleeping. Or singing with the other maidens. When he'd carried the sword which she then took into her hands. To bury at the threshold of her home. He would not think of other times, when he caught a certain darkness in her eyes, and was left wondering on the twisting of her mind– such things a man could not know, could never know. Fearful mysteries, the ones that lured a man into love, into fascination and, at times, into trembling terror.\\n\\nHer face held none of that now. Only peace. Sleeping, like the child within her, hereon this street.\\n\\nFear crouched, then knelt beside her. He closed a hand on the horn grip of the fisher knife, then pulled it from her chest. He studied the knife. A slave's tool. A small sigil was carved near its base, one he recognized.\\n\\nThe knife had belonged to Udinaas.\\n\\nWas this his gift? An offering of peace? Or simply one more act of deadly vengeance against the family of Edur who had owned him? Who had stolen his freedom? He abandoned Rhulad. As I have done. For that, I have no right to hate. But... what of this?\\n\\nHe rose, tucking the knife into his belt.\\n\\nMayen was dead. The child he would have loved was dead. Some force was here, some force eager to take everything away from him.\\n\\nAnd he did not know what to do.\\n\\nWeeping, ceaseless, weeping from the blood-spattered, twisted form lying on the floor of the throne room. On his knees ten paces away, Trull had his hands to his ears, wanting it to end, wanting someone to end it. This moment... it was trapped, deep within itself. It would not end. An eternal chorus of piteous crying, reaching into his skull.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hannan Mosag was dragging himself towards the throne, so bent and mangled he was barely able to move more than a few hand's widths at a time before the pain in his body forced him to pause once again.\\n\\nAmong the Letherii, only one remained, his reappearance a mystery, yet he stood, expression serene yet watchful, near the far wall. Young, handsome and somehow... soft. Not a soldier, then. He had said nothing, seeming content to observe.\\n\\nWhere were the other Edur? Trull could not understand. They had left Binadas, unconscious but alive, at the far end of the corridor. He turned his head in that direction, saw the huddled shapes of the queen and her son beside the entranceway. The prince looked either dead or asleep. The queen simply watched Hannan Mosag's tortured progress towards the dais, teeth gleaming in a wet smile.\\n\\nI need to find Father. He will know what to do... no, there is nothing to know, is there? Just as there is... nothing to do. Nothing at all, and that was the horror of it.\\n\\n\\\"Please... Trull...\\\"\\n\\nTrull shook his head, trying not to hear.\\n\\n\\\"All I wanted... you, and Fear, and Binadas. I wanted you to... include me. Not a child any longer, you see? That's all, Trull. '\\n\\nHannan Mosag grunted a laugh. \\\"Respect, Trull. That is what he wanted. Where does that come from, then? A sword? A wealth of coins burned into your skin? A title? That presumptuous, obnoxious we he's always using now? None of those? How about stealing his brother's wife?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be quiet,\\\" Trull said.\\n\\n\\\"Do not speak to your king that way, Trull Sengar. It will... cost you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am to quail at your threats, Warlock King?\\\"\\n\\nTrull let his hands fall away from his ears. The gesture had been useless. This chamber carried the slightest whisper. Besides, there could be no deafness without when there was none within. He caught slight movement from the Letherii at the far wall and looked over to see that he had turned his head, attention fixed now upon the entranceway. The man suddenly frowned.\\n\\nThen Trull heard footsteps. Heavy, dragging. A sound of metal, and something like streaming water.\\n\\nHannan Mosag twisted round where he lay. \\\"What? What comes? Trull– find a weapon, quickly!\\\"\\n\\nTrull did not move.\\n\\nRhulad's weeping resumed, indifferent to all else.\\n\\nThe thudding footsteps came closer.\\n\\nA moment later, an apparition shambled into view, blood pouring down from its gauntleted hands. Nearly the size of a Tarthenal, it was sheathed in black, stained iron plates, studded with green rivets. A great helm with caged eye-slits hid the face within, the grille-work hanging ragged on its shoulders and beneath its armoured chin. The figure was encrusted with barnacles at the joins of its elbows, knees and ankles. In one hand it carried a sword of Letherii steel, down which the blood flowed ceaselessly.\\n\\nRhulad hissed, \\\"What is it, Trull? What has come?\\\"\\n\\nThe monstrosity paused just within the entrance. Head creaking as it looked round, it fixed its focus, it seemed, on the corpse of the King's Champion. It resumed walking forward, leaving twin trails of blood.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Trull!\\\" Rhulad shrieked.\\n\\nThe creature halted, looked down at the emperor lying on the floor. After a moment, a heavy voice rumbled from within the helm. \\\"You are gravely injured.\\\"\\n\\nTrembling, Rhulad laughed, a sound close to hysteria. \\\"Injured? Oh yes. Cut to pieces!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You will live.\\\"\\n\\nHannan Mosag said in a growl, \\\"Begone, demon. Lest I banish you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You can try,\\\" it said. And moved forward once more. Until it stood directly in front of the Champion's body.\\\"I see no wounds, yet he lies dead. This honourable mortal. '\\n\\n\\\"Poison,\\\" said the Letherii at the far wall.\\n\\nThe creature looked over. \\\"I know you. I know all your names.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I imagine you do, Guardian,\\\" the man replied.\\n\\n\\\"Poison. Tell me, did you... push him in that direction?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It is my aspect,\\\" the Letherii said, shrugging. \\\"I am driven to... poignancy. Tell me, does your god know you are here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will speak to him soon. Words of chastisement are necessary.\\\"\\n\\nThe man laughed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. \\\"I imagine they are at that.\\\"\\n\\nThe Guardian looked once more upon the Champion. \\\"He held the names. Of all those who were almost forgotten. This... this is a great loss.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" the Letherii said, \\\"those names are not lost. Not yet. But they will be... soon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I need... someone, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you will find him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Guardian regarded the Letherii once more. \\\"I am... pushed?\\\"\\n\\nThe man shrugged again.\\n\\nThe Guardian reached down, closed a firm grip on the Champion's sword-belt, then lifted him from the floor and slung him over its left shoulder. Standing in a spreading pool of blood, it turned about.\\n\\nAnd looked upon Rhulad Sengar. \\\"They show no mercy, your friends,\\\" it said.\\n\\n\\\"No?\\\" Rhulad's laugh became a cough. He gasped, then said,\\\"I am beginning to see... otherwise-'\\n\\n\\\"I have learned mercy,\\\" the Guardian said, and thrust down with his sword.\\n\\nInto Rhulad's back, severing the spine.\\n\\nTrull Sengar lurched to his feet, stared, disbelieving-\\n\\n-as the Letherii man whispered, \\\"And... once more.\\\"\\n\\nThe Guardian walked towards the entrance, ignoring Hannan Mosag's enraged bellow as it passed the Warlock King.\\n\\nTrull stumbled forward, around the motionless form of his brother, until he reached Hannan Mosag. Snapped a hand down and dragged the Warlock King up, until he held him close. \\\"The throne?\\\" Trull asked in a rasp. \\\"You just lost it, bastard.\\\" He flung Hannan Mosag back down onto the floor. \\\"I need to find Fear. Tell him,\\\" Trull said as he walked to the entranceway, \\\"tell him, Mosag, that I went to find Fear. I am sending in the others-\\\"\\n\\nRhulad spasmed behind him, then shrieked.\\n\\nSo be it.\\n\\nThe Wyval clawed its way free from the barrow, dripping red-streaked mud, flanks heaving. A moment later the wraith appeared, dragging the unconscious form of a Letherii man.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Shurq Elalle rose from where she had crouched beside Ublala, stroking his brow and wondering at the stupid smile plastered on his features, and, placing her hands on her hips, surveyed the scene. Five sprawled bodies, toppled trees, the stench of rotting earth. Two of her employees near the facing wall of the Azath tower, the mage tending to the Avowed's wounds. Avowed. What kind of tide is that, anyway?\\n\\nCloser to the gate, Kettle and the tall, white-skinned warrior with the two Letherii swords.\\n\\nImpressively naked, she noted, walking over. \\\"If I am not mistaken,\\\" she said to him, \\\"you are of the same blood as the Tiste Edur.\\\"\\n\\nA slight frown as he looked down upon her. \\\"No. I am Tiste Andii.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you say so. Now that you have finished off those... things, I take it your allegiance to the Azath tower is at an end.\\\"\\n\\nHe glanced over at it with his strange, red eyes. \\\"We were never... friends,\\\" he said, then faintly smiled. \\\"But it is dead. I am not bound to anyone's service but my own. \\\"Studied her once again.\\\"And there are things I must do... for myself. '\\n\\nKettle spoke. \\\"Can I come with you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That would please me, child,\\\" the warrior said.\\n\\nShurq Elalle narrowed her eyes. \\\"You made a promise, didn't you? \\\"she asked him.\\\"To the tower, and though it is dead the promise remains to be honoured. '\\n\\n\\\"She will be safe, so long as she chooses to remain with me,\\\" the warrior said, nodding.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Shurq looked round once more, then said, \\\"This city is now ruled by the Tiste Edur. Will they take undue note of you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Accompanied by a Wyval, a wraith and the unconscious slave he insists on keeping with him, I would imagine so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Best, then,\\\" she said, \\\"you left Letheras without being seen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Agreed. Do you have a suggestion?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not yet-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have...\\\"\\n\\nThey turned to seethe Avowed and his mage, the latter lending the former his shoulder as they slowly approached. It had been Iron Bars who had spoken.\\n\\n\\\"You,\\\" Shurq Elalle said, \\\"work for me, now. No volunteering allowed.\\\"\\n\\nHe grinned. \\\"Aye, but all I'm saying is they need an escort. Someone who knows all the secret ways out of this city. It's the least I can do, since this Tiste Andii saved my life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thinking of things before I do does not bode well fora good working relationship,\\\" Shurq Elalle said.\\n\\n\\\"Apologies, ma'am. I won't do it again, I promise.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You think I'm being petty, don't you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course not. After all, the undead are never petty.\\\"\\n\\nShe crossed her arms. \\\"No? See that pit over there? There's an undead man named Harlest hiding in it, waiting to scare someone with his talons and fangs. '\\n\\nThey all turned to study the pit in the yard of the Azath tower. From which they could now hear faint singing.\\n\\n\\\"Hood's balls, \\\"Iron Bars muttered.\\\"When do we sail? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Shurq Elalle shrugged. \\\"As soon as they let us. And who is Hood?\\\"\\n\\nThe white-skinned warrior replied distractedly, \\\"The Lord of Death, and yes, he has balls.\\\"\\n\\nEveryone turned to stare at the warrior, who shrugged.\\n\\nShurq grunted, then said, \\\"Don't make me laugh. '\\n\\nKettle pointed up. \\\"I like that. In your forehead, Mother. I like that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And let's keep it there, shall we? ' Fortunately, no-one seemed to grasp the significance of her comment.\\n\\nThe warrior said to Iron Bars. \\\"Your suggestion?\\\"\\n\\nThe Avowed nodded.\\n\\nTehol Beddict, lying atop the sarcophagus, was sleeping. Bugg had been staring down at him, thoughtful, when he heard the sound of footsteps almost directly behind him. He slowly swung about as the Guardian emerged from the wall of water that marked the tunnel mouth.\\n\\nThe apparition was carrying a body over one shoulder. It halted and was silent as it studied the manservant.\\n\\nHere, in this tomb emptied of water, in this place where an Elder god's will held all back, the Guardian did not bleed.\\n\\nBugg sighed. \\\"Oh, he will grieve for this,\\\" he said, finally recognizing the Letherii on the Guardian's shoulder.\\n\\n\\\"The Errant says the names remain alive within him,\\\" the creature said.\\n\\n\\\"The names? Ah, yes. Of course.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You abandoned us, Mael.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know. I am sorry.\\\"\\n\\nThe Guardian stepped past him and stopped beside the sarcophagus. Its helmed head tilted down as it observed Tehol Beddict. \\\"This one shares his blood.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A brother, yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He shall carry the memory of the names, then.\\\" It looked over. \\\"Do you object to this?\\\"\\n\\nBugg shook his head. \\\"How can I?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is true. You cannot. You have lost the right.\\\"\\n\\nThe manservant said nothing. He watched as the Guardian grasped hold of one of Brys's hands and set it down upon Tehol's brow. A moment, then it was done. The apparition stepped away, headed towards the far wall of water.\\n\\n\\\"Wait, please,\\\" Bugg said.\\n\\nIt paused, looked back.\\n\\n\\\"Where will you take him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Into the deep, where else, Elder One?\\\"\\n\\nBugg frowned. \\\"In that place...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. There shall be two Guardians now and forevermore.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Will that eternal service please him, do you think?\\\"\\n\\nThe apparition cocked its head. \\\"I do not know. Does it please me?\\\"\\n\\nWith that ambiguous question hanging in the still air, the Guardian carried the body of Brys Beddict into the water.\\n\\nAfter along moment, Bugg turned back to regard Tehol. His friend would wake with a terrible headache, he knew.\\n\\nNothing to be done for it, alas. Except, perhaps, for some tea... I've a particularly nasty herbal mix that'll make him forget his headache. And if there is anyone in the world who will appreciate that, it is Tehol Beddict of Letheras.\\n\\nBut first, I'd better get him out of this tomb.\\n\\nThere were bodies lying in the throne room of the Eternal Domicile. The one halfway down the dais, face to the bloody tiles, still made Feather Witch's breath catch, her heart thud loud in her chest. Fear or excitement, she knew not which– perhaps both. King Ezgara Diskanar, flung down from the throne, where Rhulad Sengar of the Tiste Edur now sat, and the darkness in the emperor's eyes seemed beyond measure.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There had been pain in this chamber– she could feel its bitter wake, hanging still in the air. And Rhulad had been its greatest fount. Betrayals, more betrayals than any mortal could bear. She knew this was truth, knew it in her heart.\\n\\nBefore the emperor stood Tomad and Uruth, flanking the trembling, huddled form of Hannan Mosag, who had paid a dear price for this day of triumph. It seemed that he awaited something, a posture of terrified expectation, his eyes downcast. Yet Rhulad appeared content to ignore the Warlock King. For now, he would indulge his sour triumph.\\n\\nEven so, where was Fear Sengar? And Trull? Feather Witch had assisted Uruth intending to Binadas, who remained unconscious and would continue so until the healing was done. But, apart from Rhulad's parents, the only others of the emperor's inner court present were a handful of his adopted brothers, Choram Irard, Kholb Harat and Matra Brith. The Buhns were absent, as was the Jheck warchief, B'nagga.\\n\\nTwo Letherii remained, apart from the pathetic wreckages of Queen Janall and Prince Quillas. And already the Chancellor, Triban Gnol, had knelt before Rhulad and proclaimed his eternal service. The other Letherii drew Feather Witch's attention again and again. Consort to the queen, Turudal Brizad gave the appearance of being almost indifferent to all he was witnessing herein the Eternal Domicile.\\n\\nAnd he was handsome, extraordinarily handsome.\\n\\nMore than once, she had met his gaze, and saw in his eyes– even from across the room– a certain avid interest that sent tremors through her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She remained a step behind Uruth, her new mistress, ever attentive, whilst commanders came and went with their irrelevant reports. Fighting here, an end to fighting there, the docks secured. The first of the emissaries from the protectorates eagerly awaited audience in the ruined hallway beyond.\\n\\nThe empire was born.\\n\\nAnd she had witnessed, and more than witnessed. A knife, pushed into the hands of Mayen, and word had come that she had been found. Dead. No more would Feather Witch cower beneath her fury. The whore was dead.\\n\\nRhulad's first command was to begin a hunt. For Udinaas. His adopted brothers were given a company of warriors each and sent out to find the slave. The search would be relentless, she knew, and in the end, Udinaas would be captured. And made to pay for his betrayal.\\n\\nShe did not know what to think about that. But the thought had run through her once– and only once, quickly driven away afterwards– a hope, a fervent prayer to the Errant that Udinaas would escape. That he would never be found. That at least one Letherii would defy this emperor, defeat him. And in defeating him thus, would break Rhulad's heart yet again.\\n\\nThe world has drawn breath... and now breathes once more. As steady as ever, as unbroken in rhythm as the tides.\\n\\nShe could see, through the cleverly fashioned, slitted windows high in the dome overhead, the deepening of the light, and she knew the sun was setting on this day.\\n\\nA day in which a kingdom was conquered, and a day in which that which was conquered began its inevitable destruction of the conquerors.\\n\\nFor such was the rhythm of these particular tides. Now, with the coming of night, when the shadows drew long, and what remained of the world turned away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For that is what the Tiste Edur believe, is it not? Until midnight, all is turned away, silent and motionless. Awaiting the last tide.\\n\\nOn his throne, Rhulad Sengar sat, draped in the gold of Lether, and the dying light gleamed in his hooded eyes. Darkened the stains on the sword held in his right hand, point to the dais.\\n\\nAnd Feather Witch, her eyes cast downward once more after that momentary glance, downward as required, saw, lying in the join of the dais, a severed finger. Small, like a child's. She stared at it, fascinated, filled with a sudden desire. To possess it. There was power in such things, after all. Power a witch could use.\\n\\nAssuming the person it had belonged to had been important.\\n\\nWell, I shall find that out soon enough.\\n\\nDusk was claiming the throne room. Someone would have to light lanterns, and soon.\\n\\nShe had not left the room. There had been no reason to. She had sat, motionless, empty, numb to the sounds of fighting, to the howling wolves, to the distant screams in the city beyond. And told herself, every now and then, that she waited. The end of one thing brought the birth of another, after all.\\n\\nLives and loves, the gamut of existence was marked by such things. A breaking of paths, the ragged, uneven ever-forward stumble. Blood dried, eventually. Turned to dust. The corpses of kings were laid down and sealed in darkness and set away, to be forgotten. Graves were dug for fallen soldiers, vast pits like mouths in the earth, opened in hunger, and all the bodies were tumbled down, each exhaling a last gasp of lime dust. Survivors grieved, fora time, and looked upon empty rooms and empty beds, the scattering of possessions no-one possessed any longer, and wondered what was to come, what would be written anew on the wiped-clean slate. Wondering, how can I goon?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kingdoms and empires, wars and causes, she was sick of them.\\n\\nShe wanted to begone. Away, so faraway that nothing of her life from before mattered in the least. No memories to drive her steps in this direction or that.\\n\\nCorlo had warned her. Not to fall into the cycle of weeping. So now she sat dry-eyed, and let the city beyond weep for itself. She was done with such things.\\n\\nA knock upon the door.\\n\\nSeren Pedac looked down the hallway, her heart lurching.\\n\\nA heavy sound, now repeated, insistent.\\n\\nThe Acquitor rose from the chair, tottering at the tingling in her legs– she had not moved in along time– then made her way unevenly forward.\\n\\nDusk had arrived. She had not noticed that. Someone has decided. Someone has ended this day. Why would they do that?\\n\\nAbsurd thoughts, pushed into her mind as if from somewhere outside, intones of faint irony, drawled out like a secret joke.\\n\\nAt the door now. Flinching as the knock sounded again, at a level opposite her face.\\n\\nSeren opened it.\\n\\nTo find, standing before her, Fear and Trull Sengar.\\n\\nTrull could not understand it, but it had seemed his steps were being guided, down this alley, along that street, through the vast city with unerring precision until he saw, in the gloom ahead, his brother. Walking with purpose over a minor bridge of the main canal. Turning in surprise at Trull's hoarse shout. Then waiting until his brother caught up to him.\\n\\n\\\"Rhulad is resurrected,\\\" Trull said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fear looked away, squinted into the shadows of the seemingly motionless water of the canal. \\\"By your hand, Trull?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I... failed in that. Something else. A demon of some sort. It came for the Champion– I don't know why, but it carried the man's body away. After killing Rhulad in what it saw as an act of mercy.\\\" Trull grimaced. \\\"A gift of the ignorant. Fear-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I will not return.\\\"\\n\\nTrull stared at him. \\\"Listen tome, please. I believe, if we work together, we can guide him back. From madness. For the Sisters\\\" sake, Fear, we must try. For our people-'\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You... would leave me to this?\\\"\\n\\nSudden pain in Fear's face, but he refused to meet his brother's eyes. \\\"I must go. I understand something now, you see. This is not of Rhulad's making. Nor Hannan Mosag's. It is Father Shadow's, Trull. '\\n\\n\\\"Scabandari Bloodeye is dead-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not his spirit. It remains... somewhere. I intend to find it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To what end?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have been usurped. All of us. By the one behind that sword. No-one else can save us, Trull. I mean to find Scabandari Bloodeye. If he is bound, I mean to free him. His spirit. We shall return together, or not at all.\\\"\\n\\nTrull knew his brother well enough to cease arguing. Fear had found anew purpose, and with it he intended to flee... from everything, and everyone, else. \\\"How will you get out of the city? They will be looking for us– it's probable they are doing so even now. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hull once told me that Seren Pedac had her home here.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fear shook his head. \\\"I don't know, I don't understand it myself, but I believe she might help.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\nFear shook his head.\\n\\n\\\"How do you know where she lives?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't. But it's... this way.\\\"\\n\\nHe began walking. Trull quickly caught up to him and gripped his arm. \\\"Listen– no, I don't mean to prevent you. But listen tome, please. '\\n\\n\\\"Very well, but let us walk in the meantime.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right. Do you not wonder at all this, Fear? How did I find you? It should have been impossible, yet here we are. And now you, and this house– the Acquitor's house– Fear, something is guiding us. We are being manipulated-'\\n\\nHis brother's smile was wry.\\\"What of it? '\\n\\nTo that, Trull had no answer. Silent, he walked with Fear. Coming upon a score of dead Letherii, he paused to collect a sword and scabbard. He strapped it on, ignoring Fear's raised brows, not out of some ambivalent emotion, but because he himself did not know why he had picked up the weapon. They walked on.\\n\\nUntil they came to a modest house.\\n\\nTrull's chest seemed to clench tight upon seeing her standing in the doorway. He could not understand it– no, he could, but it was impossible. Absurd. He'd only seen Seren Pedac a few times. Had but exchanged a few score words, if that. Yet, as he studied her face, the shock writ there, so at odds with the appalling depth in her eyes, he felt himself falling forward in his mind-\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" she asked, gaze darting between him and Fear. \\\"What are you...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I need your help,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"I cannot... I don't see how... '\\n\\nSisters take me, I would give my heart to this woman. This Letherii...\\n\\nFear said, \\\"I am fleeing. My brother, the emperor. I need a guide to take me through the city unseen. Tonight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How did you find me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know. I don't even know why... why I have this belief that only you can help me.\\\"\\n\\nShe looked then at Trull, and he saw her eyes hold on his for what seemed along moment, slowly widening. \\\"And you, Trull Sengar?\\\" she asked. \\\"Are coming with us?\\\"\\n\\nWith us. She will do this. Why? What need within her does this answer? The pressure in his chest constricted suddenly, even as the fateful words left him. \\\"I cannot, Acquitor. I failed Rhulad this day. I must try... again. I must try to save him.\\\"\\n\\nSomething like resignation filled her eyes.\\n\\nAs if he had wounded something that already bore a thousand scars.\\n\\nAnd Trull wanted to cry out. Instead, he said, \\\"I am sorry. But I will await your return– both of you-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We shall return here?\\\" she asked, glancing at Fear. \\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To end this,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"To end what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The tyranny born here tonight, Seren Pedac.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You would kill Rhulad? Your own brother?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kill him? That would notwork, as you know. No. But I shall find another way. I shall.\\\"\\n\\nOh, who has grasped hold of my soul tins night? He found himself unhitching the sword, heard himself saying, \\\"I don't know if you have a weapon, Acquitor, \\\"and knew his own disbelief at the absurdity of his own words, the shallowness of his reasoning,\\\"so I will give you mine... ' And he was holding the sheathed sword out to her.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At the threshold of her home.\\n\\nFear turned, studied him, but Trull could not look away from her, not even to see what must be realization dawning in his face.\\n\\nLetherii though she was, Seren Pedac clearly understood, her gaze becoming confused, then clearing. \\\"Just that, I take it. A weapon... for me to use.\\\"\\n\\nNo. \\\"Yes... Acquitor. A weapon...\\\"\\n\\nShe accepted it, but the gesture was without meaning now.\\n\\nTrull found himself stepping back. \\\"I have to go now. I will tell Rhulad I saw you, Fear, down at the docks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You cannot save him, brother,\\\" Fear said.\\n\\n\\\"I can but try. Go well, Fear.\\\"\\n\\nAnd he was walking away. It was best, he decided through sudden tears. They would probably never return. Nor would she have accepted the sword. Which was why she asked him before reaching out for it. A weapon to use. Only that.\\n\\nHe was being a fool. A moment of profound weakness, a love that made no sense, no sense at all. No, better by far the way it had played out. She'd understood, and so she'd made certain. No other meaning. No proclamation. Simply a gesture in the night.\\n\\nA weapon to use. Only that.\\n\\nThey remained standing at the threshold. Trull was gone, his footsteps swallowed by distance. Fear studied Seren Pedac as she looked down at the sword in her hands. Then, glancing up, she saw his fixed regard and smiled wryly.\\n\\n\\\"Your brother... startled me. Fora moment, I thought... never mind.\\\"\\n\\nThen why, Seren Pedac, is there such pain in your eyes? Fear hesitated, was about to speak, when a child's voice spoke behind him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are you Seren Pedac?\\\"\\n\\nHe spun round, sword hissing from its scabbard.\\n\\nThe Acquitor stepped past, holding out a hand to stay him. \\\"Do I know you?\\\" she asked the small girl standing at the gate.\\n\\n\\\"I am Kettle. Iron Bars said you would help us. We need to leave the city. With no-one seeing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl walked forward, and behind her came a tall, robed and hooded figure. Then a shadow wraith, dragging a body.\\n\\nA startled sound from Seren. \\\"Errant fend, this is about to get a lot harder.\\\"\\n\\nFear said to her, \\\"Acquitor, I would berate you for your generosity this night, had it not included me. Can you still manage this?\\\"\\n\\nShe was studying the tall, hooded figure as she replied, \\\"Probably. There are tunnels...\\\"\\n\\nFear faced the girl and her party once more. His gaze focused on the wraith. \\\"You, why are you not serving the emperor this night?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am unbound, Fear Sengar. You are fleeing? This is... unexpected.\\\"\\n\\nHe disliked the amusement in its voice. \\\"And who is that you are pulling behind you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The slave Udinaas.\\\"\\n\\nFear said to Seren, \\\"They will be hunting in earnest for these ones, Acquitor. For that slave.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I remember him,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"His betrayal of the emperor has exacted a high price,\\\" Fear said. \\\"More, I believe he killed Mayen-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Believe what you like,\\\" the wraith said, \\\"but you are wrong. You forget, Fear Sengar, this man is a slave. A thing to be used, and used he has been. By me, by the Wyval that even now circles us in the dark overhead. For what befell Rhulad, for Mayen– neither of these tragedies belong to Udinaas.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As you say.\\n\\n\\\"We can argue this later,\\\" Seren said. \\\"Kettle, who is this disguised man?\\\"\\n\\nShe was about to answer when the figure said, \\\"I am Selekis, of the Azath tower.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"From the Azath tower?\\\" Seren asked. \\\"Amusing. Well, you're as tall as an Edur, Selekis. Can we not see your face? '\\n\\n\\\"I would rather not, Seren Pedac. Not yet, in any case.\\\" It seemed its hidden gaze was on Fear as it continued, \\\"Perhaps later, once we have quitted this city and have the time to discuss our eventual destinations. It maybe, indeed, that we will travel together for sometime.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think not,\\\" Fear said. \\\"I go to find Father Shadow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed? And Scabandari Bloodeye still lives?\\\"\\n\\nShocked, Fear said nothing. He must be a Tiste Edur. One of the other tribes, perhaps. Also fleeing. No different from me, then.\\n\\n\\\"All of you,\\\" Seren said, \\\"inside. We should scrape together some supplies, although I am certain the Rat Catchers\\\" Guild will be able to supply us... fora price. '\\n\\nThe wraith softly laughed. \\\"It is the Letherii way, of course...\\\"\\n\\n---\\n\\nShurq Elalle stepped clear of the ladder and onto the roof. The sun was up, and people could be seen on the tiers, a little slower in their walking than was usual. Uncertain, filled perhaps with some trepidation. There were Tiste Edur, after all, patrolling in squads. Whilst yet others, in larger groups, were moving through the city as if looking for someone in particular.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tehol Beddict and his manservant were standing on the side overlooking the canal, their backs to Shurq as she approached. Tehol glanced over a shoulder and gave her a warm smile. He looked... different.\\n\\n\\\"Tehol Beddict,\\\" she said as she came to stand beside him, \\\"one of your eyes is blue.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is it? Must be some kind of nefarious infection, Shurq, since I can barely see with it besides.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It'll clear up in time, ' Bugg said.\\n\\n\\\"So,\\\" Shurq said, \\\"have you resumed plotting the end of civilization, Tehol?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have, and a delicious end it will be.\\\"\\n\\nShe grunted. \\\"I'll send you Shand, Hejun and Rissarh, then-'\\n\\n\\\"Don't you dare. Deliver them to the islands. I work better alone. '\\n\\n\\\"Alone?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, with Bugg here, of course. Every man needs a manservant, after all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I imagine so. Well, I am here, then, to say goodbye.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Off for some pirating, are we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not? I'm simply elaborating on a well-established career. '\\n\\nTehol looked to Bugg, and said, \\\"The thief who sank...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... has resurfaced,\\\" Bugg finished.\\n\\nThe two men smiled at each other.\\n\\nShurq Elalle turned away. \\\"Well, that's one thing I won't miss.\\\"\\n\\n---\\n\\nAfter she was gone, Tehol and Bugg stared out fora while longer at the reawakening city of Letheras. The city occupied, the throne usurped, strangers in the streets looking rather... lost.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The two-headed insect clung to Tehol's shoulder and would not move.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"After a time, Tehol rubbed at his weak eye and sighed.\\\"You know, Bugg, I am glad you didn't do it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Make me forget.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I figured you could handle it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're right. I can. At least, this way, I can grieve. '\\n\\n\\\"In your own way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In my own way, yes. The only way I know how.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I know, master.\\\"\\n\\nA short while later, Bugg turned about and walked towards the hatch. \\\"I'll be back shortly. '\\n\\n\\\"Right. And when you do, cleanup down there.\\\"\\n\\nThe manservant paused at the hatch, considered, then said, \\\"I think I will find the time to do just that, master.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Excellent. Now I'm going to bed. '\\n\\n\\\"Good idea, master.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, of course it is, Bugg. It's mine, isn't it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And it is this moment, my friends, When you must look away, As the world unfurls anew In shapes announced both bright And sordid, in dark and light And the sprawl of all existence That lies between.\\n\\nFisher kel Tath\\n\\nThe hole was vast and deep. The two Kenryll'ah demon princes stood at its edge, staring down into it, as they had been for sometime.\\n\\nFinally, one said, \\\"How far down do you think it goes, brother?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suspect, brother,\\\" the other replied, \\\"if we were to vacate our bladders into this abyss the streams would fray into mist long before they reached bottom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suspect you are right. And that Forkrul Assail went down there, didn't he? '\\n\\n\\\"He did. Headfirst.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You shouldn't have thrown him, then. '\\n\\n\\\"You are wrong, brother. I simply threw him in the wrong direction.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That, or the world suddenly turned.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Unlikely. This place doesn't do things like that. '\\n\\n\\\"You're right. It is proving exceedingly dull, isn't it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Exceedingly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, shall we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why not?\\\"\\n\\nThe two demons began loosening straps on their ornate baldrics. Dropping flaps. Shifting their stances to adequate width.\\n\\nAnd they stood there, side by side, until, perfectly timed, their flows were done.\\n\\nThe storm had risen sudden, impressively fierce as it raged on the seas. Three Nachts huddled at his feet, Withal stood on the beach, feeling the faint wisps of wind that managed to reach through the sorcerous barrier surrounding the island, brushing against his face like a woman's breath.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"A sweet woman, to be more precise.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Unlike the one standing beside him. This tall, iron-eyed, foul-mouthed, humourless apparition who followed him around and never seemed to sleep and certainly would not let Kim sleep, not a single damned night the whole night through, not once. Always asking, asking and asking. What are you going to do? Besides praying?\\n\\nWell, what else could he do?\\n\\nRhulad Sengar came and went, more insane with each time. Shrieks, laughter, screams and wails. How many times could a man die?\\n\\nWe'll see, I suppose.\\n\\n\\\"That storm,\\\" Sandalath said, \\\"it wants to get through, doesn't it? '\\n\\nHe nodded. He could feel its wrath, and its impotence.\\n\\n\\\"It's waiting for something, \\\"she continued.\\\"Waiting for someone... to do something. '\\n\\nHe repressed the urge to hither– she'd kill him if he did– wait. Wait. Wait.\\\"Hold on, \\\"he whispered.\\\"Hold on... I've thought of something...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A miracle!\\\" she shouted, throwing up her hands. \\\"Oh, I know! Let's pray! '\\n\\nAnd now he saw it, on the very edge of the thrashing waves beyond the reef. Saw it, and pointed. \\\"There! A boat, you black-hearted witch! A boat!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So what? So what? Why don't you do something? '\\n\\nHe spun round, startling the Nachts, and began running.\\n\\nThere was anger, plenty of anger, giving strength to his strides. Oh, so much anger. Deliverers of suffering deserved what was coming to them, didn't they? Oh yes, they surely did. The Nachts had been showing him. Over and over again, the mad grinning apes. Over and over.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Build a nest.\\n\\nKick it down.\\n\\nBuild a nest.\\n\\nKick... it... down!\\n\\nHe saw the hut, that squalid, insipid hovel crouched thereon the dead plain. Sensed the Crippled God's sudden awareness, sudden probings into his mind. But oh no, he laughed silently, it couldn't work it out. Couldn't fathom the endless refrain filling his skull.\\n\\nBuild a nest! Kick it down!\\n\\nHe reached the hut, not where the doorway made its slash in the wall, but from a blindside. And, with all his weight, the swordsmith flung himself into that flimsy structure.\\n\\nIt collapsed inward, Withal on top, landing upon a squawking figure beneath. Spitting, hissing with rage and indignation.\\n\\nWithal grasped handfuls of rotten canvas, heaved himself back upright, and dragged the tent away. Pegs snapping, ties breaking. Dragged it away from that horrid little bastard god.\\n\\nIt shrieked, the brazier tumbling, coals spilling out, sparks lodging in the god's ratty robes, where they smouldered-\\n\\n\\\"You will die for this, mortal!\\\"\\n\\nWithal stumbled back, laughing.\\n\\nAnd, from behind, the wind suddenly arrived.\\n\\nAlmost knocking him down.\\n\\nHe turned into it, facing the beach once more, and saw the stormclouds billowing, rushing in, growing ever higher, towering, spreading their shadow upon the island.\\n\\nLeaning into the gale, Withal ran back to the beach.\\n\\nThrashing, foaming waves on all sides, but there, before him, a stretch of calm. A stretch opposite Sandalath and the capering, dancing Nachts.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Along which the boat slid gracefully through the reef, its lone sail luffing lightly as it glided to shore, grating to a halt five paces from the waterline.\\n\\nWithal reached the sand in time to see a squat, nondescript man clamber down from the side and wade ashore.\\n\\n\\\"This,\\\" he said to Withal in the Letherii trader's tongue,\\\"is for you. Take your friends and make sail. '\\n\\n\\\"Who are you?\\\" Sandalath demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, be quiet!\\\" Withal snarled. \\\"Climb in, woman!\\\"\\n\\nThe Nachts had already done so, and were scrambling about the rigging.\\n\\nScowling, the Tiste Andii woman hurried towards the boat.\\n\\nWithal stared at the man.\\n\\nWho grimaced, then said, \\\"Aye, Withal of Meckros, you pray hard enough...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I knew it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now, get going. You'll find away of calm through. '\\n\\n\\\"And you, Mael?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll drop in later. I've things for you to do, Withal. But for now,\\\" he faced inland, \\\"I am going to beat a god senseless.\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":86,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 5"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I aided him in his emergence from the Vitr...\"\n\nKiska laughed, and winced at the note of hysteria. \"Then I assure you, Maker, he is nothing like us.\"\n\n\"He is. He is formed as you, and mortal.\"\n\n\"Mortal? His name? Does he have a name?\"\n\nMaker shifted, glass crackling, and started a slow lumbering walk down the beach. Kiska moved alongside. \"Understand, little one, those who have experienced the Vitr firsthand emerge as if freshly born. Newly formed, or re-formed. His mind carries nothing of his prior existence. And he has proved a great help in my work and a balm to my loneliness. I named him Then-aj-Ehliel, Gift of Creation.\"\n\n\"Your... work?\" Leoman asked from where he trailed behind.\n\nStone grated as the great domed head turned to Leoman. \"Why, the bolstering and maintenance of the edge of existence, of course, against the constant erosion of the Vitr.\"\n\nKiska found that she'd stopped walking. Her hands covered her face, where they brushed dried flakes of blood. The ground seemed to waver drunkenly and there was a roaring in her ears. Gods below! This was... this was... impossible! What was she doing here? What could she possibly...\n\nHands supported her: Leoman. \"Kiska. You are all right?\"\n\nShe laughed again. All right! \"Did you hear that? What Maker said.\"\n\n\"Yes. Maintaining the shores. I understand.\"\n\nYet the desert nomad sounded unimpressed. Queen of Dreams! Was there nothing that could ruffle this man's reserve? She brushed away the rest of the dried blood, straightened."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Kiska,\" Leoman began gently, \"the odds that this one could be...\"\n\nShe pulled away. \"Yes, yes.\"\n\nMaker raised an arm to gesture down the coast. \"Follow the shore on further. He is there, helping in my work.\"\n\nShe bowed. \"Our thanks, Maker. We are in your debt.\"\n\n\"Not at all. It is I who am indebted. It is good to see others. Good to speak to others.\"\n\nBowing again, Kiska headed off. As she walked, the sands pulling at her boots, she made every effort to keep her legs from wobbling and gasps of suppressed tears from bursting forth. This was impossible. She had wandered too far. The urgent unanswerable needs that drove heron now seemed... gods, she could hardly even recall them! Oponn's jest! Even if she found the man she no longer had anything to say to him. No compelling case to make for his return. She had nothing to offer save... herself. And now... now she was no longer so certain of that either.\n\nIt took nearly a month of digging. Ebbin worked entirely alone. He trusted no one else with the secret of his discovery; and, in truth, the youths and his two hired guards were quite content to spend their days lazing in the shade while he sweated underground. The dirt and stones he loosened from the blockage he pushed behind him to dump straight down to the water below.\n\nWith more funds from his backer he'd bought supplies, including two new lanterns. One lit his work now as he succeeded in clearing a narrow gap through the rockfall to peer beyond. To his enormous relief the tunnel continued onward. Ebbin wiped a grimed sleeve across his face, picked up the lantern, and wriggled ahead. He clawed his way through the dirt, then raised the light within the half-choked narrow confines. The flame burned as straight as a knife-blade. No air movement at all. He peered up the pipe-like length of the tunnel. Ruled straight, perfectly circular. Angling upwards as well. And no vermin, no detritus, no cobwebs. It was strange that the fall should have been so localized, but he shrugged off his concerns and began shuffling forward on his elbows and knees."},{"from":"human","value":"The tunnel debouched onto a circular chamber that in the poor light appeared smoothly domed."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Shattered stone littered the floor. He stepped in carefully over the sharp shards. As his vision adapted to the gloom, openings emerged from the dark: smaller side chambers, all broken open, circled the circumference of the main tomb.\n\nBeaten after all! Cheated! Yet how could someone have preceded him? Not one word in the records hinted at such a tomb! He wiped the cold sweat from his face. Damn them! The looting was most likely done almost immediately after completion. Cousins of workers, or sharp-eyed locals spying upon the construction. He kicked through the wreckage. Something lay uneven under his feet. He knelt, cupped the lamp-flame.\n\nA skull stared backup at him. He flinched; then, recovering, brushed aside more of the pulverized stone. More. A row... no, a circular band of human skulls set almost flush with the floor. And more bands. Ring upon nested ring of them. Rising, he closed upon a large shadowy object ahead.\n\nAt the centre, a mystifying sculpture-like construction: twin arches intersecting to create four triangular openings. Within, resting upon an onyx plinth, a cloaked corpse. And upon that corpse, glittering amber in the lamplight, a hammered mask of gold, plain, embossed with a face. And the mouth sculpted into the faintest of smiles like an aggravating, knowing smirk of superior knowledge.\n\nEbbin almost stepped into reach for that exquisite object, but something stopped him. Some instinct. And perhaps he was mistaken, but was that a ghostly, whispered, not for you... so faint he might have imagined it therein the dead silence so far underground? He pulled back his hand. Odd... these chambers looted, yet this crowning prize untouched. Why so?"},{"from":"human","value":"He backed away, raised his lantern to the outer walls."},{"from":"gpt","value":"All of the smaller side niches broken open, their plinths empty. No, not all. One remained, its sealing door unscathed. He crossed to it. The door consisted of a single carved granite slab, unmarked, without any sigil. No hint of who, or what, lay within.\n\nHe tapped the solid rock. An aristocrat of the legendary Imperial Age? He eyed the central dais-like installation.\n\nOr loyal retainer thereof.\n\nHe ran his hands over the cold polished slab. He did not have the chisels to cut through this. And there was noway he was going to let his cretin assistants down here. No– to do this properly would take tools and resources currently beyond his reach.\n\nHe'll have to see his backer. And with this breakthrough the man will have to grant him further monies. He's bankrolled him this far, after all. Remarkable foresight and vision this businessman from One Eye Cat has shown. Even if others murmur against the man and spread ugly rumours of criminal interests. He of the odd northern name: Humble Measure.\n\nAshe returned to the tunnel an instinct, or irking detail, made him pause. Something about those sub-chambers. He counted them: twelve. Why always this mystical number? The legends? The old folktales of the twelve fiends? Mere mythology handed down from ancient practices? Ora homage from the builders? He shook his head. Too tenuous as yet.\n\nPerhaps an answer would be forthcoming.\n\nWord had spread across Genabackis that the great Warlord of the north had fora time established a camp in the hills east of Darujhistan, the city that had taken his friend and sometime enemy, Anomander, Lord of Moon's Spawn and Son of Darkness. Emissaries from across the north, the Free Cities and the Rhivi Plains came and went from his tent. They came asking for adjudication of land rights issues or title inheritances, and to settle territorial disputes. The great hulking beast of a man spent his days and evenings sitting cross-legged on layered carpets, drinking interminable cups of tea while city representatives and tribal elders argued and complained."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"One such night, when the issue of Sogena's unfair taxation regime had degenerated into reminiscing of the old days before the arrival of the hated Malazans, Brood arose and went from the tent. Jiwan, son of one of the Warlord's trusted old staff of Rhivi, and now making a name for himself within the great man's council, took it upon himself to follow and intrude upon the Ascendant's solitude.\n\nHe found him standing alone in the night, staring west where the blue glow of the hated city softened the night. And perhaps the great man stared even further, beyond the city, to the barrow raised by his own hands in honour of his friend.\n\nJiwan thought of the rumours circulating that the tomb was actually empty. After all, how could any darkness contain the one known as the Son of Mother Dark herself? But he neither knew nor cared about the truth of that. He did know that only fear of this man kept war from flaring in the north once again. A peace that held the Rhivi's place upon the plains. The peace of the Warlord.\n\nA peace that may now be slipping. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. \"You are troubled, lord?\"\n\nThe man swung his heavy beast-like gaze to him, then away, to the distant glow. \"I allowed myself the luxury of thinking it was allover, Jiwan. Yet they rest uneasy. In the south. The Great Barrow of the Redeemer. And the Lesser, his Guardian. And this one of my friend. There is a tension. A stirring. I feel it.\" He voice softened almost into silence. \"I was fooling myself. Nothing is ever finished.\"\n\n\"The sword is shattered, is it not?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is shattered.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And the Lord of Moon's Spawn is gone. '\n\n\"Yes, he is gone.\"\n\nJiwan was uncertain. \"You fear, then, the Malazans shall be emboldened?\"\n\nThe Warlord glanced at him, surprise showing on his blunt, brutal features. \"The Malazans? No, not them. With Rake gone... It is his absence that troubles me.\"\n\nJiwan bowed, taking his leave. He knew it was right and proper that the Warlord should mourn his friend, but he, Jiwan, must think first of his people. An enemy was encamped on their borders to the north and the south, an enemy that was solid and real, not the haunted dreams of some troubled old man. The damnable Malazans. Who else would be emboldened by the fall of Anomander? They might seize this opportunity. But he was reluctant to speak of it yet. Loyalty and gratitude to the Warlord still swayed too many hearts among the elders. This too he understood. For he was not of stone; he felt it as well. Yet times move on– one must not remain a captive of the past.\n\nHe came to a decision. Changing direction, he headed instead to the corral. He would send word to the north for more warriors to gather. They must be ready should the Warlord call upon them... or not.\n\nThe nights in Darujhistan were far more hushed now than he could ever remember. Muted. One could perhaps even call the unaccustomed mood sombre. Ill-fitting airs for the city of blue-flame, of passions, or, as that toad friend of his named it, the city of dreams.\n\nFor his part Rallick hoped the mood was not one of tensed expectation."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was past the sixth hour of night by the Wardens'bells. He stood at an unremarkable intersection in the Gadrobi district. Unremarkable but for one very remarkable thing: here, Hood, self-appointed godhead of death, met his end. Followed shortly thereafter by his destroyer, Anomander Rake, Lord of Moon's Spawn.\n\nEvents dire enough to shake the confidence of anyone.\n\nNo second-or third-storey lights shone in any window facing this crossroads. All forsook it. Patrons refused to enter the shops facing the site, and so the surrounding blocks progressively became abandoned. For who would live overlooking such an ill-omened locale? Weeds now poked up through cobbles. Doors gaped open, the empty shop-houses looted. In the heart of the most crowded and largest metropolis of the continent lay this blot of abandonment and death.\n\nThe thought caused Rallick to shift uneasily. Dead heart.\n\nYet not completely lifeless; another figure came walking up, boots kicking through the litter, his hands tucked beneath his dark cloak. Rallick inclined his chin in greeting. \"Krute.\"\n\n\"Rallick.\"\n\n\"Survived the guild bloodletting, I see. I'm pleased. '\n\nA soft grunt. \"Too few of us old-timers did. Gadrobi's my parish now. Shows you one way to get promoted. '\n\n\"Congratulations.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" The man peered about. The wrinkles framing his small eyes tightened. \"But... I gotta wonder... who's really in charge? '\n\nFamiliar cold fingers brushed Rallick's neck.\"Vorcan's not interested, Krute,\" he said, his voice flat. \"As the guild now knows, she has a seat on the Council.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"That talking shop? Sounds like a front tome.\"\n\n\"She's moved on. As have I. '\n\nThe man gave an exaggerated nod. \"Oh, so you say. So you say.\" He laughed, more like a grunt. \"There're some in the guild who say you have moved on– body and soul. Those who hold to the Rallick Nom cult. \"He laughed again, as if at the stupidity of people.\"And yet... got something to show you. \"He edged his head aside.\"This way. '\n\nAfter a measured glance all round, Rallick followed. To his ears his boots crackling on the gravel and debris of neglect sounded startlingly loud.\n\nThey crossed to the poorest, lowest-lying quarter, bordering on the Marsh district. Here the most squalid of what could hardly be called businesses occupied rotting row-houses and shacks. Rag-and-bone shops, pawnshops, manure collectors, small family tanneries. In the soggy alley of an open sewer lay two bodies.\n\nKrute invited him to examine them. \"What do you think?\"\n\nAn eye on the assassin, who backed up a reassuring distance, Rallick bent over the first. \"Professional work. Straight thrust through the back to the heart. Complete surprise– no twisting or turning in the wound.\" He pushed over the second, hesitated, then studied the neck. \"First-rate cut. Thin razor blade. Straight side to side. Right-handed, with a slight upward angle– attacker was shorter than victim.\"\n\nAn angry grunt from Krute. \"I missed that.\"\n\nRallick straightened. \"What's your point? '\n\n\"What brings two ex-Warden guards down hereto this shit-hole street, Rallick? You recognized them, didn't you? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I recognized them.\"\n\n\"But you didn't say... '\n\nA thin shrug from Rallick. \"You're inside now, Krute. '\n\n\"Dammit, man! I'm doing you a fucking favour! Everyone's accounted for! Everyone!\" He pulled savagely on his stubbled chin. \"Who could pad upon two veteran guards, take'em both without a peep? Without even a struggle? It's a shortlist, Rallick. And your name's on it... along with hers. '\n\n\"Like I said already, Krute. What's your point? '\n\nThe man let out along tight breath, almost like a growl. \"Always gotta be the hard way with you, hey, Rallick? Well, okay. Here's my point– Vorcan's short.\"\n\nRallick let his head fall as if studying the rank gutter, was quiet fora time, then began backing off. \"My advice to your superior is stay away. She's out of your class. '\n\nHe'd exited the alley, now ripening with something far beyond garbage, when a trick of the acoustics brought Krute's ghostly voice: \"Yours too, Rallick. Yours too.\"\n\n*\n\nImpatient banging brought the new waitress, Jess, lumbering to the doors of the Phoenix Inn. She unlatched the lock to peer out, blinking and wincing, into the glaring morning light. A tall dark figure brushed round her, imperious.\n\n\"Not open, sir,\" she said, surprised, still blinking. Then, eyeing the retreating back, she relaxed. \"Oh.\" And she shuffled to the kitchen to wake up Chud.\n\nRallick peered down at the fat man sprawled in his chair, head slung back, snoring. Amazement warred with disgust. Crushed pastries littered the table along with empty bottles, smears of exotic mustards and pâté. The rotund figure snored, mouth slack. Rallick had a good view of the bristles of his unshaven bulging neck and the ridiculous vanity of the scruffy braided rat-tail beard. He gave a table leg alight kick."},{"from":"human","value":"The man snorted, jerking."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Pudgy hands patted vested stomach, the ruffles of the silk shirt. The head rolled forward, lips smacking. Beady eyes found Rallick, widened. \"Aaii! Thought grim graven friend new apparition of death come for modest Kruppe. Most discomfiting and shocking wakening. Kruppe has not yet seen to his toilet.\"\n\n\"Don't let me stop you. '\n\n\"Friend Rallick is always so civilized.\" A large stained handkerchief appeared in one hand, brushed flakes of pastry from the man's wide midriff. Then he wound a fold of the cloth round one finger and dabbed daintily at the corners of his mouth.\"Done! \"He sighed contentedly and slipped his hands into the black silk sash that circled his crimson waistcoat.\"Now Kruppe can only respond in kind. \"He raised his chin:\"Dearest Jess... We die of famishment! Bring biscuits, tea, Elingarth blood sausages and honeyed bacon, flatbreads and Moranth cloudberry syrup. \"He lowered his voice.\"Not sure how she'll fit in, you know.\"\n\nJess's voice bellowed from the kitchen.\"Chud says we ain't got none o\" that crap! '\n\n\"She'll serve just fine, I think, ' Rallick murmured under his breath.\n\nThe squat man's brows wrinkled, pained.\"Oh dear. I must have been dreaming... \"A quick shrug.\"Oh well. Biscuits and tea, then. Oh! And a crust of burnt toast for my friend here. '\n\nRallick could hear his clenched teeth grinding. \"Kruppe, I just-\"\n\nA raised hand forestalled him. \"Explain not, old friend! No need for explanations... please sit!\" Growling, Rallick pulled a chair outwith his heel, eased down and leaned back, hands on his thighs. \"Kruppe understands. Why, it is on everyone's sighing lips these days, dear friend. The city's two most deadly killers tamed by love's soothing embrace! '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rallick's front chair legs struck the floor with a bang.\"What? '\n\n\"Do not worry! Kruppe's feelings shall recover. \"He peeled a sliver of wrinkled dried fruit from the table, sniffed it, then popped it into his mouth.\"Sustenance, Jess! We are positively expiring here! \"He shook his head, sighed dreamily.\"It is an old story, yes, friend? Love is found and old friends are forgotten. Kruppe does not wonder why you have been neglectful of us these last months. The two of you haunt the rooftops in flighty trysts, no doubt. Like bats in love. '\n\n\"Kruppe...\" Rallick ground out.\n\n\"Soon a brood of baby killers to follow. I see it now. Knives in the crib and garrottes in the playpen.\"\n\n\"Kruppe!\"\n\nThe fat man lifted his eyes to blink innocently up at Rallick. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"I just want to know if Cro-Cutter is in town.\"\n\n\"Kruppe wonders...\" Something strangled the man's voice and he choked. Pudgy fingers fished in his mouth, emerging with the mangled stringy sliver of fruit, which he then carefully smeared back onto the table.\"Jess! One need not cross the Cinnamon Wastes for tea! '\n\nThe big woman emerged from the kitchen, tray in hand. Her white linen shirt had been hastily laced, revealing a great deal of flesh. She glared at Kruppe, thumped the tray down, nodded to Rallick. \"Good to see you, sir.\"\n\n\"Jess. How's Meese doing these days? '\n\n\"She comes round most evenings.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You manage?\"\n\nShe pushed back her hair, waved to the empty tables. \"I'm worked off my feet. '\n\nRallick also eyed the empty common room. He frowned as if struck by anew thought. The woman walked back to the kitchen doors, her hips rolling like ships at sea. Rallick cleared his throat. \"Just who does own this place anyway, Kruppe?\"\n\n\"Friend Rallick was asking after young Cutter...\"\n\nRallick slid his gaze back. \"Yes?\"\n\nKruppe peered into the depths of the teapot. \"Kruppe wonders why.\"\n\nSnarling, Rallick stood, pushing back his chair. \"Is he here or not?\"\n\nLifting a knife and a biscuit, the little man peered up with a steady gaze. \"Kruppe assures friend Rallick that equally loved young vagabond is most assuredly not in our fair city.\" He raised the biscuit. \"Crumpet?\"\n\nRallick's chest, which had been clenched in one coiled breath since the inspection of certain wounds hours earlier, eased in along exhalation, and he nodded,\"Good... good. '\n\nKruppe's eyes had narrowed in their pockets of fat.\"Again– Kruppe wonders why. '\n\nBut Rallick had turned away. \"Doesn't matter. \"He called to the kitchen.\"Jess. '\n\nKruppe threw his arms wide. \"But breakfast has only just arrived!\"\n\nRallick pushed open the door in a bright wash of sunlight and walked out, the door swinging closed behind.\n\nShrugging, the fat man scooped up a smear of jam. \"And to think Kruppe named impatient friend civilized. Kruppe was egregiously in error!\""},{"from":"human","value":"In the harsh morning light Scholar Ebbin trudged up the muddy unpaved street of the pure-gatherers in the Gadrobi district."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A dusty leather bag pulled atone shoulder and he wore a wide-brimmed hat yanked down firmly on his head. He stopped at a shuttered storefront of age-gnawed wood on worn stone foundations, banged on the solid door and waited. Across the street, between the cart traffic and crowds of market-goers, he noted the blue uniform of the Wardens. The sight was a surprise to him; while crime was endemic in this district, attention from the Wardens was rare. They had a wagon with them and appeared to be moving something.\n\nThe door vibrated as bars and locks were removed. It grated in its jambs to open a sliver. Darkness lay within. \"Ah,\" a thin voice breathed, \"it is you, good scholar. Enter.\"\n\nEbbin edged in sideways and the door ground shut. In the relative dark he was blind for the moment but he could make out a hunched dark figure securing bars and bolts again. \"You are ever mindful of thieves, Aman. Yet... rather a barrier to commerce, I would imagine.\"\n\n\"Darujhistan has fallen very far, good scholar,\" the bent man answered in his breathless voice. \"Very far indeed. It is not like the old days of peace and strict adherence to the laws of its rulers. As for commerce... I service a select few who know whereto find me, yes?\" He chuckled drily.\n\nThe unease that his visits here always engendered within Ebbin was not relieved by these comments. He thought of how his own whispered and circumspect enquiries into the subtleties of wardings, Warren-anchored barriers and the avoidance thereof led him step by step and source by source to this one man and his seemingly unpatronized shop. Yet to maintain appearances he answered genially enough, \"Of course, Aman. Very select,\" and he laughed modestly as well."},{"from":"human","value":"Aman ushered him into the shop proper, one foot dragging in his crippled walk, back twisted from some accident of birth."},{"from":"gpt","value":"His hands too were crippled– malformed and bent as if having been caught within some mangling instrument. He shuffled behind his counter where a raised platform allowed him to peer over it, looming like some sort of gangly bird of prey.\n\nEbbin's vision was now adjusting to the permanent gloom in the shop, and he gently set his satchel on the counter.\n\n\"You have something for me?\" Aman asked, cocking a brow already higher than its fellow.\n\n\"Yes.\" He untied the leather strapping, eased out a wrapped object. \"From the lowest I've gone so far. '\n\nSetting the package between them, Ebbin carefully parted the thick felt outer wrappings then a sheer inner layer of silk to reveal what appeared to be nothing more than a fragment of eggshell, albeit one from an egg of impossibly huge dimensions. Aman bent forward even further, his canted nose almost touching the object. Seeing him up close Ebbin was struck by the deformed shape of his knobbly skull beneath its patchy pelt of filmy grey hair. Perhaps sensing his attention, Aman pulled away.\n\n\"A magnificent specimen, good scholar. Beautiful.\" The shopkeeper lit a lamp from a wall-sconced lantern, set it on the counter. \"May I?\" Ebbin gestured an invitation. For all his bent root-like fingers, the man lifted the fragment smoothly, held it before the flame. Ebbin crouched to peer: the flame was visible as a blurred glow through the fragment, which was astonishing enough, but the entire piece had somehow taken up the light and now glowed, warm, soft and luminous, like the dawn in miniature.\n\nAman sighed, almost nostalgically it seemed. \"I invite you to imagine, if you would, good scholar, entire structures of such stone, carved and polished to near pure translucency, glowing with the cold blue flames of the city. A magnificent sight it must have been, yes?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes. Darujhistan in the great Imperial Age of the Tyrants. At least, so it has been conjectured.\"\n\nThe bulbous eyes moved to his, blinked. \"Of course.\"\n\n\"Is it treated?\"\n\nAman returned the piece to its cloths and began rewrapping it. \"We shall see. It will have to be tested. Should it prove a fragment from a container utilized in certain, ah... esoteric... rituals from that age, then it maybe resold fora great deal to those eager to reuse it for their own... well... similar research.\"\n\nEbbin cleared his throat, uncomfortable. \"I see.\"\n\nAman tucked the package under the countertop. \"And how may I help you, good scholar?\"\n\n\"I've come to a chamber. One still sealed. '\n\nThe shopkeeper's fingers, which had been tapping the counter like spiders, stilled.\"In truth? \"he breathed in wonder.\"Sealed as yet? Astonishing. You must take care, good scholar. The traps these ancients set upon their interred... \"He shook his misshapen head.\"Deadly. '\n\n\"Of course, Aman. I know the risks. I am no amateur.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the shopkeeper echoed, smiling to reveal a mouthful of misaligned teeth. \"The barrier?\"\n\nEbbin cleared his throat once more. \"Stone. A flat slab. Unmarked in anyway.\"\n\n\"Unmarked, you say? No sigils of any sort? Not even the faintest of inscriptions?\"\n\nEbbin frowned, impatient. \"I know my work. I've been excavating for decades. '\n\nAman raised his hands. \"No disrespect intended, good scholar. Please. It is just very... unusual.\""},{"from":"human","value":"An uncomfortable shivering took Ebbin then and he rubbed his chest, nodding his agreement."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes. It is... unusual.\"\n\n\"An unimportant personage, perhaps. A minor court retainer.\"\n\nEbbin thought of the figure laid out on its onyx bier at the chamber's centre. The beaten gold mask with its eerie mocking smile, and the bands of skulls encircling the plinth. Nested circlets of death. He nodded, shivering.\"Yes. My impression exactly. '\n\nAman appeared to be studying him somehow, his gaze weighing. Then the man quickly turned away to his shelves. \"I may have just the tools for you, good scholar. Moranth alchemicals... acids, perhaps? Or chisels. Not your everyday sort of tool, no, not at all. Hardened iron, alloyed with that Malazan mineral otataral. If you give me a few days I will have them for you.\"\n\n\"You have nothing like that here?\"\n\nA dry laugh from the man. \"Oh my goodness, no. That mineral would have a most deleterious effect upon... upon my wares.\"\n\nEbbin could only agree. \"If you say so, sir. A few days then. I have to consult with my backer in any case.\"\n\n\"Excellent, excellent.\" And he bobbed his head, his knotted fingers tapping incessantly on the counter.\n\n~\n\nOnce every bolt had been shut and every bar replaced, Aman shuffled back into his shop. Here he found a beautiful young woman, her long black hair braided and coiled atop her head, awaiting him. His mouth tightened into a sour pucker. \"Your intrusion into my affairs is most ill-advised. Most unwelcome.\"\n\nThe girl merely cocked a shapely hip to lean against the counter where she turned the wrapped package in slow circles. \"Why are we relying on this cretin?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We? There is no we. You are deluded. Your uninvited meddling will complicate matters most stressfully.\"\n\n\"They were watching the shop, Aman.\"\n\nThe man hobbled backup onto his platform behind the counter. \"Watching the shop? Of course they were watching the shop. They are always watching the shop! These agents of my one-time allies have proved most persistent. But because I remain within, and am circumspect... they have been none the wiser.\" He gently touched his fingertips to the wood countertop. \"Needless to say, said circumspection has now been shattered...\"\n\n\"They are dead, Aman.\"\n\nThe shopkeeper started to speak, caught himself, rubbed his hands over the countertop as if stroking it. He began again, slowly, \"Yes. However, the one who hired them now knows he, or she, is close to something. Best to have maintained the aura of mystery.\"\n\nThe girl's pale thin shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug. She began unwrapping the package.\"Then I will kill whoever that person is. '\n\n\"Ah yes. Speaking of mysteries. No one knows the identity of the circle-breaker. Many poseurs have surfaced pretending to the title, but no one knows for certain. It may have even been one of my old allies– even your mother.\"\n\nThe girl's coquettish gaze hardened.\"Never mention her tome, Aman. \"She peered up from half-lidded eyes.\"Anyone, you say? But not you, of course. '\n\nAman shook a bent finger. \"You are learning.\"\n\nShe made a face, then indicated the carved fragment. \"Is this thing really as valuable as you say?\"\n\nHe raised it between them, his gaze holding her eyes. \"Ahh... beautiful, yes? Slender, striking. A magnificent specimen. On the outside. But within, flawed. Worthless. Apiece of useless trash.\" He crushed it in his hand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The girl flinched away as if slapped, bumping something in the dark. Her full lips tightened to a pale slash and a molten light blazed within her eyes. The man studied her quite calmly, his head cocked, fingertips lightly touching together. The golden light faded from her eyes as she stood quivering in suppressed rage. She drew a snarling breath and raised her chin in defiance. \"You are quite finished, I hope?\"\n\nHe bowed. \"Quite.\"\n\n\"And what is this monstrosity?\" she demanded, waving at the tall figure she'd struck.\n\nAman raised the lamp, revealing an armoured statue. The light reflected green and blue from an inlay of semi-precious stones. \"Magnificent, is it not? From distant Jacuruku. One of their stone soldiers.\"\n\nShe peered closer in an almost professional evaluation. \"An automaton?\"\n\n\"Not... quite.\" He set the lamp on the counter. \"In any case, m'lady, since you have returned, I suggest you make yourself useful and shadow our friend. Nothing untoward must happen to him. Be ready to intervene. He is close, Taya. Very close. '\n\n\"Why him? Why don't you go down? '\n\nThe man did nothing to hide the condescension in his answering chuckle. \"My dear. You are most diverting. The countless protections, wards and conditions imposed by my erstwhile allies are most exacting. Almost without openings. Only those who do not seek may pass. They must be innocent of bloodshed, possess no lust for personal gain... the conditions goon and on. Mammotlian contrived them. And so, since Mammotlian, a scholar, built the tomb, perhaps only a fellow like-minded spirit may possess the instincts to follow. If you see my reasoning.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And should he fail– like all the others?\"\n\nA crooked shrug from the man. \"Well, they're nearly out of floor space down there, aren't they?\"\n\nHer eyes constricted to slits and she tilted her head, unsure of his meaning.\n\nOn the street of the whitesmiths in the Gadrobi district, Barathol Mekhar inspected his latest consignment of iron ore. It was of unusually good quality. There was a useful variation of softness and brittleness within the clumps. He closed the box and went to the forge, held a handover the bed of coals. Still needed more time. He left the shop to cross a small open court to the rear of his row-house. Dusting his hands, he climbed the narrow stairs to his rooms above. Dawn was just brightening the sky outside the shuttered windows. Fora time he stood next to the bed where his wife Scillara still slept. Then he went to the other side of the bed to the tiny crib fashioned by his own hands. Kneeling, he studied the infant within, curled and plump.\n\nNever had he imagined such a treasure would be his. It seemed too defenceless for the world. Too tenuous. Its fragility terrified him. He feared even to touch it with his coarse blackened hands. He did however gently ease one into the crib to let the child's quick hot breath warm those fingers.\n\nSmiling, he rose to see Scillara watching him. \"Not runoff yet, I see,\" she said, stretching.\n\n\"Not yet.\"\n\n\"Not even with a squalling brat and a fat wife?\"\n\n\"I guess I must have done something terrible in a prior life.\"\n\n\"Musta been pretty damned awful.\" She looked about as if searching for something. \"Gods, I miss my pipe.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You'll live. '\n\nShe pointed to the door. \"Throw me my gown. Don't you have work to do? Money to earn? Enough to hire a cook. I'm getting sick of your burnt offerings.\"\n\n\"You could try lending a hand, you know.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"You don't want to eat my cooking. '\n\n\"I'll be outback then. \"He threw the gown.\"Could use some tea. '\n\n\"We all could.\"\n\nOn the way down the stairs he looked forward to another day standing at the forge where he could look over to the courtyard and see Scillara sitting on rugs laid out on the ground there, nursing little Chaur.\n\nLife, it seemed to him, was better than he'd ever hoped it could be."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Turn not thine hand against thy father; for it is sacrilege\n\nInscription upon stone fragment\n\nDwelling Plains\n\nTHE CHALLENGE BEGAN as these things always do: with a look. A glance held a heartbeat too long. In this case lingering across the beaten dirt of the practice grounds at the centre of Cant, the marble halls of the Seguleh.\n\nJan, in the act of turning away to call fora slave, noted the glance, and stopped. Those of the ruling Jistarii family lineage out exercising that morning also instinctively sensed the tension. The crowd parted and Jan found himself staring across the emptied sparring fields and wrestling circles to Enoc, the newly installed Third. He watched while the young aristocrat's friends and closest supporters within the rankings crossed to stand at his side. Without needing to turn his head Jan knew his own friends had come to his. He held out his wooden practice sword. It was taken from his hand.\n\n\"Give him your back,\" Palla, the Sixth, hissed from behind. \"How dare he! This is not the place.\"\n\nJan answered calmly: \"Does not our young Third claim that daring is just what is lacking these days among our ranks?\" A snarl of clenched rage answered that. Jan allowed himself a slight raise of his chin to indicate the seats of the amphitheatre across the way. \"Look... the judges of the challenge assembled already.\"\n\n\"They are all of his family!\" Palla exclaimed. \"This is the work of his scheming uncle, that fat Olag.\"\n\nJan's sword appeared, offered hilt-first from behind. He took it and began securing the sheath to his sash. Across the field Enoc's coterie of supporters, ambitious young-bloods mostly, did the same for him. Someone handed Jana gourd of water and he sipped. His gaze did not leave Enoc's mask: a pale oval marred only by two black slashes, one down each cheek."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"So, a year already, is it? He was surprised. Time seemed to pass evermore quickly as he became older. Not that he intended to get older– it was merely the byproduct of his extended wait for someone to manage to defeat him. Enoc obviously thought his chance had come. And he had to acknowledge that the daring youth seemed to have chosen his moment quite well: Enoc himself was yet fresh, merely having stretched and warmed up, while he had just completed a very gruelling series of sparring matches and was even now still sweating with exertion. It would appear that this cunning new Third had the advantage.\n\nBut Jan was where he wanted to be. His blood was hot and flowing fast. His limbs glowed with heat and felt strong. Practice did not drain him as it seemed to so many others. Rather, it enlivened him. Yet... a challenge during exercise... a time when by tradition all members of the Jistarii aristocracy were welcome to mix freely, practising and training. This was very bad form. An assembly of impartial judges wouldn't even countenance it.\n\nYet there was no question he must answer. It was his duty. He was Second.\n\nHe set the tips of his fingers on the two-handed grip of his longsword and walked out to the middle of the amphitheatre sands. Over the years he had lost count of the many Thirds who had come and gone beneath him. The ranks of the Agatii, the top thousand, were like a geyser in this manner– ever throwing up new challengers. And this one was an impatient example of a notoriously impatient ranking. Long ago it was always said that Second was the worst ranking to attain. Ever Second, never First. But with the death of the last ancient to achieve First, it was Third that was now so regarded. The itchiest ranking; the briefest rung... in one manner or another. And this one seems to think me tired. Very well. Let him do so. Let him challenge now, so very early. So very... precipitately. So be it. I can only do my part and accept."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Enoc strode out to meet him. The other Jistarii backed away, leaving the field clear, while slaves removed equipment. The wind was calm, and the sun was far enough overhead not to bean issue. Jan waited, head cocked. When the Third was close enough to allow private conversation, he offered the ritual exchange: \"I give you this last chance to reconsider. Form has been obeyed. No shame would accrue.\"\n\nThe gaze was scornful behind the white mask with its two black lines. \"Waiting is not for me, Second. I do not plan to cling to my perch– as you have.\"\n\nJan's breath caught momentarily.\"You covet the First? '\n\n\"It is time. If you will not lead, then stand aside for one who will.\"\n\nSo that is what they are whispering in the dormitories... How they have all forgotten. One does not claim First. It cannot betaken. It can only be given. And I– even I– was not judged worthy. Anger beckoned now, and with a supreme effort he allowed it to flow past. No. There must be no emotion. No thought. This one thinks too much– it slows him. One must not think. One must simply act. And he, Jan, had always been so very fast to act.\n\nPushing with his thumb, he eased the blade a fraction from its sheath. \"Very well, Third.\" He inhaled, and exhaling whispered the ritual words: \"I accept.\"\n\nTheir blades met crashing and grating even as the last syllable left Jan's mouth. Jan deflected several attacks, noting subconsciously how the lad relied too much on strength as a bolster to a form not yet quite at ease with itself. He knew instinctively he had the better of him, and that any of the rankers above the Tenth would see this as well. But the judges. They would not be convinced. Something much more irrefutable would be needed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The poor lad. In stacking the assembly his uncle has left me with no alternative. And now this one will pay the price.\n\nStill he delayed, parrying and circling. Among the highest rankings, actually being sloppy enough to spill blood was considered very poor form. The best victories were those achieved without such crudity.\n\nThe storm of the Third's unrelenting aggression washed over him in a constant ringing of tempered, hardened steel. Yet he remained calm– an eye of tranquillity surrounded by a blurred singing razor's edge. That storm had first been one of blustering overbearing power. But now it carried within it a discord of confusion, even recognition.\n\nAnd a coiling frantic desperation.\n\nJan chose to act. Best to end the testing now, lest he acquire a reputation for cruelty. In the midst of their entwined dance of thrust, feint and counter, Jan's blade extended a fraction of a finger's breadth further as his shift inwards allowed Enoc's own movement to close their distance more than intended and the tip of his blade licked the inside of the right elbow, severing tendon.\n\nEnoc's right arm fell limp, the longsword swinging loose. The lad froze, chest rising and falling in an all too open display of exertion. His fevered gaze through his mask was one of disbelief now crashing into horror.\n\nThe lad was crippled. Oh, it would heal, and in time he would probably regain use of the arm. But with that wound he would be hard pressed even to maintain a position within the Agatii. He would retain the right to carry a blade, of course. But there would be no more challenges for him.\n\nJan considered a whispered apology now while they held this fragile intimate moment between challengers, but the youth would probably take it as an insult. And so he said nothing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"That delicate moment, the onlookers' breath caught in aesthetic appreciation of the beauty of a single cut perfectly executed in power, timing, accuracy and form, passed.\n\nAnd the gathered Jistarii all bowed to their Second.\n\nLater that evening Jan sat cross-legged at dinner with his closest friends among the ranked: Palla, the Sixth, and Lo, Eighth these many years, but recently, with the reported death of Blacksword, under consideration for promotion to the long empty rank of Seventh. With them also was an old friend of his youth, Beru, one of the Thirtieth.\n\n\"Will Gall reclaim the Third?\" Jan asked Palla.\n\nShe laughed, and, ducking her head, lifted her mask to take a pinched morsel of rice and meats. \"He will. And with gratitude to be back on his old rung again.\"\n\n\"Gratitude? I did not act as I did for his benefit.\"\n\nShe bowed, all formal, but her voice held humour: \"Gratitude for reminding everyone why he has remained Third for so long.\"\n\nJan motioned gently to close the subject. He turned to Lo, seeing the seven lines of soot that radiated from the eye holes of his friend's mask.\"And what of you? Will you take the Seventh? '\n\nLo bowed stiffly from the waist. \"If commanded. But I do not seek it. It is... distasteful... to step up in this manner.\"\n\nFrom Beru's tense pose Jan could tell he had something to say.\"And you, Beru? '\n\nThe man bowed, and kept his gaze averted. \"With respect, Second. There is talk of this swordsman, whoever he maybe, who slew Blacksword, the Lord of the Moon's Scion. Some say he must be regarded as the new Seventh. Some suggest a challenge. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jan had been reaching fora pinch of meat, but stilled. \"You know I am against such... adventurism. I opposed the expedition of punishment against the Pannions. What did that gain us? Mok's skills wasted against rabble and unworthy amateurs. '\n\nHis three companions ate in silence fora time, for all knew Jan's feelings regarding Mok, his elder brother, who volunteered to silence those disrespectful Pannions. And who returned... changed. Broken.\n\nIt fell to Palla to speak, the one who shared the greatest claim to intimacy with him, as the lovers they had been. Until both had climbed too high in the rankings and the tensions of the challenge intervened. \"And yet,\" she began, cautiously, \"you supported Oru's venture. '\n\nJan made a deliberate effort to soften his tone. \"Oru claimed to have had a vision. Who am Ito dispute that? I allowed him to call for any who would voluntarily accompany him.\"\n\n\"And twenty answered! Our greatest expedition ever mounted.\"\n\n\"True.\" And for the greatest goal of all. For only to him, as Second, did Oru reveal the truth of his vision... the belief that somehow, in some manner, he would regain the honour of the Seguleh stolen from them so long ago. A mad, desperate hope. But one he could not oppose.\n\nHis gaze fell on Lo, face turned away as he raised his mask to drink. Perhaps he should allow the challenge. Any man who could defeat Blacksword... if he could better Lo then he could have the rank.\n\nA gentle tap at the door broke into Jan's thoughts. He nodded for Beru to answer. On his knees, one hand on the grip of his sword, Beru cracked open the door and spoke in low tones to whoever was without. After a short exchange he opened it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was an old man, an unmasked honoured Jistarii who had chosen the path of priest. The man shuffled in on his knees and bowed, touching his brow to the bare hardwood floor. \"My lord. You are requested at the temple. There is... something for you to see.\"\n\nJan inclined his mask fractionally. \"Very well. I will attend.\" The priest bowed again. He shuffled backwards on his knees and stepped out of the low threshold without turning his back upon them. Jan took a sip of tea to cleanse his mouth.\n\nPalla bowed in a request to speak.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"May we accompany you?\"\n\n\"If you wish.\"\n\nThe main temple of Cant was a large open-sided building of columns and arches. It was constructed entirely of white marble veined with black. Lit torches hissed in the evening wind, casting shadows among the eerily pallid white stone columns, floor and ceiling. The High Priest, Sengen, awaited them. He wore the plain tunic and trousers of rough cloth that were the customary clothing of the Seguleh. He was clean shaven, as most Seguleh males of the Jistarii tended to be, and his long grey hair was oiled and pulled back tightly in a braid. He bowed to Jan.\n\n\"Sengen,\" Jan acknowledged, thereby granting him permission to speak.\n\n\"Only the Second may accompany me,\" the old man commanded, stepping forward.\n\nPalla and Lo stiffened, exchanged outraged glances. Jan raised a hand for patience. \"That is your right here within the temple.\"\n\nSengen bowed again, beckoning Jan forward.\n\nHe led him to the very rear. To the altarpiece: a single pillar of unearthly translucent white stone, waist-high, its top empty. Sengen regarded the pillar reverently, his hands crossed over his chest. Jan stared at him, puzzled by his odd behaviour. Then his gaze moved to the pillar, and he started forward, amazed. Beads of moisture ran down the white stone, and a thin vapour, as of a morning mist, drifted from it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It sweats, Second,\" the High Priest breathed, awed. \"The stone sweats.\"\n\n\"What does this mean?\"\n\nEyes fixed on the pale stone, Sengen answered, \"It means that what we have been awaiting all this time may come. Our purpose.\"\n\nShaken, Jan stepped away. Yet the pillar was empty... was this right? How could this happen?\n\n\"It is your duty to make ready,\" Sengen said sharply.\n\nJan nodded. Turning, he caught his reflection on a nearby polished shield. A pale white mask distinguished by a single blood-red smear across the brow. A mark put thereby the last First, so long ago. \"Yes,\" he answered, his voice thick. \"I shall.\"\n\nHis three friends waited on the steps of the temple. Coming to them Jan stood silent for sometime while they shifted, uncomfortable, gazes averted. \"Lo,\" he said at last. \"I give you permission to seek out this Seventh. We may have need of him.\"\n\n\"Need?\" Lo echoed, glancing up in startlement, then quickly away.\n\n\"You may take one other with you. Who would that be?\"\n\nLo gestured. \"Beru here, if he would.\"\n\n\"No. I would have him remain. Choose another.\"\n\nLo bowed. \"As you command.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Palla asked, inclining her head. \"You are... troubled.\"\n\nJan regarded her. Fora moment he allowed himself the pleasure of taking in her lithe limbs, her tall proud bearing, and wished she had not pursued the Path of the Challenge. But that was selfish of him; she deserved her rank. \"Gather the Agatii, Sixth. We must make ready. The altarstone has awakened.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The three glanced to the temple, their eyes behind their masks widening in awe. \"We thought that just a legend,\" Palla breathed.\n\n\"Before he passed, the First imparted tome a portion of what was handed down to him. It is no legend. Now go, Palla. Tell the first half of the Agatii to gather here.\"\n\nPalla jerked a swift bow and dashed down the steps. Jan turned to the Eighth. \"A vessel will be placed at your disposal.\"\n\nLo bowed and backed away down the stairs. Watching him go, Beru spoke, wonder in his voice. \"And what can this lowly Thirtieth do to help?\"\n\n\"I would have you remain among the ranks, Beru. Listen to the talk in the dormitories. A difficult time maybe coming. We will all be tested. Let us hope we are not judged... unworthy.\"\n\n\"I understand, Second.\" Jan did not answer, and, sensing that his friend wished to be alone now, Beru bowed and departed.\n\nJan stood for sometime in the chill air of the evening. He looked out across the paved white stone Plaza of Gathering to the houses and the mountains of this, their adopted homeland. That adoption was itself no secret. They knew they'd come from elsewhere; all their old stories told of a great march, an exile, although none named their mythical place of origin. That was another truth the First had confirmed: their homeland was to the north. And he had named it.\n\nPrecious little more guidance had the ancient yielded, though. When pressed for more the old man had simply peered up at him from where he lay and shaken his head. \"It is best you do not know these things,\" he had said. \"It is best for all.\"\n\nIgnorance? How could ignorance be best? Jan's instincts railed against such a claim. Yet he was raised and trained to obey, and so he had submitted. He was Second. It was his duty. Perhaps it was the old man's tone that had convinced him. Those words had carried in them a crushing grief, a terrible weight of truth that Jan feared he might not be able to endure."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You smell that?\" Picker asked. She looked up from where she sat with her feet on a table in the nearly empty common room of K'rul's bar, chair pushed back, cleaning her nails with a dagger.\n\nBlend, chin in hand at the bar counter, cocked a brow to Duiker in his customary seat. \"That a comment?\"\n\nPicker wrinkled her nose. \"No– not you. Somethin\" even worse... Somethin'I ain't smelt since... \"The chair banged down and she cursed.\"That hair-shirted puke is back in town! '\n\nBlend straightened, peered around. \"No...\" She lunged for the door. \"Get the back!\"\n\nThe door opened before Blend reached it. She tried to push it shut on a man with a shock of unkempt salt-and-pepper hair and a weather-darkened grizzled face, wearing along ragged hair shirt. He managed to squeeze in as she slammed it shut. \"Good to see you too, Blend,\" he commented, scowling.\n\nBlend flinched away, covering her nose and mouth. \"Spindle. What in Hood's dead arse are you doing here? '\n\nPicker ran in from the rear: \"Back's locked. There's noway he can-Oh. Damn.\"\n\nA toothy smile from the man. \"Just like old times.\" He ambled over to sit at Duiker's table, nodded to the grey-bearded man.\"Historian. Been awhile. '\n\nThe old man's mouth crooked up just a touch.\"Nothing seems to keep you Bridgeburners down. '\n\n\"Shit floats,\" Picker muttered from the baron the far side of the room."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So how'bout a drink then? \"Spindle called loudly.\"\"Less you're just too damned busy with all your customers an'all.\"\n\n\"We're out, \"Blend said.\"Have to try somewhere else. Don't let us stop you.\"\n\nSpindle turned in his chair. \"Out? What kind of bar has no alcohol?\"\n\n\"A very grim one,\" Duiker offered so low no one seemed to hear.\n\n\"Hunh.\" The man pulled on his ragged shirt at its neck as if it were uncomfortable, or too tight. \"Well, I think maybe I can help you outwith that.\"\n\nPicker and Blend exchanged sceptical glances and said in unison, \"Oh?\"\n\n\"Sure. Got some work kicked my way. You know, paid work for coin. For drink and food. And to pay the rent.\" Spindle studied Blend more closely. \"Who do you pay rent to here anyway?\"\n\nThe women shifted their stances, squinting at the walls. \"Why us?\" Blend asked suddenly and Picker nodded.\n\n\"They just want people they can count onto keep their damned mouths shut.\"\n\n\"People have given upon the assassins\" guild, have they? ' Picker commented.\n\n\"If there's any of them left... ' Blend added, aside.\n\nSpindle rolled his eyes to the ceiling. \"Not that kinda work!\"\n\n\"What in Fener's prang is it then? ' Blend demanded.\n\nSitting back, booted feet straight out before him, the veteran clasped his hands over his belt. He smiled lopsidedly in what Picker imagined to bean effort at ingratiation, but which looked more like the leer of a dirty old man. \"Right up your alley, Blend. Plain ol\" low-profile reconnaissance. Observe and report. Nothin'more.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"How much?\" Picker asked.\n\n\"A gold council per day.\"\n\nBlend whistled. \"Who's worth that much? Not you, that's for damned sure.\"\n\nSpindle lost his smile. \"They're payin'a lotto make sure the job gets done.\"\n\n\"Who's paying? \"Duiker suddenly asked in a low hoarse voice.\"Who's the principal?\"\n\nAll three regarded the old historian, amazed.\n\n\"Damned straight!\" Blend said.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Picker said. \"Could be a trap. Fake contract to draw us out.\"\n\nSpindle dismissed that with a wave. \"Ach! You're soundin'too much like Antsy.\" He peered around. \"Where is that lunatic anyway?\"\n\nBlend leaned back to set her elbows on the bar. \"Went south. Said he was... ah, antsy.\" She scowled. \"Stop changing the subject! Who's payin\"?\"\n\nSpindle just waved again. \"Never you mind. I know. And I know we can trust'em. '\n\n\"Them?\" Picker said, arching a brow. \"Who're them? '\n\nSpindle threw his hands up. \"All right, all right! Trusting as Jags, you lot are. Okay!\" He leaned forward and tapped the side of his gashed and battered nose. \"You could say it's our old employers. '\n\nIf Picker had had something in her hands she would've thrown it at the man.\"You great idjit! We're deserters!\"\n\nHe produced that knowing smirk once more. \"Exactly. That makes us free agents, right?\"\n\n\"It makes political sense,\" Duiker said, and he brushed a hand across the tabletop. \"Aragan can't have the Council accuse him of meddling, or spying. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Spindle's brows rose.\"Aragan? That old dog's here?\"\n\nBlend and Picker both swore aloud. \"Spindle!\" Blend managed, swallowing more curses. \"You brick-headed ox! He's the Oponn-cursed ambassador! You said you knew who you were working for! '\n\nSpindle's face reddened and he stood, heaving back his chair.\"Well he hardly stopped me on the damned street, did he! '\n\nThe old historian eyed the three veterans glaring each other down across the room. He raised a hand. \"I'll mind the shop. '\n\nAll three blinked and eased out tensed breaths. Picker gave a curt nod. \"Okay then.\"\n\n\"Where?\" Blend asked.\n\nSpindle was frowning down at the historian. \"South of the city. The burial fields. People want to know what's goin'on there.\"\n\n\"Everyone says that's all tapped out, ' Picker said.\n\n\"The past never goes away– we carry it with us,\" Duiker murmured, as if quoting.\n\nBrows crimped, Spindle scratched a scab on his nose. \"Yeah. Like the man says.\"\n\nBlend was behind the bar. She pulled out a set of scabbarded long-knives wrapped in a belt. \"We should head out tonight. Before the Ridge Town gate closes.\"\n\nA wide sideways grin climbed up Spindle's mouth.\"Spot their campfires, hey? '\n\n\"Just like old times.\"\n\nThey walked the desolate shore of black sands, over coarse volcanic headlands, and along the restless glowing waves of the Sea of Vitr. Beach after beach stretched out in arcs of pulverized glass-like sands."},{"from":"human","value":"As they walked one such beach Leoman cleared his throat and motioned to their rear."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Do you think he really is what he claims?\"\n\nKiska shrugged her impatience. \"I don't even know what it is it claims to be. '\n\nLeoman nodded to that. \"True enough. Not for the likes of us, perhaps.\" He stretched, easing the muscles of his shoulders and back.\n\nHow like a cat, Kiska thought again. With his damned moustache– like whiskers!\n\n\"I had a friend once,\" he said, after a time of walking in silence, \"who was good at ignoring or putting such questions out of his mind. He simply refused to dwell upon what was out of his control. I always admired that quality in him.\"\n\n\"And what came of this admirably reasonable fellow?\" she asked, squinting aside.\n\nThe man smiled, brushing his moustache with a finger and thumb. \"He went off to slay a god.\"\n\nKiska looked to the sky. Oh, Burn deliver me! \"Are your companions always so extravagant?\"\n\nHe eyed her sidelong. The edge of his mouth crooked up. \"Strangely enough, yes.\"\n\nKiska had stridden on ahead to where an eroded cliff blocked the way. They would have to climb.\n\nAt the top Kiska could see far out over the empty sea of shimmering, shifting light. Nothing marred it. Behind, the shadowy figure of Maker had re-joined the sky. The entity had returned to what Kiska mused must bean infinite labour. Was it some kind of curse? Ora thankless calling nobly pursued?\n\nShe turned her attention to the next curve of beach and her breath caught.\n\nLeoman found her like that, sitting on her haunches, staring, and drew breath to ask what was the matter, but she raised her chin to the beach ahead. He looked, and grunted a curse."},{"from":"human","value":"An immense skeletal corpse lay sprawled across the beach."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Half its length narrowed down to the glimmering surf, where it disappeared, eaten away by the Vitr.\n\nThe corpse of a dragon.\n\nThey approached side by side. Leoman clutched his morningstars and Kiska her stave– though she knew neither would help them should the beast prove some sort of undead creature. But no sentience animated the dark sockets of its eyes. The flesh of its great snout, itself of greater length than she or Leoman, was desiccated, curled back from the dark openings of its nostrils. Yellowed curved teeth, an alchemist's hoard, grinned back at them.\n\nWho had this Eleint been in life? Had it been known to humans? Or was this the extent of its life... this one brief titanic struggle to escape the Vitr? The idea made her very sad.\n\nLeoman cleared his throat but said nothing. She nodded, swallowing. As they walked away his hand found hers but she pulled it free. She covered her reaction by walking impatiently ahead to where the beach ended at a tumble of the loose porous volcanic rocks.\n\nAfter a time, Leoman called after her: \"There's no hurry, lass. '\n\nShe hung her head, pausing on the uneven rocks jutting out into the glowing waves of the Vitr. She glanced back to the man; he was coming along slowly, taking great care with his footing.\n\n\"We don't know for certain-'\n\n\"Yes, yes! I know. Now hurry up.\"\n\nHe came up beside her and offered a wink. \"Wouldn't do to get yourself killed this close, would it? '\n\n\"This close to what?\"\n\nHe brushed his moustache. \"Well, to an answer. One way or t'other. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Leoman,\" she began, slowly, as she hopped from rock to rock, \"promise me one thing, won't you? Should I fall into the Vitr and get myself burned to ashes. '\n\n\"And what is that, lass?\"\n\n\"That you'll shave off that idiotic moustache. \"She jumped down onto the black sands of the next long stretch of beach.\"And stop calling me'lass\". '\n\nHe thumped down next to her, ran a finger along the moustache, grinning. \"I'll have you know the ladies always love it when I-'\n\n\"I don't want to know! \"she cut in.\"Thank you. '\n\n\"So you keep sayin\". But I promise you you'll-\"\n\nKiska had snapped up a hand. She knelt and he joined her.\n\nTracks in the sands. Unlike any spoor she'd ever seen, but tracks all the same. When they'd yet to see any at all. Some kind of shuffling awkward walk. She pointed to cliffs inland that the beach climbed towards. Leoman nodded. He freed his morningstars to hold them in his hands, the chains gripped to the hafts. Kiska levelled her stave.\n\nThey kept to the edge of the rocky headland, slipping inland, keeping an eye on where the beach ended at the cliffs. She saw the dark mouths of a number of caves. She looked at Leoman, pointed. He nodded. Reaching the cliff, she dodged ahead from cover to cover. Behind, a strangled snarl sounded Leoman's objection. The first opening was narrow and she slipped within, stave held for thrusting. The cramped space was empty. But packed sand floored it, and depressions showed where people, or things, might have sat or lain. A population? Here? Of what nature? A sound raised the hairs on the back of her neck. A high-pitched keening. Leoman's morningstars, which he could raise to a blurred speed greater than any she had ever seen or heard tell of."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She leapt out of the cave to seethe man facing off a crowd of malformed creatures. Daemons, summoned monstrosities, all somehow warped or wounded. They grasped with mangled clawed hands. The faces of some were no more than drooling smears. Most raised limbs far too crippled to be any danger. Leoman held them off, his back to the cave mouth.\n\n\"What do you want?\" she yelled. \"Speak! Can you understand me?\"\n\nThen the ground shook. Kiska tottered, righted herself and peered up. A gigantic creature had joined the crowd. It appeared to have jumped down from the cliff. It straightened to a height greater than that of a Thelomen. Great splayed clawed feet, like those of a bird of prey, dug into the sands. Its broad torso was armoured like that of a river lizard. It brushed aside its smaller kin with wide, blackened, taloned hands. A huge shaggy mane of coarse hair surrounded red blazing eyes and a mouth of misaligned dagger-like teeth.\n\nShe sent one quick glance to Leoman, who nodded, and they both leapt backwards into the cave. In the narrow chute of the entrance she took the forefront; there was no room for morningstars.\n\nA shadow occluded the opening. A deep voice of stones grinding rumbled, \"Who are you, and what do you wish here?\"\n\n\"Who are you to attack us!\"\n\n\"We did not attack you– you trespass! This is our home.\"\n\n\"We didn't know you lived here... '\n\n\"So. Even when you knew you were the strangers here, you assume we are the interlopers. How very typically human of you.\"\n\nKiska looked at Leoman, who rolled his eyes. A lecture on manners was the last thing she expected. \"So... this is a misunderstanding? We can come out?\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 5\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I aided him in his emergence from the Vitr...\\\"\\n\\nKiska laughed, and winced at the note of hysteria. \\\"Then I assure you, Maker, he is nothing like us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is. He is formed as you, and mortal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Mortal? His name? Does he have a name?\\\"\\n\\nMaker shifted, glass crackling, and started a slow lumbering walk down the beach. Kiska moved alongside. \\\"Understand, little one, those who have experienced the Vitr firsthand emerge as if freshly born. Newly formed, or re-formed. His mind carries nothing of his prior existence. And he has proved a great help in my work and a balm to my loneliness. I named him Then-aj-Ehliel, Gift of Creation.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your... work?\\\" Leoman asked from where he trailed behind.\\n\\nStone grated as the great domed head turned to Leoman. \\\"Why, the bolstering and maintenance of the edge of existence, of course, against the constant erosion of the Vitr.\\\"\\n\\nKiska found that she'd stopped walking. Her hands covered her face, where they brushed dried flakes of blood. The ground seemed to waver drunkenly and there was a roaring in her ears. Gods below! This was... this was... impossible! What was she doing here? What could she possibly...\\n\\nHands supported her: Leoman. \\\"Kiska. You are all right?\\\"\\n\\nShe laughed again. All right! \\\"Did you hear that? What Maker said.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Maintaining the shores. I understand.\\\"\\n\\nYet the desert nomad sounded unimpressed. Queen of Dreams! Was there nothing that could ruffle this man's reserve? She brushed away the rest of the dried blood, straightened.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Kiska,\\\" Leoman began gently, \\\"the odds that this one could be...\\\"\\n\\nShe pulled away. \\\"Yes, yes.\\\"\\n\\nMaker raised an arm to gesture down the coast. \\\"Follow the shore on further. He is there, helping in my work.\\\"\\n\\nShe bowed. \\\"Our thanks, Maker. We are in your debt.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not at all. It is I who am indebted. It is good to see others. Good to speak to others.\\\"\\n\\nBowing again, Kiska headed off. As she walked, the sands pulling at her boots, she made every effort to keep her legs from wobbling and gasps of suppressed tears from bursting forth. This was impossible. She had wandered too far. The urgent unanswerable needs that drove heron now seemed... gods, she could hardly even recall them! Oponn's jest! Even if she found the man she no longer had anything to say to him. No compelling case to make for his return. She had nothing to offer save... herself. And now... now she was no longer so certain of that either.\\n\\nIt took nearly a month of digging. Ebbin worked entirely alone. He trusted no one else with the secret of his discovery; and, in truth, the youths and his two hired guards were quite content to spend their days lazing in the shade while he sweated underground. The dirt and stones he loosened from the blockage he pushed behind him to dump straight down to the water below.\\n\\nWith more funds from his backer he'd bought supplies, including two new lanterns. One lit his work now as he succeeded in clearing a narrow gap through the rockfall to peer beyond. To his enormous relief the tunnel continued onward. Ebbin wiped a grimed sleeve across his face, picked up the lantern, and wriggled ahead. He clawed his way through the dirt, then raised the light within the half-choked narrow confines. The flame burned as straight as a knife-blade. No air movement at all. He peered up the pipe-like length of the tunnel. Ruled straight, perfectly circular. Angling upwards as well. And no vermin, no detritus, no cobwebs. It was strange that the fall should have been so localized, but he shrugged off his concerns and began shuffling forward on his elbows and knees.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The tunnel debouched onto a circular chamber that in the poor light appeared smoothly domed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Shattered stone littered the floor. He stepped in carefully over the sharp shards. As his vision adapted to the gloom, openings emerged from the dark: smaller side chambers, all broken open, circled the circumference of the main tomb.\\n\\nBeaten after all! Cheated! Yet how could someone have preceded him? Not one word in the records hinted at such a tomb! He wiped the cold sweat from his face. Damn them! The looting was most likely done almost immediately after completion. Cousins of workers, or sharp-eyed locals spying upon the construction. He kicked through the wreckage. Something lay uneven under his feet. He knelt, cupped the lamp-flame.\\n\\nA skull stared backup at him. He flinched; then, recovering, brushed aside more of the pulverized stone. More. A row... no, a circular band of human skulls set almost flush with the floor. And more bands. Ring upon nested ring of them. Rising, he closed upon a large shadowy object ahead.\\n\\nAt the centre, a mystifying sculpture-like construction: twin arches intersecting to create four triangular openings. Within, resting upon an onyx plinth, a cloaked corpse. And upon that corpse, glittering amber in the lamplight, a hammered mask of gold, plain, embossed with a face. And the mouth sculpted into the faintest of smiles like an aggravating, knowing smirk of superior knowledge.\\n\\nEbbin almost stepped into reach for that exquisite object, but something stopped him. Some instinct. And perhaps he was mistaken, but was that a ghostly, whispered, not for you... so faint he might have imagined it therein the dead silence so far underground? He pulled back his hand. Odd... these chambers looted, yet this crowning prize untouched. Why so?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He backed away, raised his lantern to the outer walls.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"All of the smaller side niches broken open, their plinths empty. No, not all. One remained, its sealing door unscathed. He crossed to it. The door consisted of a single carved granite slab, unmarked, without any sigil. No hint of who, or what, lay within.\\n\\nHe tapped the solid rock. An aristocrat of the legendary Imperial Age? He eyed the central dais-like installation.\\n\\nOr loyal retainer thereof.\\n\\nHe ran his hands over the cold polished slab. He did not have the chisels to cut through this. And there was noway he was going to let his cretin assistants down here. No– to do this properly would take tools and resources currently beyond his reach.\\n\\nHe'll have to see his backer. And with this breakthrough the man will have to grant him further monies. He's bankrolled him this far, after all. Remarkable foresight and vision this businessman from One Eye Cat has shown. Even if others murmur against the man and spread ugly rumours of criminal interests. He of the odd northern name: Humble Measure.\\n\\nAshe returned to the tunnel an instinct, or irking detail, made him pause. Something about those sub-chambers. He counted them: twelve. Why always this mystical number? The legends? The old folktales of the twelve fiends? Mere mythology handed down from ancient practices? Ora homage from the builders? He shook his head. Too tenuous as yet.\\n\\nPerhaps an answer would be forthcoming.\\n\\nWord had spread across Genabackis that the great Warlord of the north had fora time established a camp in the hills east of Darujhistan, the city that had taken his friend and sometime enemy, Anomander, Lord of Moon's Spawn and Son of Darkness. Emissaries from across the north, the Free Cities and the Rhivi Plains came and went from his tent. They came asking for adjudication of land rights issues or title inheritances, and to settle territorial disputes. The great hulking beast of a man spent his days and evenings sitting cross-legged on layered carpets, drinking interminable cups of tea while city representatives and tribal elders argued and complained.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"One such night, when the issue of Sogena's unfair taxation regime had degenerated into reminiscing of the old days before the arrival of the hated Malazans, Brood arose and went from the tent. Jiwan, son of one of the Warlord's trusted old staff of Rhivi, and now making a name for himself within the great man's council, took it upon himself to follow and intrude upon the Ascendant's solitude.\\n\\nHe found him standing alone in the night, staring west where the blue glow of the hated city softened the night. And perhaps the great man stared even further, beyond the city, to the barrow raised by his own hands in honour of his friend.\\n\\nJiwan thought of the rumours circulating that the tomb was actually empty. After all, how could any darkness contain the one known as the Son of Mother Dark herself? But he neither knew nor cared about the truth of that. He did know that only fear of this man kept war from flaring in the north once again. A peace that held the Rhivi's place upon the plains. The peace of the Warlord.\\n\\nA peace that may now be slipping. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. \\\"You are troubled, lord?\\\"\\n\\nThe man swung his heavy beast-like gaze to him, then away, to the distant glow. \\\"I allowed myself the luxury of thinking it was allover, Jiwan. Yet they rest uneasy. In the south. The Great Barrow of the Redeemer. And the Lesser, his Guardian. And this one of my friend. There is a tension. A stirring. I feel it.\\\" He voice softened almost into silence. \\\"I was fooling myself. Nothing is ever finished.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The sword is shattered, is it not?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, it is shattered.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And the Lord of Moon's Spawn is gone. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, he is gone.\\\"\\n\\nJiwan was uncertain. \\\"You fear, then, the Malazans shall be emboldened?\\\"\\n\\nThe Warlord glanced at him, surprise showing on his blunt, brutal features. \\\"The Malazans? No, not them. With Rake gone... It is his absence that troubles me.\\\"\\n\\nJiwan bowed, taking his leave. He knew it was right and proper that the Warlord should mourn his friend, but he, Jiwan, must think first of his people. An enemy was encamped on their borders to the north and the south, an enemy that was solid and real, not the haunted dreams of some troubled old man. The damnable Malazans. Who else would be emboldened by the fall of Anomander? They might seize this opportunity. But he was reluctant to speak of it yet. Loyalty and gratitude to the Warlord still swayed too many hearts among the elders. This too he understood. For he was not of stone; he felt it as well. Yet times move on– one must not remain a captive of the past.\\n\\nHe came to a decision. Changing direction, he headed instead to the corral. He would send word to the north for more warriors to gather. They must be ready should the Warlord call upon them... or not.\\n\\nThe nights in Darujhistan were far more hushed now than he could ever remember. Muted. One could perhaps even call the unaccustomed mood sombre. Ill-fitting airs for the city of blue-flame, of passions, or, as that toad friend of his named it, the city of dreams.\\n\\nFor his part Rallick hoped the mood was not one of tensed expectation.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was past the sixth hour of night by the Wardens'bells. He stood at an unremarkable intersection in the Gadrobi district. Unremarkable but for one very remarkable thing: here, Hood, self-appointed godhead of death, met his end. Followed shortly thereafter by his destroyer, Anomander Rake, Lord of Moon's Spawn.\\n\\nEvents dire enough to shake the confidence of anyone.\\n\\nNo second-or third-storey lights shone in any window facing this crossroads. All forsook it. Patrons refused to enter the shops facing the site, and so the surrounding blocks progressively became abandoned. For who would live overlooking such an ill-omened locale? Weeds now poked up through cobbles. Doors gaped open, the empty shop-houses looted. In the heart of the most crowded and largest metropolis of the continent lay this blot of abandonment and death.\\n\\nThe thought caused Rallick to shift uneasily. Dead heart.\\n\\nYet not completely lifeless; another figure came walking up, boots kicking through the litter, his hands tucked beneath his dark cloak. Rallick inclined his chin in greeting. \\\"Krute.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rallick.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Survived the guild bloodletting, I see. I'm pleased. '\\n\\nA soft grunt. \\\"Too few of us old-timers did. Gadrobi's my parish now. Shows you one way to get promoted. '\\n\\n\\\"Congratulations.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thanks.\\\" The man peered about. The wrinkles framing his small eyes tightened. \\\"But... I gotta wonder... who's really in charge? '\\n\\nFamiliar cold fingers brushed Rallick's neck.\\\"Vorcan's not interested, Krute,\\\" he said, his voice flat. \\\"As the guild now knows, she has a seat on the Council.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"That talking shop? Sounds like a front tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's moved on. As have I. '\\n\\nThe man gave an exaggerated nod. \\\"Oh, so you say. So you say.\\\" He laughed, more like a grunt. \\\"There're some in the guild who say you have moved on– body and soul. Those who hold to the Rallick Nom cult. \\\"He laughed again, as if at the stupidity of people.\\\"And yet... got something to show you. \\\"He edged his head aside.\\\"This way. '\\n\\nAfter a measured glance all round, Rallick followed. To his ears his boots crackling on the gravel and debris of neglect sounded startlingly loud.\\n\\nThey crossed to the poorest, lowest-lying quarter, bordering on the Marsh district. Here the most squalid of what could hardly be called businesses occupied rotting row-houses and shacks. Rag-and-bone shops, pawnshops, manure collectors, small family tanneries. In the soggy alley of an open sewer lay two bodies.\\n\\nKrute invited him to examine them. \\\"What do you think?\\\"\\n\\nAn eye on the assassin, who backed up a reassuring distance, Rallick bent over the first. \\\"Professional work. Straight thrust through the back to the heart. Complete surprise– no twisting or turning in the wound.\\\" He pushed over the second, hesitated, then studied the neck. \\\"First-rate cut. Thin razor blade. Straight side to side. Right-handed, with a slight upward angle– attacker was shorter than victim.\\\"\\n\\nAn angry grunt from Krute. \\\"I missed that.\\\"\\n\\nRallick straightened. \\\"What's your point? '\\n\\n\\\"What brings two ex-Warden guards down hereto this shit-hole street, Rallick? You recognized them, didn't you? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I recognized them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But you didn't say... '\\n\\nA thin shrug from Rallick. \\\"You're inside now, Krute. '\\n\\n\\\"Dammit, man! I'm doing you a fucking favour! Everyone's accounted for! Everyone!\\\" He pulled savagely on his stubbled chin. \\\"Who could pad upon two veteran guards, take'em both without a peep? Without even a struggle? It's a shortlist, Rallick. And your name's on it... along with hers. '\\n\\n\\\"Like I said already, Krute. What's your point? '\\n\\nThe man let out along tight breath, almost like a growl. \\\"Always gotta be the hard way with you, hey, Rallick? Well, okay. Here's my point– Vorcan's short.\\\"\\n\\nRallick let his head fall as if studying the rank gutter, was quiet fora time, then began backing off. \\\"My advice to your superior is stay away. She's out of your class. '\\n\\nHe'd exited the alley, now ripening with something far beyond garbage, when a trick of the acoustics brought Krute's ghostly voice: \\\"Yours too, Rallick. Yours too.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nImpatient banging brought the new waitress, Jess, lumbering to the doors of the Phoenix Inn. She unlatched the lock to peer out, blinking and wincing, into the glaring morning light. A tall dark figure brushed round her, imperious.\\n\\n\\\"Not open, sir,\\\" she said, surprised, still blinking. Then, eyeing the retreating back, she relaxed. \\\"Oh.\\\" And she shuffled to the kitchen to wake up Chud.\\n\\nRallick peered down at the fat man sprawled in his chair, head slung back, snoring. Amazement warred with disgust. Crushed pastries littered the table along with empty bottles, smears of exotic mustards and pâté. The rotund figure snored, mouth slack. Rallick had a good view of the bristles of his unshaven bulging neck and the ridiculous vanity of the scruffy braided rat-tail beard. He gave a table leg alight kick.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The man snorted, jerking.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Pudgy hands patted vested stomach, the ruffles of the silk shirt. The head rolled forward, lips smacking. Beady eyes found Rallick, widened. \\\"Aaii! Thought grim graven friend new apparition of death come for modest Kruppe. Most discomfiting and shocking wakening. Kruppe has not yet seen to his toilet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't let me stop you. '\\n\\n\\\"Friend Rallick is always so civilized.\\\" A large stained handkerchief appeared in one hand, brushed flakes of pastry from the man's wide midriff. Then he wound a fold of the cloth round one finger and dabbed daintily at the corners of his mouth.\\\"Done! \\\"He sighed contentedly and slipped his hands into the black silk sash that circled his crimson waistcoat.\\\"Now Kruppe can only respond in kind. \\\"He raised his chin:\\\"Dearest Jess... We die of famishment! Bring biscuits, tea, Elingarth blood sausages and honeyed bacon, flatbreads and Moranth cloudberry syrup. \\\"He lowered his voice.\\\"Not sure how she'll fit in, you know.\\\"\\n\\nJess's voice bellowed from the kitchen.\\\"Chud says we ain't got none o\\\" that crap! '\\n\\n\\\"She'll serve just fine, I think, ' Rallick murmured under his breath.\\n\\nThe squat man's brows wrinkled, pained.\\\"Oh dear. I must have been dreaming... \\\"A quick shrug.\\\"Oh well. Biscuits and tea, then. Oh! And a crust of burnt toast for my friend here. '\\n\\nRallick could hear his clenched teeth grinding. \\\"Kruppe, I just-\\\"\\n\\nA raised hand forestalled him. \\\"Explain not, old friend! No need for explanations... please sit!\\\" Growling, Rallick pulled a chair outwith his heel, eased down and leaned back, hands on his thighs. \\\"Kruppe understands. Why, it is on everyone's sighing lips these days, dear friend. The city's two most deadly killers tamed by love's soothing embrace! '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rallick's front chair legs struck the floor with a bang.\\\"What? '\\n\\n\\\"Do not worry! Kruppe's feelings shall recover. \\\"He peeled a sliver of wrinkled dried fruit from the table, sniffed it, then popped it into his mouth.\\\"Sustenance, Jess! We are positively expiring here! \\\"He shook his head, sighed dreamily.\\\"It is an old story, yes, friend? Love is found and old friends are forgotten. Kruppe does not wonder why you have been neglectful of us these last months. The two of you haunt the rooftops in flighty trysts, no doubt. Like bats in love. '\\n\\n\\\"Kruppe...\\\" Rallick ground out.\\n\\n\\\"Soon a brood of baby killers to follow. I see it now. Knives in the crib and garrottes in the playpen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kruppe!\\\"\\n\\nThe fat man lifted his eyes to blink innocently up at Rallick. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I just want to know if Cro-Cutter is in town.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kruppe wonders...\\\" Something strangled the man's voice and he choked. Pudgy fingers fished in his mouth, emerging with the mangled stringy sliver of fruit, which he then carefully smeared back onto the table.\\\"Jess! One need not cross the Cinnamon Wastes for tea! '\\n\\nThe big woman emerged from the kitchen, tray in hand. Her white linen shirt had been hastily laced, revealing a great deal of flesh. She glared at Kruppe, thumped the tray down, nodded to Rallick. \\\"Good to see you, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jess. How's Meese doing these days? '\\n\\n\\\"She comes round most evenings.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You manage?\\\"\\n\\nShe pushed back her hair, waved to the empty tables. \\\"I'm worked off my feet. '\\n\\nRallick also eyed the empty common room. He frowned as if struck by anew thought. The woman walked back to the kitchen doors, her hips rolling like ships at sea. Rallick cleared his throat. \\\"Just who does own this place anyway, Kruppe?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Friend Rallick was asking after young Cutter...\\\"\\n\\nRallick slid his gaze back. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\nKruppe peered into the depths of the teapot. \\\"Kruppe wonders why.\\\"\\n\\nSnarling, Rallick stood, pushing back his chair. \\\"Is he here or not?\\\"\\n\\nLifting a knife and a biscuit, the little man peered up with a steady gaze. \\\"Kruppe assures friend Rallick that equally loved young vagabond is most assuredly not in our fair city.\\\" He raised the biscuit. \\\"Crumpet?\\\"\\n\\nRallick's chest, which had been clenched in one coiled breath since the inspection of certain wounds hours earlier, eased in along exhalation, and he nodded,\\\"Good... good. '\\n\\nKruppe's eyes had narrowed in their pockets of fat.\\\"Again– Kruppe wonders why. '\\n\\nBut Rallick had turned away. \\\"Doesn't matter. \\\"He called to the kitchen.\\\"Jess. '\\n\\nKruppe threw his arms wide. \\\"But breakfast has only just arrived!\\\"\\n\\nRallick pushed open the door in a bright wash of sunlight and walked out, the door swinging closed behind.\\n\\nShrugging, the fat man scooped up a smear of jam. \\\"And to think Kruppe named impatient friend civilized. Kruppe was egregiously in error!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"In the harsh morning light Scholar Ebbin trudged up the muddy unpaved street of the pure-gatherers in the Gadrobi district.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A dusty leather bag pulled atone shoulder and he wore a wide-brimmed hat yanked down firmly on his head. He stopped at a shuttered storefront of age-gnawed wood on worn stone foundations, banged on the solid door and waited. Across the street, between the cart traffic and crowds of market-goers, he noted the blue uniform of the Wardens. The sight was a surprise to him; while crime was endemic in this district, attention from the Wardens was rare. They had a wagon with them and appeared to be moving something.\\n\\nThe door vibrated as bars and locks were removed. It grated in its jambs to open a sliver. Darkness lay within. \\\"Ah,\\\" a thin voice breathed, \\\"it is you, good scholar. Enter.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin edged in sideways and the door ground shut. In the relative dark he was blind for the moment but he could make out a hunched dark figure securing bars and bolts again. \\\"You are ever mindful of thieves, Aman. Yet... rather a barrier to commerce, I would imagine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Darujhistan has fallen very far, good scholar,\\\" the bent man answered in his breathless voice. \\\"Very far indeed. It is not like the old days of peace and strict adherence to the laws of its rulers. As for commerce... I service a select few who know whereto find me, yes?\\\" He chuckled drily.\\n\\nThe unease that his visits here always engendered within Ebbin was not relieved by these comments. He thought of how his own whispered and circumspect enquiries into the subtleties of wardings, Warren-anchored barriers and the avoidance thereof led him step by step and source by source to this one man and his seemingly unpatronized shop. Yet to maintain appearances he answered genially enough, \\\"Of course, Aman. Very select,\\\" and he laughed modestly as well.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Aman ushered him into the shop proper, one foot dragging in his crippled walk, back twisted from some accident of birth.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His hands too were crippled– malformed and bent as if having been caught within some mangling instrument. He shuffled behind his counter where a raised platform allowed him to peer over it, looming like some sort of gangly bird of prey.\\n\\nEbbin's vision was now adjusting to the permanent gloom in the shop, and he gently set his satchel on the counter.\\n\\n\\\"You have something for me?\\\" Aman asked, cocking a brow already higher than its fellow.\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" He untied the leather strapping, eased out a wrapped object. \\\"From the lowest I've gone so far. '\\n\\nSetting the package between them, Ebbin carefully parted the thick felt outer wrappings then a sheer inner layer of silk to reveal what appeared to be nothing more than a fragment of eggshell, albeit one from an egg of impossibly huge dimensions. Aman bent forward even further, his canted nose almost touching the object. Seeing him up close Ebbin was struck by the deformed shape of his knobbly skull beneath its patchy pelt of filmy grey hair. Perhaps sensing his attention, Aman pulled away.\\n\\n\\\"A magnificent specimen, good scholar. Beautiful.\\\" The shopkeeper lit a lamp from a wall-sconced lantern, set it on the counter. \\\"May I?\\\" Ebbin gestured an invitation. For all his bent root-like fingers, the man lifted the fragment smoothly, held it before the flame. Ebbin crouched to peer: the flame was visible as a blurred glow through the fragment, which was astonishing enough, but the entire piece had somehow taken up the light and now glowed, warm, soft and luminous, like the dawn in miniature.\\n\\nAman sighed, almost nostalgically it seemed. \\\"I invite you to imagine, if you would, good scholar, entire structures of such stone, carved and polished to near pure translucency, glowing with the cold blue flames of the city. A magnificent sight it must have been, yes?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes. Darujhistan in the great Imperial Age of the Tyrants. At least, so it has been conjectured.\\\"\\n\\nThe bulbous eyes moved to his, blinked. \\\"Of course.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is it treated?\\\"\\n\\nAman returned the piece to its cloths and began rewrapping it. \\\"We shall see. It will have to be tested. Should it prove a fragment from a container utilized in certain, ah... esoteric... rituals from that age, then it maybe resold fora great deal to those eager to reuse it for their own... well... similar research.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin cleared his throat, uncomfortable. \\\"I see.\\\"\\n\\nAman tucked the package under the countertop. \\\"And how may I help you, good scholar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I've come to a chamber. One still sealed. '\\n\\nThe shopkeeper's fingers, which had been tapping the counter like spiders, stilled.\\\"In truth? \\\"he breathed in wonder.\\\"Sealed as yet? Astonishing. You must take care, good scholar. The traps these ancients set upon their interred... \\\"He shook his misshapen head.\\\"Deadly. '\\n\\n\\\"Of course, Aman. I know the risks. I am no amateur.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course,\\\" the shopkeeper echoed, smiling to reveal a mouthful of misaligned teeth. \\\"The barrier?\\\"\\n\\nEbbin cleared his throat once more. \\\"Stone. A flat slab. Unmarked in anyway.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Unmarked, you say? No sigils of any sort? Not even the faintest of inscriptions?\\\"\\n\\nEbbin frowned, impatient. \\\"I know my work. I've been excavating for decades. '\\n\\nAman raised his hands. \\\"No disrespect intended, good scholar. Please. It is just very... unusual.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"An uncomfortable shivering took Ebbin then and he rubbed his chest, nodding his agreement.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes. It is... unusual.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An unimportant personage, perhaps. A minor court retainer.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin thought of the figure laid out on its onyx bier at the chamber's centre. The beaten gold mask with its eerie mocking smile, and the bands of skulls encircling the plinth. Nested circlets of death. He nodded, shivering.\\\"Yes. My impression exactly. '\\n\\nAman appeared to be studying him somehow, his gaze weighing. Then the man quickly turned away to his shelves. \\\"I may have just the tools for you, good scholar. Moranth alchemicals... acids, perhaps? Or chisels. Not your everyday sort of tool, no, not at all. Hardened iron, alloyed with that Malazan mineral otataral. If you give me a few days I will have them for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have nothing like that here?\\\"\\n\\nA dry laugh from the man. \\\"Oh my goodness, no. That mineral would have a most deleterious effect upon... upon my wares.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin could only agree. \\\"If you say so, sir. A few days then. I have to consult with my backer in any case.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Excellent, excellent.\\\" And he bobbed his head, his knotted fingers tapping incessantly on the counter.\\n\\n~\\n\\nOnce every bolt had been shut and every bar replaced, Aman shuffled back into his shop. Here he found a beautiful young woman, her long black hair braided and coiled atop her head, awaiting him. His mouth tightened into a sour pucker. \\\"Your intrusion into my affairs is most ill-advised. Most unwelcome.\\\"\\n\\nThe girl merely cocked a shapely hip to lean against the counter where she turned the wrapped package in slow circles. \\\"Why are we relying on this cretin?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We? There is no we. You are deluded. Your uninvited meddling will complicate matters most stressfully.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They were watching the shop, Aman.\\\"\\n\\nThe man hobbled backup onto his platform behind the counter. \\\"Watching the shop? Of course they were watching the shop. They are always watching the shop! These agents of my one-time allies have proved most persistent. But because I remain within, and am circumspect... they have been none the wiser.\\\" He gently touched his fingertips to the wood countertop. \\\"Needless to say, said circumspection has now been shattered...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They are dead, Aman.\\\"\\n\\nThe shopkeeper started to speak, caught himself, rubbed his hands over the countertop as if stroking it. He began again, slowly, \\\"Yes. However, the one who hired them now knows he, or she, is close to something. Best to have maintained the aura of mystery.\\\"\\n\\nThe girl's pale thin shoulders lifted in an unconcerned shrug. She began unwrapping the package.\\\"Then I will kill whoever that person is. '\\n\\n\\\"Ah yes. Speaking of mysteries. No one knows the identity of the circle-breaker. Many poseurs have surfaced pretending to the title, but no one knows for certain. It may have even been one of my old allies– even your mother.\\\"\\n\\nThe girl's coquettish gaze hardened.\\\"Never mention her tome, Aman. \\\"She peered up from half-lidded eyes.\\\"Anyone, you say? But not you, of course. '\\n\\nAman shook a bent finger. \\\"You are learning.\\\"\\n\\nShe made a face, then indicated the carved fragment. \\\"Is this thing really as valuable as you say?\\\"\\n\\nHe raised it between them, his gaze holding her eyes. \\\"Ahh... beautiful, yes? Slender, striking. A magnificent specimen. On the outside. But within, flawed. Worthless. Apiece of useless trash.\\\" He crushed it in his hand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The girl flinched away as if slapped, bumping something in the dark. Her full lips tightened to a pale slash and a molten light blazed within her eyes. The man studied her quite calmly, his head cocked, fingertips lightly touching together. The golden light faded from her eyes as she stood quivering in suppressed rage. She drew a snarling breath and raised her chin in defiance. \\\"You are quite finished, I hope?\\\"\\n\\nHe bowed. \\\"Quite.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what is this monstrosity?\\\" she demanded, waving at the tall figure she'd struck.\\n\\nAman raised the lamp, revealing an armoured statue. The light reflected green and blue from an inlay of semi-precious stones. \\\"Magnificent, is it not? From distant Jacuruku. One of their stone soldiers.\\\"\\n\\nShe peered closer in an almost professional evaluation. \\\"An automaton?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not... quite.\\\" He set the lamp on the counter. \\\"In any case, m'lady, since you have returned, I suggest you make yourself useful and shadow our friend. Nothing untoward must happen to him. Be ready to intervene. He is close, Taya. Very close. '\\n\\n\\\"Why him? Why don't you go down? '\\n\\nThe man did nothing to hide the condescension in his answering chuckle. \\\"My dear. You are most diverting. The countless protections, wards and conditions imposed by my erstwhile allies are most exacting. Almost without openings. Only those who do not seek may pass. They must be innocent of bloodshed, possess no lust for personal gain... the conditions goon and on. Mammotlian contrived them. And so, since Mammotlian, a scholar, built the tomb, perhaps only a fellow like-minded spirit may possess the instincts to follow. If you see my reasoning.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And should he fail– like all the others?\\\"\\n\\nA crooked shrug from the man. \\\"Well, they're nearly out of floor space down there, aren't they?\\\"\\n\\nHer eyes constricted to slits and she tilted her head, unsure of his meaning.\\n\\nOn the street of the whitesmiths in the Gadrobi district, Barathol Mekhar inspected his latest consignment of iron ore. It was of unusually good quality. There was a useful variation of softness and brittleness within the clumps. He closed the box and went to the forge, held a handover the bed of coals. Still needed more time. He left the shop to cross a small open court to the rear of his row-house. Dusting his hands, he climbed the narrow stairs to his rooms above. Dawn was just brightening the sky outside the shuttered windows. Fora time he stood next to the bed where his wife Scillara still slept. Then he went to the other side of the bed to the tiny crib fashioned by his own hands. Kneeling, he studied the infant within, curled and plump.\\n\\nNever had he imagined such a treasure would be his. It seemed too defenceless for the world. Too tenuous. Its fragility terrified him. He feared even to touch it with his coarse blackened hands. He did however gently ease one into the crib to let the child's quick hot breath warm those fingers.\\n\\nSmiling, he rose to see Scillara watching him. \\\"Not runoff yet, I see,\\\" she said, stretching.\\n\\n\\\"Not yet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not even with a squalling brat and a fat wife?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I guess I must have done something terrible in a prior life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Musta been pretty damned awful.\\\" She looked about as if searching for something. \\\"Gods, I miss my pipe.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You'll live. '\\n\\nShe pointed to the door. \\\"Throw me my gown. Don't you have work to do? Money to earn? Enough to hire a cook. I'm getting sick of your burnt offerings.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You could try lending a hand, you know.\\\"\\n\\nShe laughed. \\\"You don't want to eat my cooking. '\\n\\n\\\"I'll be outback then. \\\"He threw the gown.\\\"Could use some tea. '\\n\\n\\\"We all could.\\\"\\n\\nOn the way down the stairs he looked forward to another day standing at the forge where he could look over to the courtyard and see Scillara sitting on rugs laid out on the ground there, nursing little Chaur.\\n\\nLife, it seemed to him, was better than he'd ever hoped it could be.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Turn not thine hand against thy father; for it is sacrilege\\n\\nInscription upon stone fragment\\n\\nDwelling Plains\\n\\nTHE CHALLENGE BEGAN as these things always do: with a look. A glance held a heartbeat too long. In this case lingering across the beaten dirt of the practice grounds at the centre of Cant, the marble halls of the Seguleh.\\n\\nJan, in the act of turning away to call fora slave, noted the glance, and stopped. Those of the ruling Jistarii family lineage out exercising that morning also instinctively sensed the tension. The crowd parted and Jan found himself staring across the emptied sparring fields and wrestling circles to Enoc, the newly installed Third. He watched while the young aristocrat's friends and closest supporters within the rankings crossed to stand at his side. Without needing to turn his head Jan knew his own friends had come to his. He held out his wooden practice sword. It was taken from his hand.\\n\\n\\\"Give him your back,\\\" Palla, the Sixth, hissed from behind. \\\"How dare he! This is not the place.\\\"\\n\\nJan answered calmly: \\\"Does not our young Third claim that daring is just what is lacking these days among our ranks?\\\" A snarl of clenched rage answered that. Jan allowed himself a slight raise of his chin to indicate the seats of the amphitheatre across the way. \\\"Look... the judges of the challenge assembled already.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They are all of his family!\\\" Palla exclaimed. \\\"This is the work of his scheming uncle, that fat Olag.\\\"\\n\\nJan's sword appeared, offered hilt-first from behind. He took it and began securing the sheath to his sash. Across the field Enoc's coterie of supporters, ambitious young-bloods mostly, did the same for him. Someone handed Jana gourd of water and he sipped. His gaze did not leave Enoc's mask: a pale oval marred only by two black slashes, one down each cheek.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"So, a year already, is it? He was surprised. Time seemed to pass evermore quickly as he became older. Not that he intended to get older– it was merely the byproduct of his extended wait for someone to manage to defeat him. Enoc obviously thought his chance had come. And he had to acknowledge that the daring youth seemed to have chosen his moment quite well: Enoc himself was yet fresh, merely having stretched and warmed up, while he had just completed a very gruelling series of sparring matches and was even now still sweating with exertion. It would appear that this cunning new Third had the advantage.\\n\\nBut Jan was where he wanted to be. His blood was hot and flowing fast. His limbs glowed with heat and felt strong. Practice did not drain him as it seemed to so many others. Rather, it enlivened him. Yet... a challenge during exercise... a time when by tradition all members of the Jistarii aristocracy were welcome to mix freely, practising and training. This was very bad form. An assembly of impartial judges wouldn't even countenance it.\\n\\nYet there was no question he must answer. It was his duty. He was Second.\\n\\nHe set the tips of his fingers on the two-handed grip of his longsword and walked out to the middle of the amphitheatre sands. Over the years he had lost count of the many Thirds who had come and gone beneath him. The ranks of the Agatii, the top thousand, were like a geyser in this manner– ever throwing up new challengers. And this one was an impatient example of a notoriously impatient ranking. Long ago it was always said that Second was the worst ranking to attain. Ever Second, never First. But with the death of the last ancient to achieve First, it was Third that was now so regarded. The itchiest ranking; the briefest rung... in one manner or another. And this one seems to think me tired. Very well. Let him do so. Let him challenge now, so very early. So very... precipitately. So be it. I can only do my part and accept.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Enoc strode out to meet him. The other Jistarii backed away, leaving the field clear, while slaves removed equipment. The wind was calm, and the sun was far enough overhead not to bean issue. Jan waited, head cocked. When the Third was close enough to allow private conversation, he offered the ritual exchange: \\\"I give you this last chance to reconsider. Form has been obeyed. No shame would accrue.\\\"\\n\\nThe gaze was scornful behind the white mask with its two black lines. \\\"Waiting is not for me, Second. I do not plan to cling to my perch– as you have.\\\"\\n\\nJan's breath caught momentarily.\\\"You covet the First? '\\n\\n\\\"It is time. If you will not lead, then stand aside for one who will.\\\"\\n\\nSo that is what they are whispering in the dormitories... How they have all forgotten. One does not claim First. It cannot betaken. It can only be given. And I– even I– was not judged worthy. Anger beckoned now, and with a supreme effort he allowed it to flow past. No. There must be no emotion. No thought. This one thinks too much– it slows him. One must not think. One must simply act. And he, Jan, had always been so very fast to act.\\n\\nPushing with his thumb, he eased the blade a fraction from its sheath. \\\"Very well, Third.\\\" He inhaled, and exhaling whispered the ritual words: \\\"I accept.\\\"\\n\\nTheir blades met crashing and grating even as the last syllable left Jan's mouth. Jan deflected several attacks, noting subconsciously how the lad relied too much on strength as a bolster to a form not yet quite at ease with itself. He knew instinctively he had the better of him, and that any of the rankers above the Tenth would see this as well. But the judges. They would not be convinced. Something much more irrefutable would be needed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The poor lad. In stacking the assembly his uncle has left me with no alternative. And now this one will pay the price.\\n\\nStill he delayed, parrying and circling. Among the highest rankings, actually being sloppy enough to spill blood was considered very poor form. The best victories were those achieved without such crudity.\\n\\nThe storm of the Third's unrelenting aggression washed over him in a constant ringing of tempered, hardened steel. Yet he remained calm– an eye of tranquillity surrounded by a blurred singing razor's edge. That storm had first been one of blustering overbearing power. But now it carried within it a discord of confusion, even recognition.\\n\\nAnd a coiling frantic desperation.\\n\\nJan chose to act. Best to end the testing now, lest he acquire a reputation for cruelty. In the midst of their entwined dance of thrust, feint and counter, Jan's blade extended a fraction of a finger's breadth further as his shift inwards allowed Enoc's own movement to close their distance more than intended and the tip of his blade licked the inside of the right elbow, severing tendon.\\n\\nEnoc's right arm fell limp, the longsword swinging loose. The lad froze, chest rising and falling in an all too open display of exertion. His fevered gaze through his mask was one of disbelief now crashing into horror.\\n\\nThe lad was crippled. Oh, it would heal, and in time he would probably regain use of the arm. But with that wound he would be hard pressed even to maintain a position within the Agatii. He would retain the right to carry a blade, of course. But there would be no more challenges for him.\\n\\nJan considered a whispered apology now while they held this fragile intimate moment between challengers, but the youth would probably take it as an insult. And so he said nothing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"That delicate moment, the onlookers' breath caught in aesthetic appreciation of the beauty of a single cut perfectly executed in power, timing, accuracy and form, passed.\\n\\nAnd the gathered Jistarii all bowed to their Second.\\n\\nLater that evening Jan sat cross-legged at dinner with his closest friends among the ranked: Palla, the Sixth, and Lo, Eighth these many years, but recently, with the reported death of Blacksword, under consideration for promotion to the long empty rank of Seventh. With them also was an old friend of his youth, Beru, one of the Thirtieth.\\n\\n\\\"Will Gall reclaim the Third?\\\" Jan asked Palla.\\n\\nShe laughed, and, ducking her head, lifted her mask to take a pinched morsel of rice and meats. \\\"He will. And with gratitude to be back on his old rung again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gratitude? I did not act as I did for his benefit.\\\"\\n\\nShe bowed, all formal, but her voice held humour: \\\"Gratitude for reminding everyone why he has remained Third for so long.\\\"\\n\\nJan motioned gently to close the subject. He turned to Lo, seeing the seven lines of soot that radiated from the eye holes of his friend's mask.\\\"And what of you? Will you take the Seventh? '\\n\\nLo bowed stiffly from the waist. \\\"If commanded. But I do not seek it. It is... distasteful... to step up in this manner.\\\"\\n\\nFrom Beru's tense pose Jan could tell he had something to say.\\\"And you, Beru? '\\n\\nThe man bowed, and kept his gaze averted. \\\"With respect, Second. There is talk of this swordsman, whoever he maybe, who slew Blacksword, the Lord of the Moon's Scion. Some say he must be regarded as the new Seventh. Some suggest a challenge. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jan had been reaching fora pinch of meat, but stilled. \\\"You know I am against such... adventurism. I opposed the expedition of punishment against the Pannions. What did that gain us? Mok's skills wasted against rabble and unworthy amateurs. '\\n\\nHis three companions ate in silence fora time, for all knew Jan's feelings regarding Mok, his elder brother, who volunteered to silence those disrespectful Pannions. And who returned... changed. Broken.\\n\\nIt fell to Palla to speak, the one who shared the greatest claim to intimacy with him, as the lovers they had been. Until both had climbed too high in the rankings and the tensions of the challenge intervened. \\\"And yet,\\\" she began, cautiously, \\\"you supported Oru's venture. '\\n\\nJan made a deliberate effort to soften his tone. \\\"Oru claimed to have had a vision. Who am Ito dispute that? I allowed him to call for any who would voluntarily accompany him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And twenty answered! Our greatest expedition ever mounted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True.\\\" And for the greatest goal of all. For only to him, as Second, did Oru reveal the truth of his vision... the belief that somehow, in some manner, he would regain the honour of the Seguleh stolen from them so long ago. A mad, desperate hope. But one he could not oppose.\\n\\nHis gaze fell on Lo, face turned away as he raised his mask to drink. Perhaps he should allow the challenge. Any man who could defeat Blacksword... if he could better Lo then he could have the rank.\\n\\nA gentle tap at the door broke into Jan's thoughts. He nodded for Beru to answer. On his knees, one hand on the grip of his sword, Beru cracked open the door and spoke in low tones to whoever was without. After a short exchange he opened it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was an old man, an unmasked honoured Jistarii who had chosen the path of priest. The man shuffled in on his knees and bowed, touching his brow to the bare hardwood floor. \\\"My lord. You are requested at the temple. There is... something for you to see.\\\"\\n\\nJan inclined his mask fractionally. \\\"Very well. I will attend.\\\" The priest bowed again. He shuffled backwards on his knees and stepped out of the low threshold without turning his back upon them. Jan took a sip of tea to cleanse his mouth.\\n\\nPalla bowed in a request to speak.\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"May we accompany you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you wish.\\\"\\n\\nThe main temple of Cant was a large open-sided building of columns and arches. It was constructed entirely of white marble veined with black. Lit torches hissed in the evening wind, casting shadows among the eerily pallid white stone columns, floor and ceiling. The High Priest, Sengen, awaited them. He wore the plain tunic and trousers of rough cloth that were the customary clothing of the Seguleh. He was clean shaven, as most Seguleh males of the Jistarii tended to be, and his long grey hair was oiled and pulled back tightly in a braid. He bowed to Jan.\\n\\n\\\"Sengen,\\\" Jan acknowledged, thereby granting him permission to speak.\\n\\n\\\"Only the Second may accompany me,\\\" the old man commanded, stepping forward.\\n\\nPalla and Lo stiffened, exchanged outraged glances. Jan raised a hand for patience. \\\"That is your right here within the temple.\\\"\\n\\nSengen bowed again, beckoning Jan forward.\\n\\nHe led him to the very rear. To the altarpiece: a single pillar of unearthly translucent white stone, waist-high, its top empty. Sengen regarded the pillar reverently, his hands crossed over his chest. Jan stared at him, puzzled by his odd behaviour. Then his gaze moved to the pillar, and he started forward, amazed. Beads of moisture ran down the white stone, and a thin vapour, as of a morning mist, drifted from it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It sweats, Second,\\\" the High Priest breathed, awed. \\\"The stone sweats.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What does this mean?\\\"\\n\\nEyes fixed on the pale stone, Sengen answered, \\\"It means that what we have been awaiting all this time may come. Our purpose.\\\"\\n\\nShaken, Jan stepped away. Yet the pillar was empty... was this right? How could this happen?\\n\\n\\\"It is your duty to make ready,\\\" Sengen said sharply.\\n\\nJan nodded. Turning, he caught his reflection on a nearby polished shield. A pale white mask distinguished by a single blood-red smear across the brow. A mark put thereby the last First, so long ago. \\\"Yes,\\\" he answered, his voice thick. \\\"I shall.\\\"\\n\\nHis three friends waited on the steps of the temple. Coming to them Jan stood silent for sometime while they shifted, uncomfortable, gazes averted. \\\"Lo,\\\" he said at last. \\\"I give you permission to seek out this Seventh. We may have need of him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Need?\\\" Lo echoed, glancing up in startlement, then quickly away.\\n\\n\\\"You may take one other with you. Who would that be?\\\"\\n\\nLo gestured. \\\"Beru here, if he would.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I would have him remain. Choose another.\\\"\\n\\nLo bowed. \\\"As you command.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Palla asked, inclining her head. \\\"You are... troubled.\\\"\\n\\nJan regarded her. Fora moment he allowed himself the pleasure of taking in her lithe limbs, her tall proud bearing, and wished she had not pursued the Path of the Challenge. But that was selfish of him; she deserved her rank. \\\"Gather the Agatii, Sixth. We must make ready. The altarstone has awakened.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The three glanced to the temple, their eyes behind their masks widening in awe. \\\"We thought that just a legend,\\\" Palla breathed.\\n\\n\\\"Before he passed, the First imparted tome a portion of what was handed down to him. It is no legend. Now go, Palla. Tell the first half of the Agatii to gather here.\\\"\\n\\nPalla jerked a swift bow and dashed down the steps. Jan turned to the Eighth. \\\"A vessel will be placed at your disposal.\\\"\\n\\nLo bowed and backed away down the stairs. Watching him go, Beru spoke, wonder in his voice. \\\"And what can this lowly Thirtieth do to help?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I would have you remain among the ranks, Beru. Listen to the talk in the dormitories. A difficult time maybe coming. We will all be tested. Let us hope we are not judged... unworthy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand, Second.\\\" Jan did not answer, and, sensing that his friend wished to be alone now, Beru bowed and departed.\\n\\nJan stood for sometime in the chill air of the evening. He looked out across the paved white stone Plaza of Gathering to the houses and the mountains of this, their adopted homeland. That adoption was itself no secret. They knew they'd come from elsewhere; all their old stories told of a great march, an exile, although none named their mythical place of origin. That was another truth the First had confirmed: their homeland was to the north. And he had named it.\\n\\nPrecious little more guidance had the ancient yielded, though. When pressed for more the old man had simply peered up at him from where he lay and shaken his head. \\\"It is best you do not know these things,\\\" he had said. \\\"It is best for all.\\\"\\n\\nIgnorance? How could ignorance be best? Jan's instincts railed against such a claim. Yet he was raised and trained to obey, and so he had submitted. He was Second. It was his duty. Perhaps it was the old man's tone that had convinced him. Those words had carried in them a crushing grief, a terrible weight of truth that Jan feared he might not be able to endure.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You smell that?\\\" Picker asked. She looked up from where she sat with her feet on a table in the nearly empty common room of K'rul's bar, chair pushed back, cleaning her nails with a dagger.\\n\\nBlend, chin in hand at the bar counter, cocked a brow to Duiker in his customary seat. \\\"That a comment?\\\"\\n\\nPicker wrinkled her nose. \\\"No– not you. Somethin\\\" even worse... Somethin'I ain't smelt since... \\\"The chair banged down and she cursed.\\\"That hair-shirted puke is back in town! '\\n\\nBlend straightened, peered around. \\\"No...\\\" She lunged for the door. \\\"Get the back!\\\"\\n\\nThe door opened before Blend reached it. She tried to push it shut on a man with a shock of unkempt salt-and-pepper hair and a weather-darkened grizzled face, wearing along ragged hair shirt. He managed to squeeze in as she slammed it shut. \\\"Good to see you too, Blend,\\\" he commented, scowling.\\n\\nBlend flinched away, covering her nose and mouth. \\\"Spindle. What in Hood's dead arse are you doing here? '\\n\\nPicker ran in from the rear: \\\"Back's locked. There's noway he can-Oh. Damn.\\\"\\n\\nA toothy smile from the man. \\\"Just like old times.\\\" He ambled over to sit at Duiker's table, nodded to the grey-bearded man.\\\"Historian. Been awhile. '\\n\\nThe old man's mouth crooked up just a touch.\\\"Nothing seems to keep you Bridgeburners down. '\\n\\n\\\"Shit floats,\\\" Picker muttered from the baron the far side of the room.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So how'bout a drink then? \\\"Spindle called loudly.\\\"\\\"Less you're just too damned busy with all your customers an'all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We're out, \\\"Blend said.\\\"Have to try somewhere else. Don't let us stop you.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle turned in his chair. \\\"Out? What kind of bar has no alcohol?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A very grim one,\\\" Duiker offered so low no one seemed to hear.\\n\\n\\\"Hunh.\\\" The man pulled on his ragged shirt at its neck as if it were uncomfortable, or too tight. \\\"Well, I think maybe I can help you outwith that.\\\"\\n\\nPicker and Blend exchanged sceptical glances and said in unison, \\\"Oh?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sure. Got some work kicked my way. You know, paid work for coin. For drink and food. And to pay the rent.\\\" Spindle studied Blend more closely. \\\"Who do you pay rent to here anyway?\\\"\\n\\nThe women shifted their stances, squinting at the walls. \\\"Why us?\\\" Blend asked suddenly and Picker nodded.\\n\\n\\\"They just want people they can count onto keep their damned mouths shut.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"People have given upon the assassins\\\" guild, have they? ' Picker commented.\\n\\n\\\"If there's any of them left... ' Blend added, aside.\\n\\nSpindle rolled his eyes to the ceiling. \\\"Not that kinda work!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What in Fener's prang is it then? ' Blend demanded.\\n\\nSitting back, booted feet straight out before him, the veteran clasped his hands over his belt. He smiled lopsidedly in what Picker imagined to bean effort at ingratiation, but which looked more like the leer of a dirty old man. \\\"Right up your alley, Blend. Plain ol\\\" low-profile reconnaissance. Observe and report. Nothin'more.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"How much?\\\" Picker asked.\\n\\n\\\"A gold council per day.\\\"\\n\\nBlend whistled. \\\"Who's worth that much? Not you, that's for damned sure.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle lost his smile. \\\"They're payin'a lotto make sure the job gets done.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who's paying? \\\"Duiker suddenly asked in a low hoarse voice.\\\"Who's the principal?\\\"\\n\\nAll three regarded the old historian, amazed.\\n\\n\\\"Damned straight!\\\" Blend said.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah,\\\" Picker said. \\\"Could be a trap. Fake contract to draw us out.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle dismissed that with a wave. \\\"Ach! You're soundin'too much like Antsy.\\\" He peered around. \\\"Where is that lunatic anyway?\\\"\\n\\nBlend leaned back to set her elbows on the bar. \\\"Went south. Said he was... ah, antsy.\\\" She scowled. \\\"Stop changing the subject! Who's payin\\\"?\\\"\\n\\nSpindle just waved again. \\\"Never you mind. I know. And I know we can trust'em. '\\n\\n\\\"Them?\\\" Picker said, arching a brow. \\\"Who're them? '\\n\\nSpindle threw his hands up. \\\"All right, all right! Trusting as Jags, you lot are. Okay!\\\" He leaned forward and tapped the side of his gashed and battered nose. \\\"You could say it's our old employers. '\\n\\nIf Picker had had something in her hands she would've thrown it at the man.\\\"You great idjit! We're deserters!\\\"\\n\\nHe produced that knowing smirk once more. \\\"Exactly. That makes us free agents, right?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It makes political sense,\\\" Duiker said, and he brushed a hand across the tabletop. \\\"Aragan can't have the Council accuse him of meddling, or spying. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Spindle's brows rose.\\\"Aragan? That old dog's here?\\\"\\n\\nBlend and Picker both swore aloud. \\\"Spindle!\\\" Blend managed, swallowing more curses. \\\"You brick-headed ox! He's the Oponn-cursed ambassador! You said you knew who you were working for! '\\n\\nSpindle's face reddened and he stood, heaving back his chair.\\\"Well he hardly stopped me on the damned street, did he! '\\n\\nThe old historian eyed the three veterans glaring each other down across the room. He raised a hand. \\\"I'll mind the shop. '\\n\\nAll three blinked and eased out tensed breaths. Picker gave a curt nod. \\\"Okay then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where?\\\" Blend asked.\\n\\nSpindle was frowning down at the historian. \\\"South of the city. The burial fields. People want to know what's goin'on there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Everyone says that's all tapped out, ' Picker said.\\n\\n\\\"The past never goes away– we carry it with us,\\\" Duiker murmured, as if quoting.\\n\\nBrows crimped, Spindle scratched a scab on his nose. \\\"Yeah. Like the man says.\\\"\\n\\nBlend was behind the bar. She pulled out a set of scabbarded long-knives wrapped in a belt. \\\"We should head out tonight. Before the Ridge Town gate closes.\\\"\\n\\nA wide sideways grin climbed up Spindle's mouth.\\\"Spot their campfires, hey? '\\n\\n\\\"Just like old times.\\\"\\n\\nThey walked the desolate shore of black sands, over coarse volcanic headlands, and along the restless glowing waves of the Sea of Vitr. Beach after beach stretched out in arcs of pulverized glass-like sands.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"As they walked one such beach Leoman cleared his throat and motioned to their rear.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Do you think he really is what he claims?\\\"\\n\\nKiska shrugged her impatience. \\\"I don't even know what it is it claims to be. '\\n\\nLeoman nodded to that. \\\"True enough. Not for the likes of us, perhaps.\\\" He stretched, easing the muscles of his shoulders and back.\\n\\nHow like a cat, Kiska thought again. With his damned moustache– like whiskers!\\n\\n\\\"I had a friend once,\\\" he said, after a time of walking in silence, \\\"who was good at ignoring or putting such questions out of his mind. He simply refused to dwell upon what was out of his control. I always admired that quality in him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what came of this admirably reasonable fellow?\\\" she asked, squinting aside.\\n\\nThe man smiled, brushing his moustache with a finger and thumb. \\\"He went off to slay a god.\\\"\\n\\nKiska looked to the sky. Oh, Burn deliver me! \\\"Are your companions always so extravagant?\\\"\\n\\nHe eyed her sidelong. The edge of his mouth crooked up. \\\"Strangely enough, yes.\\\"\\n\\nKiska had stridden on ahead to where an eroded cliff blocked the way. They would have to climb.\\n\\nAt the top Kiska could see far out over the empty sea of shimmering, shifting light. Nothing marred it. Behind, the shadowy figure of Maker had re-joined the sky. The entity had returned to what Kiska mused must bean infinite labour. Was it some kind of curse? Ora thankless calling nobly pursued?\\n\\nShe turned her attention to the next curve of beach and her breath caught.\\n\\nLeoman found her like that, sitting on her haunches, staring, and drew breath to ask what was the matter, but she raised her chin to the beach ahead. He looked, and grunted a curse.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"An immense skeletal corpse lay sprawled across the beach.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Half its length narrowed down to the glimmering surf, where it disappeared, eaten away by the Vitr.\\n\\nThe corpse of a dragon.\\n\\nThey approached side by side. Leoman clutched his morningstars and Kiska her stave– though she knew neither would help them should the beast prove some sort of undead creature. But no sentience animated the dark sockets of its eyes. The flesh of its great snout, itself of greater length than she or Leoman, was desiccated, curled back from the dark openings of its nostrils. Yellowed curved teeth, an alchemist's hoard, grinned back at them.\\n\\nWho had this Eleint been in life? Had it been known to humans? Or was this the extent of its life... this one brief titanic struggle to escape the Vitr? The idea made her very sad.\\n\\nLeoman cleared his throat but said nothing. She nodded, swallowing. As they walked away his hand found hers but she pulled it free. She covered her reaction by walking impatiently ahead to where the beach ended at a tumble of the loose porous volcanic rocks.\\n\\nAfter a time, Leoman called after her: \\\"There's no hurry, lass. '\\n\\nShe hung her head, pausing on the uneven rocks jutting out into the glowing waves of the Vitr. She glanced back to the man; he was coming along slowly, taking great care with his footing.\\n\\n\\\"We don't know for certain-'\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes! I know. Now hurry up.\\\"\\n\\nHe came up beside her and offered a wink. \\\"Wouldn't do to get yourself killed this close, would it? '\\n\\n\\\"This close to what?\\\"\\n\\nHe brushed his moustache. \\\"Well, to an answer. One way or t'other. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Leoman,\\\" she began, slowly, as she hopped from rock to rock, \\\"promise me one thing, won't you? Should I fall into the Vitr and get myself burned to ashes. '\\n\\n\\\"And what is that, lass?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That you'll shave off that idiotic moustache. \\\"She jumped down onto the black sands of the next long stretch of beach.\\\"And stop calling me'lass\\\". '\\n\\nHe thumped down next to her, ran a finger along the moustache, grinning. \\\"I'll have you know the ladies always love it when I-'\\n\\n\\\"I don't want to know! \\\"she cut in.\\\"Thank you. '\\n\\n\\\"So you keep sayin\\\". But I promise you you'll-\\\"\\n\\nKiska had snapped up a hand. She knelt and he joined her.\\n\\nTracks in the sands. Unlike any spoor she'd ever seen, but tracks all the same. When they'd yet to see any at all. Some kind of shuffling awkward walk. She pointed to cliffs inland that the beach climbed towards. Leoman nodded. He freed his morningstars to hold them in his hands, the chains gripped to the hafts. Kiska levelled her stave.\\n\\nThey kept to the edge of the rocky headland, slipping inland, keeping an eye on where the beach ended at the cliffs. She saw the dark mouths of a number of caves. She looked at Leoman, pointed. He nodded. Reaching the cliff, she dodged ahead from cover to cover. Behind, a strangled snarl sounded Leoman's objection. The first opening was narrow and she slipped within, stave held for thrusting. The cramped space was empty. But packed sand floored it, and depressions showed where people, or things, might have sat or lain. A population? Here? Of what nature? A sound raised the hairs on the back of her neck. A high-pitched keening. Leoman's morningstars, which he could raise to a blurred speed greater than any she had ever seen or heard tell of.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She leapt out of the cave to seethe man facing off a crowd of malformed creatures. Daemons, summoned monstrosities, all somehow warped or wounded. They grasped with mangled clawed hands. The faces of some were no more than drooling smears. Most raised limbs far too crippled to be any danger. Leoman held them off, his back to the cave mouth.\\n\\n\\\"What do you want?\\\" she yelled. \\\"Speak! Can you understand me?\\\"\\n\\nThen the ground shook. Kiska tottered, righted herself and peered up. A gigantic creature had joined the crowd. It appeared to have jumped down from the cliff. It straightened to a height greater than that of a Thelomen. Great splayed clawed feet, like those of a bird of prey, dug into the sands. Its broad torso was armoured like that of a river lizard. It brushed aside its smaller kin with wide, blackened, taloned hands. A huge shaggy mane of coarse hair surrounded red blazing eyes and a mouth of misaligned dagger-like teeth.\\n\\nShe sent one quick glance to Leoman, who nodded, and they both leapt backwards into the cave. In the narrow chute of the entrance she took the forefront; there was no room for morningstars.\\n\\nA shadow occluded the opening. A deep voice of stones grinding rumbled, \\\"Who are you, and what do you wish here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who are you to attack us!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We did not attack you– you trespass! This is our home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We didn't know you lived here... '\\n\\n\\\"So. Even when you knew you were the strangers here, you assume we are the interlopers. How very typically human of you.\\\"\\n\\nKiska looked at Leoman, who rolled his eyes. A lecture on manners was the last thing she expected. \\\"So... this is a misunderstanding? We can come out?\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":87,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 7"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The guard fell to his knees, pulling frantically at the mask, but he was unable to move it. Transfixed, Ebbin watched as the cloaked figure disappeared in a great swirling cloud of dust and the dark cloak fell empty to the floor.\n\nThe captain and remaining guard now beat at some sort of invisible barrier beneath the intersecting arches. They screamed unheard commands at Ebbin, who could only shake his head in mute appalled terror while behind the two men the corpse of their fellow climbed to his feet. The gold mask shimmered brightly in the lantern light, its mysterious graven smile now horrifying in its promise. Ebbin pointed, his other hand covering his mouth.\n\nThe two men turned. It seemed to Ebbin they both leapt in shock, dismay and terror as they realized what awaited each in turn. The captain swung a huge two-handed blow at his ex-guard's neck but the corpse took it on an arm. Though the strike slashed along the bone, flensing that arm, no blood flowed, and the revenant was not slowed.\n\nThe captain danced away out of reach. The remaining guard punched at whatever barrier it was that held him captive. Falling to his knees he held out his arms to Ebbin, pleading, begging, as if this were somehow all the scholar's doing. From behind, his dead companion wrapped an arm round his neck, and tearing the mask from his head– in the process pulling away the flesh, which brought up Ebbin's gorge in a gasping heave of vomit– clamped the mask over the other's face.\n\nWhen Ebbin looked up, wiping his mouth, coughing, only two figures remained within the arches. The captain and his last guard. Drin was retreating round and round the onyx plinth, always giving ground before the slow relentless advance of the masked fiend."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ebbin could only sit and watch, fascinated, helpless. As time passed he decided that there must have been good reasons why this man Drin was a captain. How long had he held out? How many hours caught therein the confines of his inescapable prison, avoiding his unkillable foe? He himself would not have lasted more than the first minute. Yet for what seemed half a day this man had ducked and flinched aside, postponing his end. Occasionally he would dash into aim a blow at his enemy's neck, perhaps in the hope that decapitation would end the curse. But Drin faced something extraordinary– blades damaged it, but it seemed that none could bring it down. No blow could dismember it, or slow it.\n\nFinally, after hours of that macabre dance around the raised plinth, Captain Drin turned his strained, sweat-sheathed face to Ebbin. He mouthed something, perhaps \"Remember me\". Ebbin wasn't sure. And though no soldier, he roused himself to salute the man.\n\nThe captain nodded in bleak acknowledgement and then, throwing aside his sword, launched himself upon the creature. Legs clamped around the revenant's waist, he clasped both hands on the mask and worked to yank it free. Ebbin's heart leapt in admiration: Yes! If he can dislodge the mask before it is set upon his face! Perhaps then this curse will somehow be broken...\n\nThough a bear of a man, Drin was no match for the fiend. One by one, his fingers were prised from their grip on the gold, and the fiend took hold of the mask himself.\n\nEbbin looked away. Gods! Was there no escape for anyone? Was this to be his end as well?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"After waiting a time, his limbs twitching in dread, he could not help but glance up.\n\nAll was as it had been before under the arches. A figure lay upon the black stone plinth, dark cloak wrapped tight, gold mask covering its face. But Ebbin knew that Captain Drin, or at least his body, now bore that mask. As for the others, all the countless others who preceded him, well, there was plenty of dust on the floor of the chamber.\n\nThe scholar staggered to his feet, gathered up his shoulder bag. There was nothing here. This whole tomb was just one gruesome trap. A trap for those foolish enough to come digging up the past. Everything he had ever hoped for was now shattered. He stumbled for the exit. On the way he froze and his gorge rose again in a wrenching dry heave.\n\nSet in the stone floor of the chamber lay three fresh skulls. The bare bone of two still gleamed wet with gore.\n\n*\n\nAfter the guards descended, Scorch and Leff peered down into the darkness of the well fora time before wandering over to the shade of a lean-to to return to teaching the two Gadrobi youths how to play troughs. The boys didn't seem able to grasp the basic arithmetic; or perhaps the problem was their own disagreements over the rules. Humble's two guards sat down to lean against the stone lip of the well.\n\nLeff tucked an arm under his head, sighed, \"If only we were still with Her Ladyship, hey? Too bad...\"\n\nScorch threw the carved knuckle dice so hard they bounced from the board to disappear into the dirt. The two youths hunted for them. \"What was that?\" he answered, his voice low.\n\n\"What was what?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Was that an impercation?\"Cause it sounded like maybe you was makin'an impercation!\"\n\nLeff pushed himself upon his elbows, rolled his eyes. \"Gettin\" all huffy won't change the facts, Scorch.\"\n\n\"Facts? And just what facts might those be?\"\n\n\"That it was you that lost us the job with Lady Varada.\"\n\n\"I did not-\" Scorch threw up his arms. \"Tor explained it. The lady didn't want so many guards no more. So who gets the axe? Why, us outside guards, right? Plain and simple. That hierarchy thing, right? '\n\nLeff waved that aside. \"Didn't you see through all that bullcrap? I did. Tor was just coverin'up the truth. Sparin\" our feelings. '\n\nHis shoulders falling, Scorch frowned, uncertain. \"Really? Then... what was he really sayin\"? '\n\n\"That it was you lost us the job.\"\n\nScorch threw himself aside to sit facing the opposite direction.\n\nTowards noon the old hag came limping up to the lean-to. She shooed the youths away, gabbling in Gadrobi, then turned on Scorch and Leff. \"You two, get out!\" she spat. \"You go! Bad things come. I see in the sands. In smoke!\"\n\nScorch and Leff shared a knowing look. \"Better stay off that fermented goat's milk, \"Leff said.\"That kefir can sneak upon ya. '\n\nThe old woman waved an angry dismissal. \"Die then... Daru dogs!\" And she scuttled off.\n\nLeff stretched out, yawning. \"Keep a watch, Scorch,\" he said, and closed his eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"Around mid-afternoon Leff awoke to the screeching of the winch."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The guards were raising it. He and Scorch wandered over. It was the scholar, Ebbin. Scorch leaned over to help him out, then lurched as the man seemed to fall into his arms. Leff helped to yank him over the lip of the well and set him down in the dirt where he lay panting, his face gleaming pale as milk.\n\n\"Where's the captain? ' one of the guards asked.\n\n\"Water,\" Ebbin gasped, and Leff helped him to sit up while Scorch went to fetch a skin. The scholar took along drink, then splashed his face and pulled out a cloth to wipe it dry. \"Down below,\" he breathed, hoarse. \"A trap. They were taken.\"\n\n\"Taken?\" the guard echoed.\n\nEbbin nodded. He appeared on the verge of tears.\n\n\"Show us,\" the guard said.\n\nEbbin gaped up at him. \"What?\"\n\nThe guard stepped back and drew his longsword. Scorch and Leff eyed one another, set their hands on the grips of their shortswords. Ebbin struggled to his feet. \"Show you?\" He laughed. Rather unnervingly, Leff thought. \"You have no idea-\"\n\nThe second guard raised a cocked crossbow. \"You show us, old man. Or die now.\"\n\nEbbin looked from one to the other, pressed his hands to his face and moaned from behind his fingers: \"Gods forgive me...\" Then he brushed Scorch's hand from his weapon.\"You wish to see? \"he asked the guard.\"Truly see? '\n\nThe man gestured to the well with his longsword. \"You first.\"\n\n\"If you must.\" Ebbin looked at Scorch and Leff. \"You two. Lower us.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Leff scratched his cheek, bemused. \"Well– if you say so, scholar.\"\n\n\"Those are my orders.\" He swung his feet up over the stone lip of the well, began readying the sling seat.\n\n\"We comeback up first,\" the guard warned.\n\nEbbin gave along slow nod. \"Yes. You first.\"\n\nIt seemed to Leff that no sooner had the second guard descended than the rope shook with a signal to be raised. He and Scorch rewound the barrel winch to bring it backup and were surprised to see that the occupant of the sling seat was Ebbin. Scorch helped him out.\n\n\"And the guards, sir?\" Leff asked. \"They saw?\"\n\nThe scholar was sickly pale and panting once again. He drew a cloth and wiped at his sweaty face. He nodded. \"Oh yes. They found out what happened to their captain.\"\n\n\"So...\" Scorch began, \"we wait for'em? '\n\n\"No. They won't becoming backup. ' Ebbin held his brow, looking faint.\n\n\"You all right, sir?\" Leff asked.\n\n\"No. I... I don't feel well. I need to get back to Darujhistan. \"He nodded with sudden vigour.\"Yes. That's right. I must go to Darujhistan.\"\n\n\"We'll pack up the camp then, ' Leff said.\n\n\"No! You two wait here. Guard the camp. Wait for me. Yes?\"\n\nLeff frowned, doubtful. \"Well... if you say so.\"\n\nEbbin took his forearm. \"Excellent. Thank you.\" He paused, blinking, then glanced about as if confused. \"Now, you'll closeup here, yes? You won't go down?\""},{"from":"human","value":"Scorch and Leff eyed one another: the man's mad!\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"No, sir. You don't have to worry about that. We ain't goin'down there.\"\n\n\"Good! Good. I knew I could trust you. Now, I must go.\"\n\n\"Go? Now?\" Leff raised a brow. \"Night's comin\", sir. We really shouldn't let you go all alone. Can't you wait till tomorrow?\"\n\nEbbin jerked as if stung. \"No! I must go! It is important... I feel it.\"\n\nScorch and Leff exchanged looks. Scorch inclined his head, indicating that Leff should accompany the scholar. Leff flinched, offended, and pointed back. Scorch gestured angrily that Leff should go. Leff's hand went to his sword grip and he glared his defiance.\n\n\"Uncle!\" a voice called from the gathering dusk and both guards spun, hands at weapons.\n\nA slim girl was suddenly quite close. She wore loose white robes that rippled in the weak evening wind. Her feet were bare. Rings glinted gold on her toes.\n\nEbbin stared at the girl in utter incomprehension. \"Uncle?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered, smiling. She took the man's arm, leaning against him.\"May I call you that? I feel there is some sort of connection between us, yes? You feel it too? '\n\nScorch cleared his throat. \"Ah, miss? You lost?\"\n\nShe ignored him so completely it was as if he hadn't spoken. She whispered something into Ebbin's ear and the scholar's brows rose.\"Really? From him? '\n\nShe nodded eagerly. \"Oh yes! And he is ever so keen to hear what you have found.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Ebbin passed a handover his eyes."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Gods! What I have found! Yes. Of course.\" He turned to Scorch and Leff and rubbed his eyes, squinting, as if trying to focus on them. \"Ah, you two. I will go with this girl here. You two stay.\"\n\nThe guards shared another look. \"I think,\" Scorch began respectfully, \"you should both comeback to camp with-\" He stopped because the girl had flicked out an arm and a knife blade appeared in her hand. Its razor tip hovered a finger's width from his throat.\n\n\"You have seen and heard enough,\" she said.\n\n\"No!\" Ebbin shouted, rousing himself. \"Ignore them. They have no idea...\"\n\nThe girl's kohl-ringed eyes, now touched by a deep smouldering crimson, slid to the scholar. The arm flexed and the blade disappeared. She bowed her head.\"As you command, Uncle. '\n\nBut Ebbin had staggered off. \"Darujhistan,\" he was muttering. \"There's something... '\n\nThe girl remained a moment, eyeing the two men. A smile played about her full lips as she enjoyed their extreme discomfort. Then she winked and blew a kiss at each, and sauntered off after Ebbin.\n\nLeff let go along tensed breath.\n\n\"Gods below,\" Scorch murmured.\n\n\"Reminds me of the Mistress.\"\n\nScorch cocked his head. \"Yeah. Don't she just. Now what? '\n\n\"Now?\" Leff kicked at the lid of the well. \"Now I'd say we're out of work again.\"\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\n*\n\nLying flat on the crest of one of the low rises of the Dwelling Plain, Picker watched the white-robed girl escort the old man north. If they kept going in that direction they'd make the trader road to Raven Town, then onto Darujhistan. Along hike, but if they didn't stop at an inn they'd make Darujhistan near dawn."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A noise from the dark behind her announced Spindle's presence and she slid backwards down behind the rise.\n\n\"See that?\" Spindle hissed from the dark.\n\n\"Yeah,\" she answered drily. \"I was watchin\". \"Struck by a thought she raised her chin to the north, asking,\"What does your mum say about that girl? '\n\nSpindle reflexively rubbed his shirt. \"My mum tells me to watch out for girls like that.\"\n\nPicker grunted her agreement. \"Well... she was right.\"\n\n\"\"Course she's right! She's a witch! '\n\nPicker paid no attention to the tense in that statement since the man's shirt was woven from his mother's hair, and that shirt was the main reason he was still alive.\n\n\"Now what?\"\n\n\"Now?\" Picker gave a slow shrug in the dark. \"Maybe we should eyeball that well.\"\n\n\"Hunh. Well, I ain't goin'down.\"\n\nShe raised a hand as if to slap him. \"\"Course no one's goin\" down! Six go down. One comes up! They ain't payin\" us enough for that! '\n\n\"Where's Blend anyway? '\n\n\"She's around. C'mon. Let's see if those two guards are gone yet. '\n\n~\n\nBlend joined them at the well. She just appeared out of the dark, as washer way. Picker examined the wooden lid and the lock. \"All back like nothin\" happened. '\n\n\"Mark it,\" Blend said. \"We may have to describe its location.\"\n\nPicker used a rock to scrape the side– a mark that would only mean something to a Malazan marine."},{"from":"human","value":"Spindle had been standing motionless as if listening, and now he raised a hand for silence."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He pointed frantically to the well. Picker stilled, listening. A blow from down below. Falling stones, rubble. A muted splash. Another strike, like a punch. Closer. She raised her stunned gaze to Spindle, who was now backing away, a hand pressed to his chest over his shirt. Picker signed a retreat and scrambled for cover.\n\nMoments later some sort of blast sent the wooden lid erupting into the night sky, where it turned over and over, hung fora moment, then fell with a crash.\n\nA figure climbed from the well. He wore along dark cloak and a mask. The mask caught the moonlight and for an instant it glowed like a moon in miniature. Then the man turned away to walk off north, calmly and regally, as if out fora stroll in his own pleasure garden.\n\n\"Did you see that?\" Picker breathed. She eyed Spindle behind their pile of stones. \"What does your mum say about him?\"\n\n\"I think she would've shat herself. '\n\n\"Well, I nearly did.\"\n\nSpindle drew his crossbow from beneath his cloak. \"I say we give him lots of room.\"\n\nPicker nodded. \"Oh yeah. Plenty.\"\n\n*\n\nIt was all very confusing for Ebbin. He knew that he had to get back to Darujhistan– though why, he didn't really know. It was some sort of instinct, or overwhelming certainty. Then a girl appeared in the middle of the plain and claimed to have been sent by Aman. Even more strangely, somehow he recognized her, though he was sure he'd never seen her before in his life.\n\nThen they set out on a damnably trying walk. His legs ached beyond anything he'd ever experienced. The soles of his feet felt as if they'd been hammered allover by truncheons. And he was having hallucinations. Sometimes it seemed as if the entire Dwelling Plain was one huge urban conglomeration of square flat-roofed mud buildings all jammed together. Smoke from countless hearth fires rose into the night sky while he and Taya walked the giant city's narrow crooked ways."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Of course, Ebbin realized... the Dwelling Plain!\n\nFar ahead, glimpsed through the narrow gaps in the tall mud walls, there sometimes reared some sort of domed edifice like a monument, or immense temple. Its pallid stone glowed with a pale blue luminescence that seemed somehow familiar. At other times the great urban sprawl lay smashed inflaming ruins all around, the victim of some sort of titanic upheaval.\n\nWhen they entered Raven Town he was desperate fora rest, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to demand that they stop. And the girl, Taya, was pushing him along like some sort of draught animal and constantly shooting quick looks behind. It seemed as if she was actually frightened of something.\n\nCould it be... him? No, that would be too terrible to imagine. Too awful.\n\nAnd there, on the main street through town, within sight of the closed city gate, who should stand waiting wrapped in a shabby cloak but Aman himself? Ebbin stared– he'd never seen the man stick his head outside his shop, let alone leave it.\n\nAman waved Taya onward then wrapped one crooked arm round Ebbin as if supporting him. Ebbin tried to tell him what he'd seen, all the horrors, but somehow he couldn't force the words past his throat. Aman started force-marching him along in his own slow crablike limp. Ebbin glared ferociously at him as if he could somehow send his thoughts to him but the man just patted his arm. \"There, there, good friend. It'll all be over soon enough. '\n\nWhat would be over? This nightmare of a night? Or far more than that? Ebbin dreaded the answer. As they closed on the gates the great iron-bound leaves improbably swung open to greet them, and there was Taya. She waved them in."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Aman frog-marched him onward. Like Taya, he too was glancing behind, squinting with one eye, then the other. What was back there? Ebbin tried to look but the shopkeeper forced him on. They passed through mostly empty streets. In one of the market squares the early-morning vendors were busy setting up their stalls and arranging their goods. Ebbin and Aman marched through with no one paying them any particular attention. Taya was still with them. Sometimes she shadowed them closely and Ebbin caught sight of her glowing white robes. At other times she was nowhere to be seen.\n\nThey reached the main east– west thoroughfare that ran alongside the Second Tier Wall. Aman hugged Ebbin closely, as if afraid he would runoff, but the scholar was too confused to muster any sort of resolution. At times he didn't recognize any of the streets they walked. Tall white-stone buildings faced the roads, great estates, their façades richly decorated with scrollwork. Fanciful miniature creatures, some winged, peeped out amid the scrolls and stone forests.\n\nAnd Ebbin recognized the style. It was the fabled Darujhistani Imperial baroque.\n\nBut perhaps this was all nothing more than his own deluded wish fulfilment. He wondered, terrified, whether the horrific events in the mausoleum had finally driven him over the edge. Perhaps he was mad. His peers, the scholars and researchers of the Philosophical Society, had already dismissed him as such.\n\nHe remembered a chilling definition of insanity he'd read in some wry old commentator's compendium: when you think everyone around you is mad, that's when you should start to suspect it's actually you.\n\nThey reached the ruined old gates to the estate district and here another figure awaited them. This one appeared to be no more than a dark shadow, a tall man in tattered clothes, a ghost. Ebbin flinched away but Aman marched him right up to the wavering, translucent shade."},{"from":"human","value":"Taya, now with them, curtsied to the ghost."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Uncle,\" she murmured.\n\nAman bowed mockingly. \"Well met, Hinter.\"\n\nThe shade arched a brow in lofty disparagement. \"Aman. We'd thought you dead. '\n\nThe hunched shopkeeper waved to indicate his bent body. \"Who could have survived, yes?\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\n\"All is in readiness?\" Aman enquired.\n\n\"All is ready,\" the shade responded tartly, \"since I am left with no alternative. He comes?\"\n\nAman shook Ebbin by his shoulders. \"Oh yes. He comes. Always away, scholar. There is always away. If it is nearly impossible to break in– then perhaps one must reverse one's thinking, yes? I am sorry, scholar. But no one has ever escaped him. '\n\nThe shade turned away. \"Not true,\" it murmured. \"One did.\"\n\nAman sniffed and rubbed his lopsided face. \"Him. I never did believe that.\"\n\n*\n\nSpindle and Picker followed the masked man up the Raven Town trader road, all the way into town. It was eerie the way no one was about. Dogs ran before it. Early-morning merchants and farmers turned sharply to take side streets, or quickly entered shops and buildings lining the way. The man had the entire road to himself. Picker passed men and women crouched in the dirt beside it, hands covering their faces, shuddering. Picker yanked a hand away from the face of one old farmer only to provoke gabbled terror and tears.\n\nThe fellow strode majestically along right up to and through the open Raven Town gate. A city gate that should not be open. Picker signed to Spindle to checkout the west gatehouse, then slipped into the east. Blend, she knew, would keep tabs on their friend. Inside she found the guards dead, thrust through with swift professional cuts. Their young little sprite? Or another? An organization? Their guild friends?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She exited to see Spindle, who signed that on his side all were dead. She answered in kind. Together they trotted on after Blend. They found early risers in the streets but all were silent, all turned to face the walls. Picker pulled one burly labourer round only to find him weeping, his eyes screwed shut.\n\nAt the spice-sellers' square they found the morning market already setup in amaze of carts, mats laid out and stalls unfolded, but utterly silent and still. People crouched, hiding their faces, or lay on their sides as if asleep. Picker swallowed to wet her throat, tightened her sweaty grip on her long-knife. Then Spindle touched her shoulder and pointed up to the paling clear night sky.\n\n\"Would ya look at that.\"\n\n*\n\nAmbassador Aragan awoke with a start and a curse. He flailed about, searching fora weapon.\n\n\"It's all right, sir! \"a familiar voice yelped, alarmed.\"It's me sir!\"\n\nAragan sat up, blinking in the dark. \"Burn's teats, man! What houris it? '\n\n\"Just dawn, sir.\"\n\n\"This better be good, Captain.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. It's the Moranth mission, sir. They're fleeing the city.\"\n\nAragan gaped at the captain, then shut his mouth. \"What?\" He threw himself from his bed, searched the floor. Captain Dreshen held out his dressing gown.\n\n\"This way, sir.\"\n\nDreshen led him to what had originally been a front guest bedroom but was now an office of trade relations. Here night staff crowded the windows looking over the city. Aragan pushed his way through to the front. The pre-dawn was a paling violet in the east, the brightest stars still blazing above. His heart sinking, Aragan saw the obscene green streak over the setting, mottled moon. He made a sign against evil, though he knew the gesture was meaningless. After all, every escaped cow and dead chicken was blamed on the damned thing, so there was noway of knowing what influence, if any, it might be exerting on anyone's life."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Movement caught his eye. Winking, glimmering, flashing high over the city. Quorl wings– a flight of the giant dragonfly-like creatures taking their Moranth masters west, to the Mountains of Mist, which some called Cloud Forest. Aragan was reminded of the Free Cities campaign to the north and similar night flights and drops over Pale and Cat.\n\nEven as he watched, another wing took flight, heaving up from rooftops around the quarters of the Moranth embassy. The quorls turned through the air, wings scintillating like jewels in the pre-dawn light, and arced to the west. Aragan watched them go, feeling both terrified and exhilarated. He pushed away from the window, faced his aide. \"Rouse the garrison, Captain. Order full alert.\"\n\nThe aide saluted. \"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"And fetch my armour.\"\n\n*\n\nPicker ducked reflexively as quorls swooped overhead, sending stalls toppling and garments and powdered spice flying.\n\n\"Dammit to dead Hood!\" Spindle swore. \"Is it a drop?\"\n\nPicker covered her eyes from the stinging spice. \"No. A pick-up. They're runnin\".\"\n\n\"Fanderay... maybe we should too.\"\n\n\"Not yet. We've been hired to recon. So-\"She broke off as a whistle sounded.\"That's Blend. This way, c'mon. '\n\nThey halted at the corner of a wide boulevard. Blend stepped out of shadows to meet them. \"You lose him?\" Picker asked.\n\n\"Hood, no. Walkin\" right up aside the Second Tier Wall, plain as day. Headed for the estate district. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You see them quorls?\" Spindle asked.\n\nBlend eyed him as if he were demented. \"You two hang back. I'll tag along. '\n\nPicker nodded. \"Right.\"\n\nSpindle handed over a satchel. \"Take this... insurance.\"\n\nShe held the bag away from herself. \"This what I think it is?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nShe shot him a dark look. \"Been holding out onus?\"\n\n\"No more than anyone else.\"\n\n\"That's not an answer, ' Blend growled.\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n*\n\nAn old woman was shouting herself hoarse in the narrow crooked paths through the Maiten shantytown west of Darujhistan: \"Pretty birdies! Pretty birdies! Look all at the pretties!\" In the twilight before dawn the garbage-sorters, beggars and labourers groaned and pressed their thread-thin blankets to their heads.\n\n\"For the love of Burn, shut up!\" one fellow bellowed.\n\nThe women, already up preparing the meals for the day, fanned their cook-fires and watched the old woman pointing to the lightening sky as she staggered up and down the alleys. They looked atone another and shook their heads. There she went again. That crazy old woman– proving all the clichés their men kept mouthing about old women who lived in the most rundown huts at the edges of towns. Someone should let her know what an embarrassment she was.\n\nAnd where did she come by all that smoke, anyway?\n\n\"Almost now! Almost!\" the old woman shouted. Then she fell to her knees in the mud and streams of excrement and loudly retched up the contents of her stomach."},{"from":"human","value":"The women pursed their lips."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gods, the menfolk would never let them live this one down! Someone ought to guide her to the lake and set heron along walk up a short pier.\n\nProblem was– the women knew she really was a witch.\n\n*\n\nThe fat demon, who was about the size of a medium breed of dog, sat dozing amid the tumbled broken rock of the ancient ruins. Grunting, it coughed, then choked in earnest, flailing. Clawed fingers thrust their way into his mouth, seeking, then withdrew holding along pale fishbone.\n\nThe demon sighed its relief, adjusted its buttocks on the rocks and cast a cursory glance to the stone arch opposite. It froze.\n\nOh no. Nononononono. Not again!\n\nIt launched itself into the air. Its tiny wings struggled to gain purchase, failed. It bounced tumbling downhill, gained momentum, succeeded in lifting its dragging feet from the weeds and took off slowly and heavily across the city like an obscene bumblebee.\n\nOnce more it had that word for its master. That most unwelcome word.\n\n*\n\nShe'd been irritable of late. Distracted. Short-tempered. If Rallick were the type of man to be dismissive of women he might've characterized her as catty. Not that he would dare intimate such a thing to Vorcan Radok, once mistress of Darujhistan's assassins. And so it was sometime before he finally worked up the determination to mention the topic of the professional killings in the Gadrobi district. He alluded to it over dinner. Her gaze in response had been withering. She sipped her wine.\n\n\"And you think I'm responsible? Taken work on the side? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I don't know who did it, ' he responded, honestly enough.\n\nBut that had been enough to break the spell between them. She retired alone and he sat up late into the night in turn damning her as an unreasonable prickly woman and damning himself for allowing anything to come between them. When he finally lay down she was asleep– or pretending to be.\n\nShe'd been sleeping poorly lately. Tonight she tossed and turned, even murmured in a language he'd never heard before. So he was not surprised when she rose naked and padded across to the open terrace doors to stare into the blue radiance that glowed over Darujhistan. He came up behind her, set his hands on her shoulders. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Something...\" she breathed, head cocked as if listening to the night.\n\n\"Should I-\" She lifted a hand for silence. He stilled, trusting her instincts.\n\nThen, astonishingly, the skin beneath his fingers flashed almost unbearably hot. For an instant it was as if he held the spiny, gnarled back of a boar, or a bull bhederin, and Vorcan flinched backwards, brushing him aside like a child. \"No!\" she ground out. \"How could...\"\n\nShe went to the bed, began throwing on clothes.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\nDressed, she stopped before him. Something new was in her dark eyes. Something that stole his breath, for real fear swam in those deep pools. \"Leave the estate now,\" she told him. \"Do not return. Do not try to contact me. Go.\"\n\n\"Tell me what it is. I'll-'\n\n\"No! You will do nothing.\" She pressed a smooth dry palm to the side of his face. \"Promise me, Rallick. No matter what happens, what comes, you will not act. No contracts, no... attempts.\" She rose on her toes to brush her dry hot lips to his. \"Please,\" she whispered."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He nodded, swallowing. \"If you insist.\"\n\nShe backed away from him into the darker gloom of the bed-chamber, those dark eyes holding his. He dressed quietly while listening to the night, trying to hear what she might've heard. But he detected nothing– as far as he could tell it was merely an unusually still and quiet night.\n\nDownstairs, Vorcan's one servant, the butler-cum-castellan Studlock, who never seemed to be off duty, let him out. Rallick listened to the many locks being ratcheted back into place behind him, then set out into the night.\n\n*\n\nIn the tallest tower of his grounds, Baruk stood looking out over the estate district of Darujhistan. Fora moment he looked not upon the night-sleeping buildings as they lay now but upon another city, one of a profusion of towers much like his, all aglow with a flickering ghostly blue illumination. And amidst all the towers, rearing far more immense, a great dome encompassing Majesty Hill. Then he passed a shaking hand before his eyes and glanced aside, down to where a shivering, whimpering Chillbais crouched, terrified, but not quite so terrified as to not be chewing on a loaf of old bread.\n\n\"Was he waiting?\" Baruk mused. \"Waiting for Anomander to begone?\" He drew his hand down his chin. \"I wonder.\" He went to the door, turned as a final thought struck him. \"You are free to go, Chillbais. Your service is done.\" He pulled the door shut behind him.\n\nFat loaf of bread jammed in his mouth, the demon peered about the empty room. Free? Free to go where? Free to do what? Oh dear, oh dear. Free perhaps to be enslaved by something far worse? No, no, no. Not I."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Chillbais waddled to a clothes chest, struggled up over the side to tumble in, then pulled the top closed.\n\n*\n\nAman dragged Ebbin to the ruins atop Despot's Barbican. Here, he turned to face the way they'd come, a fist tight on Ebbin's shirt.\n\n\"Why are you doing this?\" Ebbin asked in a plaintive whisper.\n\nAman slapped him. \"Quiet. Your turn will come.\"\n\n\"He is near,\" the shade of Hinter said.\n\nAman tilted his crooked head in order to look skywards. \"The moon is not right,\" he warned.\n\n\"Soon,\" answered the shade.\n\nTaya ran up. Her gossamer silks blew behind her like white flames. \"He is here.\"\n\nAman pushed Ebbin to his knees, then lowered himself onto one knee. He shook Ebbin, snarling, \"Bow your head, slave.\"\n\nEbbin could not have kept his head erect if he tried; something was hammering him down. Some unbearable pressure like the hand of a giant was squashing him as if he were an insect. A whimper slipped from him as he glimpsed the dirty bottom edge of a dark cloak before him.\n\n\"Father,\" Aman murmured. \"We remain your faithful servants.\"\n\nEbbin whimpered, shaking. This was not for him. Such scenes were not to be witnessed by such as he. The pressure– the iron hand grinding him into the dirt– eased, and he caught his breath.\n\nAman straightened, yanked him up. \"Stand now.\"\n\nHe complied, but would not raise his gaze beyond the mud-spattered edge of the cloak. So, now it was his turn. A hand would clasp his armor shoulder and the mask would be pressed to his face. He would be blind behind it, unable to breathe. He would die choking. And then... and then... what? What was this thing before him? Would he then become... it?"},{"from":"human","value":"Some force compelled Ebbin's gaze upwards."},{"from":"gpt","value":"His eyes climbed to the oval gold mask, now a glowing circle of reflected light. The mysterious mocking smile engraved there was sly now, as if he and it shared some hidden knowledge unguessed at even by those surrounding them.\n\nThe cloaked figure raised a hand, gesturing, and Aman bowed again. \"Yes. Spread out. Guard all approaches. Let none interfere.\"\n\nEbbin was left alone with the creature. What had they named it? Father? In truth? Perhaps the title was merely honorific. Now would it do it? Take him? His knees lost their strength and he fell to the ground. Gods! Why this agonizing delay? Won't it just end things?\n\nStanding above him the creature held out its right hand, pointed to Ebbin's. Mystified, Ebbin looked at his own right hand. It was fisted, the knuckles white with pressure. When did... His breath caught. He remembered the tomb. He remembered reaching...\n\nOh no. Please, no...\n\nSomething was in his fist. It was hard and round. Ebbin's heart lurched, skipping and tripping, refusing to beat.\n\nOh no. Oh no, no. Please no.\n\nHe held out his hand. It was oddly numb, as if it were someone else's. He unclenched his fingers and thereon his palm rested the gleaming white pearl from the last niche of the sepulchre. Moonlight shone from it like molten silver.\n\nPlease! I beg of you... do not make me do what I think you will demand. Please! Spare me!\n\nThe creature raised its head to the night sky, and for an instant Ebbin had the dizzying sense that the moon was no longer in the sky but on the mask before him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A pale circle. A pearl... of course! It was so obvious. He would have to warn everyone! He-\n\nThe creature raised a hand above that smiling uplifted mouth. The fingers were pinched together as if holding some delicacy, a grape or a sweet, then opened there above the mouth. The moon lowered to regard him. Its enigmatic smile was now one of triumph.\n\nOh no.\n\n*\n\nAt Lady Varada's estate its two remaining guards, Madrun and Lazan Door, were engaged in their timeless ritual of tossing dice against a wall when one bone die refused to stop spinning. Both watched it, wonder-struck, as it turned and turned before them.\n\nThen screaming erupted from the estate. They ran for the main hall. Here they found the castellan, Studlock, in his layered cloths as if wrapped in rags, blocking the way down to the rooms below. The continuous howling was not just one of fear. It sounded as if a woman was having her hands and feet sawn off.\n\nStudlock raised open hands. \"M'lady gave commands not to be disturbed. '\n\nThe two guards peered in past the castellan. \"Would you listen!\" said Madrun. \"Someone's got her. '\n\n\"Not at all,\" soothed Studlock. \"M'lady is experiencing an illness. Nothing more. You may characterize it as something like withdrawal. I will prepare suitable medicines this moment– if I have your word not to go below! M'lady values her privacy.\"\n\nMadrun and Lazan winced at a particularly terrifying scream. \"But...\"\n\nStudlock shook a crooked finger. \"Your devotion is commendable, I assure you. However, all is in hand. Oil of d'bayang, I believe, is called for. And alcohol. A great deal of alcohol. \"The castellan shuddered within his strips of cloth.\"Though how anyone could consume such poison is beyond me. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Lazan stroked his face and jerked as if surprised when his fingers touched his flesh. He tapped his partner on the shoulder and the two reluctantly withdrew.\n\nBehind them the tormented howling continued throughout the night.\n\n*\n\nIn the deepest donjon beneath his estate High Alchemist Baruk knelt before a large diagram cut into the stone floor and inscribed in poured bronze, silver andiron. In one hand he held out a smoking taper with which he drew symbols in the air, while with the other he flicked drops of blood from a cut across the meat of his thumb.\n\nIn mid-ceremony the locked, warded and sealed iron-bound door to the chamber crashed open and a gust of wind blew out the taper and brushed aside the intricate forest of symbols lingering in the air.\n\nBaruk's shoulders fell.\" Blast. '\n\nHe lunged for the middle of the concentric rings of wards but something seemed to yank on his feet and he fell short. His arms, which crossed the rings of engraved metal, burst into flames. The robes fell to ash, revealing black armoured limbs twisted in sinew. His hands glowed, smoking, becoming toughened claws. The yanking continued. He scrabbled at the stone floor, gouging the rock and the metal bands.\n\n\"No!\"\n\nHe flew backwards, stopped only by his clawed hands grasping the stone doorjamb. He hung there, snarling, while the stone fractured and ground beneath his amber talons. The stones exploded in an eruption of dust and shards and he was whipped away up the hall to disappear.\n\n*\n\nRallick entered the Phoenix Inn to find the common room uncharacteristically subdued. The crowd was quiet, the talk a low murmur, tense and guarded. He nodded to Scurve, the barkeeper, as he crossed to the back. Here Kruppe sat at his usual table. A dusty dark bottle stood before him, unopened. Rallick pulled up a chair and sat, noted the two glasses."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What are you celebrating?\"\n\nThe fat man roused himself, blinking as if returning from some trance. \"I? Celebrating? Neither. I invite you to join me in giving witness. We shall drink to the inevitable. The unavoidable. The relentless turning of the celestial globes in which all that was before shall be again. As it must.\" He took up the bottle and began picking at its seal.\n\n\"What are you going on about?\"\n\nTongue pressed firmly between his teeth, Kruppe answered, \"Nothing. And everything. Chance versus inevitability. How those two war. Their eternal battle is what we call our lives, my friend! Which shall win? We shall see... as we saw before.\"\n\nFora time Rallick watched his friend wrestling with the bottle, then, sighing his impatience, snatched it from him and began picking with his knife at the tar-like substance hardened around the neck. \"What drink is this?\" he asked. \"I've not seen the like. Is it foreign? Malazan? '\n\n\"No. No foreign distillation is that. It is sadly entirely of our own making. And very sour it is too. It was set aside long ago for just this foreseen occasion.\"\n\n\"And the occasion?\" Rallick managed to remove the last of the old wax.\n\nKruppe reached for the bottle but Rallick jammed his blade into the cork and twisted. The fat man winced, yanking back his hand. He studied his fingertips as if burned. \"Nothing important,\" he murmured. \"Everything is connected to everything else. Nothing is of more significance than any other thing.\"\n\nTwisting and twisting, Rallick drew out the cork. He handed back the bottle. Kruppe took it, gingerly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So we're celebrating nothing? ' Rallick said, arching a brow.\n\nKruppe raised the bottle. \"You are most correct. This is nothing to celebrate.\" He tilted the bottle to pour. Nothing appeared. He tilted the bottle even further. Still nothing emerged. He held the bottle upside down over the glass, shook it, and not one drop fell. Rallick took it from him and held it up to one eye. He handed it back.\n\n\"Empty. Empty as death's mercy. What kind of joke is this, Kruppe? '\n\nKruppe frowned at the bottle. \"An entirely surprising one, I assure you, dear friend.\"\n\nRallick raised a hand to Jess. \"If you're too tight-fisted to spring fora bottle you just have to say so, Kruppe. No need for cheap conjuror's tricks.\"\n\nThe squat man suddenly grinned like a cherub, his cheeks bunching. He raised a finger. \"Ahh! Now I have the way of it. The bottle was not empty at all!\"\n\nRallick grimaced his incomprehension. \"What?\"\n\n\"No. Not at all, dear friend. What you must consider, my dear Rallick, was that perhaps it was never full to begin with!\"\n\nRallick just signalled all the more impatiently for Jess.\n\n*\n\nIn the slums west of Maiten the old woman sat slouched in the dirt before her shack and inhaled savagely on a clay pipe. The embers blazed, threatening to ignite the tangled nest of hair that hung down over her face. She sucked again, gasping, her face reddening, and held the smoke far down in her lungs, her eyes watering, before releasing the cloud in a fit of coughing. She wiped her wet lips with a dirty sleeve and staggered uncertainly to her feet."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Now is the time,\" she murmured to no one. \"Now it is.\" She reached for the open doorway to her shack, tottering. She managed to hook a hand on either side of the ramshackle wattle-and-daub edge to heave herself inside, then fell, fighting down vomit.\n\nShe felt about in the dirt until one hand found a bag, which she clutched to herself and curled around, sometimes giggling and sometimes weeping. The weeping became a sad song crooned hoarsely in a language none around her understood. She lay cradling the bag for sometime.\n\n*\n\nAtop Despot's Barbican, Aman, Taya and the shade of Hinter made their way through the maze of ruined foundations to return to their master's side. Aman fell to his knees in obeisance, saying, \"Yes, Father?\"\n\nHinter bowed, as did Taya. Her eyes shone with wild exhilaration as she peered up at the masked figure. She noted the body of the scholar lying nearby and kicked it. The man grunted, stirring. \"This one lives?\" she asked aloud.\n\nThe masked creature gestured. Aman grunted his understanding. \"He will speak the Father's will. '\n\nThe girl sneered. \"This one? Him? He is nothing.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" Hinter said. \"A slave. He will never be a threat.\"\n\n\"And speaking of slaves!\" Aman suddenly crowed, peering down the hill.\n\nAmong the ruins something was clawing its way to them. Blackened, smoking, it made its agonized crippled slither all the way up to the mud-smeared edge of the masked creature's cloak. There it lay, face pressed to the dirt. Aman cackled his enjoyment of the sight. Hinter merely shook his head. Taya's face lit up with avid glee. She knelt to prod the sizzling body, raw and crimson where cracks revealed deeper flesh. \"Is this... her?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"No,\" said Hinter."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It is Barukanal.\"\n\nThe grin inverted to a pout. She searched the hillside. \"No others?\"\n\n\"They appear to have eluded the Call,\" Hinter mused, thoughtful. \"For the moment.\"\n\nTaya straightened from the smoking body. \"What is to become of him then?\"\n\n\"He is to be punished,\" came anew voice and the three turned to regard Scholar Ebbin, who was now sitting up, a handover his stomach, the other over his mouth, horrified shock on his face.\n\nAfter a moment of silence, the city eerily still beneath them, Taya cleared her throat. \"So,\" she asked Aman, \"is that it? Is it done?\"\n\n\"It has merely begun,\" Hinter said. And he pointed an ethereal arm to the sky.\n\nTaya looked up and her face lit with child-like pleasure. \"Ohhh... Beautiful!\"\n\n*\n\nAt first Jan thought he dreamt. A voice was calling him. Distant at first, it seemed faint, gentle even. He saw his old master, the last First, sitting cross-legged before him. On his face was not the pale oval mask of all other Seguleh, painted or not. Instead he wore coarse wood, unpolished and gouged, worn to remind its bearer of the imperfection and shame of his people.\n\nAs always, the dark sharp eyes behind the mask studied and weighed him. Then, alarmingly, the mask tilted downwards as if in apology. I am so sorry, the wiry old man seemed to say.\n\nThen the image exploded into smoke and afar more distant figure now stood in the darkness, cloaked, tall and commanding. Upon his face was not the child's crude wooden mask, but a beaten golden oval that shone cold and bright, like the moon. And in his dream Jan bowed to the mask."},{"from":"human","value":"Yet it was not the bended knee and lowered head of devotion freely given to his old master."},{"from":"gpt","value":"In his dream Jan was sickened to find that he had no choice.\n\nHe awoke, his body shivering in a cold sweat. Alight tap at his door sounded again. He reached out and drew on his mask. Rising, he picked up the sword that lay next to his bedding and crossed to the door. A servant was waiting, head lowered.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"The Third and Fourth await without, sir. And... others.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nJan slid the door shut and threw on a shirt, trousers and sash. He went to the front. Therein the night, their servants holding torches aloft, waited his fellows of the Ten, the ruling Eldrii. They bowed.\n\n\"You felt it?\" Jan asked.\n\nSix masks inclined their assent.\n\nJan answered their bow. \"We are called, my friends. As was promised us so long ago. Ready the ships.\"\n\nAnd they bowed once more."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And he who knew many conflicts\n\nspoke these words:\n\nWhere have the swordsmen gone?\n\nWhere is the gold giver?\n\nWhere are the feasts of the hall?\n\nAlas for the bright dome!\n\nAlas for the fallen splendour!\n\nNow that time has passed away,\n\ndark buried in night,\n\nas if it had never been!\n\nWhere lay the servants,\n\nwound round with wards?\n\nBrought low by warriors\n\nand their cruel spears.\n\nNow storms beat\n\nat rocky cliffs,\n\nthe bones of the earth\n\nharbingers of storm.\n\nAll is strife and trouble\n\nin earthly kingdoms.\n\nHere men are fleeting.\n\nHere honour is fleeting.\n\nAll the foundation of the world\n\nturns to waste!\n\nSong of the Exiles\n\nCant\n\nANTSY SPENT THE night on the common room dirt floor. Malakai paid for that and a room for Orchid. Money, it seemed, wasn't an issue for the man. She woke him up in the morning bleary-eyed and hungover; he'd brooded far too long into the night over far too many earthenware bottles of cheap Confederation beer. That the ale went onto Malakai's bill made the drinking all the easier, and his funk all the greater. His friend Jallin made no reappearance and Antsy decided that maybe he'd seen the last of that skinny thief.\n\nMalakai brought down six fat skins of sweet water, two bulging panniers and a coil of braided jute rope, and piled the lot beside Antsy and Orchid. Antsy took the majority of the waterskins, the rope, and one pannier to balance his own. He wondered resentfully whether the man had taken them on merely to serve as porters. Malakai wore his thick dirty cloak once more, but now, in his black waist sash and on two shoulder baldrics, he carried as many knives as you could collect from shaking down an entire bourse of Darujhistani toughs. Each was shoved into a tight leather sheath so it wouldn't fallout or rattle. The man caught Antsy eyeing the hardware and smiled, waving a leather-gloved hand.\"For show, ' he said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Orchid took the second pannier. She too was unable to look away from all the pig-stickers. Malakai led the way, and though Antsy listened he didn't hear the faintest rattle or tap. The man still moved as silently as a shade. Antsy shivered, reminded of certain assassin-types he'd served beside over the years; then he shrugged and thumped along behind: better with him than against him. Leaving the inn he winced as the bright morning glare stabbed his eyes.\n\nThe day's fee-collecting had already begun. They entered the crowd, but unlike yesterday, when Antsy had had to push his way through the press, it parted before them as if everyone sensed that something was up. The faces he passed betrayed hostility, curiosity, resentment, and even smug smiles as if some knew what waited out at the Spawns– and it wasn't pretty.\n\nMalakai handled the transaction. Antsy experienced a moment of light-headed avarice when the man tipped a stream of cut rubies onto the tabletop. Whatever this man was after out at the Spawns, riches could not be it. He probably already possessed enough to purchase a title in Darujhistan. Free Cities Confederation troops escorted them to the launch.\n\n\"So you made it safe and sound, I see,\" a voice greeted Antsy when he jumped up and swung his legs into the tall boat. Malakai, already within, turned to the voice, his eyes narrowing dangerously. There, ensconced at the stern, sat the young Darujhistani nobleman from the Island Inn who'd probably saved Antsy's neck.\n\nAntsy touched Malakai's arm.\"It's okay. I met him here.\" Malakai just turned away to occupy the prow.\n\nAntsy leaned over the side to help Orchid up. She tried to clasp his hand but he avoided that to show her the wrist grip. He hauled but barely raised her; the girl was surprisingly heavy. Must be her damned height."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Wait,\" said the young sword who had moved next to him. He jumped over the side and knelt before Orchid. \"You may stand on me, m'lady. '\n\nOrchid stared at his bent back as if it were some sort of cruel trick– that he would tumble her into the surf or move aside at the last instant. \"Go ahead, lass,\" Antsy growled. \"Give the damned fool your boot.\"\n\nShe planted one muddy shoe on his back and, steadied by Antsy, swung the other over the side. Looking rather embarrassed, she sat down among their equipment. Antsy helped the nobleman backup. \"Thanks,\" he told him. \"And thanks again.\"\n\n\"Yes. Thank you,\" Orchid added, her flushed face turned aside.\n\n\"It was nothing,\" and the young man bowed.\n\n\"Anyone else!\" a guard bellowed from the beach. \"Anyone else for today?\"\n\n\"So, what's your name? ' Antsy asked.\n\nThe lad bowed again, brushed back his long brown hair. \"Corien. Corien Lim. Honoured, sir.\"\n\nAntsy cocked a brow. \"Honoured? What in the Abyss for?\" He touched his neck. \"It's me who's grateful.\"\n\nThe lad smiled. \"Honoured to meet a veteran. I am a great admirer of your, ah, military organization.\"\n\nAntsy lost his ease and frowned, glancing about. \"Yeah. Well. Keep that under your damned hat.\"\n\nThe youth laughed. \"It is quite obvious to everyone, sir, I assure you.\"\n\nConfederation guards began pushing the launch out. Antsy steadied himself. \"Sir? I ain't no Hood-damned officer. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your name, then. If you would?\"\n\n\"Red.\"\n\nCorien's gaze rose to his hair.\"Admirable alias. ' Grinning, he bowed to Orchid and returned to the stern.\n\nAntsy sat amid the coiled rope and piled panniers. \"Thanks for all your help,\" he muttered aside to Malakai. But the man continued to ignore everyone, his gaze on the horizon and the black dots of the distant Spawns.\n\nGlancing back, Antsy watched the crowd diminishing on the beach. He caught eyes glaring daggers at him. It was Jallin sending doom and destruction upon his head byway of the evil eye. The youth drew a finger across his neck in a universal gesture. Antsy simply turned aside: he was on his way while the thief was stuck in Hurly. And that, he decided, must lie at the root of the youth's fanatical hatred.\n\nThe crossing took most of the day. First, the twelve guards rowed them out to awaiting double-masted Confederation coaster. Here they were offered smoked meats and kegs of water at outrageous prices. They declined. The sails were raised and they headed south, crossways to the prevailing easterlies.\n\nAntsy watched Corien strike up conversations with the sailors. Easy charm, that one had. Boundless confidence that seemed to flow into anyone he addressed. Had to watch out for that. Confidence got you killed. Better to be careful. Better to be... suspicious.\n\nHe settled into the deepest shade he could find on the coaster's deck. He unwrapped his grinding stone, spat on it, and set to work on the edges of his long-knives. He knew they thought he was crazy, all his buddies in the army. They sure looked at him askance whenever he gave his opinion. But he was also just assure he'd long ago come to the deepest truest secret about how to stay alive... and it was one most people either didn't want to know, or couldn't face up to."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The truth is that the goal of existence is to kill you.\n\nOnce you grasped that essential truth it was pretty much everything you needed to know in a nutshell right there. He'd learned that the hard way, growing up working Walk's fishing fleet and then in the army. Of course, the world always won in the end. The only real question was just how long you could holdout against all the infinite weapons and tools and stratagems at its disposal. The only way he'd succeeded so far was in always expecting the worst.\n\n\"Look at him,\" Orchid snorted from where she leaned against the ship's railing.\"The peacock fool. Can't he see they're just stringing him along– laughing at him? '\n\nAntsy turned an eye on Corien, still joking with the sailors. \"Maybe. Where's our employer? '\n\nShe peered round the deck. \"Don't know. He sort of disappeared the moment we got onboard. '\n\n\"Good.\"\n\nShe pulled her wind-tossed longhair from her face, peered down at him, puzzled. \"Why?\"\n\nHe let out along breath, brushed a thumb across the long-knife's edge. Good enough for hack'n\"slash work.\"\"Cause who's to say these Confederation boys are gonna deliver us to the Spawns? ' Now the girl looked completely thrown. Poor lass... not fit for the world, you are.\n\n\"Whatever do you mean?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"No one's comeback, right? So who's to say they don't just dump us over the side? '\n\n\"But– that would be murder!\"\n\nHe winced. \"Keep your voice down, lass. And yeah– it would. But these boys are pirates and wreckers for generations. Nothing new for them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"No."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I don't believe it. '\n\nLike always. Denial of the discomfiting truth. He hugged his pannier to his lap. \"Yeah. Well. Let's just hope so. '\n\nThe Spawns grew to the south. They became a collection of jagged black-rock islands. The only signs of life were wheeling cawing seabirds and faint tendrils of smoke rising here and there amid the peaks. They didn't look all that big, only the main island, which at sea level looked as wide as a mountain. From there it climbed steep and saw-edged into a series of knife-like crags. He wondered why it hadn't sunk lower. Could it have landed on shoals? Surely the Rivan Sea wasn't so shallow this far out. It also struck him that the entire mammoth structure listed to one side. Antsy canted his head as he followed the angle down to where the waves crashed in a distant white surf at the waterline. Burn preserve him! Was it floating?\n\nAt last a reef-like collection of black rocks reared ahead, sharp-edged and spotted with bird-droppings. The sea hissed and the muted roar of surf reached Antsy. At a yell from the mainmast the anchor was dropped. Men ran for the sails, taking them in. Their bare feet thumped over the deck timbers. Some readied the ship's boat, a flat-bottomed punt.\n\nMalakai appeared at Antsy's side.\"We'll disembark now.\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\nThe punt was lowered into the rough waters and four sailors climbed down to handle it. Their equipment was lowered by rope. Antsy climbed down first then called for Orchid. She was lowered in a sling that he helped guide from below. Next came Malakai. Last, Corien swung down on one of the punt's ropes. The sailors pushed off using long polished poles. Everyone crouched as low as possible as the tiny punt yawed alarmingly."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Poling from rock to rock the sailors made good time. Soon the ship was lost to sight behind amaze of stone shards that varied from man-height to ship-size. The farther they penetrated into the eerie reef the smoother the water became until it was as if they were crossing a land-locked lagoon.\n\n\"Look there,\" Orchid cried, pointing.\n\nTo one side a pointed stone shard resembling an immense fang reared at an angle from the waters. Its contours troubled Antsy until he recognized its features: a circular staircase cut from the very rock spiralled upwards, ending at empty air. The sight brought home the outrageousness, the impertinence, of their intentions. Orchid sobered, losing her excited grin, and she rubbed her arms as if chilled. Even the sailors grew quiet. They peered everywhere at once and Antsy didn't think it was from the difficulty of the passage. Only Malakai and, surprisingly, Corien appeared unaffected by the atmosphere of alien grandeur.\n\nEvery little sound echoed into distorted noise: the harsh cawing of the seabirds, the crack of the poles against rock, unseen falling stones, and the constant slap of the waves. From beneath the water, Antsy caught the glint of the day's dying light glimmering from sunken metal, possibly even silver or gold. Multicoloured fish darted, nibbling at algae and seaweed.\n\nOrchid began humming a slow dirge-like tune. The humming became words that she whispered to the passing shattered basaltic rock.\n\nMother Dark he forswore,\n\nDeath's own blade he bore.\n\nDragon's blood courses his veins,\n\nImmortal,\n\nHe walks till end of Light:\n\nAnomander,"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Night's own fickle Knight.\n\nEveryone turned to her. Even the sailors stopped poling. Blinking as if returning from along daydream she blushed furiously, her dark features flushing, and she lowered her head. \"From an epic poem composed during the Holy City period of the Seven Cities region,\" she said.\n\nCorien cleared his throat. \"Thank you. Very appropriate.\"\n\nThe sailors eyed one another but none commented. They returned to their poling, following a route known only to them. The main island reared over them now, rising sheer from the surf as a cliff. The sailors started edging the punt round it. Between the shards, off to one side, Antsy spotted an anchored ship rocking in the waves. It was long and low-slung in the water, single-masted. A war galley. Shields hung all along its side just above the oar-ports. In the dying light it was hard to tell, but the shields appeared somehow decorated. Then it was gone in the maze of rocks. Antsy turned away shaking his head; it was almost as if he'd imagined it.\n\nThe punt yawed dangerously now, threatening to capsize. The waves batted it like the toy it was. A number of times it was almost swamped as the surf threatened to suck it against the rocks of the cliff. A darker shadow, the mouth of a cave someway above the waterline, came into view round the curve ahead and as they drew near Antsy spotted a rope ladder hanging from it into the surf. The sailors poled the boat to just beneath. \"Get your gear,\" one yelled over the crash of the waves.\n\n\"Get closer!\" Antsy demanded, but started gathering the equipment. Corien grabbed one set of waterskins and Antsy silently thanked him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Now, go!\" a sailor shouted.\n\n\"Wait just a damned minute!\"\n\nWhen the punt dipped in the surf Malakai suddenly leapt to land on a tiny stone ledge. He trailed the rope behind him. Antsy pressed it into Orchid's hands.\"Hold on. '\n\n\"I can't swim! '\n\n\"Then hold on, dammit!\"\n\nThe poles cracked against the rocks as the sailors desperately fended the boat from the cliff. Orchid yelled something lost in the crash of waves and jumped for the end of the rope ladder. The punt nearly tipped over. She disappeared into the foaming blue-black waves. Malakai hauled on the rope. Antsy remembered the girl's amazingly strong grip. She appeared again, thrown up by the surf, driven against the rock wall, to which she clung. Malakai began making his way to her, dragging the rope ladder with him.\n\nCorien took the punt's side next. While the man timed his jump Antsy belted the two panniers he had been carrying to himself.\"How do we get off the damned island? ' he yelled to the nearest sailor.\n\nThe man waved him away. \"Go, damn you!\"\n\nAntsy pointed to the cave. \"Is this where we get off, too?\"\n\nCorien leapt and hit the side, where he hung by both hands. He clambered up the uneven cliff face.\n\n\"Jump or we take you back with us!\" a sailor barked, and swung his pole at Antsy.\n\nAll right– we'll have to do this the hard way then. Antsy drew a dirk and yanked the nearest sailor down into the bottom of the boat. All four screamed insults. The punt bounced like a cork. Antsy shoved two fingers\" length of the dirk blade into the man's side. The sailor jerked, then held himself utterly still. The other three were too busy holding the punt off from the cliff to come to his aid.\"You know! \"Antsy yelled.\"What's the story on getting out?\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 7\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The guard fell to his knees, pulling frantically at the mask, but he was unable to move it. Transfixed, Ebbin watched as the cloaked figure disappeared in a great swirling cloud of dust and the dark cloak fell empty to the floor.\\n\\nThe captain and remaining guard now beat at some sort of invisible barrier beneath the intersecting arches. They screamed unheard commands at Ebbin, who could only shake his head in mute appalled terror while behind the two men the corpse of their fellow climbed to his feet. The gold mask shimmered brightly in the lantern light, its mysterious graven smile now horrifying in its promise. Ebbin pointed, his other hand covering his mouth.\\n\\nThe two men turned. It seemed to Ebbin they both leapt in shock, dismay and terror as they realized what awaited each in turn. The captain swung a huge two-handed blow at his ex-guard's neck but the corpse took it on an arm. Though the strike slashed along the bone, flensing that arm, no blood flowed, and the revenant was not slowed.\\n\\nThe captain danced away out of reach. The remaining guard punched at whatever barrier it was that held him captive. Falling to his knees he held out his arms to Ebbin, pleading, begging, as if this were somehow all the scholar's doing. From behind, his dead companion wrapped an arm round his neck, and tearing the mask from his head– in the process pulling away the flesh, which brought up Ebbin's gorge in a gasping heave of vomit– clamped the mask over the other's face.\\n\\nWhen Ebbin looked up, wiping his mouth, coughing, only two figures remained within the arches. The captain and his last guard. Drin was retreating round and round the onyx plinth, always giving ground before the slow relentless advance of the masked fiend.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ebbin could only sit and watch, fascinated, helpless. As time passed he decided that there must have been good reasons why this man Drin was a captain. How long had he held out? How many hours caught therein the confines of his inescapable prison, avoiding his unkillable foe? He himself would not have lasted more than the first minute. Yet for what seemed half a day this man had ducked and flinched aside, postponing his end. Occasionally he would dash into aim a blow at his enemy's neck, perhaps in the hope that decapitation would end the curse. But Drin faced something extraordinary– blades damaged it, but it seemed that none could bring it down. No blow could dismember it, or slow it.\\n\\nFinally, after hours of that macabre dance around the raised plinth, Captain Drin turned his strained, sweat-sheathed face to Ebbin. He mouthed something, perhaps \\\"Remember me\\\". Ebbin wasn't sure. And though no soldier, he roused himself to salute the man.\\n\\nThe captain nodded in bleak acknowledgement and then, throwing aside his sword, launched himself upon the creature. Legs clamped around the revenant's waist, he clasped both hands on the mask and worked to yank it free. Ebbin's heart leapt in admiration: Yes! If he can dislodge the mask before it is set upon his face! Perhaps then this curse will somehow be broken...\\n\\nThough a bear of a man, Drin was no match for the fiend. One by one, his fingers were prised from their grip on the gold, and the fiend took hold of the mask himself.\\n\\nEbbin looked away. Gods! Was there no escape for anyone? Was this to be his end as well?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"After waiting a time, his limbs twitching in dread, he could not help but glance up.\\n\\nAll was as it had been before under the arches. A figure lay upon the black stone plinth, dark cloak wrapped tight, gold mask covering its face. But Ebbin knew that Captain Drin, or at least his body, now bore that mask. As for the others, all the countless others who preceded him, well, there was plenty of dust on the floor of the chamber.\\n\\nThe scholar staggered to his feet, gathered up his shoulder bag. There was nothing here. This whole tomb was just one gruesome trap. A trap for those foolish enough to come digging up the past. Everything he had ever hoped for was now shattered. He stumbled for the exit. On the way he froze and his gorge rose again in a wrenching dry heave.\\n\\nSet in the stone floor of the chamber lay three fresh skulls. The bare bone of two still gleamed wet with gore.\\n\\n*\\n\\nAfter the guards descended, Scorch and Leff peered down into the darkness of the well fora time before wandering over to the shade of a lean-to to return to teaching the two Gadrobi youths how to play troughs. The boys didn't seem able to grasp the basic arithmetic; or perhaps the problem was their own disagreements over the rules. Humble's two guards sat down to lean against the stone lip of the well.\\n\\nLeff tucked an arm under his head, sighed, \\\"If only we were still with Her Ladyship, hey? Too bad...\\\"\\n\\nScorch threw the carved knuckle dice so hard they bounced from the board to disappear into the dirt. The two youths hunted for them. \\\"What was that?\\\" he answered, his voice low.\\n\\n\\\"What was what?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Was that an impercation?\\\"Cause it sounded like maybe you was makin'an impercation!\\\"\\n\\nLeff pushed himself upon his elbows, rolled his eyes. \\\"Gettin\\\" all huffy won't change the facts, Scorch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Facts? And just what facts might those be?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That it was you that lost us the job with Lady Varada.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I did not-\\\" Scorch threw up his arms. \\\"Tor explained it. The lady didn't want so many guards no more. So who gets the axe? Why, us outside guards, right? Plain and simple. That hierarchy thing, right? '\\n\\nLeff waved that aside. \\\"Didn't you see through all that bullcrap? I did. Tor was just coverin'up the truth. Sparin\\\" our feelings. '\\n\\nHis shoulders falling, Scorch frowned, uncertain. \\\"Really? Then... what was he really sayin\\\"? '\\n\\n\\\"That it was you lost us the job.\\\"\\n\\nScorch threw himself aside to sit facing the opposite direction.\\n\\nTowards noon the old hag came limping up to the lean-to. She shooed the youths away, gabbling in Gadrobi, then turned on Scorch and Leff. \\\"You two, get out!\\\" she spat. \\\"You go! Bad things come. I see in the sands. In smoke!\\\"\\n\\nScorch and Leff shared a knowing look. \\\"Better stay off that fermented goat's milk, \\\"Leff said.\\\"That kefir can sneak upon ya. '\\n\\nThe old woman waved an angry dismissal. \\\"Die then... Daru dogs!\\\" And she scuttled off.\\n\\nLeff stretched out, yawning. \\\"Keep a watch, Scorch,\\\" he said, and closed his eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Around mid-afternoon Leff awoke to the screeching of the winch.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The guards were raising it. He and Scorch wandered over. It was the scholar, Ebbin. Scorch leaned over to help him out, then lurched as the man seemed to fall into his arms. Leff helped to yank him over the lip of the well and set him down in the dirt where he lay panting, his face gleaming pale as milk.\\n\\n\\\"Where's the captain? ' one of the guards asked.\\n\\n\\\"Water,\\\" Ebbin gasped, and Leff helped him to sit up while Scorch went to fetch a skin. The scholar took along drink, then splashed his face and pulled out a cloth to wipe it dry. \\\"Down below,\\\" he breathed, hoarse. \\\"A trap. They were taken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Taken?\\\" the guard echoed.\\n\\nEbbin nodded. He appeared on the verge of tears.\\n\\n\\\"Show us,\\\" the guard said.\\n\\nEbbin gaped up at him. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\nThe guard stepped back and drew his longsword. Scorch and Leff eyed one another, set their hands on the grips of their shortswords. Ebbin struggled to his feet. \\\"Show you?\\\" He laughed. Rather unnervingly, Leff thought. \\\"You have no idea-\\\"\\n\\nThe second guard raised a cocked crossbow. \\\"You show us, old man. Or die now.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin looked from one to the other, pressed his hands to his face and moaned from behind his fingers: \\\"Gods forgive me...\\\" Then he brushed Scorch's hand from his weapon.\\\"You wish to see? \\\"he asked the guard.\\\"Truly see? '\\n\\nThe man gestured to the well with his longsword. \\\"You first.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If you must.\\\" Ebbin looked at Scorch and Leff. \\\"You two. Lower us.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Leff scratched his cheek, bemused. \\\"Well– if you say so, scholar.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Those are my orders.\\\" He swung his feet up over the stone lip of the well, began readying the sling seat.\\n\\n\\\"We comeback up first,\\\" the guard warned.\\n\\nEbbin gave along slow nod. \\\"Yes. You first.\\\"\\n\\nIt seemed to Leff that no sooner had the second guard descended than the rope shook with a signal to be raised. He and Scorch rewound the barrel winch to bring it backup and were surprised to see that the occupant of the sling seat was Ebbin. Scorch helped him out.\\n\\n\\\"And the guards, sir?\\\" Leff asked. \\\"They saw?\\\"\\n\\nThe scholar was sickly pale and panting once again. He drew a cloth and wiped at his sweaty face. He nodded. \\\"Oh yes. They found out what happened to their captain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So...\\\" Scorch began, \\\"we wait for'em? '\\n\\n\\\"No. They won't becoming backup. ' Ebbin held his brow, looking faint.\\n\\n\\\"You all right, sir?\\\" Leff asked.\\n\\n\\\"No. I... I don't feel well. I need to get back to Darujhistan. \\\"He nodded with sudden vigour.\\\"Yes. That's right. I must go to Darujhistan.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll pack up the camp then, ' Leff said.\\n\\n\\\"No! You two wait here. Guard the camp. Wait for me. Yes?\\\"\\n\\nLeff frowned, doubtful. \\\"Well... if you say so.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin took his forearm. \\\"Excellent. Thank you.\\\" He paused, blinking, then glanced about as if confused. \\\"Now, you'll closeup here, yes? You won't go down?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Scorch and Leff eyed one another: the man's mad!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"No, sir. You don't have to worry about that. We ain't goin'down there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good! Good. I knew I could trust you. Now, I must go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go? Now?\\\" Leff raised a brow. \\\"Night's comin\\\", sir. We really shouldn't let you go all alone. Can't you wait till tomorrow?\\\"\\n\\nEbbin jerked as if stung. \\\"No! I must go! It is important... I feel it.\\\"\\n\\nScorch and Leff exchanged looks. Scorch inclined his head, indicating that Leff should accompany the scholar. Leff flinched, offended, and pointed back. Scorch gestured angrily that Leff should go. Leff's hand went to his sword grip and he glared his defiance.\\n\\n\\\"Uncle!\\\" a voice called from the gathering dusk and both guards spun, hands at weapons.\\n\\nA slim girl was suddenly quite close. She wore loose white robes that rippled in the weak evening wind. Her feet were bare. Rings glinted gold on her toes.\\n\\nEbbin stared at the girl in utter incomprehension. \\\"Uncle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" she answered, smiling. She took the man's arm, leaning against him.\\\"May I call you that? I feel there is some sort of connection between us, yes? You feel it too? '\\n\\nScorch cleared his throat. \\\"Ah, miss? You lost?\\\"\\n\\nShe ignored him so completely it was as if he hadn't spoken. She whispered something into Ebbin's ear and the scholar's brows rose.\\\"Really? From him? '\\n\\nShe nodded eagerly. \\\"Oh yes! And he is ever so keen to hear what you have found.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ebbin passed a handover his eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Gods! What I have found! Yes. Of course.\\\" He turned to Scorch and Leff and rubbed his eyes, squinting, as if trying to focus on them. \\\"Ah, you two. I will go with this girl here. You two stay.\\\"\\n\\nThe guards shared another look. \\\"I think,\\\" Scorch began respectfully, \\\"you should both comeback to camp with-\\\" He stopped because the girl had flicked out an arm and a knife blade appeared in her hand. Its razor tip hovered a finger's width from his throat.\\n\\n\\\"You have seen and heard enough,\\\" she said.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" Ebbin shouted, rousing himself. \\\"Ignore them. They have no idea...\\\"\\n\\nThe girl's kohl-ringed eyes, now touched by a deep smouldering crimson, slid to the scholar. The arm flexed and the blade disappeared. She bowed her head.\\\"As you command, Uncle. '\\n\\nBut Ebbin had staggered off. \\\"Darujhistan,\\\" he was muttering. \\\"There's something... '\\n\\nThe girl remained a moment, eyeing the two men. A smile played about her full lips as she enjoyed their extreme discomfort. Then she winked and blew a kiss at each, and sauntered off after Ebbin.\\n\\nLeff let go along tensed breath.\\n\\n\\\"Gods below,\\\" Scorch murmured.\\n\\n\\\"Reminds me of the Mistress.\\\"\\n\\nScorch cocked his head. \\\"Yeah. Don't she just. Now what? '\\n\\n\\\"Now?\\\" Leff kicked at the lid of the well. \\\"Now I'd say we're out of work again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Shit.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nLying flat on the crest of one of the low rises of the Dwelling Plain, Picker watched the white-robed girl escort the old man north. If they kept going in that direction they'd make the trader road to Raven Town, then onto Darujhistan. Along hike, but if they didn't stop at an inn they'd make Darujhistan near dawn.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A noise from the dark behind her announced Spindle's presence and she slid backwards down behind the rise.\\n\\n\\\"See that?\\\" Spindle hissed from the dark.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah,\\\" she answered drily. \\\"I was watchin\\\". \\\"Struck by a thought she raised her chin to the north, asking,\\\"What does your mum say about that girl? '\\n\\nSpindle reflexively rubbed his shirt. \\\"My mum tells me to watch out for girls like that.\\\"\\n\\nPicker grunted her agreement. \\\"Well... she was right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Course she's right! She's a witch! '\\n\\nPicker paid no attention to the tense in that statement since the man's shirt was woven from his mother's hair, and that shirt was the main reason he was still alive.\\n\\n\\\"Now what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now?\\\" Picker gave a slow shrug in the dark. \\\"Maybe we should eyeball that well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hunh. Well, I ain't goin'down.\\\"\\n\\nShe raised a hand as if to slap him. \\\"\\\"Course no one's goin\\\" down! Six go down. One comes up! They ain't payin\\\" us enough for that! '\\n\\n\\\"Where's Blend anyway? '\\n\\n\\\"She's around. C'mon. Let's see if those two guards are gone yet. '\\n\\n~\\n\\nBlend joined them at the well. She just appeared out of the dark, as washer way. Picker examined the wooden lid and the lock. \\\"All back like nothin\\\" happened. '\\n\\n\\\"Mark it,\\\" Blend said. \\\"We may have to describe its location.\\\"\\n\\nPicker used a rock to scrape the side– a mark that would only mean something to a Malazan marine.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Spindle had been standing motionless as if listening, and now he raised a hand for silence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He pointed frantically to the well. Picker stilled, listening. A blow from down below. Falling stones, rubble. A muted splash. Another strike, like a punch. Closer. She raised her stunned gaze to Spindle, who was now backing away, a hand pressed to his chest over his shirt. Picker signed a retreat and scrambled for cover.\\n\\nMoments later some sort of blast sent the wooden lid erupting into the night sky, where it turned over and over, hung fora moment, then fell with a crash.\\n\\nA figure climbed from the well. He wore along dark cloak and a mask. The mask caught the moonlight and for an instant it glowed like a moon in miniature. Then the man turned away to walk off north, calmly and regally, as if out fora stroll in his own pleasure garden.\\n\\n\\\"Did you see that?\\\" Picker breathed. She eyed Spindle behind their pile of stones. \\\"What does your mum say about him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think she would've shat herself. '\\n\\n\\\"Well, I nearly did.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle drew his crossbow from beneath his cloak. \\\"I say we give him lots of room.\\\"\\n\\nPicker nodded. \\\"Oh yeah. Plenty.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nIt was all very confusing for Ebbin. He knew that he had to get back to Darujhistan– though why, he didn't really know. It was some sort of instinct, or overwhelming certainty. Then a girl appeared in the middle of the plain and claimed to have been sent by Aman. Even more strangely, somehow he recognized her, though he was sure he'd never seen her before in his life.\\n\\nThen they set out on a damnably trying walk. His legs ached beyond anything he'd ever experienced. The soles of his feet felt as if they'd been hammered allover by truncheons. And he was having hallucinations. Sometimes it seemed as if the entire Dwelling Plain was one huge urban conglomeration of square flat-roofed mud buildings all jammed together. Smoke from countless hearth fires rose into the night sky while he and Taya walked the giant city's narrow crooked ways.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Of course, Ebbin realized... the Dwelling Plain!\\n\\nFar ahead, glimpsed through the narrow gaps in the tall mud walls, there sometimes reared some sort of domed edifice like a monument, or immense temple. Its pallid stone glowed with a pale blue luminescence that seemed somehow familiar. At other times the great urban sprawl lay smashed inflaming ruins all around, the victim of some sort of titanic upheaval.\\n\\nWhen they entered Raven Town he was desperate fora rest, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to demand that they stop. And the girl, Taya, was pushing him along like some sort of draught animal and constantly shooting quick looks behind. It seemed as if she was actually frightened of something.\\n\\nCould it be... him? No, that would be too terrible to imagine. Too awful.\\n\\nAnd there, on the main street through town, within sight of the closed city gate, who should stand waiting wrapped in a shabby cloak but Aman himself? Ebbin stared– he'd never seen the man stick his head outside his shop, let alone leave it.\\n\\nAman waved Taya onward then wrapped one crooked arm round Ebbin as if supporting him. Ebbin tried to tell him what he'd seen, all the horrors, but somehow he couldn't force the words past his throat. Aman started force-marching him along in his own slow crablike limp. Ebbin glared ferociously at him as if he could somehow send his thoughts to him but the man just patted his arm. \\\"There, there, good friend. It'll all be over soon enough. '\\n\\nWhat would be over? This nightmare of a night? Or far more than that? Ebbin dreaded the answer. As they closed on the gates the great iron-bound leaves improbably swung open to greet them, and there was Taya. She waved them in.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Aman frog-marched him onward. Like Taya, he too was glancing behind, squinting with one eye, then the other. What was back there? Ebbin tried to look but the shopkeeper forced him on. They passed through mostly empty streets. In one of the market squares the early-morning vendors were busy setting up their stalls and arranging their goods. Ebbin and Aman marched through with no one paying them any particular attention. Taya was still with them. Sometimes she shadowed them closely and Ebbin caught sight of her glowing white robes. At other times she was nowhere to be seen.\\n\\nThey reached the main east– west thoroughfare that ran alongside the Second Tier Wall. Aman hugged Ebbin closely, as if afraid he would runoff, but the scholar was too confused to muster any sort of resolution. At times he didn't recognize any of the streets they walked. Tall white-stone buildings faced the roads, great estates, their façades richly decorated with scrollwork. Fanciful miniature creatures, some winged, peeped out amid the scrolls and stone forests.\\n\\nAnd Ebbin recognized the style. It was the fabled Darujhistani Imperial baroque.\\n\\nBut perhaps this was all nothing more than his own deluded wish fulfilment. He wondered, terrified, whether the horrific events in the mausoleum had finally driven him over the edge. Perhaps he was mad. His peers, the scholars and researchers of the Philosophical Society, had already dismissed him as such.\\n\\nHe remembered a chilling definition of insanity he'd read in some wry old commentator's compendium: when you think everyone around you is mad, that's when you should start to suspect it's actually you.\\n\\nThey reached the ruined old gates to the estate district and here another figure awaited them. This one appeared to be no more than a dark shadow, a tall man in tattered clothes, a ghost. Ebbin flinched away but Aman marched him right up to the wavering, translucent shade.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Taya, now with them, curtsied to the ghost.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Uncle,\\\" she murmured.\\n\\nAman bowed mockingly. \\\"Well met, Hinter.\\\"\\n\\nThe shade arched a brow in lofty disparagement. \\\"Aman. We'd thought you dead. '\\n\\nThe hunched shopkeeper waved to indicate his bent body. \\\"Who could have survived, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All is in readiness?\\\" Aman enquired.\\n\\n\\\"All is ready,\\\" the shade responded tartly, \\\"since I am left with no alternative. He comes?\\\"\\n\\nAman shook Ebbin by his shoulders. \\\"Oh yes. He comes. Always away, scholar. There is always away. If it is nearly impossible to break in– then perhaps one must reverse one's thinking, yes? I am sorry, scholar. But no one has ever escaped him. '\\n\\nThe shade turned away. \\\"Not true,\\\" it murmured. \\\"One did.\\\"\\n\\nAman sniffed and rubbed his lopsided face. \\\"Him. I never did believe that.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nSpindle and Picker followed the masked man up the Raven Town trader road, all the way into town. It was eerie the way no one was about. Dogs ran before it. Early-morning merchants and farmers turned sharply to take side streets, or quickly entered shops and buildings lining the way. The man had the entire road to himself. Picker passed men and women crouched in the dirt beside it, hands covering their faces, shuddering. Picker yanked a hand away from the face of one old farmer only to provoke gabbled terror and tears.\\n\\nThe fellow strode majestically along right up to and through the open Raven Town gate. A city gate that should not be open. Picker signed to Spindle to checkout the west gatehouse, then slipped into the east. Blend, she knew, would keep tabs on their friend. Inside she found the guards dead, thrust through with swift professional cuts. Their young little sprite? Or another? An organization? Their guild friends?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She exited to see Spindle, who signed that on his side all were dead. She answered in kind. Together they trotted on after Blend. They found early risers in the streets but all were silent, all turned to face the walls. Picker pulled one burly labourer round only to find him weeping, his eyes screwed shut.\\n\\nAt the spice-sellers' square they found the morning market already setup in amaze of carts, mats laid out and stalls unfolded, but utterly silent and still. People crouched, hiding their faces, or lay on their sides as if asleep. Picker swallowed to wet her throat, tightened her sweaty grip on her long-knife. Then Spindle touched her shoulder and pointed up to the paling clear night sky.\\n\\n\\\"Would ya look at that.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nAmbassador Aragan awoke with a start and a curse. He flailed about, searching fora weapon.\\n\\n\\\"It's all right, sir! \\\"a familiar voice yelped, alarmed.\\\"It's me sir!\\\"\\n\\nAragan sat up, blinking in the dark. \\\"Burn's teats, man! What houris it? '\\n\\n\\\"Just dawn, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This better be good, Captain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir. It's the Moranth mission, sir. They're fleeing the city.\\\"\\n\\nAragan gaped at the captain, then shut his mouth. \\\"What?\\\" He threw himself from his bed, searched the floor. Captain Dreshen held out his dressing gown.\\n\\n\\\"This way, sir.\\\"\\n\\nDreshen led him to what had originally been a front guest bedroom but was now an office of trade relations. Here night staff crowded the windows looking over the city. Aragan pushed his way through to the front. The pre-dawn was a paling violet in the east, the brightest stars still blazing above. His heart sinking, Aragan saw the obscene green streak over the setting, mottled moon. He made a sign against evil, though he knew the gesture was meaningless. After all, every escaped cow and dead chicken was blamed on the damned thing, so there was noway of knowing what influence, if any, it might be exerting on anyone's life.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Movement caught his eye. Winking, glimmering, flashing high over the city. Quorl wings– a flight of the giant dragonfly-like creatures taking their Moranth masters west, to the Mountains of Mist, which some called Cloud Forest. Aragan was reminded of the Free Cities campaign to the north and similar night flights and drops over Pale and Cat.\\n\\nEven as he watched, another wing took flight, heaving up from rooftops around the quarters of the Moranth embassy. The quorls turned through the air, wings scintillating like jewels in the pre-dawn light, and arced to the west. Aragan watched them go, feeling both terrified and exhilarated. He pushed away from the window, faced his aide. \\\"Rouse the garrison, Captain. Order full alert.\\\"\\n\\nThe aide saluted. \\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And fetch my armour.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nPicker ducked reflexively as quorls swooped overhead, sending stalls toppling and garments and powdered spice flying.\\n\\n\\\"Dammit to dead Hood!\\\" Spindle swore. \\\"Is it a drop?\\\"\\n\\nPicker covered her eyes from the stinging spice. \\\"No. A pick-up. They're runnin\\\".\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fanderay... maybe we should too.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not yet. We've been hired to recon. So-\\\"She broke off as a whistle sounded.\\\"That's Blend. This way, c'mon. '\\n\\nThey halted at the corner of a wide boulevard. Blend stepped out of shadows to meet them. \\\"You lose him?\\\" Picker asked.\\n\\n\\\"Hood, no. Walkin\\\" right up aside the Second Tier Wall, plain as day. Headed for the estate district. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You see them quorls?\\\" Spindle asked.\\n\\nBlend eyed him as if he were demented. \\\"You two hang back. I'll tag along. '\\n\\nPicker nodded. \\\"Right.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle handed over a satchel. \\\"Take this... insurance.\\\"\\n\\nShe held the bag away from herself. \\\"This what I think it is?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah.\\\"\\n\\nShe shot him a dark look. \\\"Been holding out onus?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No more than anyone else.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's not an answer, ' Blend growled.\\n\\n\\\"I know.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nAn old woman was shouting herself hoarse in the narrow crooked paths through the Maiten shantytown west of Darujhistan: \\\"Pretty birdies! Pretty birdies! Look all at the pretties!\\\" In the twilight before dawn the garbage-sorters, beggars and labourers groaned and pressed their thread-thin blankets to their heads.\\n\\n\\\"For the love of Burn, shut up!\\\" one fellow bellowed.\\n\\nThe women, already up preparing the meals for the day, fanned their cook-fires and watched the old woman pointing to the lightening sky as she staggered up and down the alleys. They looked atone another and shook their heads. There she went again. That crazy old woman– proving all the clichés their men kept mouthing about old women who lived in the most rundown huts at the edges of towns. Someone should let her know what an embarrassment she was.\\n\\nAnd where did she come by all that smoke, anyway?\\n\\n\\\"Almost now! Almost!\\\" the old woman shouted. Then she fell to her knees in the mud and streams of excrement and loudly retched up the contents of her stomach.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The women pursed their lips.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gods, the menfolk would never let them live this one down! Someone ought to guide her to the lake and set heron along walk up a short pier.\\n\\nProblem was– the women knew she really was a witch.\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe fat demon, who was about the size of a medium breed of dog, sat dozing amid the tumbled broken rock of the ancient ruins. Grunting, it coughed, then choked in earnest, flailing. Clawed fingers thrust their way into his mouth, seeking, then withdrew holding along pale fishbone.\\n\\nThe demon sighed its relief, adjusted its buttocks on the rocks and cast a cursory glance to the stone arch opposite. It froze.\\n\\nOh no. Nononononono. Not again!\\n\\nIt launched itself into the air. Its tiny wings struggled to gain purchase, failed. It bounced tumbling downhill, gained momentum, succeeded in lifting its dragging feet from the weeds and took off slowly and heavily across the city like an obscene bumblebee.\\n\\nOnce more it had that word for its master. That most unwelcome word.\\n\\n*\\n\\nShe'd been irritable of late. Distracted. Short-tempered. If Rallick were the type of man to be dismissive of women he might've characterized her as catty. Not that he would dare intimate such a thing to Vorcan Radok, once mistress of Darujhistan's assassins. And so it was sometime before he finally worked up the determination to mention the topic of the professional killings in the Gadrobi district. He alluded to it over dinner. Her gaze in response had been withering. She sipped her wine.\\n\\n\\\"And you think I'm responsible? Taken work on the side? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I don't know who did it, ' he responded, honestly enough.\\n\\nBut that had been enough to break the spell between them. She retired alone and he sat up late into the night in turn damning her as an unreasonable prickly woman and damning himself for allowing anything to come between them. When he finally lay down she was asleep– or pretending to be.\\n\\nShe'd been sleeping poorly lately. Tonight she tossed and turned, even murmured in a language he'd never heard before. So he was not surprised when she rose naked and padded across to the open terrace doors to stare into the blue radiance that glowed over Darujhistan. He came up behind her, set his hands on her shoulders. \\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Something...\\\" she breathed, head cocked as if listening to the night.\\n\\n\\\"Should I-\\\" She lifted a hand for silence. He stilled, trusting her instincts.\\n\\nThen, astonishingly, the skin beneath his fingers flashed almost unbearably hot. For an instant it was as if he held the spiny, gnarled back of a boar, or a bull bhederin, and Vorcan flinched backwards, brushing him aside like a child. \\\"No!\\\" she ground out. \\\"How could...\\\"\\n\\nShe went to the bed, began throwing on clothes.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\nDressed, she stopped before him. Something new was in her dark eyes. Something that stole his breath, for real fear swam in those deep pools. \\\"Leave the estate now,\\\" she told him. \\\"Do not return. Do not try to contact me. Go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tell me what it is. I'll-'\\n\\n\\\"No! You will do nothing.\\\" She pressed a smooth dry palm to the side of his face. \\\"Promise me, Rallick. No matter what happens, what comes, you will not act. No contracts, no... attempts.\\\" She rose on her toes to brush her dry hot lips to his. \\\"Please,\\\" she whispered.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He nodded, swallowing. \\\"If you insist.\\\"\\n\\nShe backed away from him into the darker gloom of the bed-chamber, those dark eyes holding his. He dressed quietly while listening to the night, trying to hear what she might've heard. But he detected nothing– as far as he could tell it was merely an unusually still and quiet night.\\n\\nDownstairs, Vorcan's one servant, the butler-cum-castellan Studlock, who never seemed to be off duty, let him out. Rallick listened to the many locks being ratcheted back into place behind him, then set out into the night.\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the tallest tower of his grounds, Baruk stood looking out over the estate district of Darujhistan. Fora moment he looked not upon the night-sleeping buildings as they lay now but upon another city, one of a profusion of towers much like his, all aglow with a flickering ghostly blue illumination. And amidst all the towers, rearing far more immense, a great dome encompassing Majesty Hill. Then he passed a shaking hand before his eyes and glanced aside, down to where a shivering, whimpering Chillbais crouched, terrified, but not quite so terrified as to not be chewing on a loaf of old bread.\\n\\n\\\"Was he waiting?\\\" Baruk mused. \\\"Waiting for Anomander to begone?\\\" He drew his hand down his chin. \\\"I wonder.\\\" He went to the door, turned as a final thought struck him. \\\"You are free to go, Chillbais. Your service is done.\\\" He pulled the door shut behind him.\\n\\nFat loaf of bread jammed in his mouth, the demon peered about the empty room. Free? Free to go where? Free to do what? Oh dear, oh dear. Free perhaps to be enslaved by something far worse? No, no, no. Not I.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Chillbais waddled to a clothes chest, struggled up over the side to tumble in, then pulled the top closed.\\n\\n*\\n\\nAman dragged Ebbin to the ruins atop Despot's Barbican. Here, he turned to face the way they'd come, a fist tight on Ebbin's shirt.\\n\\n\\\"Why are you doing this?\\\" Ebbin asked in a plaintive whisper.\\n\\nAman slapped him. \\\"Quiet. Your turn will come.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is near,\\\" the shade of Hinter said.\\n\\nAman tilted his crooked head in order to look skywards. \\\"The moon is not right,\\\" he warned.\\n\\n\\\"Soon,\\\" answered the shade.\\n\\nTaya ran up. Her gossamer silks blew behind her like white flames. \\\"He is here.\\\"\\n\\nAman pushed Ebbin to his knees, then lowered himself onto one knee. He shook Ebbin, snarling, \\\"Bow your head, slave.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin could not have kept his head erect if he tried; something was hammering him down. Some unbearable pressure like the hand of a giant was squashing him as if he were an insect. A whimper slipped from him as he glimpsed the dirty bottom edge of a dark cloak before him.\\n\\n\\\"Father,\\\" Aman murmured. \\\"We remain your faithful servants.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin whimpered, shaking. This was not for him. Such scenes were not to be witnessed by such as he. The pressure– the iron hand grinding him into the dirt– eased, and he caught his breath.\\n\\nAman straightened, yanked him up. \\\"Stand now.\\\"\\n\\nHe complied, but would not raise his gaze beyond the mud-spattered edge of the cloak. So, now it was his turn. A hand would clasp his armor shoulder and the mask would be pressed to his face. He would be blind behind it, unable to breathe. He would die choking. And then... and then... what? What was this thing before him? Would he then become... it?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Some force compelled Ebbin's gaze upwards.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His eyes climbed to the oval gold mask, now a glowing circle of reflected light. The mysterious mocking smile engraved there was sly now, as if he and it shared some hidden knowledge unguessed at even by those surrounding them.\\n\\nThe cloaked figure raised a hand, gesturing, and Aman bowed again. \\\"Yes. Spread out. Guard all approaches. Let none interfere.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin was left alone with the creature. What had they named it? Father? In truth? Perhaps the title was merely honorific. Now would it do it? Take him? His knees lost their strength and he fell to the ground. Gods! Why this agonizing delay? Won't it just end things?\\n\\nStanding above him the creature held out its right hand, pointed to Ebbin's. Mystified, Ebbin looked at his own right hand. It was fisted, the knuckles white with pressure. When did... His breath caught. He remembered the tomb. He remembered reaching...\\n\\nOh no. Please, no...\\n\\nSomething was in his fist. It was hard and round. Ebbin's heart lurched, skipping and tripping, refusing to beat.\\n\\nOh no. Oh no, no. Please no.\\n\\nHe held out his hand. It was oddly numb, as if it were someone else's. He unclenched his fingers and thereon his palm rested the gleaming white pearl from the last niche of the sepulchre. Moonlight shone from it like molten silver.\\n\\nPlease! I beg of you... do not make me do what I think you will demand. Please! Spare me!\\n\\nThe creature raised its head to the night sky, and for an instant Ebbin had the dizzying sense that the moon was no longer in the sky but on the mask before him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A pale circle. A pearl... of course! It was so obvious. He would have to warn everyone! He-\\n\\nThe creature raised a hand above that smiling uplifted mouth. The fingers were pinched together as if holding some delicacy, a grape or a sweet, then opened there above the mouth. The moon lowered to regard him. Its enigmatic smile was now one of triumph.\\n\\nOh no.\\n\\n*\\n\\nAt Lady Varada's estate its two remaining guards, Madrun and Lazan Door, were engaged in their timeless ritual of tossing dice against a wall when one bone die refused to stop spinning. Both watched it, wonder-struck, as it turned and turned before them.\\n\\nThen screaming erupted from the estate. They ran for the main hall. Here they found the castellan, Studlock, in his layered cloths as if wrapped in rags, blocking the way down to the rooms below. The continuous howling was not just one of fear. It sounded as if a woman was having her hands and feet sawn off.\\n\\nStudlock raised open hands. \\\"M'lady gave commands not to be disturbed. '\\n\\nThe two guards peered in past the castellan. \\\"Would you listen!\\\" said Madrun. \\\"Someone's got her. '\\n\\n\\\"Not at all,\\\" soothed Studlock. \\\"M'lady is experiencing an illness. Nothing more. You may characterize it as something like withdrawal. I will prepare suitable medicines this moment– if I have your word not to go below! M'lady values her privacy.\\\"\\n\\nMadrun and Lazan winced at a particularly terrifying scream. \\\"But...\\\"\\n\\nStudlock shook a crooked finger. \\\"Your devotion is commendable, I assure you. However, all is in hand. Oil of d'bayang, I believe, is called for. And alcohol. A great deal of alcohol. \\\"The castellan shuddered within his strips of cloth.\\\"Though how anyone could consume such poison is beyond me. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Lazan stroked his face and jerked as if surprised when his fingers touched his flesh. He tapped his partner on the shoulder and the two reluctantly withdrew.\\n\\nBehind them the tormented howling continued throughout the night.\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the deepest donjon beneath his estate High Alchemist Baruk knelt before a large diagram cut into the stone floor and inscribed in poured bronze, silver andiron. In one hand he held out a smoking taper with which he drew symbols in the air, while with the other he flicked drops of blood from a cut across the meat of his thumb.\\n\\nIn mid-ceremony the locked, warded and sealed iron-bound door to the chamber crashed open and a gust of wind blew out the taper and brushed aside the intricate forest of symbols lingering in the air.\\n\\nBaruk's shoulders fell.\\\" Blast. '\\n\\nHe lunged for the middle of the concentric rings of wards but something seemed to yank on his feet and he fell short. His arms, which crossed the rings of engraved metal, burst into flames. The robes fell to ash, revealing black armoured limbs twisted in sinew. His hands glowed, smoking, becoming toughened claws. The yanking continued. He scrabbled at the stone floor, gouging the rock and the metal bands.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\"\\n\\nHe flew backwards, stopped only by his clawed hands grasping the stone doorjamb. He hung there, snarling, while the stone fractured and ground beneath his amber talons. The stones exploded in an eruption of dust and shards and he was whipped away up the hall to disappear.\\n\\n*\\n\\nRallick entered the Phoenix Inn to find the common room uncharacteristically subdued. The crowd was quiet, the talk a low murmur, tense and guarded. He nodded to Scurve, the barkeeper, as he crossed to the back. Here Kruppe sat at his usual table. A dusty dark bottle stood before him, unopened. Rallick pulled up a chair and sat, noted the two glasses.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What are you celebrating?\\\"\\n\\nThe fat man roused himself, blinking as if returning from some trance. \\\"I? Celebrating? Neither. I invite you to join me in giving witness. We shall drink to the inevitable. The unavoidable. The relentless turning of the celestial globes in which all that was before shall be again. As it must.\\\" He took up the bottle and began picking at its seal.\\n\\n\\\"What are you going on about?\\\"\\n\\nTongue pressed firmly between his teeth, Kruppe answered, \\\"Nothing. And everything. Chance versus inevitability. How those two war. Their eternal battle is what we call our lives, my friend! Which shall win? We shall see... as we saw before.\\\"\\n\\nFora time Rallick watched his friend wrestling with the bottle, then, sighing his impatience, snatched it from him and began picking with his knife at the tar-like substance hardened around the neck. \\\"What drink is this?\\\" he asked. \\\"I've not seen the like. Is it foreign? Malazan? '\\n\\n\\\"No. No foreign distillation is that. It is sadly entirely of our own making. And very sour it is too. It was set aside long ago for just this foreseen occasion.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And the occasion?\\\" Rallick managed to remove the last of the old wax.\\n\\nKruppe reached for the bottle but Rallick jammed his blade into the cork and twisted. The fat man winced, yanking back his hand. He studied his fingertips as if burned. \\\"Nothing important,\\\" he murmured. \\\"Everything is connected to everything else. Nothing is of more significance than any other thing.\\\"\\n\\nTwisting and twisting, Rallick drew out the cork. He handed back the bottle. Kruppe took it, gingerly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So we're celebrating nothing? ' Rallick said, arching a brow.\\n\\nKruppe raised the bottle. \\\"You are most correct. This is nothing to celebrate.\\\" He tilted the bottle to pour. Nothing appeared. He tilted the bottle even further. Still nothing emerged. He held the bottle upside down over the glass, shook it, and not one drop fell. Rallick took it from him and held it up to one eye. He handed it back.\\n\\n\\\"Empty. Empty as death's mercy. What kind of joke is this, Kruppe? '\\n\\nKruppe frowned at the bottle. \\\"An entirely surprising one, I assure you, dear friend.\\\"\\n\\nRallick raised a hand to Jess. \\\"If you're too tight-fisted to spring fora bottle you just have to say so, Kruppe. No need for cheap conjuror's tricks.\\\"\\n\\nThe squat man suddenly grinned like a cherub, his cheeks bunching. He raised a finger. \\\"Ahh! Now I have the way of it. The bottle was not empty at all!\\\"\\n\\nRallick grimaced his incomprehension. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Not at all, dear friend. What you must consider, my dear Rallick, was that perhaps it was never full to begin with!\\\"\\n\\nRallick just signalled all the more impatiently for Jess.\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the slums west of Maiten the old woman sat slouched in the dirt before her shack and inhaled savagely on a clay pipe. The embers blazed, threatening to ignite the tangled nest of hair that hung down over her face. She sucked again, gasping, her face reddening, and held the smoke far down in her lungs, her eyes watering, before releasing the cloud in a fit of coughing. She wiped her wet lips with a dirty sleeve and staggered uncertainly to her feet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Now is the time,\\\" she murmured to no one. \\\"Now it is.\\\" She reached for the open doorway to her shack, tottering. She managed to hook a hand on either side of the ramshackle wattle-and-daub edge to heave herself inside, then fell, fighting down vomit.\\n\\nShe felt about in the dirt until one hand found a bag, which she clutched to herself and curled around, sometimes giggling and sometimes weeping. The weeping became a sad song crooned hoarsely in a language none around her understood. She lay cradling the bag for sometime.\\n\\n*\\n\\nAtop Despot's Barbican, Aman, Taya and the shade of Hinter made their way through the maze of ruined foundations to return to their master's side. Aman fell to his knees in obeisance, saying, \\\"Yes, Father?\\\"\\n\\nHinter bowed, as did Taya. Her eyes shone with wild exhilaration as she peered up at the masked figure. She noted the body of the scholar lying nearby and kicked it. The man grunted, stirring. \\\"This one lives?\\\" she asked aloud.\\n\\nThe masked creature gestured. Aman grunted his understanding. \\\"He will speak the Father's will. '\\n\\nThe girl sneered. \\\"This one? Him? He is nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Exactly,\\\" Hinter said. \\\"A slave. He will never be a threat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And speaking of slaves!\\\" Aman suddenly crowed, peering down the hill.\\n\\nAmong the ruins something was clawing its way to them. Blackened, smoking, it made its agonized crippled slither all the way up to the mud-smeared edge of the masked creature's cloak. There it lay, face pressed to the dirt. Aman cackled his enjoyment of the sight. Hinter merely shook his head. Taya's face lit up with avid glee. She knelt to prod the sizzling body, raw and crimson where cracks revealed deeper flesh. \\\"Is this... her?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No,\\\" said Hinter.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It is Barukanal.\\\"\\n\\nThe grin inverted to a pout. She searched the hillside. \\\"No others?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They appear to have eluded the Call,\\\" Hinter mused, thoughtful. \\\"For the moment.\\\"\\n\\nTaya straightened from the smoking body. \\\"What is to become of him then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is to be punished,\\\" came anew voice and the three turned to regard Scholar Ebbin, who was now sitting up, a handover his stomach, the other over his mouth, horrified shock on his face.\\n\\nAfter a moment of silence, the city eerily still beneath them, Taya cleared her throat. \\\"So,\\\" she asked Aman, \\\"is that it? Is it done?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It has merely begun,\\\" Hinter said. And he pointed an ethereal arm to the sky.\\n\\nTaya looked up and her face lit with child-like pleasure. \\\"Ohhh... Beautiful!\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nAt first Jan thought he dreamt. A voice was calling him. Distant at first, it seemed faint, gentle even. He saw his old master, the last First, sitting cross-legged before him. On his face was not the pale oval mask of all other Seguleh, painted or not. Instead he wore coarse wood, unpolished and gouged, worn to remind its bearer of the imperfection and shame of his people.\\n\\nAs always, the dark sharp eyes behind the mask studied and weighed him. Then, alarmingly, the mask tilted downwards as if in apology. I am so sorry, the wiry old man seemed to say.\\n\\nThen the image exploded into smoke and afar more distant figure now stood in the darkness, cloaked, tall and commanding. Upon his face was not the child's crude wooden mask, but a beaten golden oval that shone cold and bright, like the moon. And in his dream Jan bowed to the mask.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Yet it was not the bended knee and lowered head of devotion freely given to his old master.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In his dream Jan was sickened to find that he had no choice.\\n\\nHe awoke, his body shivering in a cold sweat. Alight tap at his door sounded again. He reached out and drew on his mask. Rising, he picked up the sword that lay next to his bedding and crossed to the door. A servant was waiting, head lowered.\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Third and Fourth await without, sir. And... others.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you.\\\"\\n\\nJan slid the door shut and threw on a shirt, trousers and sash. He went to the front. Therein the night, their servants holding torches aloft, waited his fellows of the Ten, the ruling Eldrii. They bowed.\\n\\n\\\"You felt it?\\\" Jan asked.\\n\\nSix masks inclined their assent.\\n\\nJan answered their bow. \\\"We are called, my friends. As was promised us so long ago. Ready the ships.\\\"\\n\\nAnd they bowed once more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And he who knew many conflicts\\n\\nspoke these words:\\n\\nWhere have the swordsmen gone?\\n\\nWhere is the gold giver?\\n\\nWhere are the feasts of the hall?\\n\\nAlas for the bright dome!\\n\\nAlas for the fallen splendour!\\n\\nNow that time has passed away,\\n\\ndark buried in night,\\n\\nas if it had never been!\\n\\nWhere lay the servants,\\n\\nwound round with wards?\\n\\nBrought low by warriors\\n\\nand their cruel spears.\\n\\nNow storms beat\\n\\nat rocky cliffs,\\n\\nthe bones of the earth\\n\\nharbingers of storm.\\n\\nAll is strife and trouble\\n\\nin earthly kingdoms.\\n\\nHere men are fleeting.\\n\\nHere honour is fleeting.\\n\\nAll the foundation of the world\\n\\nturns to waste!\\n\\nSong of the Exiles\\n\\nCant\\n\\nANTSY SPENT THE night on the common room dirt floor. Malakai paid for that and a room for Orchid. Money, it seemed, wasn't an issue for the man. She woke him up in the morning bleary-eyed and hungover; he'd brooded far too long into the night over far too many earthenware bottles of cheap Confederation beer. That the ale went onto Malakai's bill made the drinking all the easier, and his funk all the greater. His friend Jallin made no reappearance and Antsy decided that maybe he'd seen the last of that skinny thief.\\n\\nMalakai brought down six fat skins of sweet water, two bulging panniers and a coil of braided jute rope, and piled the lot beside Antsy and Orchid. Antsy took the majority of the waterskins, the rope, and one pannier to balance his own. He wondered resentfully whether the man had taken them on merely to serve as porters. Malakai wore his thick dirty cloak once more, but now, in his black waist sash and on two shoulder baldrics, he carried as many knives as you could collect from shaking down an entire bourse of Darujhistani toughs. Each was shoved into a tight leather sheath so it wouldn't fallout or rattle. The man caught Antsy eyeing the hardware and smiled, waving a leather-gloved hand.\\\"For show, ' he said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Orchid took the second pannier. She too was unable to look away from all the pig-stickers. Malakai led the way, and though Antsy listened he didn't hear the faintest rattle or tap. The man still moved as silently as a shade. Antsy shivered, reminded of certain assassin-types he'd served beside over the years; then he shrugged and thumped along behind: better with him than against him. Leaving the inn he winced as the bright morning glare stabbed his eyes.\\n\\nThe day's fee-collecting had already begun. They entered the crowd, but unlike yesterday, when Antsy had had to push his way through the press, it parted before them as if everyone sensed that something was up. The faces he passed betrayed hostility, curiosity, resentment, and even smug smiles as if some knew what waited out at the Spawns– and it wasn't pretty.\\n\\nMalakai handled the transaction. Antsy experienced a moment of light-headed avarice when the man tipped a stream of cut rubies onto the tabletop. Whatever this man was after out at the Spawns, riches could not be it. He probably already possessed enough to purchase a title in Darujhistan. Free Cities Confederation troops escorted them to the launch.\\n\\n\\\"So you made it safe and sound, I see,\\\" a voice greeted Antsy when he jumped up and swung his legs into the tall boat. Malakai, already within, turned to the voice, his eyes narrowing dangerously. There, ensconced at the stern, sat the young Darujhistani nobleman from the Island Inn who'd probably saved Antsy's neck.\\n\\nAntsy touched Malakai's arm.\\\"It's okay. I met him here.\\\" Malakai just turned away to occupy the prow.\\n\\nAntsy leaned over the side to help Orchid up. She tried to clasp his hand but he avoided that to show her the wrist grip. He hauled but barely raised her; the girl was surprisingly heavy. Must be her damned height.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Wait,\\\" said the young sword who had moved next to him. He jumped over the side and knelt before Orchid. \\\"You may stand on me, m'lady. '\\n\\nOrchid stared at his bent back as if it were some sort of cruel trick– that he would tumble her into the surf or move aside at the last instant. \\\"Go ahead, lass,\\\" Antsy growled. \\\"Give the damned fool your boot.\\\"\\n\\nShe planted one muddy shoe on his back and, steadied by Antsy, swung the other over the side. Looking rather embarrassed, she sat down among their equipment. Antsy helped the nobleman backup. \\\"Thanks,\\\" he told him. \\\"And thanks again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Thank you,\\\" Orchid added, her flushed face turned aside.\\n\\n\\\"It was nothing,\\\" and the young man bowed.\\n\\n\\\"Anyone else!\\\" a guard bellowed from the beach. \\\"Anyone else for today?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So, what's your name? ' Antsy asked.\\n\\nThe lad bowed again, brushed back his long brown hair. \\\"Corien. Corien Lim. Honoured, sir.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy cocked a brow. \\\"Honoured? What in the Abyss for?\\\" He touched his neck. \\\"It's me who's grateful.\\\"\\n\\nThe lad smiled. \\\"Honoured to meet a veteran. I am a great admirer of your, ah, military organization.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy lost his ease and frowned, glancing about. \\\"Yeah. Well. Keep that under your damned hat.\\\"\\n\\nThe youth laughed. \\\"It is quite obvious to everyone, sir, I assure you.\\\"\\n\\nConfederation guards began pushing the launch out. Antsy steadied himself. \\\"Sir? I ain't no Hood-damned officer. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your name, then. If you would?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Red.\\\"\\n\\nCorien's gaze rose to his hair.\\\"Admirable alias. ' Grinning, he bowed to Orchid and returned to the stern.\\n\\nAntsy sat amid the coiled rope and piled panniers. \\\"Thanks for all your help,\\\" he muttered aside to Malakai. But the man continued to ignore everyone, his gaze on the horizon and the black dots of the distant Spawns.\\n\\nGlancing back, Antsy watched the crowd diminishing on the beach. He caught eyes glaring daggers at him. It was Jallin sending doom and destruction upon his head byway of the evil eye. The youth drew a finger across his neck in a universal gesture. Antsy simply turned aside: he was on his way while the thief was stuck in Hurly. And that, he decided, must lie at the root of the youth's fanatical hatred.\\n\\nThe crossing took most of the day. First, the twelve guards rowed them out to awaiting double-masted Confederation coaster. Here they were offered smoked meats and kegs of water at outrageous prices. They declined. The sails were raised and they headed south, crossways to the prevailing easterlies.\\n\\nAntsy watched Corien strike up conversations with the sailors. Easy charm, that one had. Boundless confidence that seemed to flow into anyone he addressed. Had to watch out for that. Confidence got you killed. Better to be careful. Better to be... suspicious.\\n\\nHe settled into the deepest shade he could find on the coaster's deck. He unwrapped his grinding stone, spat on it, and set to work on the edges of his long-knives. He knew they thought he was crazy, all his buddies in the army. They sure looked at him askance whenever he gave his opinion. But he was also just assure he'd long ago come to the deepest truest secret about how to stay alive... and it was one most people either didn't want to know, or couldn't face up to.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The truth is that the goal of existence is to kill you.\\n\\nOnce you grasped that essential truth it was pretty much everything you needed to know in a nutshell right there. He'd learned that the hard way, growing up working Walk's fishing fleet and then in the army. Of course, the world always won in the end. The only real question was just how long you could holdout against all the infinite weapons and tools and stratagems at its disposal. The only way he'd succeeded so far was in always expecting the worst.\\n\\n\\\"Look at him,\\\" Orchid snorted from where she leaned against the ship's railing.\\\"The peacock fool. Can't he see they're just stringing him along– laughing at him? '\\n\\nAntsy turned an eye on Corien, still joking with the sailors. \\\"Maybe. Where's our employer? '\\n\\nShe peered round the deck. \\\"Don't know. He sort of disappeared the moment we got onboard. '\\n\\n\\\"Good.\\\"\\n\\nShe pulled her wind-tossed longhair from her face, peered down at him, puzzled. \\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\nHe let out along breath, brushed a thumb across the long-knife's edge. Good enough for hack'n\\\"slash work.\\\"\\\"Cause who's to say these Confederation boys are gonna deliver us to the Spawns? ' Now the girl looked completely thrown. Poor lass... not fit for the world, you are.\\n\\n\\\"Whatever do you mean?\\\"\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"No one's comeback, right? So who's to say they don't just dump us over the side? '\\n\\n\\\"But– that would be murder!\\\"\\n\\nHe winced. \\\"Keep your voice down, lass. And yeah– it would. But these boys are pirates and wreckers for generations. Nothing new for them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I don't believe it. '\\n\\nLike always. Denial of the discomfiting truth. He hugged his pannier to his lap. \\\"Yeah. Well. Let's just hope so. '\\n\\nThe Spawns grew to the south. They became a collection of jagged black-rock islands. The only signs of life were wheeling cawing seabirds and faint tendrils of smoke rising here and there amid the peaks. They didn't look all that big, only the main island, which at sea level looked as wide as a mountain. From there it climbed steep and saw-edged into a series of knife-like crags. He wondered why it hadn't sunk lower. Could it have landed on shoals? Surely the Rivan Sea wasn't so shallow this far out. It also struck him that the entire mammoth structure listed to one side. Antsy canted his head as he followed the angle down to where the waves crashed in a distant white surf at the waterline. Burn preserve him! Was it floating?\\n\\nAt last a reef-like collection of black rocks reared ahead, sharp-edged and spotted with bird-droppings. The sea hissed and the muted roar of surf reached Antsy. At a yell from the mainmast the anchor was dropped. Men ran for the sails, taking them in. Their bare feet thumped over the deck timbers. Some readied the ship's boat, a flat-bottomed punt.\\n\\nMalakai appeared at Antsy's side.\\\"We'll disembark now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye.\\\"\\n\\nThe punt was lowered into the rough waters and four sailors climbed down to handle it. Their equipment was lowered by rope. Antsy climbed down first then called for Orchid. She was lowered in a sling that he helped guide from below. Next came Malakai. Last, Corien swung down on one of the punt's ropes. The sailors pushed off using long polished poles. Everyone crouched as low as possible as the tiny punt yawed alarmingly.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Poling from rock to rock the sailors made good time. Soon the ship was lost to sight behind amaze of stone shards that varied from man-height to ship-size. The farther they penetrated into the eerie reef the smoother the water became until it was as if they were crossing a land-locked lagoon.\\n\\n\\\"Look there,\\\" Orchid cried, pointing.\\n\\nTo one side a pointed stone shard resembling an immense fang reared at an angle from the waters. Its contours troubled Antsy until he recognized its features: a circular staircase cut from the very rock spiralled upwards, ending at empty air. The sight brought home the outrageousness, the impertinence, of their intentions. Orchid sobered, losing her excited grin, and she rubbed her arms as if chilled. Even the sailors grew quiet. They peered everywhere at once and Antsy didn't think it was from the difficulty of the passage. Only Malakai and, surprisingly, Corien appeared unaffected by the atmosphere of alien grandeur.\\n\\nEvery little sound echoed into distorted noise: the harsh cawing of the seabirds, the crack of the poles against rock, unseen falling stones, and the constant slap of the waves. From beneath the water, Antsy caught the glint of the day's dying light glimmering from sunken metal, possibly even silver or gold. Multicoloured fish darted, nibbling at algae and seaweed.\\n\\nOrchid began humming a slow dirge-like tune. The humming became words that she whispered to the passing shattered basaltic rock.\\n\\nMother Dark he forswore,\\n\\nDeath's own blade he bore.\\n\\nDragon's blood courses his veins,\\n\\nImmortal,\\n\\nHe walks till end of Light:\\n\\nAnomander,\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Night's own fickle Knight.\\n\\nEveryone turned to her. Even the sailors stopped poling. Blinking as if returning from along daydream she blushed furiously, her dark features flushing, and she lowered her head. \\\"From an epic poem composed during the Holy City period of the Seven Cities region,\\\" she said.\\n\\nCorien cleared his throat. \\\"Thank you. Very appropriate.\\\"\\n\\nThe sailors eyed one another but none commented. They returned to their poling, following a route known only to them. The main island reared over them now, rising sheer from the surf as a cliff. The sailors started edging the punt round it. Between the shards, off to one side, Antsy spotted an anchored ship rocking in the waves. It was long and low-slung in the water, single-masted. A war galley. Shields hung all along its side just above the oar-ports. In the dying light it was hard to tell, but the shields appeared somehow decorated. Then it was gone in the maze of rocks. Antsy turned away shaking his head; it was almost as if he'd imagined it.\\n\\nThe punt yawed dangerously now, threatening to capsize. The waves batted it like the toy it was. A number of times it was almost swamped as the surf threatened to suck it against the rocks of the cliff. A darker shadow, the mouth of a cave someway above the waterline, came into view round the curve ahead and as they drew near Antsy spotted a rope ladder hanging from it into the surf. The sailors poled the boat to just beneath. \\\"Get your gear,\\\" one yelled over the crash of the waves.\\n\\n\\\"Get closer!\\\" Antsy demanded, but started gathering the equipment. Corien grabbed one set of waterskins and Antsy silently thanked him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Now, go!\\\" a sailor shouted.\\n\\n\\\"Wait just a damned minute!\\\"\\n\\nWhen the punt dipped in the surf Malakai suddenly leapt to land on a tiny stone ledge. He trailed the rope behind him. Antsy pressed it into Orchid's hands.\\\"Hold on. '\\n\\n\\\"I can't swim! '\\n\\n\\\"Then hold on, dammit!\\\"\\n\\nThe poles cracked against the rocks as the sailors desperately fended the boat from the cliff. Orchid yelled something lost in the crash of waves and jumped for the end of the rope ladder. The punt nearly tipped over. She disappeared into the foaming blue-black waves. Malakai hauled on the rope. Antsy remembered the girl's amazingly strong grip. She appeared again, thrown up by the surf, driven against the rock wall, to which she clung. Malakai began making his way to her, dragging the rope ladder with him.\\n\\nCorien took the punt's side next. While the man timed his jump Antsy belted the two panniers he had been carrying to himself.\\\"How do we get off the damned island? ' he yelled to the nearest sailor.\\n\\nThe man waved him away. \\\"Go, damn you!\\\"\\n\\nAntsy pointed to the cave. \\\"Is this where we get off, too?\\\"\\n\\nCorien leapt and hit the side, where he hung by both hands. He clambered up the uneven cliff face.\\n\\n\\\"Jump or we take you back with us!\\\" a sailor barked, and swung his pole at Antsy.\\n\\nAll right– we'll have to do this the hard way then. Antsy drew a dirk and yanked the nearest sailor down into the bottom of the boat. All four screamed insults. The punt bounced like a cork. Antsy shoved two fingers\\\" length of the dirk blade into the man's side. The sailor jerked, then held himself utterly still. The other three were too busy holding the punt off from the cliff to come to his aid.\\\"You know! \\\"Antsy yelled.\\\"What's the story on getting out?\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":88,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 8"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Now, go!\" a sailor shouted.\n\n\"Wait just a damned minute!\"\n\nWhen the punt dipped in the surf Malakai suddenly leapt to land on a tiny stone ledge. He trailed the rope behind him. Antsy pressed it into Orchid's hands.\"Hold on. '\n\n\"I can't swim! '\n\n\"Then hold on, dammit!\"\n\nThe poles cracked against the rocks as the sailors desperately fended the boat from the cliff. Orchid yelled something lost in the crash of waves and jumped for the end of the rope ladder. The punt nearly tipped over. She disappeared into the foaming blue-black waves. Malakai hauled on the rope. Antsy remembered the girl's amazingly strong grip. She appeared again, thrown up by the surf, driven against the rock wall, to which she clung. Malakai began making his way to her, dragging the rope ladder with him.\n\nCorien took the punt's side next. While the man timed his jump Antsy belted the two panniers he had been carrying to himself.\"How do we get off the damned island? ' he yelled to the nearest sailor.\n\nThe man waved him away. \"Go, damn you!\"\n\nAntsy pointed to the cave. \"Is this where we get off, too?\"\n\nCorien leapt and hit the side, where he hung by both hands. He clambered up the uneven cliff face.\n\n\"Jump or we take you back with us!\" a sailor barked, and swung his pole at Antsy.\n\nAll right– we'll have to do this the hard way then. Antsy drew a dirk and yanked the nearest sailor down into the bottom of the boat. All four screamed insults. The punt bounced like a cork. Antsy shoved two fingers\" length of the dirk blade into the man's side. The sailor jerked, then held himself utterly still. The other three were too busy holding the punt off from the cliff to come to his aid.\"You know! \"Antsy yelled.\"What's the story on getting out?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Let me go or we're all dead! '\n\n\"Answer!\"\n\n\"All right! Hood's grin, man! '\n\nThen the bottom of the punt launched up into Antsy, clouting him in the mouth, and there was a shout of warning, a snapping of wood, and the water sucked him down into its cold embrace. The sailor he still had by the belt kicked at him; the two panniers of equipment dragged him down like stone weights. He cut the straps of one, hoping it was the right choice. A wall of black stone veined with bubbles flew at him. The collision knocked out his remaining breath and he gulped in a mouthful of water. He scrabbled fora grip over the slimy rock. He knew he was drowning and it outraged him that there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. It wasn't goddamned fair.\n\nIt seemed that the world, with all its infinite traps, had finally caught up with him.\n\nHe came to coughing and vomiting up seawater. Someone held him upright in chest-high surging waves: Malakai. The man was shouting something: \"Did you lose it! Where is it?\"\n\nStill dry-heaving, Antsy dug at the remaining pannier; it was his. He grinned his relief to Malakai, who grunted, nodding. The man also had a grip on the rope ladder and he swung Antsy to it. \"Damned fool.\"\n\nAt the back of the cave was a flight of ascending steps cut into the rock, barely as wide as his shoulders. It was pitch black but for the light from the cave mouth. Antsy felt his way on all fours. Seawater dripped from him onto the stairs, which were cold beneath his hands, and as slippery as polished marble. He kept almost falling until he realized that the stairs tilted crazily to one side. He smelled something, an old familiar smell– it came from something smeared over the stairs, and because it had been sometime it took him a moment to recognize the tang of dried blood."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Almost at the top,\" came Orchid's voice from above.\n\nHands took his shoulders and she led him to a wall. He leaned against it, grateful. She seemed to behaving no trouble in the absolute black. \"Corien?\"\n\n\"Gone ahead.\"\n\n\"How far?\" from Malakai, sharp.\n\n\"Not far,\" came Corien's voice.\n\nAntsy couldn't take it any longer:\"I can't see a goddamned blasted thing!\"\n\nSilence, the muted roar of the surf. \"Anyone else?\" asked Malakai.\n\n\"I've always had excellent night vision, ' said Orchid.\n\n\"Before I came I visited an alchemist. He gave mean unguent,\" Corien said.\n\n\"Can you give some to Red?\"\n\n\"Ah. Sorry. There's really only enough for one. '\n\nAntsy felt his way along the wall to the top of the stairs. He squinted down; there, dull grey, a glimmering.\n\n\"Don't we have any light? ' Orchid asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" Malakai answered, reluctantly. \"But I'd rather not announce our presence by shining it everywhere. '\n\n\"Well, you should've thought of that when you hired us. '\n\nCorien chuckled his appreciation of the point.\n\nAlong silence followed that. Antsy peered about the black, which seemed to him no longer absolute. His vision was adjusting; he could make out blobs of greater and lesser darkness, catch hints of movement. Someone slid down one wall to a sitting position. \"We'll wait, \"said Malakai.\"We're wet and it's night. We'll have more light in the morning.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Everyone sat. Equipment banged to the floor. \"What was that about, Red?\" Corien asked. \"There on the boat?\"\n\nAntsy debated not bothering to answer but decided that since they were all stuck together he might as well make the effort. \"I wanted some information so I put a knife to one of them. We capsized.\"\n\nCorien laughed aloud barracks-room bray. \"Remind me not to withhold information from you in the future.\"\n\nAntsy allowed himself a sour half-smile. He hugged his pannier to his chest. He was soaked, cold, and his mouth hurt like the devil. This was not going the way he'd imagined. Then he laughed, thinking of something:\"I'm sure as Hood not keeping watch tonight.\"\n\nOrchid and Corien chuckled.\n\n\"I will. Everyone get some sleep,\" growled Malakai.\n\nNo one spoke again that night.\n\nKiska had no idea how long they sat imprisoned in their cliff-face cave. Or even that such concepts as days or hours mattered here at what now truly seemed to be the \"Shores of Creation\". Leoman practised with his morningstars at the widest point of the cave-fissure. Kiska had her chance to practise close work with the stave. She tested herself until her arms burned then threw herself down to sleep.\n\nBut sleep would not come. Instead, her thoughts wandered to one of her last assignments within the Claw. One of a team pursuing indigenous leaders in Seven Cities. Assassination, disruption of nativist movements, the seeding of spies and provocateurs. Ugly work. Murder, torture, extortion, blackmail. That was where she fell away from the Claw. Not out of squeamishness, or adherence to any sort of misplaced moral philosophy– if they weren't doing it to others then others'd be doing it to them, after all– no, it was purely professional disgust. The politicking within the Claw. The careerist lies and backstabbing. The toadying and outright favouritism in promotions. At first it only disgusted her and she kept her distance."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But then it happened to her.\n\nIt had been a routine operation. The target was an entrenched anti-occupation movement gaining strength around Aren. She'd been second in command of the Hand assigned the clean-up. They were lucky to have two locally recruited agents: Seven Cities natives who favoured the Malazan mission of suppressing the wasteful feuding, the opening up of the culture to the wider world.\n\nThese two were tasked with infiltrating the movement.\n\nDuring this time the Hand waited and watched. Buildings were noted. Members were marked. The Handheld off until word was passed of a major meet or gathering. The night was set. Kiska's Hand was positioned; the sign was given; they moved.\n\nThey stepped right into an ambush.\n\nSomehow, these Seven Cities patriots had gotten word of the attack. A number proved to be hardened veterans from the first war of invasion. When it all was over the small dank cellar was a bloodbath. Only she and the Hand commander remained standing.\n\nOn searching the side rooms she found their agents. Both had been monstrously tortured. Mauled and carved almost beyond recognition as human. Bound and hanging like meat. Unbelievably, one still lived. Though eyeless, his stomach eviscerated, the innards dangling in loops, he mouthed that the insurgents had been tipped off. That he'd overheard their boasting of a source within the Claw itself.\n\nBoth Kiska and Lotte, the Hand commander, immediately knew who it probably was. The man was Lotte's rival for promotion to the regional directorate. Kiska was all for murdering him that night. Right then and therewith the blood still wet on their boots and gloves. But Lotte demurred. He was willing to grant his rival this round. The operation would be reported as botched, a black mark on his record, and the other fellow would get the directorship."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But with Kiska's help he vowed to see to it that the man's tenure would be one long series of failures and setbacks in the region. He would be removed. And then, Lotte proposed, he himself and Kiska could potentially rule the Seven Cities holdings from behind the scenes. In the dark of the cellar, the stink of blood and bile a miasma in the air, the dead a carpet round their feet, and Lotte's gaze bright upon her weighing, guarded, Kiska thought it prudent to agree.\n\nBut her faith in the virtue of her calling had been shaken– no, more than shaken... it had been stabbed through the heart. Lost among the self-promotion and careerist manoeuvring within the order was any concern or responsibility to their larger mission serving the Empire. It seemed that the entire Malazan goal of subduing the Seven Cities region could go down inflames so long as one Claw operative managed to sabotage his rivals. And also dead were two infinitely valuable local agents, loyal and dedicated to the Malazan cause. Betrayed fora cheap leg-up in one bureaucrat's career. Kiska was sickened beyond disgust by the utter short-sighted selfishness of it.\n\nShortly after that she abandoned the Claw and fled to the service of High Mage Tayschrenn. There they dared not touch her, and there she remained until that day: the day that saw not only the Empress's fall, but Tayschrenn's disappearance. The fall of the Empire's greatest High Mage to this Yathengar, a Seven Cities priest-mage, crazed with revenge for the occupation of his lands and the insults to his city gods. To destroy his enemy the man had actually summoned raw Chaos to drive a hole in creation itself. And the two had been sucked within.\n\nSo now she sought him. Across all the face of creation, it seemed, she sought her master. Again she scoured among her feelings for the reasons for such pursuit. The most uncomfortable suspicion was of course that she longed for his attention, his embrace as a man. She studied that urge as ruthlessly as possible to come to the conclusion: no. She no longer dreamt of such a liaison– the stuff of some syrupy courtly romance. When she'd been younger she'd allowed herself the illusion. But no longer. Perhaps some scholar would argue she sought him as the father figure she'd never truly known as a child. Perhaps. What she thought far more germane was that she considered him possibly the only one left who could enforce some sort of standard of behaviour, or moral direction, upon the Empire. If that were at all possible."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"All very high-sounding in purpose and aspiration.\n\nBut the suspicion pricked her: perhaps the truth was far less noble. Perhaps she was here because she was afraid the Claw would eventually come for her. The organization was famous for never forgetting. But no, all that was so long ago and faraway. They had much bigger things to concern themselves with. And she had leverage. She knew things about the Empire. Things no one wanted whispered.\n\nYet was that not another good reason to see you gone?\n\nShe opened her eyes to the familiar narrow cave. Something was different. She heard whispering, a murmuring out beyond the cave mouth. Leoman lay asleep, his breath even, the pulse at his neck steady. Thinking of Seven Cities: this man had served in the resistance against Malazan occupation alongside Yathengar, or at least in sympathy with him. And in that region he had delivered a heart-thrust to the Empire with the conflagration at Y'Ghatan.\n\nThe dizzying idea came to her that in her actions she was somehow aiding him in some hidden goals against the Empire. Perhaps she should take the opportunity now to slay him in his sleep, or regret it later. Yet she knew she could not bring herself to commit murder. She was no cold-blooded killer, though trained in such techniques.\n\nShe rose and glided soundlessly to the opening.\n\nIt was unguarded. The lumpish beings who had barricaded them in had moved off. They were whispering– well, croaking, belching and lisping– among themselves. It was the gloomy dusk of night. Alien stars glimmered overhead. It occurred to her that if she wished she could makeup new constellations among them. The Stave and the Morningstar perhaps."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The lumpy guards squealed and burbled as they caught sight of her, and they came limping up to surround her. It seemed to her that she could smack them to pieces with her staff, but she felt pity for them. Pity and sadness. She couldn't bring herself to strike anyone of them.\n\nAt least not yet.\n\nOne of the malformed creatures edged up closer before her; it struck her that they were even more wary of her than she of them.\n\n\"You are understanding of me?\" it asked.\n\n\"Yes. Yes, I am.\"\n\n\"We are decided to allow you to go. You go if you wish. Imprisonment is hurtful. We are many victims of cruel imprisonment. We would not impress it upon any other. We are not like you.\"\n\nKiska thought it rather convenient of them to allow her to leave after she'd already escaped. But she let that pass. Instead she asked,\"Like me? '\n\n\"Yes. Like you. Those who summon us, imprison us, use us cruelly, send us melt among the Vitr. Those like you.\"\n\nKiska understood. Human mages. Summoners. Theurgical researchers. Her breath caught as she realized: like Tayschrenn.\n\nSteps behind her and Leoman emerged. \"Labour problems?\" he asked.\n\n\"They are lowering the blockade.\"\n\nThe Seven Cities native nodded sagely. \"Sieges area test of patience.\"\n\nKiska didn't say that she thought these things could easily outwait them if it came to that. She addressed them:\"I am looking for the one known as Thenaj. Do you know where he is? '\n\nA flurry of hissing and burbling among the dun-brown creatures answered her. Their spokesman pointed the longer of its blunt limbs. \"It is as feared. You are come to take him away. You mustn't! The Great One is much pleased by him. He was very sad all alone for so long. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The Great One. You mean Maker?\"\n\n\"Names are dangerous things. To us he is the Great One.\"\n\n\"I understand.\" She set her hands on her hips. \"May we go then?\"\n\n\"We will not close the way... but we will not help either.\"\n\nKiska sighed. \"Fine.\" She waved Leoman forward. \"Let's go. '\n\nThey walked in silence fora time. The malformed creatures were left behind at their caves. Leoman, she noted, paced warily, hands on his weapons. \"You're nervous? ' she asked.\n\n\"I'm wondering how the big one will take this. '\n\n\"Sounds like he was outvoted.\"\n\n\"Ah, voting. Such apolitical arrangement is fine on paper, or among philosophers. But it tends to break apart upon the rocks of application.\"\n\nKiska cocked a brow. A revolutionary political philosopher? \"Oh? How so?\"\n\n\"Inequity. Disparities in power. For some unknown reason our big friend chooses to play along with the delusion of egalitarianism. But believe me, when the wishes of the powerful are thwarted they will set aside any communal agreements and pursue their own plans regardless. Because they can.\"\n\n\"You sound bitter.\"\n\n\"No. Not bitter. Realistic.\" He waved a gloved hand. \"Oh, because no one likes to think of themselves as a despot they will cloak their actions in high-sounding rhetoric. Announce that he– or she– sees the situation more clearly. That everyone will thank them in the end. That it is for the better. And soon.\"\n\nShe eyed him where he walked next to her, hands on the hafts of his weapons, his gaze somewhere else. The Sea of Vitr glimmered ahead. Lazy waves came hissing up the black scoured strand. \"You sure you're not bitter? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Beneath his moustache the man's lips curled up in a rueful smile.\"The curse of an unflinching eye. \"He froze.\"And here comes the test. '\n\nKiska glanced over and tensed. It was the big demon hurrying up to them on its broad ungainly bird's feet. It stopped a short distance off, glowered down at them.\"You are out, ' it growled after a time.\n\nKiska decided to forgo any sarcastic response. She levelled her stave before her. \"Yes.\"\n\nIt looked over them to the cliff face. \"I disapprove. But it is their decision.\" It held out an amber-taloned hand and clenched it as if crushing them within. \"If you hurt anyone you will answer tome.\" And it stalked off.\n\nKiska caught Leoman's bemused gaze.\"And what do you say to that? '\n\nHe stroked his moustache, frowning thoughtfully. \"I would say this place seems to have rules of its own.\"\n\nShe could not argue with that."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"What is the Deck of Dragons\n\nBut where one bends to look\n\nFor reflections\n\nOf all things unseen?\n\nVerse attributed to the Seer of Callows\n\nSPINDLE COULD NOT sleep after he and Blend and Picker dragged themselves back to K'rul's bar. It was dawn in any case, and his nerves were shot. They'd witnessed something they shouldn't have; they all knew it. No one said a thing all the way back from the base of Majesty Hill– which wasn't very far in any case, as K'rul's old temple stood on its own hill in the estate district.\n\nBlend and Picker thumped up the stairs to their room. Spindle slouched into a booth. The common room was empty. The historian was upstairs asleep. After dozing fora short time, Spindle was driven by a full bladder to shamble out of the rear kitchen exit. Facing the yard, looking out over the chicken coop, the woodpile and the pigsty, he untied his trousers and relieved himself in the chill air.\n\nIn mid-stream he gaped, jerked, traced a warm stream down his leg, then stumbled back inside, struggling with his trousers.\n\n\"Picker! Blend! Burn's own tits, would you come and look at this! '\n\n\"Shut up!\" came the muffled response.\n\n\"No, really! This is amazin\"! You gotta see this. '\n\nShambled footsteps sounded from above. Picker's voice called down:\"If it's just you findin\" your little soldier then I'm gonna be real mad.\"\n\n\"Ha, ha! No. I'm fucking serious here. '\n\n\"All right, all right.\" Picker appeared, tucking in her shirt and tying her trousers, boots clumping. \"What is it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Out back."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Take a look.\"\n\n\"What? Has Moon's Spawn returned? '\n\n\"Somethin\" like that. '\n\nPicker sobered, eyed the man, doubtful. She hiked up her trousers and headed to the kitchen. Spindle followed.\n\nAt the open doorway Picker stopped, peered right, then left. Behind, Spindle hopped from foot to foot, brushing at his wet pants. \"Do you see it? Do ya?\"\n\n\"What? The amazin\" chickens? They dancin\"? Singin\"? '\n\n\"No! Not...\" He squeezed his way round her, stared squinting into the distance. \"But there was...\" He turned back to the big woman, hunched his shoulders. \"There was this huge dome-like thing there. Over the hilltop...\"\n\nPicker just shook her head in a slow heavy dismissal. She rubbed her arm where scars marked a ring round the flesh, eyed the distance once more. Then she pushed him aside, muttering, \"Fuckin\" moron. Can't believe I'm beginnin'to miss Antsy.\"\n\nSpindle was left alone in the chill air. He turned back to the view across the hills of the estate district, snorted to himself.\n\n\"What did it look like?\" someone asked from behind.\n\nHe spun, jumping. It was Duiker, the old historian. He nodded a greeting. \"It was pale. Kinda see-through. Big. Like the moon. It looked like the moon.\"\n\nThe historian frowned thoughtfully behind his thick grey beard. His gaze fixed on Spindle. \"You lot been gone days. What happened?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you over some hot mulled wine. '\n\n\"We don't have any. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Spindle cast another pinched glance over the hilltops. \"Then I'm gonna go get some. '\n\n*\n\nTorvald Nom awoke to a cat's claws sinking into his chest. He jerked upright with a gasp, heard something ricochet off the shelves under the open window, then sat tensed, limbs trembling with startled awareness.\n\n\"What is it?\" Tiserra murmured, still mostly asleep.\n\n\"For a moment I thought you'd thrown yourself upon me and sunk your nails into my chest in an ecstasy of passion, dear. But it was the cat. '\n\n\"That's nice, ' she murmured into her pillow.\n\nTorvald sighed, peered about the shadowed room. \"Well. I'm awake now. Might as wellhead out. '\n\n\"Hmph.\"\n\n\"Don't trouble yourself. Don't bustle about with tea and bread and such for your workingman.\"\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"Never mind.\" Torvald got up.\n\nPassing through the streets on his walk to the estate district it struck him that the city was very quiet this morning. He felt that sense of suspended expectation, the atmosphere that some described as \"holding one's breath'. And he had had the strangest dreams just before awakening so very painfully. He did hear one noise that was very out of place indeed. He recognized it only because of his travels so far from this city of his birth. For it was a sound utterly unfamiliar to Darujhistan: the ordered stamp of marching soldiery. He hurried to where the marching echoed, the Second Tier Way.\n\nHe joined a press of Darujhistani citizenry turned out to watch this once in a lifetime sight. The tall cross-piece hanging banner preceding the column declared their allegiance: the white sceptre on afield of black, the sceptre much like an orb clasped in an upright three-toed predatory bird's foot. The naked clawed grip of the Malazan Empire."},{"from":"human","value":"Elite heavy infantry."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Campaign stripes marked them as veterans of every engagement on these, to them, foreign Genabackan lands. They carried broad rectangular shields blackened and edged in burgundy. Shortswords swung belted high at their sides. Crossbows and javelins rode strapped to their backs. The Malazan delegation honour guard, some two hundred strong. Withdrawing?\n\n\"What's going on? ' he asked one fellow in the crowd.\n\n\"The Empire's invading! ' the man bellowed, half drunk.\n\nTorvald grimaced at his bad luck. \"They're headed in the wrong direction, ' he pointed out.\n\n\"Ha ha!\" the drunk yelled. \"We beat them! Good riddance, y'damned foreigners! '\n\nTorvald walked away just in case the appropriately feared Malazan mailed fist should make itself felt. The rear of the column came marching up. Mounted officers rode just before a train of wagons and carts and strings of spare mounts. Torvald noted that he did not seethe bald and rather fat figure of the ambassador among the officers. He hurried onto bring the news to his employer, the head of his family house and thus councilwoman, Lady Varada.\n\nMadrun let him into the compound. \"Captain,\" the man said, bowing. Torvald always listened carefully to this welcome but so far he'd yet to detect even the slightest tinge of insincerity. More than ever he regretted the absence of his old partners, Scorch and Leff, who used to guard these doors.\n\nAt least then he wasn't the obvious weak link in the estate's personnel.\n\nThe castellan Studlock met him at the open front doors of the house. \"I have orders from the mistress,\" he lisped as Torvald hurried past."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes?\"\n\n\"The mistress is... ill,\" Studlock murmured. \"Yes. That is it. Quite ill.\"\n\nTorvald sniffed the air. \"What is that I smell? Is something burning?\"\n\n\"Just my preparations. The singeing of rare leaves. An infusion gone wrong.\" The strange man crept up close; the tatters and strips of gauzy cloth he wrapped himself in dragged long behind. Torvald flinched away. \"You appear tired, malnourished,\" Studlock went on. \"Are you having trouble in your sexual performance? Perhaps a mineral poultice to rebalance your animus?\"\n\n\"Rebalance my what? Ah, no. Thank you.\"\n\n\"A pity.\"\n\n\"Ill, you say? Where is she?\"\n\n\"The mistress is... indisposed.\"\n\n\"Indisposed...\"\n\n\"Yes. Quite. She did, however, leave detailed instructions regarding you.\"\n\n\"Me?\"\n\n\"Yes. None other.\"\n\n\"I see. And these instructions?\"\n\nThe man edged closer, his watery green eyes narrowed upon Torvald. \"There is a worrisome choleric tinge to you. Have you evacuated lately?\"\n\n\"Evacu what?\"\n\n\"Evacuated. Discharged your bodily wastes.\"\n\n\"Ah! Yes.\"\n\n\"And your bowels? How are they?\"\n\n\"Sacrosanct, thank you.\"\n\n\"Regretful. How am Ito continue my practice?\"\n\nTorvald was surprised. \"You're a physicker? '\n\nThe man blinked his confusion. \"No.\"\n\nTorvald regarded the unnerving hunched figure fora time, cleared his throat. \"So... these instructions?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes. You are now head of House Nom. Congratulations.\" The castellan shuffled away.\n\nTorvald stood motionless in the receiving hall fora longtime. Then he stormed up the stairs for his employer's office. He was in the process of ransacking her desk when he looked up to seethe gauzy apparition of Studlock before him once again.\n\n\"There must be some mistake.\"\n\n\"None, I assure you.\"\n\n\"What of Bellam?\"\n\n\"Young Bellam remains an eventual heir.\"\n\n\"But... it can't be official. There has to be paperwork. Certificates and such. '\n\nThe castellan drew a scroll from within the folds of cloth at his chest. \"I have them here. Sealed and authenticated.\"\n\nTorvald slumped down into the chair. That had been his last hope. He straightened, his brows rising. \"Aha! I appoint another. Someone else. Anyone else.\"\n\n\"Rallick Nom will support m'lady's choice. So then will the majority of the House.\"\n\nTorvald slumped once more. Damn him! He would, too– if only to avoid being appointed himself!\n\nHe set his elbows on the desk, cupped his head in his hands. \"But this is terrible... Tiserra will kill me! One day I leave for work and when I come home it's hello dear your husband has a seat on the Council! Rather a shock. '\n\nThe castellan cocked his head. \"Will she not be pleased?\"\n\n\"You don't know her. '\n\n\"You are correct. I do not. Are introductions in order? Some tea? My special brew...\"\n\nTorvald threw up his hands. \"No! No, no, thank you. That's quite all right. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Studlock's shoulders fell.\"That is regrettable. Who will I test it on? '\n\nTorvald frowned. \"So, now what? What do I do?\"\n\n\"You should register your appointment with the clerk of the Council, I imagine.\"\n\n\"Ah. Thank you. How very... practical.\"\n\nThe castellan bowed. \"My only wish is to serve.\"\n\nTorvald had never been to Majesty Hill; indeed, had never dreamed he'd have cause. The Wardens at the lowest gate stopped him to inspect his paperwork. Before him rose the stairs that switched back and forth up the flank of the hill, lined all the way by monuments, family shrines, plaques commemorating victories– real and invented– and other grandiose pronouncements meant to impress the reader with the virtue and generosity of their sponsors. All no more than base self-aggrandizement, Torvald reflected, once you boiled it all down.\n\nHe clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the worn heels of his old boots. Perhaps such an attitude was precisely what was not welcome on yon prestigious hilltop.\n\nA clerk bowed as he handed back the scrolled paperwork. \"Welcome, sir. My apologies for the delay. We do not see many councillors here at the gate.\"\n\n\"No? You do not? Just what do you see, then?\"\n\n\"Petitioners mostly. Appellants and other claimants summoned, or hoping, to address the assembly. And minor functionaries, of course.\"\n\n\"Ah. I see.\" Torvald wondered, vaguely, whether he'd just been insulted in some very sophisticated indirect fashion. Considering where he was headed, he decided that he'd better get used to it. \"So, just where do the Council members enter?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The man bowed– unctuously, it seemed to Torvald. \"These days most take the carriageway from the south.\"\n\n\"Ah, well. Perhaps many would benefit from coming in this way occasionally, don't you think? '\n\n\"Oh, beyond a doubt, sir,\" the man agreed smoothly, his face straight.\n\nGood at his job, this one, Torvald reflected. This gate must be where most of the squeezing of petitioners takes place. A coveted post. He bowed a farewell. \"I'd best be going then. '\n\n\"A sound decision, sir.\"\n\nTorvald walked away, wincing. Damn, drubbed by a bureaucrat. It's going to be along day.\n\nEventually, after rather a boring walk up an unnecessarily long set of stairs, he entered what appeared to be a main reception hall lined by many doors. It was... deserted. Is the place closed? Yet someone was here: noise reached him, a muted roaring as of many voices shouting. But where was it coming from?\n\nA door slammed and a robed clerk appeared, sheaf of papers in hand, reading as he scuttled quickly across the hall.\n\nTorvald cleared his throat. \"Excuse me– could you tell me...\"\n\nThe man disappeared into another side door. Torvald lowered his arm. A gods-damned rabbit warren. He poked his head into that door to see another hall, also lined by doors, albeit far less ornate. It occurred to him that a rather large old friend of his would know exactly what to do to a place like this. The sound of another door opening pulled him away. Another functionary was walking the hall. He planted himself before her.\n\nThe plump woman nearly ran into him before halting to blink up confusedly. \"Yes?\""},{"from":"human","value":"He wordlessly offered his paperwork."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She examined it, then bowed. \"Welcome, House Nom. I shall see to it that these are registered with the proper offices. You are no doubt come for the assembling of the emergency steering committee.\"\n\nIt was now his turn to blink his confusion. \"I'm sorry? '\n\n\"This way. If you would, sir.\"\n\nTorvald followed the woman down the long hall, round a series of turns, to a tall set of double doors. Two city Wardens barred the entrance. From behind the doors came a riotous roaring such as Torvald imagined must prevail before the gates to Hood's old realm.\n\nThe guards'hands went to their shortswords.\"This is a closed emergency session, ' pronounced one in what sounded like a carefully rehearsed line.\n\nThe woman bowed her agreement. \"And Councillor Nom is hereto participate.\"\n\nThe guard's brow furrowed. He licked his lips while he appeared to be frantically digging through options. The brows unfurled and he smiled, reciting,\"Chambers are closed. '\n\n\"Open those doors!\" a bull-roar echoed from behind Torvald, who spun.\n\nA great bhederin of a fellow was hurrying up, unshaven, finery askew, a hand to his forehead, grimacing in pain. The clerk bowed. \"Councillor Coll.\"\n\nTorvald stared despite himself. Great gods, the Councillor Coll? The man was a legend in the city.\n\nThe councillor cocked a bloodshot eye at Torvald. The clerk murmured, \"Councillor Coll, may I introduce Councillor Nom, newly invested.\"\n\nThe bleary, watering eyes widened. \"Indeed... may I ask after the mesmerizing Lady Varada, whom I have seen only from a distance, across the assembly?\""},{"from":"human","value":"The stale bite of cheap Daru spirits wafted from the man and Torvald struggled not to change his expression."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ah... her health precludes her participation... I am come in her stead.\"\n\n\"My regrets to your family, Nom. And may she soon recover.\"\n\nTorvald frantically cast about for something equally well-mannered and sophisticated. \"Ah, our thanks.\" Wonderful! Off to a dazzling start, you are.\n\nBut Councillor Coll's attention had shifted to the closed doors and the guards.\"You're still here?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Of course you may enter, Councillor. But this other...\"\n\nColl snatched up the sheaf of papers held by the clerk: Torvald's documents. He waved the flapping pages, complete with wax seals and coloured ribbons, before the faces of the guards.\"You see these certificates? This man is as qualified to sit as I! '\n\nThe guards eyed the sheaf, all in the tiniest spidery penmanship, the way those manning a wooden palisade might dread the approach of a siege onager. Resistance collapsed and they stood aside.\n\nThe clerk pushed open the twin leaves. And as they passed within, it occurred to Torvald that an impenetrable bureaucracy was in truth more powerful than any sword.\n\nThey stood high in a semicircular amphitheatre of seats. The view reminded Torvald of a depiction of one corner of Hood's realm: an immense prison for kings and despots, all arguing over who was in charge, when in truth none of the dead outside cared what went on within its tall walls.\n\nThe floor of the amphitheatre was crowded with the cream of the city aristocracy. All were standing talking at once, many red-faced, some waving their exasperation. Occasionally thrown papers fluttered over the crowd, or some particularly loud yell penetrated the din, but mostly it was an unintelligible gabbling of voices."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Welcome to Council,\" the clerk said, shouting to be heard though she stood right next to him.\n\n\"How very inspiring,\" he answered, to himself of course, as none could have possibly heard, or cared to hear, for that matter.\n\nThe woman backed out, pulled the doors closed. Councillor Coll took his arm and hurried him down the stairs. \"My thanks,\" Torvald offered.\n\n\"You can thank me by swearing to give me your first vote.\"\n\nSuch avow struck Torvald as extremely dangerous, but he also knew that honour would dictate that he had no choice. Best to pretend that such was the case, then.\n\nAloud, exceptionally sharp knocking sounded which Torvald identified as coming from a slim man standing on the raised speaker's platform, banging a stone on the lectern.\n\n\"Order!\" he bellowed in a surprisingly commanding voice. \"Order!\"\n\nThe clamour slowly diminished and the councillors stood silent, leaving only a single old fellow waving his arms and shouting, \"I tell you, everything would go so smoothly if only everyone would just do as I say!\"\n\n\"Hear, hear!\" someone shouted in answer and they all burst into applause.\n\nThe old fellow peered about myopically then hurriedly turned away, red-faced.\n\n\"The floor recognizes Councillor Lim,\" a clerk announced into the silence.\n\nIt now occurred to Torvald that crowding about the central lectern were only some fifty or so members of the Council, yet the amphitheatre held seats for hundreds. \"Where is everyone?\" he whispered to Coll.\n\n\"It's a damned trick, \"Coll answered, low and fierce.\"There is a little-known emergency steering committee that can be called to meet in case of fires and such. Just those close enough to participate. Quorum is thirty. Thankfully I was nearby... sleeping in my chambers. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Passed out, you mean. So, an emergency sub-committee of Council. But to decide what?\n\nAt the lectern, Lim stood tall and pole-thin, his dark expensive silk shirt and trousers accentuating his figure. He raised his arms for silence.\n\nSo, Lim, is it? Torvald believed he'd heard that Shardan Lim was dead.\n\n\"Thank you,\" the fellow began. \"My fellow councillors, fair Darujhistan has weathered astounding events of late. Many of you, myself included, no doubt wish that history would be so good as to pass us by for once, allow us our well-earned peace to quietly tend our fields and watch our children play...\"\n\nTorvald snorted: the man looked as peaceful and compassionate as a viper. Coll chuckled. Torvald glanced over to see him offer a wink. \"What's going on? '\n\nIn answer, the man gestured to the front. \"Let us hear from Lim.\"\n\n\"That's not Shardan Lim, is it? '\n\n\"Ah. You are new. No, this is Jeshin Lim. His cousin.\"\n\nTorvald grunted. He'd never heard of a Jeshin Lim. But then, he'd probably never heard of most of the men and women in the hall. The young man had been talking all the while, offering some long-winded soothing introduction to the course of action he wished to suggest. In time, the meat of the speech arrived: \"... and so it is clear that this abrupt, unannounced flight by all the Moranth present within the city, combined with the equally sudden withdrawal of their allies, the Imperial Malazan elements staining our fair city, can amount to only one thing: the first stage in a pre-planned, coordinated initiation of hostilities against the freedom and independence of Darujhistan!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The hall erupted into chaotic noise once more. Most cheered, calling out their support of the claim. Only a few shouted their dismissal.\n\nTorvald and Coll remained silent. Torvald leaned to Coll. \"Why is he saying everything twice?\"\n\n\"Ah. An older style of rhetoric. Something of a traditionalist, our Jeshin. New to assembly, he is. But there's a great deal of money backing him. '\n\nCloser to the man, Torvald noted that while Coll was impressively large, it had all gone to fat. And though a strong miasma of Daru spirits surrounded him, he did not appear to be drunk.\n\n\"And what do you propose?\" an old man's sarcastic voice cut through the shouting.\n\nThe raucous arguing died down as everyone waited for Lim's answer.\n\nColl gestured aside, indicating the speaker: an aged fellow, thin and straight, his hair a grey hedging round his skull. \"Councillor D'Arle. '\n\n\"Will you marshal the troops?\" the old man continued scathingly. \"Assemble the navy? But wait... we have none! And the Malazans know this! If they wanted to occupy us they would have done so long ago.\"\n\nCouncillor Lim was shaking his head. \"With all respect to House D'Arle, that is not so. The truth is that the Malazans have tried to annex us to their Empire but that said efforts have to this time failed, or been defeated by circumstance, or the intervention of diversionary challenges– such as the Pannions to the south. Now, however, with said threat crushed, and Moon's Spawn also eliminated from the field– now it appears clear that the Malazans see that it is time to bring our fair city to heel.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"You do have a proposal,\" Councillor D'Arle demanded,\"lurking somewhere within all that puff and wind?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"'\n\n\"I like this fellow,\" Torvald whispered to Coll.\n\nA taut smile from Coll. \"Sad family history there.\"\n\nShowing surprising patience, Councillor Lim inclined his head in assent. \"I do. I propose that this emergency assembly of the Council now vote upon the investiture of the ancient position created precisely for such rare crises. I am speaking, of course, of the temporary and limited post of Legate of Council.\"\n\nColl's meaty hand closed painfully on Torvald's shoulder. \"The bastard!\" he hissed, giving out a cloud of stale alcohol. \"You can't do that! ' he bellowed into the hall.\n\nLim's thin brows rose.\"I see that we are fortunate in this time of threat to have Councillor Coll with us. You have a proposal for the floor, do you? '\n\n\"Only that the office of Legate was abolished centuries ago because of its abuses!\"\n\n\"Hear, hear!\" called Councillor D'Arle.\n\n\"And short-sighted and mistaken that was too,\" Lim answered. \"For how else can the city respond quickly and authoritatively to sudden emergencies?\"\n\nA cheer went up from the gathered councillors. Coll slowly shook his head. \"A stacked deck, as they say,\" he murmured to Torvald.\n\n\"We will now vote upon the reinvestment of the position of temporary Legate of Council,\" called out the clerk. \"All in favour raise hands.\"\n\nAlmost all raised their hands. Coll and Torvald did not.\n\n\"Proposal carried,\" announced the clerk.\n\nA great cheer answered that pronouncement. The councillors congratulated one another, slapping backs and shaking hands. The celebration seemed premature to Torvald as they had yet to actually do anything."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Councillor D'Arle pushed his way forward.\"And I suppose you would tender your name for this post? \"The man's voice was icy with scorn.\n\nLim bowed. \"Yes. Since Councillor D'Arle has been good enough to mention it. '\n\nThe old councillor's jaws snapped shut.\n\n\"Seconded!\" another councillor shouted.\n\nIt occurred to Torvald that the man with him was probably the only councillor who could boast of any direct military training or experience and that time was running out. He shouted, \"I nominate Councillor Coll!\"\n\n\"What in Oponn's name are you doing? ' Coll ground through clenched teeth.\n\nSilence answered the shout. Councillor Lim squinted down at Torvald. A look of distaste clenched his pale fleshless face. \"And you are...?\"\n\n\"Nom, Torvald Nom.\"\n\n\"Councillor,\" Coll hissed.\n\n\"Councillor! Ah, Nom.\"\n\nLim inclined his head in greeting. \"I see. Welcome, then, to House Nom, so long absent from these proceedings. We have a nomination on the floor. Does anyone second?\"\n\nSilence, then a young woman's voice called out,\"I second. '\n\nTorvald sat to find Coll glaring at him. \"I don't know whether to thank you or call you out, ' the man growled.\n\n\"Don't you think you should be Legate? '\n\n\"If reason and logic ruled the world no one would be Legate. But it doesn't rule. Power and influence does. And I have neither. I am sorry to say that you have made yourself some enemies this day, my friend. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Well, we're off to a good start then. Who was that who seconded? '\n\n\"Councillor Redda Orr. Most say she is too young to sit on the Council, but she has a sharp political mind and grew up in these halls.\"\n\n\"Friend of yours?\"\n\n\"No. She just hates House Lim. Blames them for her father's death. '\n\n\"Ah.\" Rather belatedly it occurred to Torvald that he had just leapt into a kind of gladiatorial free-for-all without knowing any of the rules or the players. But then, why should he change the habits of a lifetime? He'd always run a very fast and loose game. Never mind the poor record scattered in his wake– he was alive, wasn't he? There were many others who couldn't boast as much.\n\n\"Very good,\" announced the clerk. \"We will now vote upon the nomination of Councillor Lim to the position of temporary Legate of Council. All in favour?\"\n\nAlmost all hands rose. The clerk did a quick count. \"We have a majority of forty-two votes. Nomination carried.\"\n\nThis time a stunned silence answered the announcement, as if those gathered could not believe that they'd actually succeeded. Then an enormous cheer arose, councillors laughing, reaching up to clasp Lim's hands, hugging one another.\n\n\"I wonder just how much all this cost,\" Coll murmured into the clamour. \"A family fortune, I imagine.\"\n\nSpeaking of money, it occurred to Torvald that he still had to break the news to Tis. Perhaps he should visit the bourse of the flower-sellers before heading home. And on the subject of costly items, just how huge was his new income from this prestigious post?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Excuse me for being so ill-mannered, friend Coll... but what is the pay for sitting on this assembly?\"\n\nThe big man frowned. His thick greying brows bunched down over his eyes, almost obscuring them. \"Pay? There's no pay associated with a seat on the Council. It's a service. One's civic duty. However, \"and here the man strove to keep his face straight,\"monies do flow to members... indirect relation to their power and influence upon the Council... '\n\nTorvald slumped into a nearby seat. In other words, his earnings would amount to the impressive sum of zero. Perhaps for the immediate future it would be better if he avoided returning home altogether...\n\n*\n\nImpatient banging brought Jess lumbering once more to the doors of the Phoenix Inn. She unlatched the lock to peer out into the glaring morning light. A tall dark figure brushed in past her, imperious.\n\n\"Not– oh, it's you, ' she said, blinking. She shuffled to the kitchen to wake Chud.\n\nRallick crossed to the rear table, which stood covered in clumps of old wax, stained by spills of red Rhivi wine. Empty wine bottles crowded it, and crumbs lay scattered like the wreckage of war.\n\nJess came shuffling up to offer a glass of steaming tea. Rallick took it. \"Thank you.\" He blew on the small tumbler, then sipped. \"So... where is he?\"\n\nJess cocked a brow at the man– a man rumoured to be the lover of Vorcan, once head of the city's guild of assassins. And thus to her a man commanding a great deal of physical... tension. She kept her eyes on him.\"Where's who?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The toad... self-proclaimed Eel. The fat man.\"\n\nShe swept an arm to the table. \"Why, he's right-\"She stared, gaping.\"Fanderay's tits! He's not here! He's buggered off! Where's he got to? \"A hand closed over her mouth.\"Oh, Burn's mercy... who's gonna cover his tab? Have you seen the size of his tab? '\n\nRallick handed over the glass. \"No. And I don't care to, thank you. ' He headed for the door.\n\n\"Where are you going?\"\n\nWithout stopping Rallick answered, \"Looks like maybe it's up tome to settle accounts, Jess. I seem to be the only one around here willing to do it. '\n\nOf all the men and women she'd seen in the Phoenix Innit had always appeared to Jess that Rallick was the one who could close any debt. But this was a damnably huge one.\n\n*\n\nRallick pushed open the ornamental wrought-iron gate that allowed entrance to the grounds of the alchemist Baruk's modest estate. He walked the curving flagged path past subdued plantings of flowering shrubs. A small fountain tinkled spray from the mouth of an amphora held at a boy's stone shoulder. Leaves cluttered the surface of the pond, as did something else: apiece of litter, or wind-tossed garbage. Rallick's long face drew down, accentuating the deep lines framing his mouth.\n\nBaruk's grounds were always immaculate.\n\nHe pulled on a pair of leather gloves and extracted the litter from the sodden leaves. A card. A card from an expensive custom-made Dragons Deck. Soaked now, and flame-scorched. Turning it over, he grunted. A card of rulership: Crown. He dropped it back into the glimmering water."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The front door was unlocked. He lifted the latch and pushed it open. Inside lay destruction. Shards of ceramic urns and expensive glassware littered the carpet of the entranceway. Paintings had been thrown down; furniture overturned.\n\nRallick crouched to his haunches just outside the threshold. He drew pieces of wood and metal from his pockets and waist until he'd assembled a medium-sized crossbow, its metal parts blued. The sort of weapon that would immediately have you arrested should anyone catch sight of it.\n\nHe loaded it, then cocked it by slipping afoot into its stirrup and straightening. Then he crossed his arms, cradling the weapon across his chest. He called out, \"Roald? Hello? Anyone?\"\n\nNo answer. He heard the wind brushing through nearby boughs; a carriage made its noisy metal-tyred way down one of the alleys bordering the estate. In the light of the sun he studied the weave of the carpet lining the entranceway.\n\nSmooth well-worn slippers. The foot narrow, gracile. Yet the impression very heavy. Female. Slim but hefty? Entering then leaving. Trod over some shards as she left. Agent of the vandalism? No other recent traffic... except... the ghostliest of hints. A brushing across the rich weft as of broad, splayed moccasined feet slipping side to side, never lifting, entering and exiting also. And before the woman arrived, as her tracks obscure these others. An interesting puzzle.\n\nHe rose, edged inwards. Over the years he'd done occasional work for Baruk; non-assassination jobs, gathering intelligence, trailing people, collecting rare objects, and suchlike. As had Kruppe, Murillio, and sometimes Coll. Indeed, it was this very work that had thrown the lot of them together. Four as unlikely associates as one might imagine. In any case, he knew enough to be very wary of crossing this particular threshold."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But others had entered already, to no ill effects he could discern. He peered into the nearest room opening off the foyer. Some sort of waiting room. Complete carnage and wanton devastation. Everything broken, thrown to the floor. Vandalism. Plain juvenile vindictiveness.\n\nHe moved on. Up the narrow tower stairs he found chambers similarly ruined. So far he couldn't tell if the intruder had come deliberately searching for something and was venting her frustration upon failing to discover it, or whether such destruction, or insult, had been the prime purpose of the visitation from the start.\n\nHe glanced into what appeared to have been some sort of workroom. Delicate glass fragments of globes covered the bare stone floor, as did the tattered remains of torn books and scrolls. Workbenches had been swept clear of their clutter, which now lay in tangled heaps on the floor.\n\nHis foot crushed a glass shard and a chest flew open across the room. Rallick's crossbow snapped out, seeming to point of its own accord, only to fall again– a squat toad-like familiar, or demon, was peeping out, its amber eyes huge with fear.\"Gone! \"it croaked.\"Out! Oh my! '\n\nRallick frowned, his mouth drawing down even further. \"Who? Who's out? '\n\n\"Hinter gone! Out. Oh my!\"\n\nHinter? As in the old ghost story Hinter of Hinter's Tower?\n\n\"Where's Baruk? '\n\n\"Gone! Oh my!\"\n\n\"And the place ransacked,\" Rallick muttered, more to himself.\n\n\"Not all,\" and the demon's clawed hand flew to cover its mouth.\n\nWith a jerk of the crossbow, Rallick motioned the creature from the chest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The demon led him down the narrow circular staircase, which continued on past ground level, passing floor after floor of quarters, storerooms, and workrooms. Rallick had had no idea the place was so extensive. It seemed so small from the outside. The creature stopped at what appeared to be the lowest floor. Rallick lit a wall-mounted lantern and raised it to peer around. The room was bare, almost completely empty. Nothing to vandalize here. Old inscriptions covered the floor in ever-narrowing circles. Old metal-working tools lined the walls: tongs, hammers, a small portable forge, twinned anvils. The demon waddled to a heavy metal chest against one wall, only to recoil as if struck.\n\n\"Oh no!\" it gibbered. \"Out! Out!\" It slapped its bald head with its tiny undersized clawed hands and hopped from foot to foot.\n\n\"What's out? '\n\n\"Scary big man squash us with hammer for this! Oh no!\"\n\nHammer?\n\nRallick crossed to the chest. It was constructed of thick metal plates. A lock at its front hung open. He pulled on the lid, failed to budge it. He set down the crossbow, clasped a hand at either side of the lid and lifted. It grated, edging upwards. He strained, gasping, managed to lever it up to clang back against the stonewall. It was a full hand's thickness of dull metal.\n\n\"A lot of lead,\" he muttered.\n\n\"Not lead!\" the creature answered. \"Magic-killing metal!\"\n\nRallick flinched from the chest. Otataral! An entire box of the metal? Beru fend! Why, an ounce of this would bring a man a fortune!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Within, a length of white silk lined the bottom, empty.\n\nThe demon was blubbering, hands at its head. \"Scary big man mustn't know! He will flatten us all! '\n\nSomething lay scattered on the dusty stones of the floor next to the chest. Rallick bent to study the mess. Crumbs? And next to that, a ring-stain– as of a wineglass? He pressed a finger to the crumbs, touched it to his tongue. Pastry crumbs?\n\nHe straightened, asked almost absently, \"What was in the chest?\"\n\nThe demon's hands were now squeezing its own neck.\"The master's most awful terrible possessions of all!\" it choked, throttling itself. \"Flakes. Slivers. Little scary slivers.\"\n\n\"Slivers of what?\"\n\nThe creature's already red face now glowed bright carmine. Its amber eyes bulged.\"Slivers of death! ' it gurgled in a seeming last gasp, and fell, fat stomach heaving.\n\nRallick regarded the empty otataral chest. Slivers of death?\n\nWent, Filless and Scarlon, the three cadre mages assigned to Ambassador Aragan's contingent of the Fifth, were busy in the embassy cellar sorting through files for destruction. None noticed the presence of the slim young girl until she cleared her throat. Then all three looked up from the folders and string-bound sheaves of orders and logistical summaries to stare, dumbfounded, at what appeared to be a dancing girl in loose white robes with silver bracelets rattling on her wrists.\n\n\"Are you lost, child?\" Filless demanded, first to recover her wits.\n\n\"You three do constitute the last full Imperial mage cadre in this theatre, do you not?\" the girl enquired, and she smiled, demurely."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The three exchanged wondering glances. \"You area guest of the ambassador...?\" Scarlon offered, tentatively.\n\nThe pale girl drew up her long mane of black hair, knotted it through itself. \"No. I am the last thing you will ever see.\"\n\nAll three dived for cover, summoning their Warrens; none lived long enough to channel them. Filless died last, and hardest, as she was not only a mage of Denul but the last Claw of the contingent as well.\n\nIt was half a day before the mess was discovered.\n\nAmbassador Aragan kicked through the wreckage of singed papers, destroyed tables, blood and gore-smeared folders cluttering the cellar. His aide, Dreshen, stood at a distance, as did the hastily assembled bodyguard of marines.\n\nThe ambassador was in a filthy mood.\n\n\"No one heard a thing? Not a damned thing?\" he demanded, turning on them.\n\n\"No, sir,\" Dreshen answered, wincing.\n\n\"Someone enters the estate, happens to find all three of our cadre mages together in the same room, and kills them all without so much as a peep?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"And of course the only ones who could be counted onto sense anything happen to be the very three lying here!\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nDreshen swallowed to settle his stomach as the ambassador squatted on his haunches next to the ravaged body of Filless: the woman's face had been torn as if by jagged blades and her midriff had been slashed open, her looped entrails spilt out over her lap. Aragan stared down moodily at the corpse, drew a hand across the woman's staring eyes to shut them. Dreshen felt his knees going weak at the sight of all the ropy blue and pink viscera."},{"from":"human","value":"Aragan used some of the scattered papers to wipe the blood from his hands."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He stood, and started to pace again. \"An act of war, Captain. An Osserc-damned act of war.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"In the Academy this is what you'd calla'pre-emptive strike\". '\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"We're effectively cutoff now, aren't we, Captain?\"\n\n\"Ah. Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Communications neatly severed. No cadre mages to contact Unta. No access to the Imperial Warren.\" Aragan turned. \"There must be some talents among the rankers, surely?\"\n\n\"Minor only, sir. None trained in cadre protocols.\"\n\nThe ambassador stood still, apparently thinking. He had that wide-legged stance of big men, when in fact most of his size was abroad circle around his middle. He pulled on his lower lip, his mouth drawn down in a moue of angry disgust. \"An act of war...\" he mused. \"Someone's made their opening moves against us and we don't even know who we're facing yet! We are too far behind. \"He pointed to Dreshen.\"What about Fist K'ess? He must have cadre.\"\n\nDreshen nodded thoughtfully. \"Yes... but none to spare, I'm sure. There's still fighting in the north.\"\n\nAragan grunted, accepting this. \"And Fist Steppen?\"\n\nHis aide cocked his head. \"I don't believe there are any active cadre in the south. '\n\nAragan looked to the low ceiling. Ye gods! That the Empire of Nightchill, Tattersail and Tayschrenn should be reduced to this! It would be laughable if it weren't so damned tragic! Very well. If it's to be war... then war it shall be."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He crossed to the stairs. His bodyguard parted to make way for him. He stopped before his aide. \"Get the box, Captain.\"\n\nDreshen frowned, uncertain. \"The box, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes. The box.\"\n\nDreshen's pale thin brows rose.\"Ah! The box. Yes, sir. Here? '\n\nThe ambassador peered about the cellar, shook his head. \"No. Upstairs.\"\n\nAragan waited in his office, hands clasped behind his back. Eventually Captain Dreshen entered, followed by two marines carrying a small battered travel trunk which they thumped down heavily on a table. Aragan motioned the marines out. He reached for the buckles securing the leather straps around the iron box but hesitated at the last moment and looked to Dreshen. \"Well, let's just hope I'm allowed to open this.\"\n\nThe captain offered a strained smile. \"Of course, sir.\"\n\nAragan undid the buckles, opened the latches, and swung up the lid. Within lay along thin object wrapped in oiled leathers. Captain Dreshen studied the item, mystified. The truth was, he had no idea what was in the box– other than that the cadre mages all considered it the most important artefact the Fifth Army possessed.\n\nAragan pulled off the oiled wrap and Dreshen caught his breath, stepping back. Burn, Oponn and Fanderay protect him. No. It couldn't be...\n\nHis mouth drawn wide in satisfaction, Aragan hefted the thing in one hand. It was about the length of along-knife. One end was a blade, the other sculpted into a three-toed bird's foot grasping a frosted orb of glass or crystal."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"An Imperial Sceptre.\n\nAragan slammed the artefact blade-first into the table. The gleaming point bit deep into the wood and the sceptre stood upright, at a slight angle. Aragan set his fists to the table on either side, studied the orb. Despite his awe, Dreshen edged forward as well.\n\nAragan cleared his throat. \"This is Ambassador Aragan in Darujhistan. I do not know whether anyone is listening, or if this message will reach anyone, but I must report that all the remaining mage cadre of the Fifth have been murdered. Assassinated. Cadre Filless may have also reported that our allies, the Moranth, have fled the city– terrified, as far as I can see. Something is stirring herein the city and it has moved against us. This is our only remaining communication channel to command. If Unta values Darujhistan then some sort of help must be sent. That is all.\"\n\nThe ambassador pushed himself from the table, stood with arms crossed regarding the sceptre. Dreshen watched as well, though for what he had no idea.\n\nAfter a protracted silence during which nothing apparently changed in the state of the sceptre, Dreshen coughed into a fist. \"How long,\" he began, \"until...\"\n\n\"Until we know? Until they answer– or if anyone's going to answer at all? \"Aragan shrugged his round shoulders.\"Who knows. \"He peered round the room.\"Until then I want this room sealed and guarded. Yes, Captain? '\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThey shut and sealed all the doors, locking the last one behind them. While Aragan waited Captain Dreshen went to find two marines to post on the door.\n\nBehind, in the gloom of the office, the only light was the glow through the slats of the folding terrace doors, now barred from within. And it may have been a trick of that uncertain light, but deep within the depths of the orb, a glimmering awakened and the clouds, like a storm of snow, began to churn."},{"from":"human","value":"When Spindle finally started awake, fully clothed on his cot, he lay back and held his head, groaning."},{"from":"gpt","value":"No more Barghast mead. Never again. Even warm, as he'd had it with Duiker. Though come to think of it, the historian had drunk little more than one tumbler from the jug.\n\nHolding his head very still for fear that it might falloff, he carefully edged his way down the stairs to the common room. By the light streaming in through the temple-bar's few windows he saw that it was late afternoon. Damned well slept most of the day– a bad sign. Discipline's goin' by the wayside.\n\nNow that the bar was wet once more a few of the regulars had returned to sit by themselves among the tables and booths. Irredeemable souses all, they spent the day expertly maintaining a steady state of numbness bordering on unconsciousness. Watching them, Spindle sometimes worried that that was where he was headed. Somehow, though, the abstract dread was not enough to stop him from getting hammered whenever possible.\n\nHe was surprised to see some tall well-dressed fellow sitting with the historian, and slowly eased himself down into a chair at the table. The two older men shared a knowing, amused glance.\n\n\"Care for another to chase that one away?\" Duiker asked.\n\nSpindle showed his teeth. \"Evil bastard.\"\n\nThe historian– a dour grim man at the best of times– offered a death's-head grin. He motioned to his companion,\"Fisher, Spindle. '\n\nThe bard nodded his greeting, his face held tight– Spindle recognized this as the politest possible reaction he could get to his hair shirt, which he never washed. He was surprised that this was the fellow Picker and Blend had spoken of: he had thought he'd be more imposing, more... mysterious. And they said he didn't come round much anymore. Taken up with a witch, or some such thing. He turned to the historian. \"Remind me to never buy mead again.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I've heard that before, ' Duiker answered.\n\nSpindle blew out a breath, rubbed his face. \"Damned strange night last night.\" He tried to get the attention of Picker behind the bar.\n\n\"They have been strange, lately,\" Fisher affirmed, his gaze distant.\n\n\"Last night?\" Duiker asked, a grey brow arching. \"You mean two nights ago, don't you? '\n\nSpindle stared, amazed. Damn, but time flies when you finally have coin in your pocket!\n\n\"Spindle, why don't you tell Fisher here what you thought you saw two nights ago. '\n\nSpindle waved to Picker, who looked right through him. \"Does a man have to get his own tea and a bite around here?\" he murmured absently. Then he stiffened and half started up from the table, only to groan and sink back down again, holding his head. \"Beru take it!\"\n\nThe historian lost his amused half-smile and studied him, uncertain. \"What is it?\"\n\nYe gods! Two days and I haven't reported in! What was that woman's name? Fells? Fillish? Damn! The saboteur's bloodshot eyes darted right and left and his face took on a pale greenish hue.\"Nothing, \"he said.\"Think I'll get me some soup.\" He nodded a curt goodbye and ran.\n\nAfter Spindle had darted out of the bar Duiker said to Fisher, \"There goes one of the last remaining Bridgeburner cadre mages. Or rather, a mage who thinks he's a saboteur. '\n\nFisher touched along thin finger to his nose and nodded thoughtfully. \"Yes, there was a certain air about him.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 8\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Now, go!\\\" a sailor shouted.\\n\\n\\\"Wait just a damned minute!\\\"\\n\\nWhen the punt dipped in the surf Malakai suddenly leapt to land on a tiny stone ledge. He trailed the rope behind him. Antsy pressed it into Orchid's hands.\\\"Hold on. '\\n\\n\\\"I can't swim! '\\n\\n\\\"Then hold on, dammit!\\\"\\n\\nThe poles cracked against the rocks as the sailors desperately fended the boat from the cliff. Orchid yelled something lost in the crash of waves and jumped for the end of the rope ladder. The punt nearly tipped over. She disappeared into the foaming blue-black waves. Malakai hauled on the rope. Antsy remembered the girl's amazingly strong grip. She appeared again, thrown up by the surf, driven against the rock wall, to which she clung. Malakai began making his way to her, dragging the rope ladder with him.\\n\\nCorien took the punt's side next. While the man timed his jump Antsy belted the two panniers he had been carrying to himself.\\\"How do we get off the damned island? ' he yelled to the nearest sailor.\\n\\nThe man waved him away. \\\"Go, damn you!\\\"\\n\\nAntsy pointed to the cave. \\\"Is this where we get off, too?\\\"\\n\\nCorien leapt and hit the side, where he hung by both hands. He clambered up the uneven cliff face.\\n\\n\\\"Jump or we take you back with us!\\\" a sailor barked, and swung his pole at Antsy.\\n\\nAll right– we'll have to do this the hard way then. Antsy drew a dirk and yanked the nearest sailor down into the bottom of the boat. All four screamed insults. The punt bounced like a cork. Antsy shoved two fingers\\\" length of the dirk blade into the man's side. The sailor jerked, then held himself utterly still. The other three were too busy holding the punt off from the cliff to come to his aid.\\\"You know! \\\"Antsy yelled.\\\"What's the story on getting out?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Let me go or we're all dead! '\\n\\n\\\"Answer!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right! Hood's grin, man! '\\n\\nThen the bottom of the punt launched up into Antsy, clouting him in the mouth, and there was a shout of warning, a snapping of wood, and the water sucked him down into its cold embrace. The sailor he still had by the belt kicked at him; the two panniers of equipment dragged him down like stone weights. He cut the straps of one, hoping it was the right choice. A wall of black stone veined with bubbles flew at him. The collision knocked out his remaining breath and he gulped in a mouthful of water. He scrabbled fora grip over the slimy rock. He knew he was drowning and it outraged him that there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. It wasn't goddamned fair.\\n\\nIt seemed that the world, with all its infinite traps, had finally caught up with him.\\n\\nHe came to coughing and vomiting up seawater. Someone held him upright in chest-high surging waves: Malakai. The man was shouting something: \\\"Did you lose it! Where is it?\\\"\\n\\nStill dry-heaving, Antsy dug at the remaining pannier; it was his. He grinned his relief to Malakai, who grunted, nodding. The man also had a grip on the rope ladder and he swung Antsy to it. \\\"Damned fool.\\\"\\n\\nAt the back of the cave was a flight of ascending steps cut into the rock, barely as wide as his shoulders. It was pitch black but for the light from the cave mouth. Antsy felt his way on all fours. Seawater dripped from him onto the stairs, which were cold beneath his hands, and as slippery as polished marble. He kept almost falling until he realized that the stairs tilted crazily to one side. He smelled something, an old familiar smell– it came from something smeared over the stairs, and because it had been sometime it took him a moment to recognize the tang of dried blood.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Almost at the top,\\\" came Orchid's voice from above.\\n\\nHands took his shoulders and she led him to a wall. He leaned against it, grateful. She seemed to behaving no trouble in the absolute black. \\\"Corien?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gone ahead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How far?\\\" from Malakai, sharp.\\n\\n\\\"Not far,\\\" came Corien's voice.\\n\\nAntsy couldn't take it any longer:\\\"I can't see a goddamned blasted thing!\\\"\\n\\nSilence, the muted roar of the surf. \\\"Anyone else?\\\" asked Malakai.\\n\\n\\\"I've always had excellent night vision, ' said Orchid.\\n\\n\\\"Before I came I visited an alchemist. He gave mean unguent,\\\" Corien said.\\n\\n\\\"Can you give some to Red?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. Sorry. There's really only enough for one. '\\n\\nAntsy felt his way along the wall to the top of the stairs. He squinted down; there, dull grey, a glimmering.\\n\\n\\\"Don't we have any light? ' Orchid asked.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Malakai answered, reluctantly. \\\"But I'd rather not announce our presence by shining it everywhere. '\\n\\n\\\"Well, you should've thought of that when you hired us. '\\n\\nCorien chuckled his appreciation of the point.\\n\\nAlong silence followed that. Antsy peered about the black, which seemed to him no longer absolute. His vision was adjusting; he could make out blobs of greater and lesser darkness, catch hints of movement. Someone slid down one wall to a sitting position. \\\"We'll wait, \\\"said Malakai.\\\"We're wet and it's night. We'll have more light in the morning.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Everyone sat. Equipment banged to the floor. \\\"What was that about, Red?\\\" Corien asked. \\\"There on the boat?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy debated not bothering to answer but decided that since they were all stuck together he might as well make the effort. \\\"I wanted some information so I put a knife to one of them. We capsized.\\\"\\n\\nCorien laughed aloud barracks-room bray. \\\"Remind me not to withhold information from you in the future.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy allowed himself a sour half-smile. He hugged his pannier to his chest. He was soaked, cold, and his mouth hurt like the devil. This was not going the way he'd imagined. Then he laughed, thinking of something:\\\"I'm sure as Hood not keeping watch tonight.\\\"\\n\\nOrchid and Corien chuckled.\\n\\n\\\"I will. Everyone get some sleep,\\\" growled Malakai.\\n\\nNo one spoke again that night.\\n\\nKiska had no idea how long they sat imprisoned in their cliff-face cave. Or even that such concepts as days or hours mattered here at what now truly seemed to be the \\\"Shores of Creation\\\". Leoman practised with his morningstars at the widest point of the cave-fissure. Kiska had her chance to practise close work with the stave. She tested herself until her arms burned then threw herself down to sleep.\\n\\nBut sleep would not come. Instead, her thoughts wandered to one of her last assignments within the Claw. One of a team pursuing indigenous leaders in Seven Cities. Assassination, disruption of nativist movements, the seeding of spies and provocateurs. Ugly work. Murder, torture, extortion, blackmail. That was where she fell away from the Claw. Not out of squeamishness, or adherence to any sort of misplaced moral philosophy– if they weren't doing it to others then others'd be doing it to them, after all– no, it was purely professional disgust. The politicking within the Claw. The careerist lies and backstabbing. The toadying and outright favouritism in promotions. At first it only disgusted her and she kept her distance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But then it happened to her.\\n\\nIt had been a routine operation. The target was an entrenched anti-occupation movement gaining strength around Aren. She'd been second in command of the Hand assigned the clean-up. They were lucky to have two locally recruited agents: Seven Cities natives who favoured the Malazan mission of suppressing the wasteful feuding, the opening up of the culture to the wider world.\\n\\nThese two were tasked with infiltrating the movement.\\n\\nDuring this time the Hand waited and watched. Buildings were noted. Members were marked. The Handheld off until word was passed of a major meet or gathering. The night was set. Kiska's Hand was positioned; the sign was given; they moved.\\n\\nThey stepped right into an ambush.\\n\\nSomehow, these Seven Cities patriots had gotten word of the attack. A number proved to be hardened veterans from the first war of invasion. When it all was over the small dank cellar was a bloodbath. Only she and the Hand commander remained standing.\\n\\nOn searching the side rooms she found their agents. Both had been monstrously tortured. Mauled and carved almost beyond recognition as human. Bound and hanging like meat. Unbelievably, one still lived. Though eyeless, his stomach eviscerated, the innards dangling in loops, he mouthed that the insurgents had been tipped off. That he'd overheard their boasting of a source within the Claw itself.\\n\\nBoth Kiska and Lotte, the Hand commander, immediately knew who it probably was. The man was Lotte's rival for promotion to the regional directorate. Kiska was all for murdering him that night. Right then and therewith the blood still wet on their boots and gloves. But Lotte demurred. He was willing to grant his rival this round. The operation would be reported as botched, a black mark on his record, and the other fellow would get the directorship.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But with Kiska's help he vowed to see to it that the man's tenure would be one long series of failures and setbacks in the region. He would be removed. And then, Lotte proposed, he himself and Kiska could potentially rule the Seven Cities holdings from behind the scenes. In the dark of the cellar, the stink of blood and bile a miasma in the air, the dead a carpet round their feet, and Lotte's gaze bright upon her weighing, guarded, Kiska thought it prudent to agree.\\n\\nBut her faith in the virtue of her calling had been shaken– no, more than shaken... it had been stabbed through the heart. Lost among the self-promotion and careerist manoeuvring within the order was any concern or responsibility to their larger mission serving the Empire. It seemed that the entire Malazan goal of subduing the Seven Cities region could go down inflames so long as one Claw operative managed to sabotage his rivals. And also dead were two infinitely valuable local agents, loyal and dedicated to the Malazan cause. Betrayed fora cheap leg-up in one bureaucrat's career. Kiska was sickened beyond disgust by the utter short-sighted selfishness of it.\\n\\nShortly after that she abandoned the Claw and fled to the service of High Mage Tayschrenn. There they dared not touch her, and there she remained until that day: the day that saw not only the Empress's fall, but Tayschrenn's disappearance. The fall of the Empire's greatest High Mage to this Yathengar, a Seven Cities priest-mage, crazed with revenge for the occupation of his lands and the insults to his city gods. To destroy his enemy the man had actually summoned raw Chaos to drive a hole in creation itself. And the two had been sucked within.\\n\\nSo now she sought him. Across all the face of creation, it seemed, she sought her master. Again she scoured among her feelings for the reasons for such pursuit. The most uncomfortable suspicion was of course that she longed for his attention, his embrace as a man. She studied that urge as ruthlessly as possible to come to the conclusion: no. She no longer dreamt of such a liaison– the stuff of some syrupy courtly romance. When she'd been younger she'd allowed herself the illusion. But no longer. Perhaps some scholar would argue she sought him as the father figure she'd never truly known as a child. Perhaps. What she thought far more germane was that she considered him possibly the only one left who could enforce some sort of standard of behaviour, or moral direction, upon the Empire. If that were at all possible.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"All very high-sounding in purpose and aspiration.\\n\\nBut the suspicion pricked her: perhaps the truth was far less noble. Perhaps she was here because she was afraid the Claw would eventually come for her. The organization was famous for never forgetting. But no, all that was so long ago and faraway. They had much bigger things to concern themselves with. And she had leverage. She knew things about the Empire. Things no one wanted whispered.\\n\\nYet was that not another good reason to see you gone?\\n\\nShe opened her eyes to the familiar narrow cave. Something was different. She heard whispering, a murmuring out beyond the cave mouth. Leoman lay asleep, his breath even, the pulse at his neck steady. Thinking of Seven Cities: this man had served in the resistance against Malazan occupation alongside Yathengar, or at least in sympathy with him. And in that region he had delivered a heart-thrust to the Empire with the conflagration at Y'Ghatan.\\n\\nThe dizzying idea came to her that in her actions she was somehow aiding him in some hidden goals against the Empire. Perhaps she should take the opportunity now to slay him in his sleep, or regret it later. Yet she knew she could not bring herself to commit murder. She was no cold-blooded killer, though trained in such techniques.\\n\\nShe rose and glided soundlessly to the opening.\\n\\nIt was unguarded. The lumpish beings who had barricaded them in had moved off. They were whispering– well, croaking, belching and lisping– among themselves. It was the gloomy dusk of night. Alien stars glimmered overhead. It occurred to her that if she wished she could makeup new constellations among them. The Stave and the Morningstar perhaps.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The lumpy guards squealed and burbled as they caught sight of her, and they came limping up to surround her. It seemed to her that she could smack them to pieces with her staff, but she felt pity for them. Pity and sadness. She couldn't bring herself to strike anyone of them.\\n\\nAt least not yet.\\n\\nOne of the malformed creatures edged up closer before her; it struck her that they were even more wary of her than she of them.\\n\\n\\\"You are understanding of me?\\\" it asked.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Yes, I am.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are decided to allow you to go. You go if you wish. Imprisonment is hurtful. We are many victims of cruel imprisonment. We would not impress it upon any other. We are not like you.\\\"\\n\\nKiska thought it rather convenient of them to allow her to leave after she'd already escaped. But she let that pass. Instead she asked,\\\"Like me? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Like you. Those who summon us, imprison us, use us cruelly, send us melt among the Vitr. Those like you.\\\"\\n\\nKiska understood. Human mages. Summoners. Theurgical researchers. Her breath caught as she realized: like Tayschrenn.\\n\\nSteps behind her and Leoman emerged. \\\"Labour problems?\\\" he asked.\\n\\n\\\"They are lowering the blockade.\\\"\\n\\nThe Seven Cities native nodded sagely. \\\"Sieges area test of patience.\\\"\\n\\nKiska didn't say that she thought these things could easily outwait them if it came to that. She addressed them:\\\"I am looking for the one known as Thenaj. Do you know where he is? '\\n\\nA flurry of hissing and burbling among the dun-brown creatures answered her. Their spokesman pointed the longer of its blunt limbs. \\\"It is as feared. You are come to take him away. You mustn't! The Great One is much pleased by him. He was very sad all alone for so long. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The Great One. You mean Maker?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Names are dangerous things. To us he is the Great One.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand.\\\" She set her hands on her hips. \\\"May we go then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will not close the way... but we will not help either.\\\"\\n\\nKiska sighed. \\\"Fine.\\\" She waved Leoman forward. \\\"Let's go. '\\n\\nThey walked in silence fora time. The malformed creatures were left behind at their caves. Leoman, she noted, paced warily, hands on his weapons. \\\"You're nervous? ' she asked.\\n\\n\\\"I'm wondering how the big one will take this. '\\n\\n\\\"Sounds like he was outvoted.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, voting. Such apolitical arrangement is fine on paper, or among philosophers. But it tends to break apart upon the rocks of application.\\\"\\n\\nKiska cocked a brow. A revolutionary political philosopher? \\\"Oh? How so?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Inequity. Disparities in power. For some unknown reason our big friend chooses to play along with the delusion of egalitarianism. But believe me, when the wishes of the powerful are thwarted they will set aside any communal agreements and pursue their own plans regardless. Because they can.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You sound bitter.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Not bitter. Realistic.\\\" He waved a gloved hand. \\\"Oh, because no one likes to think of themselves as a despot they will cloak their actions in high-sounding rhetoric. Announce that he– or she– sees the situation more clearly. That everyone will thank them in the end. That it is for the better. And soon.\\\"\\n\\nShe eyed him where he walked next to her, hands on the hafts of his weapons, his gaze somewhere else. The Sea of Vitr glimmered ahead. Lazy waves came hissing up the black scoured strand. \\\"You sure you're not bitter? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Beneath his moustache the man's lips curled up in a rueful smile.\\\"The curse of an unflinching eye. \\\"He froze.\\\"And here comes the test. '\\n\\nKiska glanced over and tensed. It was the big demon hurrying up to them on its broad ungainly bird's feet. It stopped a short distance off, glowered down at them.\\\"You are out, ' it growled after a time.\\n\\nKiska decided to forgo any sarcastic response. She levelled her stave before her. \\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nIt looked over them to the cliff face. \\\"I disapprove. But it is their decision.\\\" It held out an amber-taloned hand and clenched it as if crushing them within. \\\"If you hurt anyone you will answer tome.\\\" And it stalked off.\\n\\nKiska caught Leoman's bemused gaze.\\\"And what do you say to that? '\\n\\nHe stroked his moustache, frowning thoughtfully. \\\"I would say this place seems to have rules of its own.\\\"\\n\\nShe could not argue with that.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What is the Deck of Dragons\\n\\nBut where one bends to look\\n\\nFor reflections\\n\\nOf all things unseen?\\n\\nVerse attributed to the Seer of Callows\\n\\nSPINDLE COULD NOT sleep after he and Blend and Picker dragged themselves back to K'rul's bar. It was dawn in any case, and his nerves were shot. They'd witnessed something they shouldn't have; they all knew it. No one said a thing all the way back from the base of Majesty Hill– which wasn't very far in any case, as K'rul's old temple stood on its own hill in the estate district.\\n\\nBlend and Picker thumped up the stairs to their room. Spindle slouched into a booth. The common room was empty. The historian was upstairs asleep. After dozing fora short time, Spindle was driven by a full bladder to shamble out of the rear kitchen exit. Facing the yard, looking out over the chicken coop, the woodpile and the pigsty, he untied his trousers and relieved himself in the chill air.\\n\\nIn mid-stream he gaped, jerked, traced a warm stream down his leg, then stumbled back inside, struggling with his trousers.\\n\\n\\\"Picker! Blend! Burn's own tits, would you come and look at this! '\\n\\n\\\"Shut up!\\\" came the muffled response.\\n\\n\\\"No, really! This is amazin\\\"! You gotta see this. '\\n\\nShambled footsteps sounded from above. Picker's voice called down:\\\"If it's just you findin\\\" your little soldier then I'm gonna be real mad.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ha, ha! No. I'm fucking serious here. '\\n\\n\\\"All right, all right.\\\" Picker appeared, tucking in her shirt and tying her trousers, boots clumping. \\\"What is it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Out back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Take a look.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What? Has Moon's Spawn returned? '\\n\\n\\\"Somethin\\\" like that. '\\n\\nPicker sobered, eyed the man, doubtful. She hiked up her trousers and headed to the kitchen. Spindle followed.\\n\\nAt the open doorway Picker stopped, peered right, then left. Behind, Spindle hopped from foot to foot, brushing at his wet pants. \\\"Do you see it? Do ya?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What? The amazin\\\" chickens? They dancin\\\"? Singin\\\"? '\\n\\n\\\"No! Not...\\\" He squeezed his way round her, stared squinting into the distance. \\\"But there was...\\\" He turned back to the big woman, hunched his shoulders. \\\"There was this huge dome-like thing there. Over the hilltop...\\\"\\n\\nPicker just shook her head in a slow heavy dismissal. She rubbed her arm where scars marked a ring round the flesh, eyed the distance once more. Then she pushed him aside, muttering, \\\"Fuckin\\\" moron. Can't believe I'm beginnin'to miss Antsy.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle was left alone in the chill air. He turned back to the view across the hills of the estate district, snorted to himself.\\n\\n\\\"What did it look like?\\\" someone asked from behind.\\n\\nHe spun, jumping. It was Duiker, the old historian. He nodded a greeting. \\\"It was pale. Kinda see-through. Big. Like the moon. It looked like the moon.\\\"\\n\\nThe historian frowned thoughtfully behind his thick grey beard. His gaze fixed on Spindle. \\\"You lot been gone days. What happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll tell you over some hot mulled wine. '\\n\\n\\\"We don't have any. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Spindle cast another pinched glance over the hilltops. \\\"Then I'm gonna go get some. '\\n\\n*\\n\\nTorvald Nom awoke to a cat's claws sinking into his chest. He jerked upright with a gasp, heard something ricochet off the shelves under the open window, then sat tensed, limbs trembling with startled awareness.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Tiserra murmured, still mostly asleep.\\n\\n\\\"For a moment I thought you'd thrown yourself upon me and sunk your nails into my chest in an ecstasy of passion, dear. But it was the cat. '\\n\\n\\\"That's nice, ' she murmured into her pillow.\\n\\nTorvald sighed, peered about the shadowed room. \\\"Well. I'm awake now. Might as wellhead out. '\\n\\n\\\"Hmph.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't trouble yourself. Don't bustle about with tea and bread and such for your workingman.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hmm?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never mind.\\\" Torvald got up.\\n\\nPassing through the streets on his walk to the estate district it struck him that the city was very quiet this morning. He felt that sense of suspended expectation, the atmosphere that some described as \\\"holding one's breath'. And he had had the strangest dreams just before awakening so very painfully. He did hear one noise that was very out of place indeed. He recognized it only because of his travels so far from this city of his birth. For it was a sound utterly unfamiliar to Darujhistan: the ordered stamp of marching soldiery. He hurried to where the marching echoed, the Second Tier Way.\\n\\nHe joined a press of Darujhistani citizenry turned out to watch this once in a lifetime sight. The tall cross-piece hanging banner preceding the column declared their allegiance: the white sceptre on afield of black, the sceptre much like an orb clasped in an upright three-toed predatory bird's foot. The naked clawed grip of the Malazan Empire.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Elite heavy infantry.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Campaign stripes marked them as veterans of every engagement on these, to them, foreign Genabackan lands. They carried broad rectangular shields blackened and edged in burgundy. Shortswords swung belted high at their sides. Crossbows and javelins rode strapped to their backs. The Malazan delegation honour guard, some two hundred strong. Withdrawing?\\n\\n\\\"What's going on? ' he asked one fellow in the crowd.\\n\\n\\\"The Empire's invading! ' the man bellowed, half drunk.\\n\\nTorvald grimaced at his bad luck. \\\"They're headed in the wrong direction, ' he pointed out.\\n\\n\\\"Ha ha!\\\" the drunk yelled. \\\"We beat them! Good riddance, y'damned foreigners! '\\n\\nTorvald walked away just in case the appropriately feared Malazan mailed fist should make itself felt. The rear of the column came marching up. Mounted officers rode just before a train of wagons and carts and strings of spare mounts. Torvald noted that he did not seethe bald and rather fat figure of the ambassador among the officers. He hurried onto bring the news to his employer, the head of his family house and thus councilwoman, Lady Varada.\\n\\nMadrun let him into the compound. \\\"Captain,\\\" the man said, bowing. Torvald always listened carefully to this welcome but so far he'd yet to detect even the slightest tinge of insincerity. More than ever he regretted the absence of his old partners, Scorch and Leff, who used to guard these doors.\\n\\nAt least then he wasn't the obvious weak link in the estate's personnel.\\n\\nThe castellan Studlock met him at the open front doors of the house. \\\"I have orders from the mistress,\\\" he lisped as Torvald hurried past.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The mistress is... ill,\\\" Studlock murmured. \\\"Yes. That is it. Quite ill.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald sniffed the air. \\\"What is that I smell? Is something burning?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just my preparations. The singeing of rare leaves. An infusion gone wrong.\\\" The strange man crept up close; the tatters and strips of gauzy cloth he wrapped himself in dragged long behind. Torvald flinched away. \\\"You appear tired, malnourished,\\\" Studlock went on. \\\"Are you having trouble in your sexual performance? Perhaps a mineral poultice to rebalance your animus?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rebalance my what? Ah, no. Thank you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A pity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ill, you say? Where is she?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The mistress is... indisposed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indisposed...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Quite. She did, however, leave detailed instructions regarding you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. None other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see. And these instructions?\\\"\\n\\nThe man edged closer, his watery green eyes narrowed upon Torvald. \\\"There is a worrisome choleric tinge to you. Have you evacuated lately?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Evacu what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Evacuated. Discharged your bodily wastes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah! Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And your bowels? How are they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sacrosanct, thank you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Regretful. How am Ito continue my practice?\\\"\\n\\nTorvald was surprised. \\\"You're a physicker? '\\n\\nThe man blinked his confusion. \\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald regarded the unnerving hunched figure fora time, cleared his throat. \\\"So... these instructions?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes. You are now head of House Nom. Congratulations.\\\" The castellan shuffled away.\\n\\nTorvald stood motionless in the receiving hall fora longtime. Then he stormed up the stairs for his employer's office. He was in the process of ransacking her desk when he looked up to seethe gauzy apparition of Studlock before him once again.\\n\\n\\\"There must be some mistake.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None, I assure you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What of Bellam?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Young Bellam remains an eventual heir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But... it can't be official. There has to be paperwork. Certificates and such. '\\n\\nThe castellan drew a scroll from within the folds of cloth at his chest. \\\"I have them here. Sealed and authenticated.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald slumped down into the chair. That had been his last hope. He straightened, his brows rising. \\\"Aha! I appoint another. Someone else. Anyone else.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Rallick Nom will support m'lady's choice. So then will the majority of the House.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald slumped once more. Damn him! He would, too– if only to avoid being appointed himself!\\n\\nHe set his elbows on the desk, cupped his head in his hands. \\\"But this is terrible... Tiserra will kill me! One day I leave for work and when I come home it's hello dear your husband has a seat on the Council! Rather a shock. '\\n\\nThe castellan cocked his head. \\\"Will she not be pleased?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You don't know her. '\\n\\n\\\"You are correct. I do not. Are introductions in order? Some tea? My special brew...\\\"\\n\\nTorvald threw up his hands. \\\"No! No, no, thank you. That's quite all right. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Studlock's shoulders fell.\\\"That is regrettable. Who will I test it on? '\\n\\nTorvald frowned. \\\"So, now what? What do I do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should register your appointment with the clerk of the Council, I imagine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. Thank you. How very... practical.\\\"\\n\\nThe castellan bowed. \\\"My only wish is to serve.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald had never been to Majesty Hill; indeed, had never dreamed he'd have cause. The Wardens at the lowest gate stopped him to inspect his paperwork. Before him rose the stairs that switched back and forth up the flank of the hill, lined all the way by monuments, family shrines, plaques commemorating victories– real and invented– and other grandiose pronouncements meant to impress the reader with the virtue and generosity of their sponsors. All no more than base self-aggrandizement, Torvald reflected, once you boiled it all down.\\n\\nHe clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on the worn heels of his old boots. Perhaps such an attitude was precisely what was not welcome on yon prestigious hilltop.\\n\\nA clerk bowed as he handed back the scrolled paperwork. \\\"Welcome, sir. My apologies for the delay. We do not see many councillors here at the gate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No? You do not? Just what do you see, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Petitioners mostly. Appellants and other claimants summoned, or hoping, to address the assembly. And minor functionaries, of course.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. I see.\\\" Torvald wondered, vaguely, whether he'd just been insulted in some very sophisticated indirect fashion. Considering where he was headed, he decided that he'd better get used to it. \\\"So, just where do the Council members enter?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The man bowed– unctuously, it seemed to Torvald. \\\"These days most take the carriageway from the south.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah, well. Perhaps many would benefit from coming in this way occasionally, don't you think? '\\n\\n\\\"Oh, beyond a doubt, sir,\\\" the man agreed smoothly, his face straight.\\n\\nGood at his job, this one, Torvald reflected. This gate must be where most of the squeezing of petitioners takes place. A coveted post. He bowed a farewell. \\\"I'd best be going then. '\\n\\n\\\"A sound decision, sir.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald walked away, wincing. Damn, drubbed by a bureaucrat. It's going to be along day.\\n\\nEventually, after rather a boring walk up an unnecessarily long set of stairs, he entered what appeared to be a main reception hall lined by many doors. It was... deserted. Is the place closed? Yet someone was here: noise reached him, a muted roaring as of many voices shouting. But where was it coming from?\\n\\nA door slammed and a robed clerk appeared, sheaf of papers in hand, reading as he scuttled quickly across the hall.\\n\\nTorvald cleared his throat. \\\"Excuse me– could you tell me...\\\"\\n\\nThe man disappeared into another side door. Torvald lowered his arm. A gods-damned rabbit warren. He poked his head into that door to see another hall, also lined by doors, albeit far less ornate. It occurred to him that a rather large old friend of his would know exactly what to do to a place like this. The sound of another door opening pulled him away. Another functionary was walking the hall. He planted himself before her.\\n\\nThe plump woman nearly ran into him before halting to blink up confusedly. \\\"Yes?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He wordlessly offered his paperwork.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She examined it, then bowed. \\\"Welcome, House Nom. I shall see to it that these are registered with the proper offices. You are no doubt come for the assembling of the emergency steering committee.\\\"\\n\\nIt was now his turn to blink his confusion. \\\"I'm sorry? '\\n\\n\\\"This way. If you would, sir.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald followed the woman down the long hall, round a series of turns, to a tall set of double doors. Two city Wardens barred the entrance. From behind the doors came a riotous roaring such as Torvald imagined must prevail before the gates to Hood's old realm.\\n\\nThe guards'hands went to their shortswords.\\\"This is a closed emergency session, ' pronounced one in what sounded like a carefully rehearsed line.\\n\\nThe woman bowed her agreement. \\\"And Councillor Nom is hereto participate.\\\"\\n\\nThe guard's brow furrowed. He licked his lips while he appeared to be frantically digging through options. The brows unfurled and he smiled, reciting,\\\"Chambers are closed. '\\n\\n\\\"Open those doors!\\\" a bull-roar echoed from behind Torvald, who spun.\\n\\nA great bhederin of a fellow was hurrying up, unshaven, finery askew, a hand to his forehead, grimacing in pain. The clerk bowed. \\\"Councillor Coll.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald stared despite himself. Great gods, the Councillor Coll? The man was a legend in the city.\\n\\nThe councillor cocked a bloodshot eye at Torvald. The clerk murmured, \\\"Councillor Coll, may I introduce Councillor Nom, newly invested.\\\"\\n\\nThe bleary, watering eyes widened. \\\"Indeed... may I ask after the mesmerizing Lady Varada, whom I have seen only from a distance, across the assembly?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The stale bite of cheap Daru spirits wafted from the man and Torvald struggled not to change his expression.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ah... her health precludes her participation... I am come in her stead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My regrets to your family, Nom. And may she soon recover.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald frantically cast about for something equally well-mannered and sophisticated. \\\"Ah, our thanks.\\\" Wonderful! Off to a dazzling start, you are.\\n\\nBut Councillor Coll's attention had shifted to the closed doors and the guards.\\\"You're still here?\\\" he demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Of course you may enter, Councillor. But this other...\\\"\\n\\nColl snatched up the sheaf of papers held by the clerk: Torvald's documents. He waved the flapping pages, complete with wax seals and coloured ribbons, before the faces of the guards.\\\"You see these certificates? This man is as qualified to sit as I! '\\n\\nThe guards eyed the sheaf, all in the tiniest spidery penmanship, the way those manning a wooden palisade might dread the approach of a siege onager. Resistance collapsed and they stood aside.\\n\\nThe clerk pushed open the twin leaves. And as they passed within, it occurred to Torvald that an impenetrable bureaucracy was in truth more powerful than any sword.\\n\\nThey stood high in a semicircular amphitheatre of seats. The view reminded Torvald of a depiction of one corner of Hood's realm: an immense prison for kings and despots, all arguing over who was in charge, when in truth none of the dead outside cared what went on within its tall walls.\\n\\nThe floor of the amphitheatre was crowded with the cream of the city aristocracy. All were standing talking at once, many red-faced, some waving their exasperation. Occasionally thrown papers fluttered over the crowd, or some particularly loud yell penetrated the din, but mostly it was an unintelligible gabbling of voices.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Welcome to Council,\\\" the clerk said, shouting to be heard though she stood right next to him.\\n\\n\\\"How very inspiring,\\\" he answered, to himself of course, as none could have possibly heard, or cared to hear, for that matter.\\n\\nThe woman backed out, pulled the doors closed. Councillor Coll took his arm and hurried him down the stairs. \\\"My thanks,\\\" Torvald offered.\\n\\n\\\"You can thank me by swearing to give me your first vote.\\\"\\n\\nSuch avow struck Torvald as extremely dangerous, but he also knew that honour would dictate that he had no choice. Best to pretend that such was the case, then.\\n\\nAloud, exceptionally sharp knocking sounded which Torvald identified as coming from a slim man standing on the raised speaker's platform, banging a stone on the lectern.\\n\\n\\\"Order!\\\" he bellowed in a surprisingly commanding voice. \\\"Order!\\\"\\n\\nThe clamour slowly diminished and the councillors stood silent, leaving only a single old fellow waving his arms and shouting, \\\"I tell you, everything would go so smoothly if only everyone would just do as I say!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hear, hear!\\\" someone shouted in answer and they all burst into applause.\\n\\nThe old fellow peered about myopically then hurriedly turned away, red-faced.\\n\\n\\\"The floor recognizes Councillor Lim,\\\" a clerk announced into the silence.\\n\\nIt now occurred to Torvald that crowding about the central lectern were only some fifty or so members of the Council, yet the amphitheatre held seats for hundreds. \\\"Where is everyone?\\\" he whispered to Coll.\\n\\n\\\"It's a damned trick, \\\"Coll answered, low and fierce.\\\"There is a little-known emergency steering committee that can be called to meet in case of fires and such. Just those close enough to participate. Quorum is thirty. Thankfully I was nearby... sleeping in my chambers. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Passed out, you mean. So, an emergency sub-committee of Council. But to decide what?\\n\\nAt the lectern, Lim stood tall and pole-thin, his dark expensive silk shirt and trousers accentuating his figure. He raised his arms for silence.\\n\\nSo, Lim, is it? Torvald believed he'd heard that Shardan Lim was dead.\\n\\n\\\"Thank you,\\\" the fellow began. \\\"My fellow councillors, fair Darujhistan has weathered astounding events of late. Many of you, myself included, no doubt wish that history would be so good as to pass us by for once, allow us our well-earned peace to quietly tend our fields and watch our children play...\\\"\\n\\nTorvald snorted: the man looked as peaceful and compassionate as a viper. Coll chuckled. Torvald glanced over to see him offer a wink. \\\"What's going on? '\\n\\nIn answer, the man gestured to the front. \\\"Let us hear from Lim.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's not Shardan Lim, is it? '\\n\\n\\\"Ah. You are new. No, this is Jeshin Lim. His cousin.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald grunted. He'd never heard of a Jeshin Lim. But then, he'd probably never heard of most of the men and women in the hall. The young man had been talking all the while, offering some long-winded soothing introduction to the course of action he wished to suggest. In time, the meat of the speech arrived: \\\"... and so it is clear that this abrupt, unannounced flight by all the Moranth present within the city, combined with the equally sudden withdrawal of their allies, the Imperial Malazan elements staining our fair city, can amount to only one thing: the first stage in a pre-planned, coordinated initiation of hostilities against the freedom and independence of Darujhistan!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The hall erupted into chaotic noise once more. Most cheered, calling out their support of the claim. Only a few shouted their dismissal.\\n\\nTorvald and Coll remained silent. Torvald leaned to Coll. \\\"Why is he saying everything twice?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. An older style of rhetoric. Something of a traditionalist, our Jeshin. New to assembly, he is. But there's a great deal of money backing him. '\\n\\nCloser to the man, Torvald noted that while Coll was impressively large, it had all gone to fat. And though a strong miasma of Daru spirits surrounded him, he did not appear to be drunk.\\n\\n\\\"And what do you propose?\\\" an old man's sarcastic voice cut through the shouting.\\n\\nThe raucous arguing died down as everyone waited for Lim's answer.\\n\\nColl gestured aside, indicating the speaker: an aged fellow, thin and straight, his hair a grey hedging round his skull. \\\"Councillor D'Arle. '\\n\\n\\\"Will you marshal the troops?\\\" the old man continued scathingly. \\\"Assemble the navy? But wait... we have none! And the Malazans know this! If they wanted to occupy us they would have done so long ago.\\\"\\n\\nCouncillor Lim was shaking his head. \\\"With all respect to House D'Arle, that is not so. The truth is that the Malazans have tried to annex us to their Empire but that said efforts have to this time failed, or been defeated by circumstance, or the intervention of diversionary challenges– such as the Pannions to the south. Now, however, with said threat crushed, and Moon's Spawn also eliminated from the field– now it appears clear that the Malazans see that it is time to bring our fair city to heel.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You do have a proposal,\\\" Councillor D'Arle demanded,\\\"lurking somewhere within all that puff and wind?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"'\\n\\n\\\"I like this fellow,\\\" Torvald whispered to Coll.\\n\\nA taut smile from Coll. \\\"Sad family history there.\\\"\\n\\nShowing surprising patience, Councillor Lim inclined his head in assent. \\\"I do. I propose that this emergency assembly of the Council now vote upon the investiture of the ancient position created precisely for such rare crises. I am speaking, of course, of the temporary and limited post of Legate of Council.\\\"\\n\\nColl's meaty hand closed painfully on Torvald's shoulder. \\\"The bastard!\\\" he hissed, giving out a cloud of stale alcohol. \\\"You can't do that! ' he bellowed into the hall.\\n\\nLim's thin brows rose.\\\"I see that we are fortunate in this time of threat to have Councillor Coll with us. You have a proposal for the floor, do you? '\\n\\n\\\"Only that the office of Legate was abolished centuries ago because of its abuses!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hear, hear!\\\" called Councillor D'Arle.\\n\\n\\\"And short-sighted and mistaken that was too,\\\" Lim answered. \\\"For how else can the city respond quickly and authoritatively to sudden emergencies?\\\"\\n\\nA cheer went up from the gathered councillors. Coll slowly shook his head. \\\"A stacked deck, as they say,\\\" he murmured to Torvald.\\n\\n\\\"We will now vote upon the reinvestment of the position of temporary Legate of Council,\\\" called out the clerk. \\\"All in favour raise hands.\\\"\\n\\nAlmost all raised their hands. Coll and Torvald did not.\\n\\n\\\"Proposal carried,\\\" announced the clerk.\\n\\nA great cheer answered that pronouncement. The councillors congratulated one another, slapping backs and shaking hands. The celebration seemed premature to Torvald as they had yet to actually do anything.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Councillor D'Arle pushed his way forward.\\\"And I suppose you would tender your name for this post? \\\"The man's voice was icy with scorn.\\n\\nLim bowed. \\\"Yes. Since Councillor D'Arle has been good enough to mention it. '\\n\\nThe old councillor's jaws snapped shut.\\n\\n\\\"Seconded!\\\" another councillor shouted.\\n\\nIt occurred to Torvald that the man with him was probably the only councillor who could boast of any direct military training or experience and that time was running out. He shouted, \\\"I nominate Councillor Coll!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What in Oponn's name are you doing? ' Coll ground through clenched teeth.\\n\\nSilence answered the shout. Councillor Lim squinted down at Torvald. A look of distaste clenched his pale fleshless face. \\\"And you are...?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nom, Torvald Nom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Councillor,\\\" Coll hissed.\\n\\n\\\"Councillor! Ah, Nom.\\\"\\n\\nLim inclined his head in greeting. \\\"I see. Welcome, then, to House Nom, so long absent from these proceedings. We have a nomination on the floor. Does anyone second?\\\"\\n\\nSilence, then a young woman's voice called out,\\\"I second. '\\n\\nTorvald sat to find Coll glaring at him. \\\"I don't know whether to thank you or call you out, ' the man growled.\\n\\n\\\"Don't you think you should be Legate? '\\n\\n\\\"If reason and logic ruled the world no one would be Legate. But it doesn't rule. Power and influence does. And I have neither. I am sorry to say that you have made yourself some enemies this day, my friend. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Well, we're off to a good start then. Who was that who seconded? '\\n\\n\\\"Councillor Redda Orr. Most say she is too young to sit on the Council, but she has a sharp political mind and grew up in these halls.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Friend of yours?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. She just hates House Lim. Blames them for her father's death. '\\n\\n\\\"Ah.\\\" Rather belatedly it occurred to Torvald that he had just leapt into a kind of gladiatorial free-for-all without knowing any of the rules or the players. But then, why should he change the habits of a lifetime? He'd always run a very fast and loose game. Never mind the poor record scattered in his wake– he was alive, wasn't he? There were many others who couldn't boast as much.\\n\\n\\\"Very good,\\\" announced the clerk. \\\"We will now vote upon the nomination of Councillor Lim to the position of temporary Legate of Council. All in favour?\\\"\\n\\nAlmost all hands rose. The clerk did a quick count. \\\"We have a majority of forty-two votes. Nomination carried.\\\"\\n\\nThis time a stunned silence answered the announcement, as if those gathered could not believe that they'd actually succeeded. Then an enormous cheer arose, councillors laughing, reaching up to clasp Lim's hands, hugging one another.\\n\\n\\\"I wonder just how much all this cost,\\\" Coll murmured into the clamour. \\\"A family fortune, I imagine.\\\"\\n\\nSpeaking of money, it occurred to Torvald that he still had to break the news to Tis. Perhaps he should visit the bourse of the flower-sellers before heading home. And on the subject of costly items, just how huge was his new income from this prestigious post?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Excuse me for being so ill-mannered, friend Coll... but what is the pay for sitting on this assembly?\\\"\\n\\nThe big man frowned. His thick greying brows bunched down over his eyes, almost obscuring them. \\\"Pay? There's no pay associated with a seat on the Council. It's a service. One's civic duty. However, \\\"and here the man strove to keep his face straight,\\\"monies do flow to members... indirect relation to their power and influence upon the Council... '\\n\\nTorvald slumped into a nearby seat. In other words, his earnings would amount to the impressive sum of zero. Perhaps for the immediate future it would be better if he avoided returning home altogether...\\n\\n*\\n\\nImpatient banging brought Jess lumbering once more to the doors of the Phoenix Inn. She unlatched the lock to peer out into the glaring morning light. A tall dark figure brushed in past her, imperious.\\n\\n\\\"Not– oh, it's you, ' she said, blinking. She shuffled to the kitchen to wake Chud.\\n\\nRallick crossed to the rear table, which stood covered in clumps of old wax, stained by spills of red Rhivi wine. Empty wine bottles crowded it, and crumbs lay scattered like the wreckage of war.\\n\\nJess came shuffling up to offer a glass of steaming tea. Rallick took it. \\\"Thank you.\\\" He blew on the small tumbler, then sipped. \\\"So... where is he?\\\"\\n\\nJess cocked a brow at the man– a man rumoured to be the lover of Vorcan, once head of the city's guild of assassins. And thus to her a man commanding a great deal of physical... tension. She kept her eyes on him.\\\"Where's who?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The toad... self-proclaimed Eel. The fat man.\\\"\\n\\nShe swept an arm to the table. \\\"Why, he's right-\\\"She stared, gaping.\\\"Fanderay's tits! He's not here! He's buggered off! Where's he got to? \\\"A hand closed over her mouth.\\\"Oh, Burn's mercy... who's gonna cover his tab? Have you seen the size of his tab? '\\n\\nRallick handed over the glass. \\\"No. And I don't care to, thank you. ' He headed for the door.\\n\\n\\\"Where are you going?\\\"\\n\\nWithout stopping Rallick answered, \\\"Looks like maybe it's up tome to settle accounts, Jess. I seem to be the only one around here willing to do it. '\\n\\nOf all the men and women she'd seen in the Phoenix Innit had always appeared to Jess that Rallick was the one who could close any debt. But this was a damnably huge one.\\n\\n*\\n\\nRallick pushed open the ornamental wrought-iron gate that allowed entrance to the grounds of the alchemist Baruk's modest estate. He walked the curving flagged path past subdued plantings of flowering shrubs. A small fountain tinkled spray from the mouth of an amphora held at a boy's stone shoulder. Leaves cluttered the surface of the pond, as did something else: apiece of litter, or wind-tossed garbage. Rallick's long face drew down, accentuating the deep lines framing his mouth.\\n\\nBaruk's grounds were always immaculate.\\n\\nHe pulled on a pair of leather gloves and extracted the litter from the sodden leaves. A card. A card from an expensive custom-made Dragons Deck. Soaked now, and flame-scorched. Turning it over, he grunted. A card of rulership: Crown. He dropped it back into the glimmering water.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The front door was unlocked. He lifted the latch and pushed it open. Inside lay destruction. Shards of ceramic urns and expensive glassware littered the carpet of the entranceway. Paintings had been thrown down; furniture overturned.\\n\\nRallick crouched to his haunches just outside the threshold. He drew pieces of wood and metal from his pockets and waist until he'd assembled a medium-sized crossbow, its metal parts blued. The sort of weapon that would immediately have you arrested should anyone catch sight of it.\\n\\nHe loaded it, then cocked it by slipping afoot into its stirrup and straightening. Then he crossed his arms, cradling the weapon across his chest. He called out, \\\"Roald? Hello? Anyone?\\\"\\n\\nNo answer. He heard the wind brushing through nearby boughs; a carriage made its noisy metal-tyred way down one of the alleys bordering the estate. In the light of the sun he studied the weave of the carpet lining the entranceway.\\n\\nSmooth well-worn slippers. The foot narrow, gracile. Yet the impression very heavy. Female. Slim but hefty? Entering then leaving. Trod over some shards as she left. Agent of the vandalism? No other recent traffic... except... the ghostliest of hints. A brushing across the rich weft as of broad, splayed moccasined feet slipping side to side, never lifting, entering and exiting also. And before the woman arrived, as her tracks obscure these others. An interesting puzzle.\\n\\nHe rose, edged inwards. Over the years he'd done occasional work for Baruk; non-assassination jobs, gathering intelligence, trailing people, collecting rare objects, and suchlike. As had Kruppe, Murillio, and sometimes Coll. Indeed, it was this very work that had thrown the lot of them together. Four as unlikely associates as one might imagine. In any case, he knew enough to be very wary of crossing this particular threshold.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But others had entered already, to no ill effects he could discern. He peered into the nearest room opening off the foyer. Some sort of waiting room. Complete carnage and wanton devastation. Everything broken, thrown to the floor. Vandalism. Plain juvenile vindictiveness.\\n\\nHe moved on. Up the narrow tower stairs he found chambers similarly ruined. So far he couldn't tell if the intruder had come deliberately searching for something and was venting her frustration upon failing to discover it, or whether such destruction, or insult, had been the prime purpose of the visitation from the start.\\n\\nHe glanced into what appeared to have been some sort of workroom. Delicate glass fragments of globes covered the bare stone floor, as did the tattered remains of torn books and scrolls. Workbenches had been swept clear of their clutter, which now lay in tangled heaps on the floor.\\n\\nHis foot crushed a glass shard and a chest flew open across the room. Rallick's crossbow snapped out, seeming to point of its own accord, only to fall again– a squat toad-like familiar, or demon, was peeping out, its amber eyes huge with fear.\\\"Gone! \\\"it croaked.\\\"Out! Oh my! '\\n\\nRallick frowned, his mouth drawing down even further. \\\"Who? Who's out? '\\n\\n\\\"Hinter gone! Out. Oh my!\\\"\\n\\nHinter? As in the old ghost story Hinter of Hinter's Tower?\\n\\n\\\"Where's Baruk? '\\n\\n\\\"Gone! Oh my!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And the place ransacked,\\\" Rallick muttered, more to himself.\\n\\n\\\"Not all,\\\" and the demon's clawed hand flew to cover its mouth.\\n\\nWith a jerk of the crossbow, Rallick motioned the creature from the chest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The demon led him down the narrow circular staircase, which continued on past ground level, passing floor after floor of quarters, storerooms, and workrooms. Rallick had had no idea the place was so extensive. It seemed so small from the outside. The creature stopped at what appeared to be the lowest floor. Rallick lit a wall-mounted lantern and raised it to peer around. The room was bare, almost completely empty. Nothing to vandalize here. Old inscriptions covered the floor in ever-narrowing circles. Old metal-working tools lined the walls: tongs, hammers, a small portable forge, twinned anvils. The demon waddled to a heavy metal chest against one wall, only to recoil as if struck.\\n\\n\\\"Oh no!\\\" it gibbered. \\\"Out! Out!\\\" It slapped its bald head with its tiny undersized clawed hands and hopped from foot to foot.\\n\\n\\\"What's out? '\\n\\n\\\"Scary big man squash us with hammer for this! Oh no!\\\"\\n\\nHammer?\\n\\nRallick crossed to the chest. It was constructed of thick metal plates. A lock at its front hung open. He pulled on the lid, failed to budge it. He set down the crossbow, clasped a hand at either side of the lid and lifted. It grated, edging upwards. He strained, gasping, managed to lever it up to clang back against the stonewall. It was a full hand's thickness of dull metal.\\n\\n\\\"A lot of lead,\\\" he muttered.\\n\\n\\\"Not lead!\\\" the creature answered. \\\"Magic-killing metal!\\\"\\n\\nRallick flinched from the chest. Otataral! An entire box of the metal? Beru fend! Why, an ounce of this would bring a man a fortune!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Within, a length of white silk lined the bottom, empty.\\n\\nThe demon was blubbering, hands at its head. \\\"Scary big man mustn't know! He will flatten us all! '\\n\\nSomething lay scattered on the dusty stones of the floor next to the chest. Rallick bent to study the mess. Crumbs? And next to that, a ring-stain– as of a wineglass? He pressed a finger to the crumbs, touched it to his tongue. Pastry crumbs?\\n\\nHe straightened, asked almost absently, \\\"What was in the chest?\\\"\\n\\nThe demon's hands were now squeezing its own neck.\\\"The master's most awful terrible possessions of all!\\\" it choked, throttling itself. \\\"Flakes. Slivers. Little scary slivers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Slivers of what?\\\"\\n\\nThe creature's already red face now glowed bright carmine. Its amber eyes bulged.\\\"Slivers of death! ' it gurgled in a seeming last gasp, and fell, fat stomach heaving.\\n\\nRallick regarded the empty otataral chest. Slivers of death?\\n\\nWent, Filless and Scarlon, the three cadre mages assigned to Ambassador Aragan's contingent of the Fifth, were busy in the embassy cellar sorting through files for destruction. None noticed the presence of the slim young girl until she cleared her throat. Then all three looked up from the folders and string-bound sheaves of orders and logistical summaries to stare, dumbfounded, at what appeared to be a dancing girl in loose white robes with silver bracelets rattling on her wrists.\\n\\n\\\"Are you lost, child?\\\" Filless demanded, first to recover her wits.\\n\\n\\\"You three do constitute the last full Imperial mage cadre in this theatre, do you not?\\\" the girl enquired, and she smiled, demurely.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The three exchanged wondering glances. \\\"You area guest of the ambassador...?\\\" Scarlon offered, tentatively.\\n\\nThe pale girl drew up her long mane of black hair, knotted it through itself. \\\"No. I am the last thing you will ever see.\\\"\\n\\nAll three dived for cover, summoning their Warrens; none lived long enough to channel them. Filless died last, and hardest, as she was not only a mage of Denul but the last Claw of the contingent as well.\\n\\nIt was half a day before the mess was discovered.\\n\\nAmbassador Aragan kicked through the wreckage of singed papers, destroyed tables, blood and gore-smeared folders cluttering the cellar. His aide, Dreshen, stood at a distance, as did the hastily assembled bodyguard of marines.\\n\\nThe ambassador was in a filthy mood.\\n\\n\\\"No one heard a thing? Not a damned thing?\\\" he demanded, turning on them.\\n\\n\\\"No, sir,\\\" Dreshen answered, wincing.\\n\\n\\\"Someone enters the estate, happens to find all three of our cadre mages together in the same room, and kills them all without so much as a peep?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And of course the only ones who could be counted onto sense anything happen to be the very three lying here!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\nDreshen swallowed to settle his stomach as the ambassador squatted on his haunches next to the ravaged body of Filless: the woman's face had been torn as if by jagged blades and her midriff had been slashed open, her looped entrails spilt out over her lap. Aragan stared down moodily at the corpse, drew a hand across the woman's staring eyes to shut them. Dreshen felt his knees going weak at the sight of all the ropy blue and pink viscera.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Aragan used some of the scattered papers to wipe the blood from his hands.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He stood, and started to pace again. \\\"An act of war, Captain. An Osserc-damned act of war.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the Academy this is what you'd calla'pre-emptive strike\\\". '\\n\\n\\\"Sir?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We're effectively cutoff now, aren't we, Captain?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Communications neatly severed. No cadre mages to contact Unta. No access to the Imperial Warren.\\\" Aragan turned. \\\"There must be some talents among the rankers, surely?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Minor only, sir. None trained in cadre protocols.\\\"\\n\\nThe ambassador stood still, apparently thinking. He had that wide-legged stance of big men, when in fact most of his size was abroad circle around his middle. He pulled on his lower lip, his mouth drawn down in a moue of angry disgust. \\\"An act of war...\\\" he mused. \\\"Someone's made their opening moves against us and we don't even know who we're facing yet! We are too far behind. \\\"He pointed to Dreshen.\\\"What about Fist K'ess? He must have cadre.\\\"\\n\\nDreshen nodded thoughtfully. \\\"Yes... but none to spare, I'm sure. There's still fighting in the north.\\\"\\n\\nAragan grunted, accepting this. \\\"And Fist Steppen?\\\"\\n\\nHis aide cocked his head. \\\"I don't believe there are any active cadre in the south. '\\n\\nAragan looked to the low ceiling. Ye gods! That the Empire of Nightchill, Tattersail and Tayschrenn should be reduced to this! It would be laughable if it weren't so damned tragic! Very well. If it's to be war... then war it shall be.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He crossed to the stairs. His bodyguard parted to make way for him. He stopped before his aide. \\\"Get the box, Captain.\\\"\\n\\nDreshen frowned, uncertain. \\\"The box, sir?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. The box.\\\"\\n\\nDreshen's pale thin brows rose.\\\"Ah! The box. Yes, sir. Here? '\\n\\nThe ambassador peered about the cellar, shook his head. \\\"No. Upstairs.\\\"\\n\\nAragan waited in his office, hands clasped behind his back. Eventually Captain Dreshen entered, followed by two marines carrying a small battered travel trunk which they thumped down heavily on a table. Aragan motioned the marines out. He reached for the buckles securing the leather straps around the iron box but hesitated at the last moment and looked to Dreshen. \\\"Well, let's just hope I'm allowed to open this.\\\"\\n\\nThe captain offered a strained smile. \\\"Of course, sir.\\\"\\n\\nAragan undid the buckles, opened the latches, and swung up the lid. Within lay along thin object wrapped in oiled leathers. Captain Dreshen studied the item, mystified. The truth was, he had no idea what was in the box– other than that the cadre mages all considered it the most important artefact the Fifth Army possessed.\\n\\nAragan pulled off the oiled wrap and Dreshen caught his breath, stepping back. Burn, Oponn and Fanderay protect him. No. It couldn't be...\\n\\nHis mouth drawn wide in satisfaction, Aragan hefted the thing in one hand. It was about the length of along-knife. One end was a blade, the other sculpted into a three-toed bird's foot grasping a frosted orb of glass or crystal.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"An Imperial Sceptre.\\n\\nAragan slammed the artefact blade-first into the table. The gleaming point bit deep into the wood and the sceptre stood upright, at a slight angle. Aragan set his fists to the table on either side, studied the orb. Despite his awe, Dreshen edged forward as well.\\n\\nAragan cleared his throat. \\\"This is Ambassador Aragan in Darujhistan. I do not know whether anyone is listening, or if this message will reach anyone, but I must report that all the remaining mage cadre of the Fifth have been murdered. Assassinated. Cadre Filless may have also reported that our allies, the Moranth, have fled the city– terrified, as far as I can see. Something is stirring herein the city and it has moved against us. This is our only remaining communication channel to command. If Unta values Darujhistan then some sort of help must be sent. That is all.\\\"\\n\\nThe ambassador pushed himself from the table, stood with arms crossed regarding the sceptre. Dreshen watched as well, though for what he had no idea.\\n\\nAfter a protracted silence during which nothing apparently changed in the state of the sceptre, Dreshen coughed into a fist. \\\"How long,\\\" he began, \\\"until...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Until we know? Until they answer– or if anyone's going to answer at all? \\\"Aragan shrugged his round shoulders.\\\"Who knows. \\\"He peered round the room.\\\"Until then I want this room sealed and guarded. Yes, Captain? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir.\\\"\\n\\nThey shut and sealed all the doors, locking the last one behind them. While Aragan waited Captain Dreshen went to find two marines to post on the door.\\n\\nBehind, in the gloom of the office, the only light was the glow through the slats of the folding terrace doors, now barred from within. And it may have been a trick of that uncertain light, but deep within the depths of the orb, a glimmering awakened and the clouds, like a storm of snow, began to churn.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"When Spindle finally started awake, fully clothed on his cot, he lay back and held his head, groaning.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"No more Barghast mead. Never again. Even warm, as he'd had it with Duiker. Though come to think of it, the historian had drunk little more than one tumbler from the jug.\\n\\nHolding his head very still for fear that it might falloff, he carefully edged his way down the stairs to the common room. By the light streaming in through the temple-bar's few windows he saw that it was late afternoon. Damned well slept most of the day– a bad sign. Discipline's goin' by the wayside.\\n\\nNow that the bar was wet once more a few of the regulars had returned to sit by themselves among the tables and booths. Irredeemable souses all, they spent the day expertly maintaining a steady state of numbness bordering on unconsciousness. Watching them, Spindle sometimes worried that that was where he was headed. Somehow, though, the abstract dread was not enough to stop him from getting hammered whenever possible.\\n\\nHe was surprised to see some tall well-dressed fellow sitting with the historian, and slowly eased himself down into a chair at the table. The two older men shared a knowing, amused glance.\\n\\n\\\"Care for another to chase that one away?\\\" Duiker asked.\\n\\nSpindle showed his teeth. \\\"Evil bastard.\\\"\\n\\nThe historian– a dour grim man at the best of times– offered a death's-head grin. He motioned to his companion,\\\"Fisher, Spindle. '\\n\\nThe bard nodded his greeting, his face held tight– Spindle recognized this as the politest possible reaction he could get to his hair shirt, which he never washed. He was surprised that this was the fellow Picker and Blend had spoken of: he had thought he'd be more imposing, more... mysterious. And they said he didn't come round much anymore. Taken up with a witch, or some such thing. He turned to the historian. \\\"Remind me to never buy mead again.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I've heard that before, ' Duiker answered.\\n\\nSpindle blew out a breath, rubbed his face. \\\"Damned strange night last night.\\\" He tried to get the attention of Picker behind the bar.\\n\\n\\\"They have been strange, lately,\\\" Fisher affirmed, his gaze distant.\\n\\n\\\"Last night?\\\" Duiker asked, a grey brow arching. \\\"You mean two nights ago, don't you? '\\n\\nSpindle stared, amazed. Damn, but time flies when you finally have coin in your pocket!\\n\\n\\\"Spindle, why don't you tell Fisher here what you thought you saw two nights ago. '\\n\\nSpindle waved to Picker, who looked right through him. \\\"Does a man have to get his own tea and a bite around here?\\\" he murmured absently. Then he stiffened and half started up from the table, only to groan and sink back down again, holding his head. \\\"Beru take it!\\\"\\n\\nThe historian lost his amused half-smile and studied him, uncertain. \\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\nYe gods! Two days and I haven't reported in! What was that woman's name? Fells? Fillish? Damn! The saboteur's bloodshot eyes darted right and left and his face took on a pale greenish hue.\\\"Nothing, \\\"he said.\\\"Think I'll get me some soup.\\\" He nodded a curt goodbye and ran.\\n\\nAfter Spindle had darted out of the bar Duiker said to Fisher, \\\"There goes one of the last remaining Bridgeburner cadre mages. Or rather, a mage who thinks he's a saboteur. '\\n\\nFisher touched along thin finger to his nose and nodded thoughtfully. \\\"Yes, there was a certain air about him.\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":89,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 10"},{"from":"human","value":"Outside the hall, Fist K'ess turned to the male officer with him.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Cancel all furloughs, restrict the troops to garrison. Have we no one capable of raising the Imperial Warren? '\n\n\"None.\"\n\nThe Fist pulled savagely at his chin. \"What a gods-awful state of affairs. Going to the dogs, we are. Go!\"\n\nThe man saluted, ran off.\n\nThe Fist started walking again, striking a stiff marching pace. The other officer, the woman, hurried after him. \"Might I remind you we are at half strength, Fist,\" she said. \"Half went south at Ambassador Aragan's request. Now we know why. '\n\n\"Yes, yes. Your point?\"\n\n\"We are under strength. In case of an uprising I suggest we withdraw.\"\n\nThe Fist halted. Next to him lay a stretch of buildings still in ruins from the siege of years ago. Squatters now occupied it, living in huts of wood and straw among the fallen stonewalls. \"Withdraw?\" he repeated, outraged. \"Withdraw to where?\"\n\n\"West. The mountains.\"\n\nHe rubbed his chin. \"Throw ourselves on the mercy of the Moranth, you mean? Aye, there's some merit there. I'll keep it in mind. Until then, no. Too much Malazan blood was spilled taking this city. We'll not withdraw. ' He started off again, his pace swift.\n\nCaptain Fal-ej, of the Seven Cities, struggled to keep up.\n\nK'ess barked at her:\"Send our swiftest rider south, Captain. I want to know from that fat-arse Aragan what in the name of fallen Hood is going on! '\n\nCaptain Fal-ej saluted and ran off.\n\nK'ess massaged his unshaven throat. He spat aside.\"What a gods-damned time to choose to quit drinking. Just when things were getting quiet... ' He shook his head and hurried on."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As was his habit of late, the Warlord spent time in the evening in silent solitary vigil overlooking the valley leading west to the glow of Darujhistan. Yet perhaps his gaze passed over the city, even beyond, to the barrow of Anomander Rake, once Lord of Moon's Spawn. This evening was dark and close. Thick clouds massed from the north, over Lake Azur and the Tahlyn Mountains beyond.\n\nSomething troubled the Warlord; this everyone spoke of, though none knew what it was. The castings of the shamans hinted at blood and violence to come. Word of war against the Malazan invaders swept like wildfire across the wide plains– though the elders themselves had not raised the White Spear. All this might have been part of the weight the Warlord carried. For though he was so named, some now whispered that he was too old, too grief-stricken, and perhaps his time had passed.\n\nHe mayor may not have been aware of these whispers within the assembly as he stood his solitary evening vigils out upon the hillside. Some said that in truth it was his distaste for it all that drove him from the tents to begin with.\n\nIn either case, late into one such evening the Warlord suddenly knew he was no longer alone. He glanced about to see standing a short distance off a man he'd thought his friend. A single glimpse, however, was enough to convince him that that was no longer the case. He shifted his weight to face the man, slid a handover the grip of the hammer at his side.\"Greetings, Baruk. What brings you from the city? '\n\nThe man certainly was Baruk, but not the Baruk the Warlord knew, with that avid hungry light in his fever-bright eyes, the fresh scars that traced a map of pain across his face. \"The one you called Baruk is gone. Burned away in the cleansing flames of truth. I am Barukanal, restored and reborn.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gossamer flames of power burned like auroras at the man's hands, where forests of rings now gleamed gold. Caladan's grip tightened upon his hammer. \"Truth? Which truth would that be?\"\n\n\"The truth of power. One I know you are intimately familiar with. The truth that power will always be used. The question only being by whom.\"\n\n\"Then you know enough not to tempt me.\"\n\nA gleeful mockery of a smile twitched the man's mouth.\"I recall enough to know that to bean empty threat, Warlord. '\n\nIn answer Caladan's lips pulled back over his prominent canines.\"Then you presume too much. If the... presence... I sense makes any effort to reach beyond Darujhistan, I will not hesitate to remove the city from the face of the continent. '\n\nThe one he once knew as Baruk gave a sham frown of sorrow. Backing away, he gestured to the west. \"More deaths, Warlord? How many more must die...?\" The figure dissipated into the night, leaving Brood to pull his clenched hand from the hammer and massage its stiff knuckles. He let out an animal growl and headed backup the hill to the distant lit tents. Baruk taken, he mused. That one will be a dangerous opponent. Yet he wondered at the constant stream of tears that had glistened on the man's scarred cheeks. And the eyes– that feyness could just as easily have been torment and horror trapped within.\n\nBefore he reached the tent the flap was pushed aside and a Rhivi elder hurried out. \"The shamans bring amazing news from the north, Warlord.\"\n\nSomething in Caladan's expression caused the elder to flinch aside.\"Why am I not surprised? ' Brood rumbled as he stalked past."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was the most difficult act he had ever had to force himself to commit. Every step deliberate, stiff, reluctant, he approached the squat, ominous house that stood alone in the woods of Coll's estate. Every beat of Rallick's pounding heart screamed at him to flee. For not so long ago, when the Jaghut Tyrant Raest returned to the city only to be entombed herein this Azath construct, so too was he. And perhaps the house would not give him up a second time.\n\nBut he did not flee. He understood necessity. He alone in this city seemed to understand that there were things that simply had to be done. Reaching the door he paused, hand outstretched. Someone had been digging in the yard. A trail of dirt led across the grounds. He knelt to study the spoor. Two sets of tracks. One in rotted leather sandals. The other naked bony feet. Very bony, and very definitely inhuman in shape. Shedding dirt as they came.\n\nWhile he crouched there before the door it opened and Rallick found himself staring up at the grim, emaciated figure of the ancient Jaghut Tyrant Raest, prisoner to the house, and now its... guardian? Or perhaps more accurately its interpreter or spokesman. Or doorman.\n\n\"Not even if you beg,\" the Jag breathed, his inflection completely dead.\n\nRallick straightened. \"May I speak to you?\"\n\nThe unsettling vertical-pupils of the eyes rose to encompass the night sky over the estate district; narrowed. \"We already have a boarder. I am not taking in more. No matter how awful it will get.\"\n\nA shiver ran its fingers down Rallick's spine. He clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands.\"That is the last thing I would want. '"},{"from":"human","value":"The Jag shuffled out of the doorway backup the hall."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"That is what they all say– then there's no getting rid of them. '\n\nRallick forced himself up the hall. Behind, the door swung shut, enclosing him in almost utter gloom. On one side, in a narrow corridor a large man lay blocking the way, snoring loudly and wetly. Raest passed this strange apparition without comment and Rallick was forced to follow. Murky light shone ahead; a sort of limpid greenish underwater glow cast down as if from a skylight. Here he found the Jag seated at a table and across from him sat another creature– an Imass. Or at least so Rallick assumed. He was no expert. Half-rotted flesh over bones and those bones stained dark. Battered armour of leather, furs and bone plates. And overall clumps of dried dirt. The entity held wooden slats in ravaged hands of bone and ligament. It raised its empty sockets to regard Rallick fora moment then returned its gaze to the slats in its hands.\n\nIn that brief regard a cold wind had brushed Rallick's face. He heard it moaning, carrying the call of large animals far in the distance. He shivered again.\n\nThe Jag, Raest, took up his own slats.\n\nCards, he realized. They were playing cards. Now. With so much hanging over the city.\n\nOn the table between them sat the corpse of a cat.\n\nRallick cleared his throat. \"What is going on?\"\n\n\"I am up ten thousand gold bars,\" Raest breathed. \"My friend here is having trouble with the changes in the rules.\"\n\nThe Imass's voice came as a low creaking of dry sinew:\"I am better at mechanisms. '\n\n\"No,\" Rallick insisted. \"The city. What's going on outside? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The neighbourhood is fast deteriorating. I am considering a move.\"\n\n\"A move? You can move?\"\n\nThe Tyrant turned his ravaged features to study him wordlessly fora time.\n\nRallick swallowed. Ah. I see.\n\nThe Jag laid down one wooden card from his hand.\n\nThe Imass edged its blunt skeletal chin forward to study the card then sat back to return to the contemplation of its own. Rallick also leaned to squint at the face; he saw nothing more than a crudely scratched image he couldn't make out.\n\n\"No,\" the Jag continued, \"I've put too much work into the place. \"Rallick eyed the walls of rotting wood, the hanging roots, the dust sifting down through the cascading starlight.\"Besides, Fluffy here would be devastated. '\n\nFluffy? Please be referring to the cat– my sanity won't survive otherwise.\n\n\"Can you give meany hint of what is to come?\"\n\n\"I serve the House now. Only it. However, I can tell you what sort of game we are playing.\"\n\nGame?\n\nFrom his mangled leathery hand the Imass slowly slid a wooden card onto the table.\n\nRaest leaned forward to study the image scratched upon its face. He sat back, shaking his head. \"No– not her. She's out of the game. For now. \"He brushed the card aside. The ligaments of the Imass's neck creaked as it followed the card to the far edge of the table. It growled.\n\nRallick found he was holding his breath. \"What sort of game... is it?\" he asked, hardly able to speak.\n\n\"It's a game of bluff. Bluff on both sides. Remember that, servant of Hood. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Hood is gone.\"\n\n\"The paths remain.\"\n\n\"I see.\"\n\n\"Do you? It would be astounding if you did.\"\n\nRallick clenched his lips. I can't settle my aim here. He turned his attention to the Imass. Those are not his leg bones. He looked away.\"Is there anything more you can tell me? '\n\nThe Jag remained immobile, his slashed and battered face a mask, long grey hairlike iron shavings hanging to his shoulders. \"I can tell you that you are distracting me from the game. Go away.\"\n\nRallick decided that he should not wait to be told twice. He edged back out of the room, not turning away from the oddly mismatched, yet so utterly matched, couple.\n\nHe reached the closed door.\n\nNow for the hardest part of all.\n\nBut the door did open.\n\nWhen someone entered his office, Legate Jeshin Lim's first thought was that a councillor had requested an unscheduled meeting and his staff had ushered him or her through. He was surprised, therefore, upon peering up from composing his next speech to seethe merchant Humble Measure standing before him.\n\nHe stifled the urge to leap from his chair. Burn's mercy! Who allowed the man in! Someone will lose their position over this. He transformed his twitch of mouth into a rigid, if rather strained, welcoming smile. Well... one can hardly complain. This man's money allowed me entrance to this office... why not the man himself?\n\nHe stood, smiling, and came round the desk. \"Humble Measure! This is a surprise!\" He motioned to a chair. \"Please, sit. May I offer you some tea?\""},{"from":"human","value":"The big man sat stiffly and ponderously."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"None, Legate... thank you.\"\n\nHow odd to see him outside the offices at his works. He looks... diminished. Jeshin poured himself a tiny thimbleful of tea and retreated once more behind his desk. \"What can I do for you, old friend?\"\n\n\"First,\" the man ground out, \"congratulations upon the renewal of the ancient honoured position, Legate.\"\n\nLim waved such formalities aside. \"It is our victory, Humble. Our shared vision led to this. We achieved it together.\"\n\nHumble inclined his head in acknowledgement. \"The Legate is too generous. Yet I wonder, then, why, with this victory in your grasp, you have not gone onto move Darujhistan towards the position of pre-eminence we once agreed it deserves?\"\n\nJeshin frowned, cocking his head. The tea sat forgotten before him. \"How so?\"\n\n\"Legate– Darujhistan must have an arsenal. Arms, armour, siege engines. The matériel of war-\" He stopped himself, because the Legate had raised a hand to speak.\n\nBack to this old argument. Should've anticipated it. The man's a fanatic. \"Humble... your point is well taken. Arms and armour are needed, yes. Yet look at what we have accomplished! We are in accord on so much. Darujhistan shall beset once more on a course of pre-eminence. We only differ in this one small matter– you believe that putting weapons and armour on every citizen will accomplish this, while I believe the city's defences must first be addressed. The walls, Humble-'\n\nThe merchant interrupted. \"Darujhistan has walls, Legate.\"\n\nJeshin waved this aside. \"Hardly worth the name. Playgrounds for the city's children. Neglected and pillaged for centuries. They must be rebuilt, strengthened. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It's not the walls of Darujhistan that must be strengthened, Legate... it is the will. '\n\nJeshin stilled, hands pressed to the cool marble surface of his desk. \"The discussion is closed, Humble. I thank you for your concern. I know I can count on your cooperation in our efforts to bring prestige and influence to our city.\" And he stood, smiling once more. He motioned to the door.\n\nHumble Measure levered his bulk from the chair. He glowered from under his thick brows. Without a word he turned and lumbered to the door.\n\nJeshin watched him go, stiff smile still fixed on his lips. A guard. Guards, today. Unbribable guards. Am I not the damned Legate of this ridiculous city?\n\nHumble's closed carriage rocked as he settled his weight within. He sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, as if examining someone seated opposite. The carriage started its twisting way down Majesty Hill. The man's heavy-lidded eyes were narrowed, almost closed, as he lolled back and forth. Indeed, another passenger might have thought him asleep.\n\nBut he was far from asleep. Like the ponderous presses of his foundry his mind was slowly working, inexorably turning, and with crushing irresistible weight. And the conclusion he reached was that he did not sacrifice so much to put a Legate in charge of this city in order that the holder of the position could cower behind walls.\n\nFortunately, however, ways exist to resolve this temporary hindrance.\n\nThe Mengal mountains ran as a backbone along the west coast of the Genabackan continent. They were for the most part a dangerous unsettled wilderness. A trader mud track twisted along the skirts of their inland eastward slope, unkept, swept away in places by erosion, crossed by fallen trees. Mule trains, two-wheeled carts and backpacks were the only way to make the trip. And even then in places the track was practically impassable. Far quicker and easier to ship any goods, livestock or people up and down the coast by water. But there were always those for whom the up-front expense of such cargo space or berths was unaffordable. For these petty traders, tinkers, travelling smiths, would-be homesteaders, or plain adventurers off to find anew horizon there would always be the mud track through the tall evergreen forest, their breath pluming in the cold wet mist cascading down the slopes, and their own rag-swathed feet and bent, burdened backs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And so, too, there were always those who preyed upon them.\n\nYusek's people were out of the east, Bastion way. During the Troubles they'd packed up and headed west. By the time they crossed the Dwelling Plain the way of life had become habit and they just kept on moving. Eventually Yusek raised her head and looked around and realized that all her family's starving and slogging hadn't gotten them anywhere worth going. So she packed up everything useful and did the only thing she knew how to do: she moved on.\n\nShe'd fallen in with Orbern's crew, or rather they'd taken everything she had and given her the choice to join them or starve in the cold. She being young and new, they'd tried using her, of course, but she'd grownup defending herself and had discovered early on that she didn't mind the shedding of blood half as much as those around her. So they made her a scout, or a runner, or whatever you damned well wanted to call it, on account of the fact that she could walk all their fat drunken arses into the ground. And they had no armour worth the name to give her anyway.\n\nOrbern claimed to be from Darujhistan. From one of the city's noble families. Kept going on about being cheated of his position, unappreciated, or driven out by idiots, or some such. Not that anyone gave a damn. Fancied himself'Lord of the western mountains'. Even had a horse, a sickly lonely-looking thing that he insisted on riding through the dense brush. Stupidest spectacle Yusek had ever seen.\n\nNoble-born or not, Orbern ran things because at least he had some kind of claim to an education. Knew how to build. He'd had them put up a palisade across the gorge they occupied. Raised log cabins that didn't leak. Even got a crude sort of forge up and running for their metalworking needs. It used a big ol' flat stone as an anvil."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And because of all this the man's rule was tolerated, even if he was a pompous ass.\n\nToday Yusek was \"scouting\". Which consisted of crouching under the cover of a tall evergreen watching the rain misting down the mountainside. The Mengal mountains were tall enough to gather clouds to themselves, but here they were not tall enough to completely shadow the leeward slopes, and deep valleys cut through to the coast. As a result, a portion of the mist always reached inland– not that any ever touched the Dwelling Plain.\n\nShe was keeping an eye on the trader track where it came winding up from the south. And this day, sure enough with the damned cold rain and all, there came two figures tramping through the mud, stepping over the trunks of fallen trees, pushing through the channels of run-off that charged across the path.\n\nDamned fools. Out in this weather. Now she had to get soaked too!\n\nShe went down to meet them.\n\nThey were a couple of the sorriest travellers she'd ever seen. Carried no goods or packs as far as she could make out; they wore big loose hooded cloaks pulled close against the rain. At least they were armed, as she could seethe polished bronze heels of sheaths hanging down beneath their cloaks.\n\nAs she stepped out onto the track they stopped and exchanged looks with each other from under their deep hoods. \"Where you headed?\" she asked.\n\nOne stepped forward. \"North,\" he said in a strange accent.\n\n\"I'm with a settlement just-'\n\n\"Do you know of a monastery herein these mountains?\" the fellow demanded, cutting her off.\n\n\"A what? Monastery? No. Like I said, I'm with-'"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But the two had walked right past her. She watched them go, dumbfounded. What in the name of Mowri...\n\nShe caught up with them. \"Listen. There's a settlement near here. Orbern-town. ' Stupid damned name. Orbern-town! Damned ass. Ha! Ass-town!\n\nThe two stopped. Even this close Yusek couldn't see into the deep hoods. One spoke again, the same one as before– the other had yet to say anything at all.\"There are people there who would know these mountains well? ' he asked.\n\nYusek wiped the cold mist from her face, shrugged. \"Yeah. Sure. You bet.\"\n\n\"Very well. You may lead us there.\"\n\nShe snorted, waved for them to follow. Listen to that! \"You may lead us there...\" Who do these two think they are?\n\nYusek wouldn't have denied she'd grownup in the middle of nowhere and knew next to nothing, but even she would've runoff when the sharpened logs of the palisade hove into view. She especially would've panicked when the heavy log door was pushed shut behind them and the great cross-piece was set into place and all the hairy unwashed mountain men of Orbern's crew came shambling out to see what was up.\n\nBut not these two. They followed her right in, meek as lambs to the axe. Some people, she reflected, didn't have the sense to be allowed to live.\n\nShe led them straight up to the main log \"Hall\" as Orbern called it, pushed open the door. The two followed her in. A bunch of the crew pushed in behind.\n\nOrbern was eating; he spent a lot of time doing that, hanging around the table. Yusek guessed this was his way of playing \"Lord of the Manor\". He looked up as if surprised, set down his knife and wiped his hands on the layered robes he wore to demonstrate his \"Office\". He had a great head of straggly hair and beard that Yusek figured he cultivated, again as part of his image as some kind of great master of the wilderness, like those of the ex-free cities of the north."},{"from":"human","value":"\"And who do we have here?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"he asked, all arch and loud.\n\n\"Travellers, sir,\" she answered, addressing him as he kept telling them to.\n\nOrbern pulled on his beard, nodding. \"Excellent! Greetings, sirs! Welcome to Orbern-town– such as it is at this time. Admittedly no Mengal yet. But we are growing. Soon we hope to become a regular waystop on the trader road. What may we do for you? Beds for the night, perhaps?\"\n\nSome of the boys behind the travellers chuckled at that. The two didn't even turn round.\n\n\"Do you know of a monastery in these mountains, north of here?\"\n\nOrbern made a great show of stroking his beard and studying the cross-beams above. \"A monastery, you say? Are you on a devotional pilgrimage? Are they expecting you?\"\n\n\"If none here knows it then we will move on.\"\n\nA lot more of the men laughed at that. Yusek couldn't hide her disbelief. How dense can you be?\n\nOrbern merely raised a hand for silence. \"There's no hurry. Perhaps we do know of such a place. Perhaps-'\n\n\"Do you know?\" the traveller asked, interrupting.\n\nOrbern was thrown fora moment but recovered smoothly. \"I? No. But fora contribution to Orbern-town's-'\n\n\"Then who?\"\n\nOrbern glared from beneath his tangled brows. Yusek laughed, and none too gently. Now this was funny... this was a good show. \"A contribution to Orbern-town's future will gain you our goodwill, ' Orbern ground out, sounding far from friendly.\n\nAs if byway of answer, the spokesman of the two pushed back his heavy hood."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Yusek heard gasps of hissed breaths. Almost as one the crowd of outlaws and murderers, hunted men all, flinched several steps backwards, clearing a circle round the two. She stared surprised: the man wore a mask, a painted oval, all complex swirls and bands. Oddest thing, she thought. Then she glanced to Orbern.\n\nThe man was frozen, eyes huge. He appeared to be struggling to take a breath to speak but failing. Yusek made a disgusted face. What's this? So the fellow's wearing a mask? So what?\n\nNo one moved or spoke; it was as if all were too terrified. A few like Yusek were peering about, confused; mostly men from the north. Since no one was saying anything she stepped forward, hands on the knives at her belt. \"Hand over everything you have,\" she demanded.\n\nA strangled high-pitched laugh burst from Orbern. He waved his hands frantically. \"Don't listen to her! \"he spluttered, almost squeaking.\"You are free to go, of course! '\n\n\"What's this? \"called out Waynar, a great hairy fellow from the north who claimed Barghast blood. He uncrossed his thick arms and stepped forward.\"Free to go? '\n\n\"Would you shut up!\" Orbern snarled at him, then offered the two guests a nervous laugh.\n\n\"You ain't our king or anything, \"Waynar countered. He loomed up so close to the visitors that his out-thrust chin almost touched the masked forehead of the much shorter and slighter of the two.\"Who in Hood're you? An\" why're you wearin\" that stupid mask? '\n\nDamned straight! Yusek added silently. 'Bout time someone took charge. Looks like Orbern might be on the outs."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The spokesman tilted his head to peer past Waynar's shaggy bulk.\"Is this one in defiance of your orders? '\n\nOrbern's shoulders fell. He clasped his head in his hands and let out along shuddering breath.\"I am very sorry, Waynar, \"he said.\"But... yes. He is. '\n\nThe spokesman shrugged. Or appeared to shrug. Something happened. Yusek wasn't sure; she didn't quite catch it. His cloak moved, anyway. Waynar's eyes bulged. His mouth opened but nothing came out. Then a great torrent of blood and fluids came gushing down from the man's waist, down over his legs, splattering amid falling wet glistening coils and viscera. The man almost split in half.\n\nYusek screamed, jumping backwards. Even the strangers stepped away from the spreading pool of gore.\n\nSome went for their swords but others in the crowd stopped them, grabbing their arms. Orbern threw up his hands for calm. \"Do not move!\" he called. To the travellers he offered a small bow of his head. \"There will be no further challenges. Your demonstration is most... pointed. North of here you will find a handful of small settlements, homesteads and such. And I have heard rumours of a temple of some sort.\"\n\n\"Who knows this region best?\" the spokesman asked, his voice still mild and uninflected.\n\nOrbern's brows drew down once more.\"Well, Yusek here has covered most of the slopes. '\n\nYusek tore her gaze from the pile of viscera and saw that the spokesman stranger was now regarding her through his painted mask. His eyes were hazel brown.\n\n\"What?\" she snapped.\n\n\"You will guide us.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sure as the bony finger of the Taker, I will not.\"\n\nThe spokesman turned away. \"It is decided. We require food and water.\"\n\nOrbern exhaled his relief. \"Shel-ken, find them some supplies.\"\n\n\"No! It is not decided!\" Yusek snarled. She glared at Orbern. \"I won't go with these murderers! '\n\n\"Is this one also defying the hierarchy?\" the spokesman asked of Orbern.\n\nYusek backed up until her shoulder blades pressed against a wall. Orbern eyed her, one brow arched as if to ask: well?\n\nAll eyes swung to her. A few of Orbern's men licked their lips as if eager to see her sliced from throat to crotch.\"No, ' she said.\n\nYusek confronted Orbern after the two visitors had left the hall to wait outside. \"What are you doing?\" she demanded while he watched, pulling on one fat lip, as the mess that had been Waynar was hauled away. Fresh sawdust was thrown over the stained dirt floor. He returned to picking at the greasy bird carcass. \"Well?\"\n\nHis tired gaze flicked to her. \"You're hardly really a member of this little community of ours, are you, Yusek? You take every excuse to range over the slopes for days on end. It's as if you've just been waiting for an excuse to cut and run anyway. '\n\nShe couldn't find it in herself to deny any of what he said.\"But with these two murderers? You saw what they did to Waynar! You just want to get me killed. '\n\nOrbern pushed aside the bones. \"Yusek...\" He rubbed his brow, sighing. \"Firstly, dear, Waynar asked for it. He challenged the Seguleh. So, lesson number one– do not challenge them! Now, secondly, contrary to what we all just saw, in their company you will be the safest you've been in years. \"He sat back, opening his hands.\"Thirdly, almost everyone here is a murderer– since when has that been a problem for you? And lastly, frankly, it has been a royal pain in the arse keeping everyone off your arse this last year. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If they can't control themselves that's their problem, not mine. They can go hump animals.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't fool yourself– some do. Or each other. In any case, I agree, yes. Why women get blamed for men's callousness and lack of respect for others is beyond me. But it becomes your problem when it's you they're attacking. Yes?\"\n\n\"I'll kill anyone who tries that. They know that. '\n\n\"So I'm down yet another man. '\n\n\"It's not my damn fault they're arseholes!\"\n\nHe pulled savagely on his beard. \"Yusek! The reason they've been driven out of all other towns and villages and families– any community of cooperative people– is because they are murderous, selfish, short-sighted, impulsive, cruel arseholes! \"He pointed to the door.\"I'm doing you a favour.\"\n\nShe didn't move.\"I can take care of myself. '\n\n\"The fact that you're still alive proves that, Yusek. But the odds are stacking up. Eventually, you'll disappear and Ezzen, or Dullet, will have a self-satisfied smirk on his face fora few days... and that would be the end of it.\"\n\nYusek lowered her chin. \"I'm not asking you to dome any favours. ' She hated how sullen that sounded, but it was the truth.\n\nOrbern sighed again. \"I know. But I am anyway. Osserc knows why. Must be my civilized conscience.\"\n\nShe went to pack the rest of her meagre belongings. Queen's throw! I may as well just ditch'em. She spotted Short-tall, out of the south, and raised her chin to him. \"So who are these Segulath anyway?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"It's Seguleh, \"he corrected her, then drew a slashing line across the air.\"Swords, sweetmeat. Walking swords is what they are. Watch yourself or they'll do you as they did Waynar.\"\n\nShe gave him a face, threw her tied bedroll over her shoulder.\n\nShe found them waiting in the muddy garbage-strewn grounds that Orbern called the \"Marshalling field\". A pack of gathered stores sat with them.\n\nThe spokesman indicated it. \"Carry this.\"\n\n\"I ain't no one's pack mule.\"\n\n\"None the less.\"\n\n\"No. You can fucking carry it.\"\n\nSomething whipped past her face– a silvery blur. Her bedroll fell from her shoulder into the mud, its rope tie cut. The man straightened, his cloak falling back into place.\n\nYusek stared. How in the name of Togg did he do that? She raised her gaze to the painted mask and the eyes behind: these studied her, narrowed, as if gauging her reaction. It was not the swaggering superior look she was used to from all those who'd bested her in the past.\n\nShe spat to one side– \"Fine!\" – yanked up the pack, which was damned heavy, adjusted it on her back. \"You do have a name...?\"\n\nThe spokesman motioned for her to walk with him. The silent partner followed, hood still raised. As they approached the palisade door she spotted fat Orbern upon the catwalk. He waved for the solid log cross-piece to be pulled aside and the door pushed open. They exited into the woods with almost the entire crew of Orbern-town at the palisade watching them go.\n\n\"My name is Sall,\" the spokesman said. Now, in the silence of the woods, he sounded rather young."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Yusek jerked a thumb to the other. \"And him?\"\n\nSall was silent fora time, perhaps searching for the right words. \"In the rankings of the Seguleh I am of the Three Hundredth-\"\n\n\"Three hundredth what?\" she cut in.\n\nAgain, he was silent fora while. The rain had letup and now the streams of run-off trickled across the track. Heavy drops pattered amid the woods. The morning's mist was gone with the rain.\n\n\"The Three Hundredth I refer to means among the Seguleh fighters,\" Sall said, his tone now quite icy. It seemed he wasn't used to being interrupted.\n\nShe eyed him sidelong. He'd raised his hood again.\"So... you mean that you're among the top three hundred fighters of all you Seguleh?\"\n\n\"Among all those who choose to pursue the rankings, yes. Not all need do so.\"\n\nAmong the three hundred best fighters of these Seguleh? Damn! She jerked her thumb to the other. \"And him?\"\n\n\"Yusek\"– he spoke much more quietly now– \"I can give you his name... but it will be of no use to you. You might address him but he will never speak to you. He is Lo. And he is Eighth.\"\n\nEighth? Like in eighth best of all of \"em? Burn's embrace! And they're out herein the middle of nowhere?\"What're you two doing here?\"\n\n\"As I said, we are looking fora monastery that is supposed to be somewhere herein these mountains.\"\n\nYusek snorted. Damned foolishness. Here she was guiding a couple of fanatics off to some temple so they could bow to some dusty piece of bone, or a sacred statue on a wall, or have a senile old man wave his handover their heads. What a fucking waste of her time!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She decided to ditch them right away.\n\nShe simply didn't stop walking. So far that tactic had never failed her. She'd lost everyone she'd ever walked away from. As the day progressed, sure enough they fell back just as everyone always did. Once they were far enough behind on the trail she shucked the pack from her shoulders, took the best of the dried staples and a skin of water, and just kept right ongoing without looking back. In fact, she decided to run.\n\nShe made for an overhang she knew of, a kind of unofficial way-station along the trail. It was much further than an average day's travel but she'd push on into the night.\n\nFor all the rest of the day, into the long twilight of evening, until the light failed entirely and she couldn't make out the track ahead, she saw no more sign of them. The combined light of the mottled moon and the ill-omened green night sky visitor allowed her to find the narrow path up the rocks to the overhang and here she crouched down on her hams, in the dirt and rotting leaves, and chewed on a strip of dried venison. Her legs were trembling and numb, her chest aflame, but she'd made it. And she was rid of them. She was rid of them all! Fat Orbern, leering Ezzen, slow-witted Henst with his clumsy paws. She'd done it again! Shaken the useless dust from her heels. Just like her ma and pa that day in the worst stretch of the Dwelling Plain when it was them or her and damned if it was gonna be her!\n\nI'll head for Mengal just as I've always wanted. Make a name for myself there. Must be plenty of opportunities fora girl like me... I'll be-"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She stiffened, listening. Rocks were falling down on the trail. She slowly straightened, a hand going to the fighting knife at her hip, her heart thudding.\n\nThe hooded and cloaked figure of Sall climbed up into the overhang. He brushed dirt from himself. He dropped the pack to the dry dust and leaves. She lowered her hand. I don't fucking believe it!\n\n\"A fair first day's travel, Yusek. \"The hood rose as he peered about.\"I approve. You may rest. I will take first watch. '\n\nLo joined them, rising as silently as a ghost from the murk. He crossed to the rear of the overhang and sat without a word.\n\n\"Who are you people...?\" she breathed, awed despite herself.\n\n\"We are the Seguleh, Yusek. And all these lands will soon come to know us again.\"\n\nSpindle sat on a stone bench in the Circle of Faiths. It was a paved plaza in the Daru district that through the years, building by building and yard by yard, had been invaded then annexed by the worshippers of foreign, emerging, or even discredited religions. A sort of unofficial bazaar to any god, spirit or ascendant you'd care to name. Tall prayer sticks burned next to him as votive offerings to some obscure northern deity, possibly Barghast ancestor spirits. He waved the thick smoke from his face. Across the plaza a tiny stone building looking unnervingly like a sepulchre housed a priest of the new cult of the Shattered God. The man sat gabbling onto all who passed but was rather hard to understand, speaking as he was through broken teeth and a swollen jaw from the many beatings the local toughs meted out. Spindle had to hand it to the fellow, though. The man was undeterred. He even seemed to relish the extra challenge to his devotion and perseverance."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Some people just want to be persecuted... it proves they're right.\n\nBut then, he knew all about persecution. He and his ma together had watched the world succeed in its persecution of his father, uncles, brothers, aunts, sisters and uncounted cousins. \"Ain't gonna lose you, little \"un,\" she'd always told him. She repeated it yet again when word came of the loss of his last brother, fallen overboard in rough seas off the coast of Delanss.\"That's my sworn vow, that is.\" And he'd looked up from where he sat next to her chair to watch her brushing her hair– hair so long it would drag along the ground behind her should she ever let it down.\"Hold you in my arms, I will. Bind you up in protection. Keep you safe. Your mama's gonna keep you safe. You'll see. '\n\nHe rubbed his shirt over his chest. She was close now. He could feel her next to him the way he could when trouble was coming.\n\nBeen three days and no contact yet from any of the cadre mages. Should've been contact by now. Ain't right.\n\n\"You look like a brother,\" someone addressed him in Daru.\n\nSpindle shaded his eyes to blink up at a young swell-sword all done up in mock Malazan officer gear complete with torcs and Quonstyle longsword. On his silk surcoat the lad bore the sword symbol of the cult of Dessembrae. \"Whazzat? Brother?\"\n\n\"One of the initiate. The Elite. Recognized by Dessembrae.\"\n\n\"What in Osserc's smothering warmth are you going on about? '\n\nThe young man's ingratiating smile slipped into a stung haughtiness as he looked Spindle up and down.\"My apology. Clearly I am mistaken. Obviously you do not possess the requisite dignity. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Spindle hawked up a mouthful of phlegm and spat. \"Dignity, my arse. If he saw you now he wouldn't know whether to laugh or cry. '\n\n\"So those found unworthy may grumble.\"\n\nSpindle considered rousing himself to teach the pupa lesson, but he was feeling at ease on the bench and decided not to let the ignorant fool ruin his day. He waved the lad away. \"Take your rubbish elsewhere.\"\n\nThe aristocratic youth actually tossed his head as he walked off. Spindle snorted at the absurdity of it all, then realized he was no longer alone on the bench. He eyed the fellow sidelong: tall and rangy, wrapped in an old travelling cloak. Long black wavy hair. Looked Talian in profile.\n\n\"If that lad knew he was talking to a Bridgeburner he'd have pissed himself, ' the man said.\n\nSpindle cursed under his breath. \"Took your own damned time, didn't you? \"He rubbed his handover his chest, listening for guidance, heard nothing. This man was no mage.\"Who are you anyway? Where's Filless?\"\n\n\"Filless is no longer with us. Someone's made a sport of hunting Imperial mages and Claws. \"He turned to address him directly.\"If I were you I'd keep my head down.\"\n\n\"Hunh. That's me. Question still stands. Who're you?\"\n\n\"I'm with the Imperial delegation. '\n\nSpindle snorted again. \"Military intelligence. Shoulda known.\"\n\n\"We learned long ago not to depend entirely on the Claw.\"\n\n\"Hood's cautionary finger to that, my friend. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So– your report?\"\n\n\"Some kinda spook's entered the city. Drug his arse outta the burial grounds to the south. Wasn't alone neither. Has servants. And they ain't entirely human, if you know what I mean. '\n\nThe intelligence officer let out a faint whistle, fingers tapping on his lap. \"And the Moranth flee... Damned scary, that.\"\n\n\"As did we. You lot marched out.\"\n\n\"Just a training exercise,\" the fellow answered, as if it was un-important. \"I want you to try to track him, or it, down.\"\n\nSpindle gave him his best glare. The feller tells me to keep my head down, then he has the nerve... He spat again. \"Not me. Just a bystander, remember?\"\n\nThe young officer murmured, \"Might I remind you the punishment for desertion is still death?\"\n\nStretching out his legs, Spindle took out a handful of nuts he'd purchased from a street vendor, began cracking them and tossed them one by one into his mouth.\"Amateurish bluff, lad. I'm the last asset you got left in this whole Queen-damned city.\"\n\nThe officer studied his tapping fingers fora time. \"I wouldn't count on that. When the Fifth came to this continent an Imperial Sceptre was sent with High Fist Dujek. It's with us now. Herein the city. And it's awakened. '\n\nSpindle missed his mouth with a thrown nut. Gods all around. Aline straight to Unta. Anything could be sent through. An army of Claws. A High Mage. He cleared his throat, shrugging. \"Well, then, you don't need me. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The young intelligence officer pursed his lips eloquently. \"Until then– we'll just have to put up with you. '\n\nDamned Empire! Never lets you go. Always drags you back in. Sons a bitches.\n\nThen he squeezed the nuts in his sweaty hand. Oh no. Picker's gonna kill me!\n\nStooped and shuffling, Aman picked his way through his wrecked shop. Taya followed in his wake. Her steps were dainty and soundless against his noisy dragging of his boots through the broken wares.\n\nShe wrinkled her nose at the churned-up dust. \"Revenge?\" she asked. \"A warning?\"\n\nAman picked up a relatively whole glass urn, turned it in an errant ray of sunlight that penetrated the shutters he kept locked. \"No, my dear. Neither.\" He dropped the urn to smash to pieces alongside its fellows. \"Irrelevant. All too irrelevant.\"\n\nTaya studied his gnarled profile. She blew a hair from her face. \"Then why are we here?\"\n\n\"Tone, dear. Watch your tone. Petulant. It is not becoming.\"\n\nShe raised her full painted lips in a smirk that was almost a leer. \"Depends upon what you're looking for. '\n\nAfter a moment Aman tilted his head to acknowledge the point. \"True. It has served you in the past. But things are changing now. And you must change as well.\"\n\nShe snorted her opinion of that. \"Nothing has changed! Still we skulk in the shadows.\" Her gaze slid sideways to Aman. \"Perhaps you're too used to living like rats? '\n\nHe was examining the glittering jade-encrusted statue, running his mangled hands over its strange crusted armour of stone. \"You are wasting your breath, young one. Too long among those who can so easily be stung. Whereas I possess no vanity to be plucked like a thin rich robe. No fragile self-image so readily chipped or shattered.\" He regarded her, his gaze weighing. \"No. The die is cast... as they say. We merely wait while the ripples spread outward– if I maybe permitted to tweak my metaphors. We must wait for we are yet vulnerable, yes? But soon... soon we shall be unassailable. Never you doubt, child.\" He clasped his hands together under his uneven chin as if praying. \"So. What happened here?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She shrugged her thin bare shoulders. \"Someone broke in and ransacked the place. Probably offended by your housekeeping.\"\n\nAman touched his fingertips to his mouth. His mismatched eyes, one brown, the other a sickly yellow, seemed to peer in two directions. \"No. That is not what happened at all. Observe.\" He indicated the floor next to the statue. Taya looked: near where it stood the floorboards clearly showed the dark outline, free of dust, of its carved stone armoured boots.\n\n\"It moved,\" she breathed.\n\nAman smiled lopsidedly– the only way he could. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"So... it's alive? '\n\nHe patted the statue's chest.\"No. It is not. Makes it even more formidable, truth be told. No, this is what happened. Someone entered undetected, bypassing all my considerable wards, spirit guardians, and Warren-keyed traps. An accomplishment all by itself. He was in the process of examining the premises when the one guardian he did not anticipate acted. '\n\n\"And the mess?\"\n\n\"The clumsy efforts of my foreign friend to corner the pest... who, with breathtaking insolence, continued his search even while being chased.\" He shook his misshapen head, awed. \"Such effrontery! It will be his downfall.\"\n\nTaya raised an expressive, elegant brow. \"Whose downfall?\"\n\nAman tugged at something clasped in one stone fist. He pulled again, grunting. Cloth tore. He raised a dirty shred of material: a stained handkerchief. \"An old friend. Slipped greasily away... yet again.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The scholar and traveller Sulerem of Mengal writes in his journals of a distant land to the south where every man and woman is as a sovereign unto themselves. It is a wasteland wherein over a hundred years not even one fallen tree has been moved.\n\nLetters of the Philosophical Society\n\nDarujhistan\n\nKISKA HAD LONG lost track of how many leagues of shoreline she and Leoman had walked when, eventually, as she knew he would, the man cleared his throat in away that told her he had something to say– something she would no doubt not want to hear.\n\nShe stopped on the stretch of black sand, the sun-bright surf brushing up the strand, and turned to regard him. He stood some paces back. His hands were at his weapon belt; his long pale robes hung grimed and ragged at their bottom edge over his chain coat. He was growing a beard to match his moustache and his hair hung long and unkempt from beneath his peaked helmet.\n\nShe knew she must present no prettier a picture. She waved for him to speak. \"What is it?\"\n\nHe gave an uneasy shrug, not meeting her eyes. \"This is useless, Kiska. If he wanted to be found he'd have come to us long ago. '\n\n\"We don't know that... '\n\n\"Stands to reason.\"\n\n\"And I suppose you have some brilliant alternative?\"\n\n\"I suggest we strike inland. Perhaps we'll find something. Away... \"He tailed off, seeing Kiska's change of expression. She was no longer looking at him, but above and beyond. He turned round. A moment later he cursed softly. She came up to stand next to him. \"It's closing, ' he said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes. Definitely smaller.\"\n\nThe dark smear in the slate-grey sky that was the Whorl had faded to a fraction of the size it had once been.\n\n\"Looks like the Liosan have put an end to it.\"\n\n\"I suppose so. Two offspring of Osserc ought to be enough.\"\n\nHe studied her, his gaze oddly gentle. \"That could be our way out closing before us.\"\n\nShe turned away to keep walking. \"All the more reason to track him down.\"\n\n\"Kiska,\" he called, a touch irritated. \"We could be walking in the wrong direction.\"\n\n\"Go ahead! I'm not keeping you! I'm sure all the ladies are missing your moustache.\"\n\nShe walked on in silence. Part of her wondered whether he'd answer, or whether he was following along at a distance. She refused to glance behind.\n\nThen his voice came, shouting from far off: \"What if I told you I could find him?\"\n\nShe stopped, let out along angry breath. Ye gods! Was this all just some sort of game to the fellow? She turned round, eyed him. He was standing as before, hands still at his belt, rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots. Shaking her head, she retraced her tracks backup the stretch of beach and planted herself before him, hands on hips.\n\n\"This better be good.\"\n\nHis brown eyes held the usual glint of amusement. He brushed at his now enormous untrimmed moustache, so very pleased with himself. Like the damned cat that has the mouse.\n\n\"You seem to have a soft spot for these local unfortunates, don't you? '\n\nShe flinched away, eyeing him warily. \"I'll not let you harm any of them. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The man looked positively pained– or made a great show of it. \"Never. What do you think I am?\"\n\nA murderous self-interested callous prick? Yet didn't there seem to be something more to the man? He did appear to have a surprising gentleness. A kind of unpredictable fey compassion. His problem is that he hides it too well.\"Your point? '\n\nA nod. \"My point is that your pity for them seems to have blinded you to how they could be of use in your... well, quest.\"\n\nShe felt distaste hardening her mouth. \"And that is?\"\n\nHe sighed, opening his hands. \"Think, Kiska. There is some kind of connection there. All we need do is keep an eye on them. And eventually...\" He gave an evocative shrug.\n\nShe felt a fool. Yes. Stands to reason. Simple. Elegant. Why didn't I think of it? Because it was passive. She much preferred action. Yet Leoman was hardly the retiring type. Perhaps it was because he must have grownup hunting and thought like a hunter, whereas she had not. For her, just sitting and waiting for something to happen, well, it grated against all her instincts.\n\nYet she had to agree. And so she allowed a curt nod and headed backup the curve of shoreline. Leoman followed at a discreet distance. Perhaps to spare her his supercilious smirk and self-satisfied grooming of his moustache.\n\nBarathol was slow to answer the loud persistent knocking at his door. It had a suspiciously arrogant and officious sound to it. Finally opening up, he found that he'd been right. A clerk faced him, a great sheaf of scrolls tucked under one arm and another in his hand. Behind him stood three Wardens of the city watch, and behind them stood a wrinkled pinch-faced woman he recognized as a representative of the city blacksmiths\" guild."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He crossed his thick arms, peered down at the clerk. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"Are you...\" the young man consulted the scroll he was holding, \"the smith known as Barathol Mekhar, a registered foreigner?\"\n\n\"I'm not foreign where I was born. '\n\nThe clerk blinked up at him. His brows wrinkled as he considered the point. Then he shrugged. \"Well, Barathol, as a tradesman and a resident you are hereby conscripted to the city's construction efforts. '\n\n\"I'm not a mason. '\n\n\"Metalworking is also required,\" the woman observed from the rear.\n\nBarathol jerked a thumb to her. \"Then why isn't she conscripted? '\n\n\"Members of the blacksmiths\" guild in good standing are exempt, ' the woman replied, prim and flushed with triumph.\n\nBarathol nodded. \"I see.\"\n\n\"I'll give you a good exempting, ' Scillara spat from behind Barathol and tried to push past him. He threw an arm across the doorway.\n\n\"Is it paid service?\" he asked.\n\nThe clerk allowed the thick paper of the scroll to snap back into a cylinder. \"It will count as taxation.\"\n\nBarathol had yet to pay any tax whatsoever on any of his income but decided that perhaps it would be best not to raise the point at this time. \"Starting when?\"\n\n\"The morrow. Report to the site foreman in the morning.\" The man hurried off, clearly relieved to be done. The woman threw Barathol a haughty glare then hastened in his wake. The three Wardens ambled off, hands tucked into belts. Barathol closed the door.\n\n\"How can you go along with that?\" Scillara demanded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Barathol peered around the small apartment, which was barely furnished at all. The only domestic touches were those he'd added: a cloth at the table, utensils he'd made. \"Have to,\" he murmured. \"No choice.\"\n\n\"No choice,\" she echoed, disappointed. \"No choice. I thought I'd picked one with a spine. '\n\nHe flinched, but eased his shoulders. \"They would arrest me. You'd be on the street. '\n\nShe sniffed, dismissing that. \"I've been there before. I'll do it again.\"\n\n\"Not with the little'un. Not with him. I'll not see that happen.\"\n\nScillara gave a great rolling of her eyes. \"Gods! Back to that. Martyr for the children.\" She waved him off and headed up the stairs. Barathol watched her go.\n\nOnly thing worth martyring for, I'd say.\n\n\"You a friend o\" that rat? '\n\nRallick looked up from his usual seat in the Phoenix Inn. He blinked, widening his gaze at the astounding apparitions before him. Two men, twins it seemed, embalmed in dust. Clothes ragged and torn. Dirt-pasted faces cadaver hollow. Hair all standing wind-tossed and hardened in grime. \"What rat might that be?\" he asked, though he sat at the man's table.\n\nEach pulled out a chair and sat, stiffly. One coughed into a fist and managed, croaking, \"While we hash that out how'bout standing two thirsty men a drink? '\n\nRallick signed to Scurve fora round.\n\nThe two let out long exhalations as if cool cloths had just been pressed to their brows."},{"from":"human","value":"\"And who are you?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Rallick asked.\n\n\"Leff.\"\n\n\"Scorch.\"\n\nAh. In the flesh. He leaned back, nodding. \"I see. What can I do for you?\"\n\n\"We're at the rat's table but we don't see no hide nor tail, ' said the one who gave his name as Leff.\n\n\"And for the immediate future let's keep it to rat– shall we? '\n\n\"Oh?\" said the other, Scorch, his expression puzzled. Or at least so it looked beneath all the pancaking of dust and grit and untrimmed beard. \"Why'zat? '\n\nSubtlety, Rallick decided, would be lost upon these two and so he allowed himself an exaggerated frown and lift of his shoulders. \"Well... let's just say that everyone's name is on a list somewhere...\"\n\nThe two stiffened, their gazes flying to one another. One touched a dirty finger to his nose; the other touched a finger just beneath his left eye. Both gave Rallick broad winks.\n\n\"From your lips to the gods\" ears, friend, ' said Leff.\n\nThe drinks arrived care of Jess: two tall stoneware tankards of weak beer. The two men stared at them as if they were miraculous visitations from the gods. Each reached out shaking dusty hands to wrap them round a tankard. Each lowered his mouth as if unequal to the task of raising the vessel. Each sniffed in a great lungful then sighed, dreamily. They took first sips by sucking in the top film then coughed, convulsing and gagging. When the fits had subsided they returned to the tankards to rest their noses just above them once more."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"All this Rallick watched wordlessly, his face a mask. And so it is for men. What we lust after almost kills us yet we always return for more... we never learn.\n\nRallick waited while the two addressed the tankards. It took sometime. The surrounding tables changed over during the wait. Rallick overheard talk of Lim, this new Legate, and of vague building plans. Right now operations were beginning at the mole to recover stone blocks dumped into the harbour. Finally, after much sighing and swallowing, the two wiped their mouths, leaving great smears of wet dirt across their faces.\n\nLeff pointed to Scorch's face and laughed. Scorch pointed to his and he scowled. Left cleared his throat and spat onto the straw and sawdust scattered across the floor.\"We're lookin\" fora man, ' he told Rallick.\n\n\"I'm happy for you. '\n\nBoth frowned and canted their heads as if thinking they'd misheard him.\n\nRallick sighed and waved his comment aside. \"What's that got to do with the rat? '\n\n\"We've done work together. Him \"n\" us. Might be a percentage in it all for him. If you know what I mean. ' And he touched a finger under his eye once more.\n\n\"I'm listening. '\n\n\"This feller owes us a lot o\" money-'\n\n\"And countin\"! \"Scorch interjected.\"And countin\"!\"\n\nLeff nodded his profound, rather drunken agreement. \"And counting too. A scholar. Ain't been seen fora longtime– so his landlady says. Overdue on rent too. '\n\n\"Maybe he's skipped. '\n\nScorch shook his head, unsteadily. \"Naw. All his books'n\"old broken pieces'n\"such is still there. He'd never leave them behind. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"All right. So, when did you last see him?\"\n\n\"Ah. Well...\" The two blinked atone another, their heads sinking lower and lower. \"We'd rather not say at this juncture of time... kinda confuse the issue... if you know what I mean. '\n\n\"Fair enough.\" Rallick eyed the two slumping in their chairs. Full tankards on empty stomachs. They'll be under the table in moments.\"There're rooms upstairs, you know. You can maybe use a rest.\"\n\nLeff gave a vague wave as he tottered to his feet. \"Naw. You tell that rat. We're lookin'for the scholar.\"\n\nScorch banged into the neighbouring table, righted himself. \"Look out for that dancing girl, though! That minx. Got a temper like a she-devil. Wouldn't even give us a kiss. '\n\nRallick watched them go. I'll no doubt see them in the gutter later tonight. And dancing girls? Where'd that come from?\n\nKenth, out of Saltoan, had graduated quickly to full Claw membership. He'd always heard the old-timers grumble that the winnowing of the ranks that had been going on fora while now had also thinned their quality. He was determined to prove them wrong. He was of Golana's clan and they had been given the biggest contract of recent times, one guaranteed to restore the reputation of the guild in Darujhistan.\n\nThe target was Jeshin Lim, the new self-styled Legate.\n\nThe Hand moved in as soon as the coming dawn allowed enough light. The Lim estate was well known to the guild. And this Lim was inexcusably negligent in not hiring more guards now that he was Legate."},{"from":"human","value":"Kenth's particular talent was climbing and so he was assigned to help secure the second-storey rooms while the main party assaulted the Legate's chambers."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Their watchers had reported that the man was not taking any particular extra precautions such as sleeping indifferent rooms, or even securing his doors and windows.\n\nKenth and his brothers and sisters stole across the estate grounds, dark shadows slipping from cover to cover. No challenges arose from roving guards; no dogs barked or attacked; no Warren-laid traps or alarms burst forthwith claps of thunder or blazing lights.\n\nIt seemed to Kenth that this city's ruling class had forgotten their fear of the guild. Tonight, he decided, would restore that ancient and time-tested balance of power.\n\nThe estate's ancient brick and stonewall was simplicity itself to scale. He found a small window terrace and popped the thin wood shutters sealing it. Within, the false dawn's glow through the shutters revealed the room to be made up as a child's nursery. It was empty. From here he gained the second-storey main hall. He went from room to room finding all unsecured, and all empty. It seemed that their watchers\" report was accurate: the Legate had sent all the Lim family members to another of their many residences scattered about the city and surrounding countryside.\n\nPresumably, one would think, for their safety.\n\nYet at the same time all to the guild's convenience.\n\nHaving secured the east wing of the rambling building, Kenth signed to his opposite number covering the west wing, then padded to his assigned post guarding the narrow servants' stairs. Here he waited, tensed, fingertips on the top stair feeling for the slight vibrations of footsteps below, his ears pricked for the telltale creak of old dry wood. He waited, and waited.\n\nAnd still his superior did not show to sign the all-clear.\n\nA pink and amber dawn brightened perceptibly in the east-facing rooms."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Should he check in? But, gods, abandoning his assigned post! He would be lucky to be kept on as message-runner! Not to mention whipped to a bloody pulp. Still... so much time!\n\nDread and the insect-crawling passage of minutes won out and Kenth padded off to check on his opposite number across the main stairs. He leaned out to glance across the broad balustraded marble expanse. And the woman was not there!\n\nSomething lay in a dark heap at the top of the stairs.\n\nHe darted out, knelt, blades ready. It was Hyanth, dead. No sign of a wound. Magery! No doubts now– time to report.\n\nHe ran for the main chambers. The tall twin door leaves were open. He slid in, a hand raised in the alarm sign, only to halt, stunned. Everyone was dead. That is, the entire assault team lay sprawled as corpses. And on the bed, sheer sheet rising and falling, in calm sleep, the Legate.\n\nKenth did not even hesitate then. He went for the target, blades out.\n\nBefore he reached the big four-poster something slammed into his back, sending him tumbling forward to hit the base of the wall. He peered up dazed at a slim lithe figure wrapped in black cloth. The figure stepped over him to open the shutters of a nearby window, then grasped his shoulders and, with astounding strength, levered him out and held him there. He scrabbled frantically for handholds.\n\nShe whispered close to his cheek, \"Take this message to your superiors, good soldier,\" and released him.\n\nKenth half fell, half scrambled, from stone to stone, snapping latticework and grasping at vines, and crashed to the ground. He lay groaning, his vision flashing with blazing lights. Fortunately, he'd managed to avoid landing on his back."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Report, he told himself– or thought he did. Report!\n\nHe lurched to his feet, muffling a cry of pain. Then he staggered, hunched, arms wrapped around his torso, across the grounds to the rallying point.\n\n*\n\nRallick satin his room in an old tenement building of the Gadrobi district. He sipped the morning's first cup of tea while considering all that he'd learned– or, rather, what little he'd learned.\n\nBaruk missing. Vorcan secreting herself away. Both reputed members of this half-mythic T'orrud Cabal. And in the Council an old forbidden title renewed.\n\nA power struggle. It all adds up to a power struggle. Yet with whom? This upstart Legate?\n\nAnd Vorcan's words: No matter what happens, you will not act.\n\nThen there's what Raest said. Bluff. It's a game of bluff. And what is bluff but lies, deception, misdirection?\n\nAnd who does that remind him of?\n\nHe stilled, hands wrapped around the warm cup. He cocked his head, listening; the building was silent. Not in all the years he'd kept this room was the building ever silent. He stood, pushing back the chair, hands loose at his sides.\n\n\"Who's there? '\n\nThe door swung open revealing the empty hall beyond. Someone spoke, and Rallick recognized the voice of Krute of Talient. \"It's all come clear now, Rallick. '\n\n\"What's clear, Krute? '\n\n\"No longer in the guild, you said... aye, I'll give you that. But it's all in the open now. No need to play the innocent.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 10\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Outside the hall, Fist K'ess turned to the male officer with him.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Cancel all furloughs, restrict the troops to garrison. Have we no one capable of raising the Imperial Warren? '\\n\\n\\\"None.\\\"\\n\\nThe Fist pulled savagely at his chin. \\\"What a gods-awful state of affairs. Going to the dogs, we are. Go!\\\"\\n\\nThe man saluted, ran off.\\n\\nThe Fist started walking again, striking a stiff marching pace. The other officer, the woman, hurried after him. \\\"Might I remind you we are at half strength, Fist,\\\" she said. \\\"Half went south at Ambassador Aragan's request. Now we know why. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes. Your point?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are under strength. In case of an uprising I suggest we withdraw.\\\"\\n\\nThe Fist halted. Next to him lay a stretch of buildings still in ruins from the siege of years ago. Squatters now occupied it, living in huts of wood and straw among the fallen stonewalls. \\\"Withdraw?\\\" he repeated, outraged. \\\"Withdraw to where?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"West. The mountains.\\\"\\n\\nHe rubbed his chin. \\\"Throw ourselves on the mercy of the Moranth, you mean? Aye, there's some merit there. I'll keep it in mind. Until then, no. Too much Malazan blood was spilled taking this city. We'll not withdraw. ' He started off again, his pace swift.\\n\\nCaptain Fal-ej, of the Seven Cities, struggled to keep up.\\n\\nK'ess barked at her:\\\"Send our swiftest rider south, Captain. I want to know from that fat-arse Aragan what in the name of fallen Hood is going on! '\\n\\nCaptain Fal-ej saluted and ran off.\\n\\nK'ess massaged his unshaven throat. He spat aside.\\\"What a gods-damned time to choose to quit drinking. Just when things were getting quiet... ' He shook his head and hurried on.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As was his habit of late, the Warlord spent time in the evening in silent solitary vigil overlooking the valley leading west to the glow of Darujhistan. Yet perhaps his gaze passed over the city, even beyond, to the barrow of Anomander Rake, once Lord of Moon's Spawn. This evening was dark and close. Thick clouds massed from the north, over Lake Azur and the Tahlyn Mountains beyond.\\n\\nSomething troubled the Warlord; this everyone spoke of, though none knew what it was. The castings of the shamans hinted at blood and violence to come. Word of war against the Malazan invaders swept like wildfire across the wide plains– though the elders themselves had not raised the White Spear. All this might have been part of the weight the Warlord carried. For though he was so named, some now whispered that he was too old, too grief-stricken, and perhaps his time had passed.\\n\\nHe mayor may not have been aware of these whispers within the assembly as he stood his solitary evening vigils out upon the hillside. Some said that in truth it was his distaste for it all that drove him from the tents to begin with.\\n\\nIn either case, late into one such evening the Warlord suddenly knew he was no longer alone. He glanced about to see standing a short distance off a man he'd thought his friend. A single glimpse, however, was enough to convince him that that was no longer the case. He shifted his weight to face the man, slid a handover the grip of the hammer at his side.\\\"Greetings, Baruk. What brings you from the city? '\\n\\nThe man certainly was Baruk, but not the Baruk the Warlord knew, with that avid hungry light in his fever-bright eyes, the fresh scars that traced a map of pain across his face. \\\"The one you called Baruk is gone. Burned away in the cleansing flames of truth. I am Barukanal, restored and reborn.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gossamer flames of power burned like auroras at the man's hands, where forests of rings now gleamed gold. Caladan's grip tightened upon his hammer. \\\"Truth? Which truth would that be?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The truth of power. One I know you are intimately familiar with. The truth that power will always be used. The question only being by whom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then you know enough not to tempt me.\\\"\\n\\nA gleeful mockery of a smile twitched the man's mouth.\\\"I recall enough to know that to bean empty threat, Warlord. '\\n\\nIn answer Caladan's lips pulled back over his prominent canines.\\\"Then you presume too much. If the... presence... I sense makes any effort to reach beyond Darujhistan, I will not hesitate to remove the city from the face of the continent. '\\n\\nThe one he once knew as Baruk gave a sham frown of sorrow. Backing away, he gestured to the west. \\\"More deaths, Warlord? How many more must die...?\\\" The figure dissipated into the night, leaving Brood to pull his clenched hand from the hammer and massage its stiff knuckles. He let out an animal growl and headed backup the hill to the distant lit tents. Baruk taken, he mused. That one will be a dangerous opponent. Yet he wondered at the constant stream of tears that had glistened on the man's scarred cheeks. And the eyes– that feyness could just as easily have been torment and horror trapped within.\\n\\nBefore he reached the tent the flap was pushed aside and a Rhivi elder hurried out. \\\"The shamans bring amazing news from the north, Warlord.\\\"\\n\\nSomething in Caladan's expression caused the elder to flinch aside.\\\"Why am I not surprised? ' Brood rumbled as he stalked past.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was the most difficult act he had ever had to force himself to commit. Every step deliberate, stiff, reluctant, he approached the squat, ominous house that stood alone in the woods of Coll's estate. Every beat of Rallick's pounding heart screamed at him to flee. For not so long ago, when the Jaghut Tyrant Raest returned to the city only to be entombed herein this Azath construct, so too was he. And perhaps the house would not give him up a second time.\\n\\nBut he did not flee. He understood necessity. He alone in this city seemed to understand that there were things that simply had to be done. Reaching the door he paused, hand outstretched. Someone had been digging in the yard. A trail of dirt led across the grounds. He knelt to study the spoor. Two sets of tracks. One in rotted leather sandals. The other naked bony feet. Very bony, and very definitely inhuman in shape. Shedding dirt as they came.\\n\\nWhile he crouched there before the door it opened and Rallick found himself staring up at the grim, emaciated figure of the ancient Jaghut Tyrant Raest, prisoner to the house, and now its... guardian? Or perhaps more accurately its interpreter or spokesman. Or doorman.\\n\\n\\\"Not even if you beg,\\\" the Jag breathed, his inflection completely dead.\\n\\nRallick straightened. \\\"May I speak to you?\\\"\\n\\nThe unsettling vertical-pupils of the eyes rose to encompass the night sky over the estate district; narrowed. \\\"We already have a boarder. I am not taking in more. No matter how awful it will get.\\\"\\n\\nA shiver ran its fingers down Rallick's spine. He clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands.\\\"That is the last thing I would want. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The Jag shuffled out of the doorway backup the hall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"That is what they all say– then there's no getting rid of them. '\\n\\nRallick forced himself up the hall. Behind, the door swung shut, enclosing him in almost utter gloom. On one side, in a narrow corridor a large man lay blocking the way, snoring loudly and wetly. Raest passed this strange apparition without comment and Rallick was forced to follow. Murky light shone ahead; a sort of limpid greenish underwater glow cast down as if from a skylight. Here he found the Jag seated at a table and across from him sat another creature– an Imass. Or at least so Rallick assumed. He was no expert. Half-rotted flesh over bones and those bones stained dark. Battered armour of leather, furs and bone plates. And overall clumps of dried dirt. The entity held wooden slats in ravaged hands of bone and ligament. It raised its empty sockets to regard Rallick fora moment then returned its gaze to the slats in its hands.\\n\\nIn that brief regard a cold wind had brushed Rallick's face. He heard it moaning, carrying the call of large animals far in the distance. He shivered again.\\n\\nThe Jag, Raest, took up his own slats.\\n\\nCards, he realized. They were playing cards. Now. With so much hanging over the city.\\n\\nOn the table between them sat the corpse of a cat.\\n\\nRallick cleared his throat. \\\"What is going on?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am up ten thousand gold bars,\\\" Raest breathed. \\\"My friend here is having trouble with the changes in the rules.\\\"\\n\\nThe Imass's voice came as a low creaking of dry sinew:\\\"I am better at mechanisms. '\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Rallick insisted. \\\"The city. What's going on outside? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The neighbourhood is fast deteriorating. I am considering a move.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A move? You can move?\\\"\\n\\nThe Tyrant turned his ravaged features to study him wordlessly fora time.\\n\\nRallick swallowed. Ah. I see.\\n\\nThe Jag laid down one wooden card from his hand.\\n\\nThe Imass edged its blunt skeletal chin forward to study the card then sat back to return to the contemplation of its own. Rallick also leaned to squint at the face; he saw nothing more than a crudely scratched image he couldn't make out.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" the Jag continued, \\\"I've put too much work into the place. \\\"Rallick eyed the walls of rotting wood, the hanging roots, the dust sifting down through the cascading starlight.\\\"Besides, Fluffy here would be devastated. '\\n\\nFluffy? Please be referring to the cat– my sanity won't survive otherwise.\\n\\n\\\"Can you give meany hint of what is to come?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I serve the House now. Only it. However, I can tell you what sort of game we are playing.\\\"\\n\\nGame?\\n\\nFrom his mangled leathery hand the Imass slowly slid a wooden card onto the table.\\n\\nRaest leaned forward to study the image scratched upon its face. He sat back, shaking his head. \\\"No– not her. She's out of the game. For now. \\\"He brushed the card aside. The ligaments of the Imass's neck creaked as it followed the card to the far edge of the table. It growled.\\n\\nRallick found he was holding his breath. \\\"What sort of game... is it?\\\" he asked, hardly able to speak.\\n\\n\\\"It's a game of bluff. Bluff on both sides. Remember that, servant of Hood. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Hood is gone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The paths remain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do you? It would be astounding if you did.\\\"\\n\\nRallick clenched his lips. I can't settle my aim here. He turned his attention to the Imass. Those are not his leg bones. He looked away.\\\"Is there anything more you can tell me? '\\n\\nThe Jag remained immobile, his slashed and battered face a mask, long grey hairlike iron shavings hanging to his shoulders. \\\"I can tell you that you are distracting me from the game. Go away.\\\"\\n\\nRallick decided that he should not wait to be told twice. He edged back out of the room, not turning away from the oddly mismatched, yet so utterly matched, couple.\\n\\nHe reached the closed door.\\n\\nNow for the hardest part of all.\\n\\nBut the door did open.\\n\\nWhen someone entered his office, Legate Jeshin Lim's first thought was that a councillor had requested an unscheduled meeting and his staff had ushered him or her through. He was surprised, therefore, upon peering up from composing his next speech to seethe merchant Humble Measure standing before him.\\n\\nHe stifled the urge to leap from his chair. Burn's mercy! Who allowed the man in! Someone will lose their position over this. He transformed his twitch of mouth into a rigid, if rather strained, welcoming smile. Well... one can hardly complain. This man's money allowed me entrance to this office... why not the man himself?\\n\\nHe stood, smiling, and came round the desk. \\\"Humble Measure! This is a surprise!\\\" He motioned to a chair. \\\"Please, sit. May I offer you some tea?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The big man sat stiffly and ponderously.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"None, Legate... thank you.\\\"\\n\\nHow odd to see him outside the offices at his works. He looks... diminished. Jeshin poured himself a tiny thimbleful of tea and retreated once more behind his desk. \\\"What can I do for you, old friend?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"First,\\\" the man ground out, \\\"congratulations upon the renewal of the ancient honoured position, Legate.\\\"\\n\\nLim waved such formalities aside. \\\"It is our victory, Humble. Our shared vision led to this. We achieved it together.\\\"\\n\\nHumble inclined his head in acknowledgement. \\\"The Legate is too generous. Yet I wonder, then, why, with this victory in your grasp, you have not gone onto move Darujhistan towards the position of pre-eminence we once agreed it deserves?\\\"\\n\\nJeshin frowned, cocking his head. The tea sat forgotten before him. \\\"How so?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Legate– Darujhistan must have an arsenal. Arms, armour, siege engines. The matériel of war-\\\" He stopped himself, because the Legate had raised a hand to speak.\\n\\nBack to this old argument. Should've anticipated it. The man's a fanatic. \\\"Humble... your point is well taken. Arms and armour are needed, yes. Yet look at what we have accomplished! We are in accord on so much. Darujhistan shall beset once more on a course of pre-eminence. We only differ in this one small matter– you believe that putting weapons and armour on every citizen will accomplish this, while I believe the city's defences must first be addressed. The walls, Humble-'\\n\\nThe merchant interrupted. \\\"Darujhistan has walls, Legate.\\\"\\n\\nJeshin waved this aside. \\\"Hardly worth the name. Playgrounds for the city's children. Neglected and pillaged for centuries. They must be rebuilt, strengthened. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It's not the walls of Darujhistan that must be strengthened, Legate... it is the will. '\\n\\nJeshin stilled, hands pressed to the cool marble surface of his desk. \\\"The discussion is closed, Humble. I thank you for your concern. I know I can count on your cooperation in our efforts to bring prestige and influence to our city.\\\" And he stood, smiling once more. He motioned to the door.\\n\\nHumble Measure levered his bulk from the chair. He glowered from under his thick brows. Without a word he turned and lumbered to the door.\\n\\nJeshin watched him go, stiff smile still fixed on his lips. A guard. Guards, today. Unbribable guards. Am I not the damned Legate of this ridiculous city?\\n\\nHumble's closed carriage rocked as he settled his weight within. He sat hunched forward, elbows on knees, as if examining someone seated opposite. The carriage started its twisting way down Majesty Hill. The man's heavy-lidded eyes were narrowed, almost closed, as he lolled back and forth. Indeed, another passenger might have thought him asleep.\\n\\nBut he was far from asleep. Like the ponderous presses of his foundry his mind was slowly working, inexorably turning, and with crushing irresistible weight. And the conclusion he reached was that he did not sacrifice so much to put a Legate in charge of this city in order that the holder of the position could cower behind walls.\\n\\nFortunately, however, ways exist to resolve this temporary hindrance.\\n\\nThe Mengal mountains ran as a backbone along the west coast of the Genabackan continent. They were for the most part a dangerous unsettled wilderness. A trader mud track twisted along the skirts of their inland eastward slope, unkept, swept away in places by erosion, crossed by fallen trees. Mule trains, two-wheeled carts and backpacks were the only way to make the trip. And even then in places the track was practically impassable. Far quicker and easier to ship any goods, livestock or people up and down the coast by water. But there were always those for whom the up-front expense of such cargo space or berths was unaffordable. For these petty traders, tinkers, travelling smiths, would-be homesteaders, or plain adventurers off to find anew horizon there would always be the mud track through the tall evergreen forest, their breath pluming in the cold wet mist cascading down the slopes, and their own rag-swathed feet and bent, burdened backs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And so, too, there were always those who preyed upon them.\\n\\nYusek's people were out of the east, Bastion way. During the Troubles they'd packed up and headed west. By the time they crossed the Dwelling Plain the way of life had become habit and they just kept on moving. Eventually Yusek raised her head and looked around and realized that all her family's starving and slogging hadn't gotten them anywhere worth going. So she packed up everything useful and did the only thing she knew how to do: she moved on.\\n\\nShe'd fallen in with Orbern's crew, or rather they'd taken everything she had and given her the choice to join them or starve in the cold. She being young and new, they'd tried using her, of course, but she'd grownup defending herself and had discovered early on that she didn't mind the shedding of blood half as much as those around her. So they made her a scout, or a runner, or whatever you damned well wanted to call it, on account of the fact that she could walk all their fat drunken arses into the ground. And they had no armour worth the name to give her anyway.\\n\\nOrbern claimed to be from Darujhistan. From one of the city's noble families. Kept going on about being cheated of his position, unappreciated, or driven out by idiots, or some such. Not that anyone gave a damn. Fancied himself'Lord of the western mountains'. Even had a horse, a sickly lonely-looking thing that he insisted on riding through the dense brush. Stupidest spectacle Yusek had ever seen.\\n\\nNoble-born or not, Orbern ran things because at least he had some kind of claim to an education. Knew how to build. He'd had them put up a palisade across the gorge they occupied. Raised log cabins that didn't leak. Even got a crude sort of forge up and running for their metalworking needs. It used a big ol' flat stone as an anvil.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And because of all this the man's rule was tolerated, even if he was a pompous ass.\\n\\nToday Yusek was \\\"scouting\\\". Which consisted of crouching under the cover of a tall evergreen watching the rain misting down the mountainside. The Mengal mountains were tall enough to gather clouds to themselves, but here they were not tall enough to completely shadow the leeward slopes, and deep valleys cut through to the coast. As a result, a portion of the mist always reached inland– not that any ever touched the Dwelling Plain.\\n\\nShe was keeping an eye on the trader track where it came winding up from the south. And this day, sure enough with the damned cold rain and all, there came two figures tramping through the mud, stepping over the trunks of fallen trees, pushing through the channels of run-off that charged across the path.\\n\\nDamned fools. Out in this weather. Now she had to get soaked too!\\n\\nShe went down to meet them.\\n\\nThey were a couple of the sorriest travellers she'd ever seen. Carried no goods or packs as far as she could make out; they wore big loose hooded cloaks pulled close against the rain. At least they were armed, as she could seethe polished bronze heels of sheaths hanging down beneath their cloaks.\\n\\nAs she stepped out onto the track they stopped and exchanged looks with each other from under their deep hoods. \\\"Where you headed?\\\" she asked.\\n\\nOne stepped forward. \\\"North,\\\" he said in a strange accent.\\n\\n\\\"I'm with a settlement just-'\\n\\n\\\"Do you know of a monastery herein these mountains?\\\" the fellow demanded, cutting her off.\\n\\n\\\"A what? Monastery? No. Like I said, I'm with-'\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But the two had walked right past her. She watched them go, dumbfounded. What in the name of Mowri...\\n\\nShe caught up with them. \\\"Listen. There's a settlement near here. Orbern-town. ' Stupid damned name. Orbern-town! Damned ass. Ha! Ass-town!\\n\\nThe two stopped. Even this close Yusek couldn't see into the deep hoods. One spoke again, the same one as before– the other had yet to say anything at all.\\\"There are people there who would know these mountains well? ' he asked.\\n\\nYusek wiped the cold mist from her face, shrugged. \\\"Yeah. Sure. You bet.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well. You may lead us there.\\\"\\n\\nShe snorted, waved for them to follow. Listen to that! \\\"You may lead us there...\\\" Who do these two think they are?\\n\\nYusek wouldn't have denied she'd grownup in the middle of nowhere and knew next to nothing, but even she would've runoff when the sharpened logs of the palisade hove into view. She especially would've panicked when the heavy log door was pushed shut behind them and the great cross-piece was set into place and all the hairy unwashed mountain men of Orbern's crew came shambling out to see what was up.\\n\\nBut not these two. They followed her right in, meek as lambs to the axe. Some people, she reflected, didn't have the sense to be allowed to live.\\n\\nShe led them straight up to the main log \\\"Hall\\\" as Orbern called it, pushed open the door. The two followed her in. A bunch of the crew pushed in behind.\\n\\nOrbern was eating; he spent a lot of time doing that, hanging around the table. Yusek guessed this was his way of playing \\\"Lord of the Manor\\\". He looked up as if surprised, set down his knife and wiped his hands on the layered robes he wore to demonstrate his \\\"Office\\\". He had a great head of straggly hair and beard that Yusek figured he cultivated, again as part of his image as some kind of great master of the wilderness, like those of the ex-free cities of the north.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And who do we have here?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"he asked, all arch and loud.\\n\\n\\\"Travellers, sir,\\\" she answered, addressing him as he kept telling them to.\\n\\nOrbern pulled on his beard, nodding. \\\"Excellent! Greetings, sirs! Welcome to Orbern-town– such as it is at this time. Admittedly no Mengal yet. But we are growing. Soon we hope to become a regular waystop on the trader road. What may we do for you? Beds for the night, perhaps?\\\"\\n\\nSome of the boys behind the travellers chuckled at that. The two didn't even turn round.\\n\\n\\\"Do you know of a monastery in these mountains, north of here?\\\"\\n\\nOrbern made a great show of stroking his beard and studying the cross-beams above. \\\"A monastery, you say? Are you on a devotional pilgrimage? Are they expecting you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"If none here knows it then we will move on.\\\"\\n\\nA lot more of the men laughed at that. Yusek couldn't hide her disbelief. How dense can you be?\\n\\nOrbern merely raised a hand for silence. \\\"There's no hurry. Perhaps we do know of such a place. Perhaps-'\\n\\n\\\"Do you know?\\\" the traveller asked, interrupting.\\n\\nOrbern was thrown fora moment but recovered smoothly. \\\"I? No. But fora contribution to Orbern-town's-'\\n\\n\\\"Then who?\\\"\\n\\nOrbern glared from beneath his tangled brows. Yusek laughed, and none too gently. Now this was funny... this was a good show. \\\"A contribution to Orbern-town's future will gain you our goodwill, ' Orbern ground out, sounding far from friendly.\\n\\nAs if byway of answer, the spokesman of the two pushed back his heavy hood.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Yusek heard gasps of hissed breaths. Almost as one the crowd of outlaws and murderers, hunted men all, flinched several steps backwards, clearing a circle round the two. She stared surprised: the man wore a mask, a painted oval, all complex swirls and bands. Oddest thing, she thought. Then she glanced to Orbern.\\n\\nThe man was frozen, eyes huge. He appeared to be struggling to take a breath to speak but failing. Yusek made a disgusted face. What's this? So the fellow's wearing a mask? So what?\\n\\nNo one moved or spoke; it was as if all were too terrified. A few like Yusek were peering about, confused; mostly men from the north. Since no one was saying anything she stepped forward, hands on the knives at her belt. \\\"Hand over everything you have,\\\" she demanded.\\n\\nA strangled high-pitched laugh burst from Orbern. He waved his hands frantically. \\\"Don't listen to her! \\\"he spluttered, almost squeaking.\\\"You are free to go, of course! '\\n\\n\\\"What's this? \\\"called out Waynar, a great hairy fellow from the north who claimed Barghast blood. He uncrossed his thick arms and stepped forward.\\\"Free to go? '\\n\\n\\\"Would you shut up!\\\" Orbern snarled at him, then offered the two guests a nervous laugh.\\n\\n\\\"You ain't our king or anything, \\\"Waynar countered. He loomed up so close to the visitors that his out-thrust chin almost touched the masked forehead of the much shorter and slighter of the two.\\\"Who in Hood're you? An\\\" why're you wearin\\\" that stupid mask? '\\n\\nDamned straight! Yusek added silently. 'Bout time someone took charge. Looks like Orbern might be on the outs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The spokesman tilted his head to peer past Waynar's shaggy bulk.\\\"Is this one in defiance of your orders? '\\n\\nOrbern's shoulders fell. He clasped his head in his hands and let out along shuddering breath.\\\"I am very sorry, Waynar, \\\"he said.\\\"But... yes. He is. '\\n\\nThe spokesman shrugged. Or appeared to shrug. Something happened. Yusek wasn't sure; she didn't quite catch it. His cloak moved, anyway. Waynar's eyes bulged. His mouth opened but nothing came out. Then a great torrent of blood and fluids came gushing down from the man's waist, down over his legs, splattering amid falling wet glistening coils and viscera. The man almost split in half.\\n\\nYusek screamed, jumping backwards. Even the strangers stepped away from the spreading pool of gore.\\n\\nSome went for their swords but others in the crowd stopped them, grabbing their arms. Orbern threw up his hands for calm. \\\"Do not move!\\\" he called. To the travellers he offered a small bow of his head. \\\"There will be no further challenges. Your demonstration is most... pointed. North of here you will find a handful of small settlements, homesteads and such. And I have heard rumours of a temple of some sort.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who knows this region best?\\\" the spokesman asked, his voice still mild and uninflected.\\n\\nOrbern's brows drew down once more.\\\"Well, Yusek here has covered most of the slopes. '\\n\\nYusek tore her gaze from the pile of viscera and saw that the spokesman stranger was now regarding her through his painted mask. His eyes were hazel brown.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" she snapped.\\n\\n\\\"You will guide us.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sure as the bony finger of the Taker, I will not.\\\"\\n\\nThe spokesman turned away. \\\"It is decided. We require food and water.\\\"\\n\\nOrbern exhaled his relief. \\\"Shel-ken, find them some supplies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! It is not decided!\\\" Yusek snarled. She glared at Orbern. \\\"I won't go with these murderers! '\\n\\n\\\"Is this one also defying the hierarchy?\\\" the spokesman asked of Orbern.\\n\\nYusek backed up until her shoulder blades pressed against a wall. Orbern eyed her, one brow arched as if to ask: well?\\n\\nAll eyes swung to her. A few of Orbern's men licked their lips as if eager to see her sliced from throat to crotch.\\\"No, ' she said.\\n\\nYusek confronted Orbern after the two visitors had left the hall to wait outside. \\\"What are you doing?\\\" she demanded while he watched, pulling on one fat lip, as the mess that had been Waynar was hauled away. Fresh sawdust was thrown over the stained dirt floor. He returned to picking at the greasy bird carcass. \\\"Well?\\\"\\n\\nHis tired gaze flicked to her. \\\"You're hardly really a member of this little community of ours, are you, Yusek? You take every excuse to range over the slopes for days on end. It's as if you've just been waiting for an excuse to cut and run anyway. '\\n\\nShe couldn't find it in herself to deny any of what he said.\\\"But with these two murderers? You saw what they did to Waynar! You just want to get me killed. '\\n\\nOrbern pushed aside the bones. \\\"Yusek...\\\" He rubbed his brow, sighing. \\\"Firstly, dear, Waynar asked for it. He challenged the Seguleh. So, lesson number one– do not challenge them! Now, secondly, contrary to what we all just saw, in their company you will be the safest you've been in years. \\\"He sat back, opening his hands.\\\"Thirdly, almost everyone here is a murderer– since when has that been a problem for you? And lastly, frankly, it has been a royal pain in the arse keeping everyone off your arse this last year. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If they can't control themselves that's their problem, not mine. They can go hump animals.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, don't fool yourself– some do. Or each other. In any case, I agree, yes. Why women get blamed for men's callousness and lack of respect for others is beyond me. But it becomes your problem when it's you they're attacking. Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll kill anyone who tries that. They know that. '\\n\\n\\\"So I'm down yet another man. '\\n\\n\\\"It's not my damn fault they're arseholes!\\\"\\n\\nHe pulled savagely on his beard. \\\"Yusek! The reason they've been driven out of all other towns and villages and families– any community of cooperative people– is because they are murderous, selfish, short-sighted, impulsive, cruel arseholes! \\\"He pointed to the door.\\\"I'm doing you a favour.\\\"\\n\\nShe didn't move.\\\"I can take care of myself. '\\n\\n\\\"The fact that you're still alive proves that, Yusek. But the odds are stacking up. Eventually, you'll disappear and Ezzen, or Dullet, will have a self-satisfied smirk on his face fora few days... and that would be the end of it.\\\"\\n\\nYusek lowered her chin. \\\"I'm not asking you to dome any favours. ' She hated how sullen that sounded, but it was the truth.\\n\\nOrbern sighed again. \\\"I know. But I am anyway. Osserc knows why. Must be my civilized conscience.\\\"\\n\\nShe went to pack the rest of her meagre belongings. Queen's throw! I may as well just ditch'em. She spotted Short-tall, out of the south, and raised her chin to him. \\\"So who are these Segulath anyway?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It's Seguleh, \\\"he corrected her, then drew a slashing line across the air.\\\"Swords, sweetmeat. Walking swords is what they are. Watch yourself or they'll do you as they did Waynar.\\\"\\n\\nShe gave him a face, threw her tied bedroll over her shoulder.\\n\\nShe found them waiting in the muddy garbage-strewn grounds that Orbern called the \\\"Marshalling field\\\". A pack of gathered stores sat with them.\\n\\nThe spokesman indicated it. \\\"Carry this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I ain't no one's pack mule.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None the less.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. You can fucking carry it.\\\"\\n\\nSomething whipped past her face– a silvery blur. Her bedroll fell from her shoulder into the mud, its rope tie cut. The man straightened, his cloak falling back into place.\\n\\nYusek stared. How in the name of Togg did he do that? She raised her gaze to the painted mask and the eyes behind: these studied her, narrowed, as if gauging her reaction. It was not the swaggering superior look she was used to from all those who'd bested her in the past.\\n\\nShe spat to one side– \\\"Fine!\\\" – yanked up the pack, which was damned heavy, adjusted it on her back. \\\"You do have a name...?\\\"\\n\\nThe spokesman motioned for her to walk with him. The silent partner followed, hood still raised. As they approached the palisade door she spotted fat Orbern upon the catwalk. He waved for the solid log cross-piece to be pulled aside and the door pushed open. They exited into the woods with almost the entire crew of Orbern-town at the palisade watching them go.\\n\\n\\\"My name is Sall,\\\" the spokesman said. Now, in the silence of the woods, he sounded rather young.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Yusek jerked a thumb to the other. \\\"And him?\\\"\\n\\nSall was silent fora time, perhaps searching for the right words. \\\"In the rankings of the Seguleh I am of the Three Hundredth-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Three hundredth what?\\\" she cut in.\\n\\nAgain, he was silent fora while. The rain had letup and now the streams of run-off trickled across the track. Heavy drops pattered amid the woods. The morning's mist was gone with the rain.\\n\\n\\\"The Three Hundredth I refer to means among the Seguleh fighters,\\\" Sall said, his tone now quite icy. It seemed he wasn't used to being interrupted.\\n\\nShe eyed him sidelong. He'd raised his hood again.\\\"So... you mean that you're among the top three hundred fighters of all you Seguleh?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Among all those who choose to pursue the rankings, yes. Not all need do so.\\\"\\n\\nAmong the three hundred best fighters of these Seguleh? Damn! She jerked her thumb to the other. \\\"And him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yusek\\\"– he spoke much more quietly now– \\\"I can give you his name... but it will be of no use to you. You might address him but he will never speak to you. He is Lo. And he is Eighth.\\\"\\n\\nEighth? Like in eighth best of all of \\\"em? Burn's embrace! And they're out herein the middle of nowhere?\\\"What're you two doing here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As I said, we are looking fora monastery that is supposed to be somewhere herein these mountains.\\\"\\n\\nYusek snorted. Damned foolishness. Here she was guiding a couple of fanatics off to some temple so they could bow to some dusty piece of bone, or a sacred statue on a wall, or have a senile old man wave his handover their heads. What a fucking waste of her time!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She decided to ditch them right away.\\n\\nShe simply didn't stop walking. So far that tactic had never failed her. She'd lost everyone she'd ever walked away from. As the day progressed, sure enough they fell back just as everyone always did. Once they were far enough behind on the trail she shucked the pack from her shoulders, took the best of the dried staples and a skin of water, and just kept right ongoing without looking back. In fact, she decided to run.\\n\\nShe made for an overhang she knew of, a kind of unofficial way-station along the trail. It was much further than an average day's travel but she'd push on into the night.\\n\\nFor all the rest of the day, into the long twilight of evening, until the light failed entirely and she couldn't make out the track ahead, she saw no more sign of them. The combined light of the mottled moon and the ill-omened green night sky visitor allowed her to find the narrow path up the rocks to the overhang and here she crouched down on her hams, in the dirt and rotting leaves, and chewed on a strip of dried venison. Her legs were trembling and numb, her chest aflame, but she'd made it. And she was rid of them. She was rid of them all! Fat Orbern, leering Ezzen, slow-witted Henst with his clumsy paws. She'd done it again! Shaken the useless dust from her heels. Just like her ma and pa that day in the worst stretch of the Dwelling Plain when it was them or her and damned if it was gonna be her!\\n\\nI'll head for Mengal just as I've always wanted. Make a name for myself there. Must be plenty of opportunities fora girl like me... I'll be-\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She stiffened, listening. Rocks were falling down on the trail. She slowly straightened, a hand going to the fighting knife at her hip, her heart thudding.\\n\\nThe hooded and cloaked figure of Sall climbed up into the overhang. He brushed dirt from himself. He dropped the pack to the dry dust and leaves. She lowered her hand. I don't fucking believe it!\\n\\n\\\"A fair first day's travel, Yusek. \\\"The hood rose as he peered about.\\\"I approve. You may rest. I will take first watch. '\\n\\nLo joined them, rising as silently as a ghost from the murk. He crossed to the rear of the overhang and sat without a word.\\n\\n\\\"Who are you people...?\\\" she breathed, awed despite herself.\\n\\n\\\"We are the Seguleh, Yusek. And all these lands will soon come to know us again.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle sat on a stone bench in the Circle of Faiths. It was a paved plaza in the Daru district that through the years, building by building and yard by yard, had been invaded then annexed by the worshippers of foreign, emerging, or even discredited religions. A sort of unofficial bazaar to any god, spirit or ascendant you'd care to name. Tall prayer sticks burned next to him as votive offerings to some obscure northern deity, possibly Barghast ancestor spirits. He waved the thick smoke from his face. Across the plaza a tiny stone building looking unnervingly like a sepulchre housed a priest of the new cult of the Shattered God. The man sat gabbling onto all who passed but was rather hard to understand, speaking as he was through broken teeth and a swollen jaw from the many beatings the local toughs meted out. Spindle had to hand it to the fellow, though. The man was undeterred. He even seemed to relish the extra challenge to his devotion and perseverance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Some people just want to be persecuted... it proves they're right.\\n\\nBut then, he knew all about persecution. He and his ma together had watched the world succeed in its persecution of his father, uncles, brothers, aunts, sisters and uncounted cousins. \\\"Ain't gonna lose you, little \\\"un,\\\" she'd always told him. She repeated it yet again when word came of the loss of his last brother, fallen overboard in rough seas off the coast of Delanss.\\\"That's my sworn vow, that is.\\\" And he'd looked up from where he sat next to her chair to watch her brushing her hair– hair so long it would drag along the ground behind her should she ever let it down.\\\"Hold you in my arms, I will. Bind you up in protection. Keep you safe. Your mama's gonna keep you safe. You'll see. '\\n\\nHe rubbed his shirt over his chest. She was close now. He could feel her next to him the way he could when trouble was coming.\\n\\nBeen three days and no contact yet from any of the cadre mages. Should've been contact by now. Ain't right.\\n\\n\\\"You look like a brother,\\\" someone addressed him in Daru.\\n\\nSpindle shaded his eyes to blink up at a young swell-sword all done up in mock Malazan officer gear complete with torcs and Quonstyle longsword. On his silk surcoat the lad bore the sword symbol of the cult of Dessembrae. \\\"Whazzat? Brother?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One of the initiate. The Elite. Recognized by Dessembrae.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What in Osserc's smothering warmth are you going on about? '\\n\\nThe young man's ingratiating smile slipped into a stung haughtiness as he looked Spindle up and down.\\\"My apology. Clearly I am mistaken. Obviously you do not possess the requisite dignity. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Spindle hawked up a mouthful of phlegm and spat. \\\"Dignity, my arse. If he saw you now he wouldn't know whether to laugh or cry. '\\n\\n\\\"So those found unworthy may grumble.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle considered rousing himself to teach the pupa lesson, but he was feeling at ease on the bench and decided not to let the ignorant fool ruin his day. He waved the lad away. \\\"Take your rubbish elsewhere.\\\"\\n\\nThe aristocratic youth actually tossed his head as he walked off. Spindle snorted at the absurdity of it all, then realized he was no longer alone on the bench. He eyed the fellow sidelong: tall and rangy, wrapped in an old travelling cloak. Long black wavy hair. Looked Talian in profile.\\n\\n\\\"If that lad knew he was talking to a Bridgeburner he'd have pissed himself, ' the man said.\\n\\nSpindle cursed under his breath. \\\"Took your own damned time, didn't you? \\\"He rubbed his handover his chest, listening for guidance, heard nothing. This man was no mage.\\\"Who are you anyway? Where's Filless?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Filless is no longer with us. Someone's made a sport of hunting Imperial mages and Claws. \\\"He turned to address him directly.\\\"If I were you I'd keep my head down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hunh. That's me. Question still stands. Who're you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm with the Imperial delegation. '\\n\\nSpindle snorted again. \\\"Military intelligence. Shoulda known.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We learned long ago not to depend entirely on the Claw.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hood's cautionary finger to that, my friend. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So– your report?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some kinda spook's entered the city. Drug his arse outta the burial grounds to the south. Wasn't alone neither. Has servants. And they ain't entirely human, if you know what I mean. '\\n\\nThe intelligence officer let out a faint whistle, fingers tapping on his lap. \\\"And the Moranth flee... Damned scary, that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"As did we. You lot marched out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just a training exercise,\\\" the fellow answered, as if it was un-important. \\\"I want you to try to track him, or it, down.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle gave him his best glare. The feller tells me to keep my head down, then he has the nerve... He spat again. \\\"Not me. Just a bystander, remember?\\\"\\n\\nThe young officer murmured, \\\"Might I remind you the punishment for desertion is still death?\\\"\\n\\nStretching out his legs, Spindle took out a handful of nuts he'd purchased from a street vendor, began cracking them and tossed them one by one into his mouth.\\\"Amateurish bluff, lad. I'm the last asset you got left in this whole Queen-damned city.\\\"\\n\\nThe officer studied his tapping fingers fora time. \\\"I wouldn't count on that. When the Fifth came to this continent an Imperial Sceptre was sent with High Fist Dujek. It's with us now. Herein the city. And it's awakened. '\\n\\nSpindle missed his mouth with a thrown nut. Gods all around. Aline straight to Unta. Anything could be sent through. An army of Claws. A High Mage. He cleared his throat, shrugging. \\\"Well, then, you don't need me. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The young intelligence officer pursed his lips eloquently. \\\"Until then– we'll just have to put up with you. '\\n\\nDamned Empire! Never lets you go. Always drags you back in. Sons a bitches.\\n\\nThen he squeezed the nuts in his sweaty hand. Oh no. Picker's gonna kill me!\\n\\nStooped and shuffling, Aman picked his way through his wrecked shop. Taya followed in his wake. Her steps were dainty and soundless against his noisy dragging of his boots through the broken wares.\\n\\nShe wrinkled her nose at the churned-up dust. \\\"Revenge?\\\" she asked. \\\"A warning?\\\"\\n\\nAman picked up a relatively whole glass urn, turned it in an errant ray of sunlight that penetrated the shutters he kept locked. \\\"No, my dear. Neither.\\\" He dropped the urn to smash to pieces alongside its fellows. \\\"Irrelevant. All too irrelevant.\\\"\\n\\nTaya studied his gnarled profile. She blew a hair from her face. \\\"Then why are we here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tone, dear. Watch your tone. Petulant. It is not becoming.\\\"\\n\\nShe raised her full painted lips in a smirk that was almost a leer. \\\"Depends upon what you're looking for. '\\n\\nAfter a moment Aman tilted his head to acknowledge the point. \\\"True. It has served you in the past. But things are changing now. And you must change as well.\\\"\\n\\nShe snorted her opinion of that. \\\"Nothing has changed! Still we skulk in the shadows.\\\" Her gaze slid sideways to Aman. \\\"Perhaps you're too used to living like rats? '\\n\\nHe was examining the glittering jade-encrusted statue, running his mangled hands over its strange crusted armour of stone. \\\"You are wasting your breath, young one. Too long among those who can so easily be stung. Whereas I possess no vanity to be plucked like a thin rich robe. No fragile self-image so readily chipped or shattered.\\\" He regarded her, his gaze weighing. \\\"No. The die is cast... as they say. We merely wait while the ripples spread outward– if I maybe permitted to tweak my metaphors. We must wait for we are yet vulnerable, yes? But soon... soon we shall be unassailable. Never you doubt, child.\\\" He clasped his hands together under his uneven chin as if praying. \\\"So. What happened here?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She shrugged her thin bare shoulders. \\\"Someone broke in and ransacked the place. Probably offended by your housekeeping.\\\"\\n\\nAman touched his fingertips to his mouth. His mismatched eyes, one brown, the other a sickly yellow, seemed to peer in two directions. \\\"No. That is not what happened at all. Observe.\\\" He indicated the floor next to the statue. Taya looked: near where it stood the floorboards clearly showed the dark outline, free of dust, of its carved stone armoured boots.\\n\\n\\\"It moved,\\\" she breathed.\\n\\nAman smiled lopsidedly– the only way he could. \\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So... it's alive? '\\n\\nHe patted the statue's chest.\\\"No. It is not. Makes it even more formidable, truth be told. No, this is what happened. Someone entered undetected, bypassing all my considerable wards, spirit guardians, and Warren-keyed traps. An accomplishment all by itself. He was in the process of examining the premises when the one guardian he did not anticipate acted. '\\n\\n\\\"And the mess?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The clumsy efforts of my foreign friend to corner the pest... who, with breathtaking insolence, continued his search even while being chased.\\\" He shook his misshapen head, awed. \\\"Such effrontery! It will be his downfall.\\\"\\n\\nTaya raised an expressive, elegant brow. \\\"Whose downfall?\\\"\\n\\nAman tugged at something clasped in one stone fist. He pulled again, grunting. Cloth tore. He raised a dirty shred of material: a stained handkerchief. \\\"An old friend. Slipped greasily away... yet again.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The scholar and traveller Sulerem of Mengal writes in his journals of a distant land to the south where every man and woman is as a sovereign unto themselves. It is a wasteland wherein over a hundred years not even one fallen tree has been moved.\\n\\nLetters of the Philosophical Society\\n\\nDarujhistan\\n\\nKISKA HAD LONG lost track of how many leagues of shoreline she and Leoman had walked when, eventually, as she knew he would, the man cleared his throat in away that told her he had something to say– something she would no doubt not want to hear.\\n\\nShe stopped on the stretch of black sand, the sun-bright surf brushing up the strand, and turned to regard him. He stood some paces back. His hands were at his weapon belt; his long pale robes hung grimed and ragged at their bottom edge over his chain coat. He was growing a beard to match his moustache and his hair hung long and unkempt from beneath his peaked helmet.\\n\\nShe knew she must present no prettier a picture. She waved for him to speak. \\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\nHe gave an uneasy shrug, not meeting her eyes. \\\"This is useless, Kiska. If he wanted to be found he'd have come to us long ago. '\\n\\n\\\"We don't know that... '\\n\\n\\\"Stands to reason.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And I suppose you have some brilliant alternative?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suggest we strike inland. Perhaps we'll find something. Away... \\\"He tailed off, seeing Kiska's change of expression. She was no longer looking at him, but above and beyond. He turned round. A moment later he cursed softly. She came up to stand next to him. \\\"It's closing, ' he said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes. Definitely smaller.\\\"\\n\\nThe dark smear in the slate-grey sky that was the Whorl had faded to a fraction of the size it had once been.\\n\\n\\\"Looks like the Liosan have put an end to it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose so. Two offspring of Osserc ought to be enough.\\\"\\n\\nHe studied her, his gaze oddly gentle. \\\"That could be our way out closing before us.\\\"\\n\\nShe turned away to keep walking. \\\"All the more reason to track him down.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kiska,\\\" he called, a touch irritated. \\\"We could be walking in the wrong direction.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go ahead! I'm not keeping you! I'm sure all the ladies are missing your moustache.\\\"\\n\\nShe walked on in silence. Part of her wondered whether he'd answer, or whether he was following along at a distance. She refused to glance behind.\\n\\nThen his voice came, shouting from far off: \\\"What if I told you I could find him?\\\"\\n\\nShe stopped, let out along angry breath. Ye gods! Was this all just some sort of game to the fellow? She turned round, eyed him. He was standing as before, hands still at his belt, rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots. Shaking her head, she retraced her tracks backup the stretch of beach and planted herself before him, hands on hips.\\n\\n\\\"This better be good.\\\"\\n\\nHis brown eyes held the usual glint of amusement. He brushed at his now enormous untrimmed moustache, so very pleased with himself. Like the damned cat that has the mouse.\\n\\n\\\"You seem to have a soft spot for these local unfortunates, don't you? '\\n\\nShe flinched away, eyeing him warily. \\\"I'll not let you harm any of them. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The man looked positively pained– or made a great show of it. \\\"Never. What do you think I am?\\\"\\n\\nA murderous self-interested callous prick? Yet didn't there seem to be something more to the man? He did appear to have a surprising gentleness. A kind of unpredictable fey compassion. His problem is that he hides it too well.\\\"Your point? '\\n\\nA nod. \\\"My point is that your pity for them seems to have blinded you to how they could be of use in your... well, quest.\\\"\\n\\nShe felt distaste hardening her mouth. \\\"And that is?\\\"\\n\\nHe sighed, opening his hands. \\\"Think, Kiska. There is some kind of connection there. All we need do is keep an eye on them. And eventually...\\\" He gave an evocative shrug.\\n\\nShe felt a fool. Yes. Stands to reason. Simple. Elegant. Why didn't I think of it? Because it was passive. She much preferred action. Yet Leoman was hardly the retiring type. Perhaps it was because he must have grownup hunting and thought like a hunter, whereas she had not. For her, just sitting and waiting for something to happen, well, it grated against all her instincts.\\n\\nYet she had to agree. And so she allowed a curt nod and headed backup the curve of shoreline. Leoman followed at a discreet distance. Perhaps to spare her his supercilious smirk and self-satisfied grooming of his moustache.\\n\\nBarathol was slow to answer the loud persistent knocking at his door. It had a suspiciously arrogant and officious sound to it. Finally opening up, he found that he'd been right. A clerk faced him, a great sheaf of scrolls tucked under one arm and another in his hand. Behind him stood three Wardens of the city watch, and behind them stood a wrinkled pinch-faced woman he recognized as a representative of the city blacksmiths\\\" guild.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He crossed his thick arms, peered down at the clerk. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are you...\\\" the young man consulted the scroll he was holding, \\\"the smith known as Barathol Mekhar, a registered foreigner?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not foreign where I was born. '\\n\\nThe clerk blinked up at him. His brows wrinkled as he considered the point. Then he shrugged. \\\"Well, Barathol, as a tradesman and a resident you are hereby conscripted to the city's construction efforts. '\\n\\n\\\"I'm not a mason. '\\n\\n\\\"Metalworking is also required,\\\" the woman observed from the rear.\\n\\nBarathol jerked a thumb to her. \\\"Then why isn't she conscripted? '\\n\\n\\\"Members of the blacksmiths\\\" guild in good standing are exempt, ' the woman replied, prim and flushed with triumph.\\n\\nBarathol nodded. \\\"I see.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll give you a good exempting, ' Scillara spat from behind Barathol and tried to push past him. He threw an arm across the doorway.\\n\\n\\\"Is it paid service?\\\" he asked.\\n\\nThe clerk allowed the thick paper of the scroll to snap back into a cylinder. \\\"It will count as taxation.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol had yet to pay any tax whatsoever on any of his income but decided that perhaps it would be best not to raise the point at this time. \\\"Starting when?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The morrow. Report to the site foreman in the morning.\\\" The man hurried off, clearly relieved to be done. The woman threw Barathol a haughty glare then hastened in his wake. The three Wardens ambled off, hands tucked into belts. Barathol closed the door.\\n\\n\\\"How can you go along with that?\\\" Scillara demanded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Barathol peered around the small apartment, which was barely furnished at all. The only domestic touches were those he'd added: a cloth at the table, utensils he'd made. \\\"Have to,\\\" he murmured. \\\"No choice.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No choice,\\\" she echoed, disappointed. \\\"No choice. I thought I'd picked one with a spine. '\\n\\nHe flinched, but eased his shoulders. \\\"They would arrest me. You'd be on the street. '\\n\\nShe sniffed, dismissing that. \\\"I've been there before. I'll do it again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not with the little'un. Not with him. I'll not see that happen.\\\"\\n\\nScillara gave a great rolling of her eyes. \\\"Gods! Back to that. Martyr for the children.\\\" She waved him off and headed up the stairs. Barathol watched her go.\\n\\nOnly thing worth martyring for, I'd say.\\n\\n\\\"You a friend o\\\" that rat? '\\n\\nRallick looked up from his usual seat in the Phoenix Inn. He blinked, widening his gaze at the astounding apparitions before him. Two men, twins it seemed, embalmed in dust. Clothes ragged and torn. Dirt-pasted faces cadaver hollow. Hair all standing wind-tossed and hardened in grime. \\\"What rat might that be?\\\" he asked, though he sat at the man's table.\\n\\nEach pulled out a chair and sat, stiffly. One coughed into a fist and managed, croaking, \\\"While we hash that out how'bout standing two thirsty men a drink? '\\n\\nRallick signed to Scurve fora round.\\n\\nThe two let out long exhalations as if cool cloths had just been pressed to their brows.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And who are you?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Rallick asked.\\n\\n\\\"Leff.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Scorch.\\\"\\n\\nAh. In the flesh. He leaned back, nodding. \\\"I see. What can I do for you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We're at the rat's table but we don't see no hide nor tail, ' said the one who gave his name as Leff.\\n\\n\\\"And for the immediate future let's keep it to rat– shall we? '\\n\\n\\\"Oh?\\\" said the other, Scorch, his expression puzzled. Or at least so it looked beneath all the pancaking of dust and grit and untrimmed beard. \\\"Why'zat? '\\n\\nSubtlety, Rallick decided, would be lost upon these two and so he allowed himself an exaggerated frown and lift of his shoulders. \\\"Well... let's just say that everyone's name is on a list somewhere...\\\"\\n\\nThe two stiffened, their gazes flying to one another. One touched a dirty finger to his nose; the other touched a finger just beneath his left eye. Both gave Rallick broad winks.\\n\\n\\\"From your lips to the gods\\\" ears, friend, ' said Leff.\\n\\nThe drinks arrived care of Jess: two tall stoneware tankards of weak beer. The two men stared at them as if they were miraculous visitations from the gods. Each reached out shaking dusty hands to wrap them round a tankard. Each lowered his mouth as if unequal to the task of raising the vessel. Each sniffed in a great lungful then sighed, dreamily. They took first sips by sucking in the top film then coughed, convulsing and gagging. When the fits had subsided they returned to the tankards to rest their noses just above them once more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"All this Rallick watched wordlessly, his face a mask. And so it is for men. What we lust after almost kills us yet we always return for more... we never learn.\\n\\nRallick waited while the two addressed the tankards. It took sometime. The surrounding tables changed over during the wait. Rallick overheard talk of Lim, this new Legate, and of vague building plans. Right now operations were beginning at the mole to recover stone blocks dumped into the harbour. Finally, after much sighing and swallowing, the two wiped their mouths, leaving great smears of wet dirt across their faces.\\n\\nLeff pointed to Scorch's face and laughed. Scorch pointed to his and he scowled. Left cleared his throat and spat onto the straw and sawdust scattered across the floor.\\\"We're lookin\\\" fora man, ' he told Rallick.\\n\\n\\\"I'm happy for you. '\\n\\nBoth frowned and canted their heads as if thinking they'd misheard him.\\n\\nRallick sighed and waved his comment aside. \\\"What's that got to do with the rat? '\\n\\n\\\"We've done work together. Him \\\"n\\\" us. Might be a percentage in it all for him. If you know what I mean. ' And he touched a finger under his eye once more.\\n\\n\\\"I'm listening. '\\n\\n\\\"This feller owes us a lot o\\\" money-'\\n\\n\\\"And countin\\\"! \\\"Scorch interjected.\\\"And countin\\\"!\\\"\\n\\nLeff nodded his profound, rather drunken agreement. \\\"And counting too. A scholar. Ain't been seen fora longtime– so his landlady says. Overdue on rent too. '\\n\\n\\\"Maybe he's skipped. '\\n\\nScorch shook his head, unsteadily. \\\"Naw. All his books'n\\\"old broken pieces'n\\\"such is still there. He'd never leave them behind. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"All right. So, when did you last see him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. Well...\\\" The two blinked atone another, their heads sinking lower and lower. \\\"We'd rather not say at this juncture of time... kinda confuse the issue... if you know what I mean. '\\n\\n\\\"Fair enough.\\\" Rallick eyed the two slumping in their chairs. Full tankards on empty stomachs. They'll be under the table in moments.\\\"There're rooms upstairs, you know. You can maybe use a rest.\\\"\\n\\nLeff gave a vague wave as he tottered to his feet. \\\"Naw. You tell that rat. We're lookin'for the scholar.\\\"\\n\\nScorch banged into the neighbouring table, righted himself. \\\"Look out for that dancing girl, though! That minx. Got a temper like a she-devil. Wouldn't even give us a kiss. '\\n\\nRallick watched them go. I'll no doubt see them in the gutter later tonight. And dancing girls? Where'd that come from?\\n\\nKenth, out of Saltoan, had graduated quickly to full Claw membership. He'd always heard the old-timers grumble that the winnowing of the ranks that had been going on fora while now had also thinned their quality. He was determined to prove them wrong. He was of Golana's clan and they had been given the biggest contract of recent times, one guaranteed to restore the reputation of the guild in Darujhistan.\\n\\nThe target was Jeshin Lim, the new self-styled Legate.\\n\\nThe Hand moved in as soon as the coming dawn allowed enough light. The Lim estate was well known to the guild. And this Lim was inexcusably negligent in not hiring more guards now that he was Legate.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Kenth's particular talent was climbing and so he was assigned to help secure the second-storey rooms while the main party assaulted the Legate's chambers.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Their watchers had reported that the man was not taking any particular extra precautions such as sleeping indifferent rooms, or even securing his doors and windows.\\n\\nKenth and his brothers and sisters stole across the estate grounds, dark shadows slipping from cover to cover. No challenges arose from roving guards; no dogs barked or attacked; no Warren-laid traps or alarms burst forthwith claps of thunder or blazing lights.\\n\\nIt seemed to Kenth that this city's ruling class had forgotten their fear of the guild. Tonight, he decided, would restore that ancient and time-tested balance of power.\\n\\nThe estate's ancient brick and stonewall was simplicity itself to scale. He found a small window terrace and popped the thin wood shutters sealing it. Within, the false dawn's glow through the shutters revealed the room to be made up as a child's nursery. It was empty. From here he gained the second-storey main hall. He went from room to room finding all unsecured, and all empty. It seemed that their watchers\\\" report was accurate: the Legate had sent all the Lim family members to another of their many residences scattered about the city and surrounding countryside.\\n\\nPresumably, one would think, for their safety.\\n\\nYet at the same time all to the guild's convenience.\\n\\nHaving secured the east wing of the rambling building, Kenth signed to his opposite number covering the west wing, then padded to his assigned post guarding the narrow servants' stairs. Here he waited, tensed, fingertips on the top stair feeling for the slight vibrations of footsteps below, his ears pricked for the telltale creak of old dry wood. He waited, and waited.\\n\\nAnd still his superior did not show to sign the all-clear.\\n\\nA pink and amber dawn brightened perceptibly in the east-facing rooms.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Should he check in? But, gods, abandoning his assigned post! He would be lucky to be kept on as message-runner! Not to mention whipped to a bloody pulp. Still... so much time!\\n\\nDread and the insect-crawling passage of minutes won out and Kenth padded off to check on his opposite number across the main stairs. He leaned out to glance across the broad balustraded marble expanse. And the woman was not there!\\n\\nSomething lay in a dark heap at the top of the stairs.\\n\\nHe darted out, knelt, blades ready. It was Hyanth, dead. No sign of a wound. Magery! No doubts now– time to report.\\n\\nHe ran for the main chambers. The tall twin door leaves were open. He slid in, a hand raised in the alarm sign, only to halt, stunned. Everyone was dead. That is, the entire assault team lay sprawled as corpses. And on the bed, sheer sheet rising and falling, in calm sleep, the Legate.\\n\\nKenth did not even hesitate then. He went for the target, blades out.\\n\\nBefore he reached the big four-poster something slammed into his back, sending him tumbling forward to hit the base of the wall. He peered up dazed at a slim lithe figure wrapped in black cloth. The figure stepped over him to open the shutters of a nearby window, then grasped his shoulders and, with astounding strength, levered him out and held him there. He scrabbled frantically for handholds.\\n\\nShe whispered close to his cheek, \\\"Take this message to your superiors, good soldier,\\\" and released him.\\n\\nKenth half fell, half scrambled, from stone to stone, snapping latticework and grasping at vines, and crashed to the ground. He lay groaning, his vision flashing with blazing lights. Fortunately, he'd managed to avoid landing on his back.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Report, he told himself– or thought he did. Report!\\n\\nHe lurched to his feet, muffling a cry of pain. Then he staggered, hunched, arms wrapped around his torso, across the grounds to the rallying point.\\n\\n*\\n\\nRallick satin his room in an old tenement building of the Gadrobi district. He sipped the morning's first cup of tea while considering all that he'd learned– or, rather, what little he'd learned.\\n\\nBaruk missing. Vorcan secreting herself away. Both reputed members of this half-mythic T'orrud Cabal. And in the Council an old forbidden title renewed.\\n\\nA power struggle. It all adds up to a power struggle. Yet with whom? This upstart Legate?\\n\\nAnd Vorcan's words: No matter what happens, you will not act.\\n\\nThen there's what Raest said. Bluff. It's a game of bluff. And what is bluff but lies, deception, misdirection?\\n\\nAnd who does that remind him of?\\n\\nHe stilled, hands wrapped around the warm cup. He cocked his head, listening; the building was silent. Not in all the years he'd kept this room was the building ever silent. He stood, pushing back the chair, hands loose at his sides.\\n\\n\\\"Who's there? '\\n\\nThe door swung open revealing the empty hall beyond. Someone spoke, and Rallick recognized the voice of Krute of Talient. \\\"It's all come clear now, Rallick. '\\n\\n\\\"What's clear, Krute? '\\n\\n\\\"No longer in the guild, you said... aye, I'll give you that. But it's all in the open now. No need to play the innocent.\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":90,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 11"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Report, he told himself– or thought he did. Report!\n\nHe lurched to his feet, muffling a cry of pain. Then he staggered, hunched, arms wrapped around his torso, across the grounds to the rallying point.\n\n*\n\nRallick satin his room in an old tenement building of the Gadrobi district. He sipped the morning's first cup of tea while considering all that he'd learned– or, rather, what little he'd learned.\n\nBaruk missing. Vorcan secreting herself away. Both reputed members of this half-mythic T'orrud Cabal. And in the Council an old forbidden title renewed.\n\nA power struggle. It all adds up to a power struggle. Yet with whom? This upstart Legate?\n\nAnd Vorcan's words: No matter what happens, you will not act.\n\nThen there's what Raest said. Bluff. It's a game of bluff. And what is bluff but lies, deception, misdirection?\n\nAnd who does that remind him of?\n\nHe stilled, hands wrapped around the warm cup. He cocked his head, listening; the building was silent. Not in all the years he'd kept this room was the building ever silent. He stood, pushing back the chair, hands loose at his sides.\n\n\"Who's there? '\n\nThe door swung open revealing the empty hall beyond. Someone spoke, and Rallick recognized the voice of Krute of Talient. \"It's all come clear now, Rallick. '\n\n\"What's clear, Krute? '\n\n\"No longer in the guild, you said... aye, I'll give you that. But it's all in the open now. No need to play the innocent.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What are you talking about, Krute?\"\n\n\"She's backing the Legate, ain't she? And maybe you are too. We lost six of our best this night. But one made it out. What he brought with him made everything clear. I'm sorry you chose to go your own way on this, my friend. '\n\nSomething came sliding in along the floor. A blade: blued, slim, needle-tipped, good for close-infighting and balanced for throwing. An exquisite weapon exactly like those commissioned by only one person he knew.\n\nThe old floor creaked in the hall: a number of men on both sides of the door. Rallick considered the window and the sheer three-storey drop.\n\nDamn. Done in by my own precautions.\n\nHe raced through a number of other options, none particularly promising. Then he noticed a smell. A strong sewer stink.\n\n\"Gas leak, lads!\" Krute shouted from the hall. \"Damn you, Rallick! A trap! Make for the roof.\"\n\nRallick remained frozen, hands close to the heavy curved knives beneath his loose shirt. The floorboards of the hall creaked and popped, then were silent. He edged towards the door, leaned to peer out. It was empty.\n\nGas? None can afford gas here.\n\nHe returned to his room, froze again. Something was on the table that had not been there before. A small leaf-wrapped object. He pulled open the greasy package to reveal a rolled crepe. A breakfast crepe with a delicate nibble taken from one end, as if the purchaser couldn't bear to part with the treat without a taste and hoped no one would notice.\n\nLies, deception and misdirection."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"So be it.\n\n*\n\n\"So you are saying that your timely arrival scared them off? Is that what you're saying? \"Lim eyed the two estate guards, both retired members of the city watch, standing uncomfortable, and extremely nervous, before him. Somehow he was not convinced. He pulled his dressing gown tighter about himself.\"And the mess outside? '\n\n\"Ah! Well, in their haste to flee– one appears to have fallen.\"\n\n\"Is that so? A clumsy assassin. It's standards that appear to have fallen. '\n\nThe guards shared embarrassed glances. One swallowed while the other clasped and reclasped a hand on the shortsword at his side.\n\nSighing his disgust, Lim turned away. He faced the small desk he kept in his room for correspondence and composing his memoirs. He picked up a slim gold mask among the mementos there and turned it in his hands. \"I suppose I should hire more guards.\"\n\n\"We strongly recommend it, sir.\"\n\nHe turned, favoured the two with an arched brow. \"Well... do so. Take your leave. Hire as many as you deem appropriate.\"\n\nThey snapped salutes. \"Yes, sir. Right away, sir.\"\n\nIncompetents. It's a miracle I'm alive. Someone had taken out a contract on me and I slept right through it. And frankly, who it is I suspect is no mystery. The Abyss has no fury like a patron scorned, as they may say. I'll have to respond. Hit him where it hurts. In the moneybelt.\n\nLim crossed the room to dress, then paused, confused. Hadn't there been a rug here? The servants appear to betaking great liberties with the furnishings. They ought to let me know when they take things away to be cleaned."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Torvald Nom and Tiserra eyed one another across the table of their house. Her gaze was a steady unswerving pressure while he shot furtive skittish glances her way between long perusals of the various ceramic bowls, jars and cups arrayed about the room. A breakfast meal of tea, honey and flatbreads lay untouched between them.\n\n\"I'm not moving, ' Tiserra said.\n\n\"No one has mentioned such a thing.\"\n\n\"Well... I'm not. '\n\n\"As you say.\"\n\nShe sipped her tea. Torvald shifted in his seat. \"Did you say something?\" she demanded.\n\n\"No– nothing at all.\"\n\n\"I suppose you'll be receiving all sorts of petitions to intervene in this or that. Ladies throwing themselves at you, bosoms heaving, panting how they'll do anything to have your support.\"\n\n\"No bosoms heaved my way yet, dear.\"\n\nTiserra glared. Torvald cleared his throat, reached fora flatbread.\n\n\"And I'll attend none of those damned fancy parties, or gala fetes. '\n\nTorvald withdrew his hand. \"Perish the thought.\"\n\n\"Won't have those harridans whispering behind their hands about the cut of my dress or the state of my hair. '\n\n\"Who would do such a thing?\"\n\n\"Won't have it. '\n\n\"Quite.\"\n\n\"I like it here!\"\n\n\"Absolutely.\"\n\nShe raised the cup to her mouth, set it down untouched. \"So we're agreed, then. '\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"All right then.\" She shifted in her seat, tore a flatbread. \"Good.\" She nibbled at the bread. \"So... what has this Legate proposed?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Nothing too shocking yet."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Various construction and maintenance projects. All long overdue, really.\" He spread honey on a flatbread.\n\n\"And how much does the position pay?\"\n\nThe rolled flatbread paused before it reached his mouth. Damn.\n\nIn his private room in the Malazan garrison at Pale, Fist K'ess was woken by shouts of alarm and banging. He leapt up from his piled furs and blankets already gripping the sheathed shortsword he always slept with and thumped barefoot to unlatch the heavy wood door. Captain Fal-ej stood waiting there, fully armed and armoured, torch in hand.\n\n\"What is it, Captain?\" he demanded.\n\nThe Seven Cities officer took in her Fist standing in the open doorway and quickly looked away. \"Fire, sir. Kitchens and barracks.\"\n\n\"Kitchens and barracks?\"\n\nA weary nod. \"They abut each other.\"\n\n\"Who in the name of Togg built...\"\n\nThe captain raised a forestalling hand. \"Be that as it may– perhaps the Fist should get dressed.\"\n\nK'ess frowned, then remembered that he was naked.\"Well... if you think it would help. ' He gave the captain a courtly nod and slammed the door shut. Facing the adzed wooden slats Captain Fal-ej let out a silent breath of awe and headed down the hall on weak knees. By the great stallions of Ugarat. This puts the man into a different perspective.\n\nFist K'ess caught up with Fal-ej where the captain stood shouting commands to a bucket-brigade vainly tossing water on the burgeoning flames consuming the barracks. Studying the conflagration, a hand raised to shield his face from the heat, the Fist shouted:\"Never mind! It's a loss! Just try to stop it from spreading.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fal-ej saluted. \"Yes, sir.\" She jogged off, shouting more commands.\n\nAfter the captain had reorganized the soldiers K'ess waved her to him.\"Anyone hurt? '\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\nA roar as the roof collapsed silenced any further talk and drove everyone back a step, coughing and covering their faces. Fist K'ess wiped a smear of some sort of air-borne grease from his face– the larders up in smoke.\n\n\"What happened?\" he asked. \"An accident?\" He asked but he didn't believe it: the fire had spread far too swiftly. The shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. Sabotage, act of rebellion, call it what you will. They never wanted us here.\n\nAnd now this new Legate down in Darujhistan to goad them on.\n\nHe waved the captain further back to talk. \"Any suspects?\"\n\nShe'd pulled off her helmet and now ran a hand through her matted dark hair. K'ess noted how her features seemed to glow– a combination of sweat from the heat and the grease of the smoke. He realized she had a strange look in her eyes even as he studied them.\n\nShe glanced away, clearing her throat. \"One of the kitchen staff, probably. Or one of the local servants.\"\n\n\"You have them?\"\n\n\"A few. They all claim innocence, of course. What do you want done with them? We could... send a message.\"\n\n\"I very much doubt that the one who set this hung about to get caught.\"\n\n\"I agree, Fist.\"\n\n\"So... let them know what we could do with them should we be so inclined. Then let them go.\"\n\nHer thick black brows rose. \"Let them... go?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Yes."},{"from":"gpt","value":"We're soldiers, not executioners, or some sort of police. It's subjugation that requires brutality, and I'm not willing to stoop to that yet. Do you understand, Captain? '\n\nThe woman's face hardened as if struck.\"I am from Seven Cities, Fist. '\n\nK'ess cursed himself for his obvious misstep but kept his expression blank. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.\"My apologies– then you more than understand. '\n\nA lieutenant arrived, rescuing the Fist from his discomfort. \"A mob at the gates, sir. Blocking the exit.\"\n\n\"Armed?\"\n\n\"Haphazardly so. Though there maybe veterans mixed in among'em. '\n\nK'ess turned to Fal-ej.\"My apologies again, Captain. You were correct. Perhaps we should have withdrawn earlier. It seems we're always underestimating Pale.\" He motioned to the lieutenant. \"Have the entire command salvage what they can then form up before the gates. We're evacuating. '\n\nThe lieutenant saluted. \"Aye, sir.\" He ran off, bellowing.\n\n\"North, sir?\" Fal-ej asked.\n\nThey flinched at another thundering reverberation accompanied by curtains of sparks from the collapsing barracks. Did we have any Moranth munitions stored there? Well, I understand they aren't flammable anyway.\n\nTheir few horses, pulled from the stalls, began screaming their terror as the flames drew nearer the mustering square. \"No, Captain. South. We'll catch up with the Twenty-second. '\n\n\"Aye. And the gates?\"\n\n\"I understand they're designed to be unhinged, if need be. '\n\nThe Captain's full lips drew up in a feral grin of anticipation.\"I'll see to it.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Very good.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"K'ess saluted. Fal-ej jogged for the gates. He wiped his sweat-slick face. Now to toss everything from my office into these damned flames.\n\nA short time later, mounting amid the column, K'ess slapped his gauntlets against his cape to putout drifting sparks. Then he nodded to the bannerman, who dipped the black, grey and silver standard of the Fifth. At the gates Fal-ej oversaw the saboteurs who struck the hinges. At her wave, K'ess motioned that the banner be pointed forward and the entire garrison charged into the broad timber doors. For an instant the gates wavered, creaking, then shouts of alarm from beyond signalled their leaning outwards.\n\nK'ess drew his longsword, bellowing,\"Onward, Fifth! '\n\nThe entire column leaned forward, shields to backs, pressing. The gates groaned, gave, toppled. Screams sounded beyond. The broad timber leaves crashed down– but they did not lie flat– far from it, in truth. The front ranks stepped upon to the planks, ignoring the cries beneath. The garrison marched out, stamping over a good portion of the crushed mob while the rest fled. Even halfway back in the column, when K'ess urged his mount upon to the planking the flattened gate still settled slightly.\n\nWatching from across the square, the Lord Mayor stared in utter horror at the slaughter done by the Malazans in one murderous gesture. He turned to the shadowy figure next to him. \"This is unspeakable! What have we done?\"\n\n\"We?\" intoned the shade of Hinter. \"As yet I have done nothing. This is all your doing, Lord Mayor.\"\n\nThe man's plump hands clasped the furred robes at his neck as if he were strangling himself.\"What? \"he spluttered.\"But you assured me... '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The shade made a gesture as if to remove dust from one translucent sleeve. \"All I assured you was that you would be rid of the Malazans. And behold– am I not good to my word?\"\n\n\"But... these deaths!\"\n\n\"Not nearly so many as when they arrived, I understand.\"\n\nThat comment, so calmly delivered, touched something in the Lord Mayor and he clenched his fists around the rich material. \"You will fare no better! Darujhistan has no more army than we!\"\n\nThe tall shade's regard seemed to radiate an almost godlike disinterest.\"We shall see. In any case, I suppose we do owe you our thanks for sending them off. Therefore– you are now on your own. \"The shimmering figure bowed mockingly, murmuring,\"Better luck to come. '\n\nThe Lord Mayor's eyes bulged.\"You are... leaving? But what of the Rhivi raiders? Barghast war bands? The Moranth? You said you would protect us! ' The mayor, nearly breathless, ceased his objections when he saw he was alone; the shade had faded from view. He glanced, terrified, at the shadows surrounding him in the empty night, then quickly scuttled away.\n\n*\n\nThe Malazans had not entirely abandoned southern Genabackis. After the crushing of the Pannion Seer Dujek embarked with the battered remnants of his Host for some distant continent, while Captain Paran collected his remaining columns and also departed. Not all elements withdrew, however. A small portion consisting mainly of the last under-strength legion of the Second Army was left behind. Its mandate, straight from Dujek, was to maintain order while the surviving inhabitants of the region rebuilt their lives, their cities, and their defences. Command of this garrison fell to a veteran who had risen through the logistics and supply side of campaigning. Her name was Argell Steppen and she was awarded the honorary rank of Fist."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"What she was entrusted with some thought no honour. Many soldiers muttered that these last fragments of the Second, Fifth and Sixth armies were shattered, if not irrevocably broken. Whether the blunt-talking, short, and some thought rather unattractive woman agreed with this estimation she never said. What she did do was order a general withdrawal from the festering wrecks that were the one-time urban centres of the south– Bastion, Capustan and others– to a hillock near the headwaters of the River Eryn, close by the verges of the Cinnamon Wastes. And here she ordered a fortress built. Most of her command thought her mad to be constructing a redoubt in the middle of nowhere so far from the coast.\n\nThen the raids began.\n\nBendan, son of Hurule, had grownup among the huts, open sewers and garbage heaps of the Gadrobi slums west of Darujhistan. Being a young lad kicking about the alleys with no income or any likelihood of it, he naturally joined together with other youths of his background to form a brotherhood for mutual support and protection. And for the generation of gainful profit. An organization that the city Wardens and ruling Council of Darujhistan denounced as a gang.\n\nAfter a successful run of thefts, beatings and a few murders, the ire of the wealthier class of merchants was finally roused and the Wardens were spurred to corner Bendan and his fellows in the abandoned two-storey house they used as their base. By this time he had acquired a nickname, the Butcher, of which he was extremely proud, but which stood him in no stead against the armour and shortswords of the Wardens.\n\nHe escaped the encirclement, unlike most of the brothers and sisters of his gang, the last remaining friends of or ties to his youth. Hunted, with nowhere to turn, he naturally sought out the final option available for someone without any attachments to his homeland: enlistment among the invading Malazans."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He watched now, under the cover of night, from the crest of a shoreward dune on the coast just north of Coral, close to Maurik, while four ships stole quietly upon to the strand. He glanced to his right, down the line of his fellow squad-members, anxious for the signal. Eventually, the sergeant, a giant of a man with skin so black Bendan had thought it paint, gave the sign.\n\nAs one the squad slithered down the rear of the crest then jogged for the narrow streambed the raiders had been using. Here, undercover of the scraggy brittle brush, they readied crossbows and javelins. Somewhere in the dark across the steep-sided cut waited the 33rd. Once his squad, the 23rd, opened fire and engaged the raiders, they'd charge in from the rear. Meanwhile, the 4th was perhaps even now coming up the shore, ready to cutoff retreat to the ships.\n\n\"Like herding sheep,\" the corporal, Little, had told him, winking. \"Just keep them from breaking out.\"\n\n\"More like wolves,\" the oldest of the squad had warned, a hairy and very dirty fellow in tattered leathers everyone called Bone. \"These Confederation boys are pirates and slavers. Been raiding this coast for generations. Think it's their gods-given right. This'll be right sharp.\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid of no fight, \"he'd said.\n\n\"Right, Butcher,\" Bone had answered.\n\nHe'd given that name when asked. And surprisingly, they used it. Only when they said it they used the same tone they used for arse, or idiot. And somehow there was noway he could call them on it. So he'd shrunk back, glowering, determined to show them what fighting was all about. After all, it was the one thing he'd had to do everyday of his life, and since he wasn't dead yet he was obviously good at it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Let none escape,\" had been bald Sergeant Hektar's last rumbled instruction.\"This is our warning stroke. Our last chance before we go. '\n\nBefore they left. Marching out! Bendan had seen everyone's reaction to that stunning news. Crazy as one of them Tenescowri! Abandoning the fortress before it's even finished. Who was this ambassador to order them out? Couldn't Steppen have just sent tenor twenty for that marionette to inspect?\n\nEveryone in his squad was disgusted at this typical army stupidity. All except Bone, who'd muttered through a mouthful of the leaves he chewed,\"The ways of officers is a mystery to regular people. '\n\nBendan thought it an improvement– he was damned sick of hammering rocks and humping dirt. He'd take a bit of marching over that backbreaking work anytime.\n\nNow, it seemed, was their last chance for any real action and everyone was eager to make it count. Beneath them, tracing the bed of the dry cut, came the Confederacy raiders jogging along to their target, another defenceless farming hamlet. He struggled with his crossbow in the disorienting light of the silvery bright reborn moon, and the greenish glow of the swelling arc of light in the sky that some named the Sword of God– though just which god varied.\n\nThe mechanism of the crossbow defeated him once again. He couldn't seem to master the damned foreign thing. He set it down and readied one of the wicked barbed javelins he'd brought against just such a possibility. And just in time as well, as the whistled signal came to fire.\n\nEveryone straightened, letting loose. Crossbows thumped, soldiers shouted, tossing javelins. Bendan hurled his, then, without waiting to see whether he'd struck anyone or not, he started down the slope readying his shortsword and shield. What he glimpsed below worried him. Instead of the milling chaos he'd been told to expect the line of warriors had simply knelt behind large shields, taken the initial barrage, and even now was counter-charging up through the rock and brush."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And damn his dead and gone ancestors but there were a lot of them.\n\nNo more time to think as his headlong run brought him smack into the first of the raiders. He shield-bashed the man and knocked him backwards off his feet. That shock absorbed almost all his inertia and now he traded blows with two others. His squad was ridiculously outnumbered. Bendan released all the ferocity he'd learned in life or death fights before he'd even grown hair on his chin. He gave himself into the blazing rage completely, whirling, screaming, attacking without let-up. Raiders backpedalled before him, overborne. Blades struck his hauberk of leather hardened with mail andiron lozenges but he ignored the blows in a determination to carry on until dead. Only this complete abandon had seen him walkaway from all his fights– bloodied and punished, but upright.\n\nThen in what seemed like an instant all that stood before him wore the black of Malaz and he lowered his arm, weaving, sucking in great ragged breaths, near to vomiting. The other squad had pushed through from the other side. The column of raiders had broken and men were running for their ships. Bendan and his squad mates left them for the others.\n\nSomeone offered him a skin of water and he sucked in a small mouthful and splashed one spray over his face. The blows he'd taken were agony and he knew he'd be hardly able to move tomorrow but he'd been lucky: none was serious enough to take him down.\n\nSergeant Hektar came by and cuffed his shoulder. \"Damn, Butcher,\" he rumbled. \"I can see we're gonna have to rein you in some. '\n\nNearby Bone had a cloth pressed to his blood-smeared face, still grinning. \"Lookin\" forward to a full day's march tomorrow, lad?\" He laughed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bendan waved that off.\n\n\"What about these wounded, Hek?\" someone called.\n\nThe massive Dal Hon ran a handover his gleaming nut-brown scalp. \"These are slavers... give them a taste of it. We sell them.\"\n\n\"Can't do that, \"Bone shouted from where he was rifling the bodies, one-handed.\"Empire don't sell slaves.\"\n\n\"Indentureship is so much better, is it?\" the Dal Hon muttered, and shrugged. \"So we give them away to the Coral merchants.\"\n\nBone's answering laugh was genuine, but it wasn't pleasant.\n\nLater that night as he was walking back to camp it occurred to Bendan that when Hektar had called him \"Butcher\" he hadn't used that tone. The sergeant had seemed to mean it. He felt grateful, but also a little embarrassed. Because for the entire fight he'd been so terrified he'd pissed himself.\n\nAwareness came to Ebbin in brief disconnected instants. Like startling flashes of lightning in an otherwise terrifying pitch-black landscape of lashing, spinning winds. Each illuminated an instant tableau frozen in stark contrast of light and shadow: he huddled among the bones of a hilltop sepulchre, its stone door shattered; he was chiselling layers of barnacles and sea-growths from a stone revealing it white and pure as mountain snow; he was being kicked aside by Aman while the girl Taya danced frenziedly before a cloaked figure with the face of the sun; his hands held before his face cracked and bloodied, sleeves in tatters.\n\nAt other times, the worst times, he was called to writhe in abject terror before that cloaked figure. During these times, lost in the eternal storm that now raged in his mind, the being's face shone silver like the moon. At other times he raged insane against this monster, shook his fists, swore himself hoarse."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"All his tormentor ever gave in return was lofty mocking amusement. As if not only his life and ambitions were meaningless, puerile, but the hopes, struggles and dreams of everyone in the city and beyond were nothing more than puffery and self-important vacuousness. This god-like overview of the entire sweep of human civilization on the continent sent Ebbin once more into the eternal raging storm within his mind.\n\nYet the stones are important. He is worried about the stones. Will there be enough to complete the base?\n\nAt other times they shook him from his tortured nightmare trance to perform tasks for them. The girl– though hardly a girl, Taya– always accompanied him. He helped oversee the salvaging of these very stone blocks being taken from the city mole. He hired craftsmen, answered queries. In short, he was the human face before the operations these fiends wished to complete.\n\nAnd all the while he was powerless to speak of any of it. He tried– gods, how he fought to utter a word of objection or defiance! But the moment he contemplated such rebellion his mouth and throat constricted as if throttled. Not even his hands would cooperate to scrawl a plea for help. And so, like a prisoner within his own skull, he could only watch and speculate.\n\nWhatever these fiends planned, it reached back all the way to their internment. A resurrection of their rule as one of the legendary Tyrants. Yet why the elaborate charade? Why wait to declare their return? Why the mask? Ebbin was frustrated beyond measure by the mystery. He felt that he had almost all the pieces, yet arranging a meaningful pattern defied him.\n\nOne strange moment seemed to almost shock him out of his fugue. He was working in the tent on the salvage site near the shore at the base of Majesty Hill when someone stopped before his table and spoke to him. He looked up from the wage lists, blinking, to see a dark muscled fellow with a wide mane of black hair peering down at him; startling honest concern creased the man's features.\"Yes...? '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Are you sure you are all right?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"the fellow asked.\n\nSomething squeezed Ebbin's chest painfully– and it was no outside coercion from the masked fiend. He fought to find his voice.\"Yes... yes. Thank you. ' Emboldened, he took another breath.\n\n\"Your name...?\"\n\n\"Barathol Mekhar.\"\n\nEbbin searched his mental lists, found the man. Foreigner, skilled, unregistered blacksmith. Something in that sketch moved him to lurch forward, saying, \"You have to-\" Then came the clenching fist at his throat. He struggled to continue, even to breathe.\n\nThe man's puzzled concern returned.\"Yes? '\n\nThen Taya was thereat his side to wrap an arm about his shoulders, and squeeze, painfully. \"My uncle has a lot on his mind,\" she explained sweetly. \"He is ashamed. He gambled, you see. And he lost. He lost everything.\" She squeezed him again, digging in the nails of a hand. \"Isn't that so, Uncle? '\n\nEbbin could only nod his sunken head.\n\n\"Well,\" the man said, his voice gruff but gentle, \"I understand. I was just saying that I could setup a smithing station here for your needs. Sharpening tools, forging items.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Taya said. \"That would be excellent. Thank you. I believe we will have need of that.\"\n\nAfter one last warning clasp she watched while the man moved off, then she left Ebbin to pickup his stylus and return to his record-keeping.\n\nAntsy and Corien led the way out of Pearl Town, as Panar had named it. Malakai immediately slipped away without a word. Ashamed to be seen with the likes of us, Antsy grumbled to himself. Progress was slow, as they elected to travel with no light at all. Orchid murmured directions from close behind. Despite the girl's descriptions of the way ahead Antsy kept crashing into walls in the pitch black. And Corien limped, unsteady, grunting his pain, his breathing wet and laboured."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I see them,\" Orchid announced after they'd walked amaze of narrow streets.\"Stairs, ahead. '\n\nAntsy let out a snort of disgust. Just great– climbing blasted stairs in the dark!\n\n\"They're very broad. Open on the right. They climb a cliff up and up... Great Mother– so high! '\n\nIn the dark Antsy rolled his eyes. Wonderful. Absolute night all around and a drop-off. Couldn't get any better.\"Malakai? '\n\n\"No sign.\"\n\nGettin'too casual, he is. Antsy's right foot banged up against the riser of the first stair and he tumbled forward onto them. He dropped his sword and scraped a shin, cursing. The blade clanged from the stone steps like anvils falling in the dark.\n\n\"Sorry, Red,\" Orchid offered, sounding embarrassed.\n\nAntsy just cursed under his breath. Corien almost fell over him as he felt his way forward in the black ink. Fucking band of travelling harlequins, we are. Just missing the floppy hats.\n\nOrchid grasped his arm to help him up and he almost yanked it free.\n\n\"Keep tight to the left,\" she suggested. \"Single file... I guess.\"\n\n\"I'll go first, \"Antsy said. Then he froze, his lips clenching tight.\"Orchid– where's my Hood-damned sword?\"\n\n\"Oh! Sorry.\" She pressed it to his hand. He snapped it up, grated a sullen, \"Thanks.\"\n\nCan't even find my own damned sword! Useless! Completely useless!\n\nUp they went, sliding along the smooth left wall. The staircase was quite broad, with shallow risers only a hand's breadth or so in height. Luckily the natural list of the Spawn tilted forward and to the left. If it had leaned the other way he didn't think they could have managed. A gathering warm breeze dried the sweat on the nape of his neck and pressed against his back as the air pushed in around him, rushing up this access. Just warm air rising? Or something more... worrisome? He couldn't be sure."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Feel that wind?\" Corien asked from the dark.\n\n\"So pleasant fora change,\" Orchid answered.\n\nAntsy said nothing.\n\nFinally, Orchid ordered a stop. \"Something's ahead. Doors. Broken doors. Stone. Very thick. Looks like we can get through, though. \"Antsy grunted his understanding.\"Careful now. Slow. '\n\nAntsy and Corien felt their way over shards of shattered rock, ducked under leaning eaves of larger fragments. The Darujhistani swordsman was stumbling more and more and Antsy found himself helping him constantly now. He whispered, \"How're you doing? '\n\n\"Not so well, I'm afraid. Feeling weak. '\n\nAntsy touched the back of a hand to the lad's forehead: hot and slick with sweat. Maybe an infection. That blade or sharpened stick couldn't have been too clean. \"We have to stop,\" he said, louder.\n\n\"Corien?\" Orchid asked. \"It's bad? '\n\n\"My apologies. Not what I had in mind.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you say so? \"she demanded, outraged.\"I asked earlier! '\n\n\"We couldn't very well have stayed there, \"he said, tired and patient,\"could we? '\n\n\"There are rooms ahead,\" came Malakai's voice from far to the fore.\n\nDespite himself Antsy flinched at the sudden announcement from the dark. Hate it when he does that! \"What've you been doing! ' he yelled back angrily.\n\n\"Scouting,\" came the answer, much closer now. \"Orchid, the hall goes on straight then there are multiple rooms to either side. Take one. We need to rest anyway.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Antsy started forward, still helping Corien. \"Any sign of the Malazans?\"\n\n\"No. None. No sign of anyone at all.\"\n\n\"Perhaps we should've brought that fellow Panar with us, ' Orchid said.\n\nAntsy snorted. \"What could he do for us?\"\n\n\"He knows his way around the Spawn. He could direct us.\"\n\n\"Almost all of what he told us was lies,\" Malakai said, dismissive.\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"His story's full of holes. How did he getaway from the attacks he described? I wager he betrayed his comrades. Sold them out to save his skin. '\n\n\"You don't know that, \"said Orchid, outraged.\"You weren't there. Why assume that?\"\n\n\"Because of his other lies.\"\n\n\"What do you mean his other lies?\" she demanded, her voice getting even louder. \"Stop making empty accusations. Either you know or you don't. '\n\n\"Leave it be,\" Antsy murmured. \"I agree with him.\"\n\n\"No! I will not be shut up by this man's airs and knowing hints. '\n\n\"Very well,\" Malakai answered, sounding grimly pleased. \"These poor starving men and women you seem to feel such sympathy for. These scrapings of the would-be treasure-hunters who came scrambling for easy riches. They can't buy food and water from any Confederation boats. They've nothing left to sell. They didn't even have the weapons left to stab our two friends. Now, there's only one thing left down hereto eat– which is why they attacked us in the first place, and why they didn't pursue us afterwards. We killed or badly wounded a number of them, and– for the time being at least– they have enough to eat. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Orchid's breath caught in the dark.\"No, \"she said, her voice strangled.\"I don't believe you.\"\n\nMalakai didn't answer; he didn't need to.\n\nAntsy remembered those snarling rat-like faces, the bared teeth, the frenzied glistening eyes, and thought he'd vomit right then. Instead, he took a bracing deep breath of the sea-tinged air.\"So this is not the way? ' he asked, dizzy.\n\n\"The way?\" Malakai answered. \"It's away– at least that. And that's what I want. We'll reconnoitre after a rest. '\n\nAntsy grunted his agreement and he and Corien continued shambling up the hall.\n\nThey took turns keeping watch, or in Antsy's case listening very hard indeed. And the titanic fragment of Moon's Spawn spoke to him. A saboteur, he understood the deep groans that came shuddering up through the stone beneath his thighs and hands. The sharp distant poppings of snaps and cracks. He'd spent a lot of time underground. It reminded him of something... something from his youth. But for the life of him he couldn't quite place it just then.\n\nEven Malakai stayed with them to lie down and to stand a watch. It seemed he wasn't the sort to pretend he needed less sleep than anyone else.\n\nIn the \"morning\", when Malakai woke everyone, Orchid came to Antsy and set a hand on his arm to crouch down next to him. \"Corien's getting worse, \"she whispered.\"I've done everything I can, but that weapon, whatever it was, must've been filthy. '\n\n\"How bad-\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I can still walk,\" Corien interrupted loudly. \"The quiet and dark, you know. Sharpens the hearing.\"\n\n\"You'll have to walk on your own, ' Malakai said flatly.\n\n\"Your concern is a soothing balm,\" the youth replied.\n\nAntsy smiled in the dark: he would've just told Malakai to go fuck himself.\n\n\"Red, you lead then,\" Malakai said, ignoring the sarcasm. \"Corien... walk with Orchid.\"\n\n\"And you?\" Orchid demanded. \"Wandering off gods know where? You should stay with us in case there's trouble. '\n\n\"If there's trouble I'll be more use as a hidden asset.\"\n\nOrchid just snorted at that. Antsy imagined her throwing up her hands in the dark.\n\nAs they readied, Antsy asked Orchid over and held out his pannier. \"You're sure? ' she said, surprised.\n\n\"Yeah– no use in a fight. An\" I'll need both hands. Corien? The use of your sword perhaps?\"\n\n\"Yes, Red.\" There came the unmistakable sound of polished iron brushing wood as the blade cleared the mouth of the sheath. \"Orchid?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes.\" Fumblings as Corien handed Orchid the weapon. \"Ach!\"\n\n\"What?\" from both Antsy and Corien.\n\n\"Cut my hand on the edge.\"\n\n\"Don't hold it by the blade! \"Corien exclaimed.\"Both edges are razor sharp. '\n\n\"So I see,\" she answered, scathing. \"Here.\"\n\nThe grip was pressed to Antsy, who took it and readied his own sword in his left hand. \"Okay. Which way?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"To the right.\"\n\nAntsy edged to the right. He held the blades before him, off slightly to each side. Occasionally a tip grated against a wall and he would adjust his direction. Behind, Corien grunted his effort. His boots slid heavily over the smooth stone floor and every breath was tight with pain. Antsy knew Orchid was doing her best to help him along.\n\nAfter a time turning corners and crossing large chambers– meeting places, or assemblies, Orchid thought them– she sent them climbing up against the Spawn's slant to what she said was a large building front across abroad open court.\"Do you even know where you're going?\" Antsy finally complained.\n\n\"Malakai is there, waiting,\" she said; then, rather impatiently, \"I've been keeping us to the main ways, you know! '\n\nAntsy now said aloud what had been bothering him for sometime: \"Then where is everyone? The place is deserted! Where're these Malazans? Where's anyone?\"\n\n\"How in the name of-\" She stopped herself. \"How should I know?\"\n\nAntsy just grumbled. Again it seemed the constant straining to see in the utter dark was giving him hallucinations. Lights blossomed before his eyes. Shapes of deepest blue seemed to waver in his vision like ghosts. He silently fumed against it all. What a fool I was for throwing myself into this. A bad start before a worse end! I'm gonna die in the dark like a blasted worm.\n\n\"You made it,\" Malakai said blandly from the dark. Antsy pulled up sharply. The observation was neither a compliment nor a complaint. \"This looks to be some sort of large complex. We should take a look.\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure we should go in there, ' Orchid said, sounding worried."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Not for you to say."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Corien, perhaps you can sit down inside, in any case.\"\n\nThe lad managed a tight, \"Certainly. That would be... most welcome.\"\n\n\"We are agreed then.\"\n\n\"Which way?\" Antsy rasped, his throat dry– already they were getting low on water.\n\n\"There are stairs up,\" Orchid said.\n\nHe slid his foot ahead until he bumped up against the first, then he carefully felt his way up until Orchid told him he was on the last. \"This is a very wide doorway, tall too,\" she murmured. \"Open double doors. Inside is a kind of arcade with many side openings and corridors.\"\n\nShit. This could take forever. \"Look, Malakai,\" he grumbled, \"it would help if we knew what we were looking for... Malakai...?\"\n\n\"He's gone. '\n\nOsserc-damned useless whore's son! That's fucking well it! He pulled off his rolled blanket and began rummaging through it.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Orchid asked.\n\n\"I'm getting the lantern. '\n\n\"Malakai said-\"\n\n\"Malakai can dick himself with his own-\" Antsy bit off his words, cleared his throat. \"Sorry, lass. Malakai isn't here, is he? '\n\nHe set the lantern on the stone floor, pulled out his set of flints and tinder and began striking. The sparks startled him at first, so huge and bright were they. Light deprivation– seen it before in the mines. Have to shield the lantern. In moments he had the tinder glowing: that alone seemed light enough. He took up a pinch of the lint and shavings and held them to the wick and blew. Once the wick caught he blew again, steadily, pinched out the tinder and shoved it away back into its box, which he snapped shut."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The lantern's flame blossomed to life and he had to turn his face away, so harsh was the golden light. Blinking, squinting against the pain the light struck in his eyes, he could eventually see and what he saw took his breath away.\n\nEverything was black, yes, but not plain or grim. The walls, the columns of the carved stone arcades, all writhed with intricate carving. Stone vines climbed the walls, delicate stone leaves seemed to wave before his eyes. Bowers of trees, all carved from the glittering finely grained black stone, arched over a second-storey walkway above.\n\nThen he saw the smooth polished floor and he frowned. Dust covered it, but so too did a litter of broken pots and scattered furniture. No looting here. Why?\n\nIn the light, Corien shuffled over to aside alcove of carved benches and sat down, hissing his pain. Antsy set the lantern on the bench next to him. The lad squinted his puzzlement. His face gleamed sickly pale, sheathed in sweat. \"You keep the light,\" Antsy told him. \"I'll have a poke around. \"Corien drew breath to object but Antsy held out his sword, pommel first. Offering a tired smile, Corien took it.\"Look after Orchid here while I'm gone.\"\n\nOrchid had the sense not to object to that bit of chauvinism.\n\nShortsword out, Antsy picked his way through the litter. It was a large main entrance hall, or gathering chamber. Halls opened off it all around. Stairs led down and up from it on both the right and the left. The stairs were intricately carved, the balusters with vines and blossoms. His light-starved eyes made out much more in the weak light than he knew he could've normally; as on a night of a full moon or afresh snow. In places the floor bore carved designs like grille-work or lattices bearing foliage."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Far off across the chamber the lantern glowed like a star. Next to it Orchid paced restlessly. Antsy found an overturned chest or travel box, its contents of cloth spilled across the floor. He kicked through the dark rich robes. Damn me if I don't know what's valuable or not! A Togg-damned waste of time this is.\n\nSomething about the nearby stairs caught his attention and he crossed to them. The dust was disturbed here. Not by tracks, but brushed aside, as if disturbed by a wind or the dragging of a wide cloth. He decided to follow as far the light extended. The stairs brought him to a floor just beneath the main one. Here light streamed down through the carvings in the floor above, casting illuminated scenes of bowers of trees across another smooth floor. An intended effect, Antsy wondered? Did lamps or suchlike burning above cast the same shadows when this place was occupied? He walked out onto the floor.\n\nAn object gleamed in the light streaming down. A stick of some kind. Antsy walked up and crouched over it. A bone. A leg bone. A human tibia. And not clean, either. Tangles of ligaments and dried meat still clung to its ends.\n\nHe straightened, swallowed the bile churning sickly in his stomach. A dense glow now shone from the far end of the chamber. Fascinated, unable to turn away, he edged closer until the light was sufficient to reveal a carpet of similar remains choking the far side. The shadows of alien blossoms streamed down upon amass of human carcasses. Many still wore their helmets. Their feet remained in boots. The meat of calf and thigh was gone, as were the viscera from empty gutted chests and abdomens. Ribcages gaped like open mouths hanging with desiccated strips of flesh and meat. Antsy had seen similar remains after battles where scavengers had picked over the dead, taking the choice bits and leaving the rest."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He choked back a yell of alarm and ran for the stairs.\n\nNot looted. Avoided! Everyone else knows better! And Panar sent us here! To our damned deaths.\n\nHe came pelting back to Orchid and Corien, who stared, tensing in alarm. \"What is it?\" Orchid demanded, rising.\n\n\"We have to get out of here– now!\"\n\n\"What-\"\n\n\"That– thing– everyone was scared of below. I think this is its lair. We have to go.\" He snatched up the lantern, took Corien by the arm. \"Come on.\"\n\nHe chivvied them backup the hall to the doors. Here Orchid suddenly let out a cry and froze. Antsy let goof Corien, drew his shortsword. He squinted, seeing nothing. \"What?\"\n\nHand at mouth, the girl stammered, \"The door.\"\n\nAntsy peered at the doorway anew. What of it? Dark, yes, but... Dark. The light did not penetrate. Something was blocking the entrance, something utterly black like a curtain of night. \"What is it?\"\n\nBut Orchid could not speak. She merely jerked her head side to side, appalled, eyes huge.\n\nShit. Antsy hefted his shortsword. Somehow he didn't think it would do him much good. And munitions? Probably not them either. He looked to Corien; that finely curled hair now hung down sweat-plastered. The lad met his eye and nodded, hand tightening on his swordgrip.\n\n\"It is a creature of Elder Night,\" said Malakai, stepping out from an alcove next to them. \"Call it what you will. A daemon, or a fiend. Night animate. No doubt to it we are the invaders, the monsters.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Spare me your sophistry,\" Antsy grated. \"What can you do against it?\"\n\n\"I?\" The man cocked a brow. \"Nothing. We are trapped. It would seem Panar has the last laugh after all.\"\n\nAntsy almost threw his shortsword at the man. \"Fine,\" he snarled. \"Everyone back! I'll try my munitions. '\n\n\"Red...\" Corien warned, touching his arm.\n\nAntsy spun: Orchid had advanced upon the creature.\n\nShit! \"Orchid!\"\n\nThe girl ignored him, or couldn't hear. One hand was at her throat, the other reaching out as if entreating. She spoke, and Antsy started, for now she uttered another language. One completely unfamiliar to him. Sing-song, it was. Not unpleasant to his ears.\n\nShe spoke at length, pausing from time to time as if awaiting an answer. Antsy, Corien and Malakai waited, silent, scarcely breathing.\n\nDespite his anticipation Antsy jerked when a reply came at last. Words murmured from the night, deep and resonating, as if enunciated by all the immeasurable dark surrounding them. Orchid shuddered as if burned– Antsy wondered if she was even more surprised to hear an answer than they. Her breath caught and she looked aside, head bowed as if searching for something, grasping after memories.\n\nCome on... Do it, girl. You can do it...\n\nShe nodded then, her gaze distant, and returned her attention to the doorway in front of her. Both hands went to her neck, as if she would throttle herself, and she spoke slowly, haltingly, for sometime. The speech ended in a gasp, Orchid wrung out, breathless."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Silence followed. The barrier across the doorway seemed to waver in the lantern light like a wall of hanging velvet. The thing spoke again, a brief response, and Orchid launched into some sort of recitation. Antsy squeezed the grip of his shortsword, his hand wet with sweat. A biting cold now filled the hall. His breath plumed before him.\n\nShe finished again with a gasp as if barely able to squeeze out the words. In the silence that followed, Antsy wiped the ice from his hands then examined his fingers: blue and numb with cold. An answer rolled out of the dark: a speech in slow measured tones, a chant almost. The coal-black curtain wavered, then disappeared or slipped away like a shadow exposed to light.\n\nA hissed exhalation escaped Orchid and she would have toppled but for Antsy rushing forward to steady her. He guided her to a bench. Her skirts rattled ice-stiff and rimed with hoarfrost. Her skin was burning cold to the touch. Corien sat beside her, holding the lantern close.\n\n\"Malakai...\" Antsy said, gesturing to the entrance.\n\nAfter a moment the man answered from beyond, \"It's gone. '\n\nA distant shout sounded from the darkened halls beyond: a frenzied cry of frustration and rage, and Antsy barked a laugh. \"So much for Panar's vengeance. I'm tempted to slit his throat.\"\n\n\"No!\" said Orchid, struggling up. Antsy helped her stand. \"Let's just go. '\n\n\"And just which way do we go?\" Malakai asked, appearing from the dark.\n\n\"Any way,\" she answered, annoyed. \"Right. Left. It doesn't matter. Just find away up. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because what you seek is in the upper levels.\"\n\nMalakai froze, astonished. His eyes widened with new appreciation, and he gave a bow of his head– though shallow and tinged by irony. \"Very well. I will be back shortly.\"\n\nOrchid turned to Corien where he slouched on the bench, a hand pressed to his side. She knelt before him. Gently, she set her own handover his and he hissed at the touch. She spoke again in that same eerie tongue that raised the hairs on the small of Antsy's neck. It sounded like an invocation or recitation.\n\nA great sigh escaped from Corien and the man would have fallen forward if Antsy hadn't steadied him. Antsy let him slide down on the bench, unconscious.\n\n\"What was that!\" he demanded, far more harshly than he'd intended. Fear. I'm hearing fear in my voice.\n\nOrchid held her hands out before her, studying them. She stood, wiped the wet condensation from her face. \"Strange, isn't it? \"she said dreamily.\"To be told stories all your life, to read them, study them, then suddenly discover it's all true...\"\n\nAntsy was looking at a line of empty pedestals. Someone had set a rusted helmet on one. It looked just like a decapitated head. \"Yeah. Life's full o'twists and turns,\" he breathed, uneasy.\n\nShe sat, folded her graceful dark hands primly on her lap. Like a priestess, Antsy thought. She looks like some kinda damned ancient priestess with her thick mane of tousled black hair, tattered skirts, and torn lace. Who was she?\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"So... what happened there?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Her gaze was tired, half-lidded, directed at the entrance. \"I'm not sure myself. It surprised me, answering like that. Probably was just as amazed as I was to hear the old tongue. '\n\n\"Yeah. The old tongue. Imagine that. And?\"\n\nAn exhausted lift and fall of the shoulders. \"I invoked the Rite of Passage as recorded by Hul\" Alanen-Teth, a Jaghut who claimed to have travelled the Paths of Eternal Night. The guardian honoured the formula. '\n\nBeside her Corien stirred groggily. Antsy nodded to her, accepting her words. \"Well, thanks for saving our lives.\"\n\nAwry smile twisted her lips. Head lowered, she peered up at him. \"I did not save your life, Red. You it called... \"Honoured Guest\".\"\n\nHe frowned at her. \"What...?\"\n\nCorien sat up. He held his head, touched his side. His brows rose. \"The pain is gone.\"\n\nOrchid nodded. \"Good. That was an Andii invocation of healing. You will be weak fora time, but you should mend.\" She stood. \"Now, if you will excuse me. I... I want to be alone fora time.\"\n\nAs she passed, Antsy touched the cloth of her sleeve. He tried to catch her gaze but she would not meet his eyes. \"And what did it call you...?\"\n\nShe flinched away. \"Not now.\"\n\nAntsy eased himself down next to Corien. They exchanged wondering glances. Antsy blew out a breath. \"Well... what d'you know. '\n\nThe lad gave along thoughtful nod.\n\nWhen Malakai returned he found them still sitting side by side. He cocked a brow. \"What's this? Why aren't we moving?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Orchid's resting, ' Antsy said, smiling up at him.\n\n\"And what are you so pleased about?\"\n\nAntsy tucked his hands up under his arms. \"Oh, I'm always in a better mood when the squad has its cadre mage. '\n\nThe man wrinkled his dark brows, uncertain what to make of that. But Antsy just smiled. It seemed to him that everything had changed. As in battle. Things had reversed themselves as they can in any close engagement. There'd been no announcement, no horns blowing to signal it. Everyone involved just knew it, sensed it. The energy had shifted. Earlier, the party had been Malakai's. Now, it was Orchid's. And he and Corien? Well, they were her guards now."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Madrun and Lazan Door–\n\nFrom distant lands they hail.\n\nOne day Door did announce:\n\n'Tis time my hair to cut.\n\nYet no shear would tear\n\nNo blade would part\n\nNo scissor snick nor sever\n\nAnd so it grew–\n\nthis bounteous mane.\n\nWenches plotted\n\nKnives were sharpened\n\nYet no helm nor hat could tame\n\nThese wilful, prideful curls.\n\nWhen last Door heard\n\nHis hair had fled\n\nFighting pirates off far Elingarth!\n\nattributed to Fisher\n\nIN THE MORNING Brood pushed aside the heavy cloth flap of his tent to find the Rhivi warriors in the process of breaking camp. He frowned then, feeling a chill premonition, and crossed to where one of the Elders stood wrapped in a blanket warming himself at afire. It was one of the more amiable of them, Tserig, called the Toothless. The Warlord inclined his head in greeting. \"Word from the north?\"\n\nLooking unhappy, the old man gave a shallow bow. \"Yes, Great One. A rider came in the night. The Malazans are in disarray. They have been driven from Pale and are retreating to the southwest.\" He shrugged, apologetic. \"The circle of war leaders decided to act.\"\n\nWithout consulting me. \"I see. Since when did the Rhivi chase after war?\"\n\nThe old man seemed to consider one answer but clamped his lips tight against it. He adjusted the folds of the horse blanket, indicated the embers dying before him. \"War is like a grass fire, Great One, is it not? Once sparked it cannot be controlled. It will burn and burn until it has consumed everything it can reach.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Its fuel is blood, Tserig.\"\n\nA gloomy nod of agreement. \"I know, Ancient One. I was against it. But I am old– and toothless.\"\n\nBrood smiled his appreciation. \"And so your reward is to be the one who has to break the news that my, ah, leadership is no longer required.\"\n\nThe old man offered another half-bow. \"I am sorry, Warlord... perhaps they merely did not wish to disturb you in your mourning.\"\n\n\"That's putting about as pretty a face on it as anyone can manage. ' He eyed the embers fora time, rubbed a forefinger along his jaw. Tserig, he noted, was cringing away and Brood realized the old man must think he was scowling his displeasure at him, so he turned to face the west.\n\n\"What will you do now, Great One?\" the old man ventured after a time.\n\nAround them the last of the burdened asses, carts, travois and herded bhederin made their way north, following the track through the Gadrobi hills. Riders bowed to Brood as they passed, or saluted, raising spears and loosing their war calls. \"If the Mhybe was still with us, or Silverfox, none of this would be happening...\" he murmured, but distractedly, his thoughts elsewhere.\n\n\"I agree, Warlord. But they are gone from us. The Mhybe was given her great reward. And Silverfox has departed. Gone to another land, some say.\" Like Brood, the old man did not mention the other who was gone from them as well.\n\nThe Warlord cleared his throat, profoundly uncomfortable. How to broach this without insulting this man, his people, and all they have sacrificed these last years?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Would you share the morning tea with me, Warlord?\" Tserig said suddenly, his gaze oddly gentle, as if he were addressing a youth rather than someone incalculably older than he.\n\n\"Yes. Thank you, Tserig. I would welcome that.\"\n\nThe old man motioned aside to an attendant, who hurried to ready the tall bronze pot and the tiny thimble-sized cups, and the two stood in silence waiting for the leaves to steep. Both watched the ragged columns of the Rhivi snaking their way north through a cut in the hills. Behind them Tserig's servants struck his tent.\n\n\"You'll make much better time now with the herds returned to the north, ' Brood observed.\n\n\"Yes. Mostly it is those fearful of the Malazans, or anxious to prove themselves as warriors, who have remained. Is it any wonder then that they should have found their excuse? And Jiwan had at his service a most convincing weapon.\"\n\n\"And what is that?\"\n\n\"An earnest belief in his cause.\"\n\nBrood found himself again appreciating the old man. He allowed himself a grin.\n\nA servant handed each a tiny bronze cup then poured tea in long hissing streams from the slim pot. Tserig raised his cup to the Warlord. \"To wise counsel.\"\n\n\"Wise counsel.\"\n\nThe old man smacked his lips, sucking in the tea. \"I ask then, again. What will you do?\"\n\nBrood grimaced his awkwardness. He looked off to the west. \"I've become convinced that we shouldn't confront these Malazans any longer. It will be a disaster for the Rhivi, in the long run.\"\n\nDistaste wrinkled Tserig's pursed lips.\"Yet they hem us in on all sides. Trespass across our lands. Kill all the animals they find. They are like a plague. Are we to abandon our way of life? '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"Tserig,\" Brood's voice was low and hoarse with emotion,\"that will happen anyway."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It is inevitable. Question is, then, how best to mitigate the damage of it all? The answer is ugly and brutal, but it is plain... You get better terms in a peace treaty than you get when you're conquered– which is to say, no terms whatsoever.\"\n\nThat stung the old man's pride and he straightened, offended.\"You question our spirit! '\n\nThe Warlord raised a placating hand. \"No. Never that. I am not talking about the brief season of war... I am talking about the generations that follow.\"\n\nTserig's gaze sank to the fire. His face was pained as if he were studying such a future within the dying embers.\"Treaties, \"he finally spat.\"Never honoured by the powerful. I place no faith in such agreements. '\n\n\"They will be honoured,\" Brood grated, \"if I witness them.\"\n\nTserig's greying brows rose as he considered this, then he bowed his head almost in salute.\"I accept your plan, Warlord, as the best course for my people. How then do we proceed? '\n\nBrood, who had been eyeing the west before, raised his chin to the distant horizon, the brown hills, and Lake Azur beyond. \"Have you ever been on a boat, Tserig?\"\n\nThe old man shuddered. \"Ancient hearth-goddess, no. My feet have never left touch with our Mother.\"\n\nThe Warlord's beast-like eyes swung to him, held steady.\n\nTserig hunched beneath the weight of that gaze, gummed his lips. \"Please... Great One. Have mercy on an old man.\"\n\nIn Darujhistan's guildhall of guards, sentinels, wardens and gate-men, Captain Soen of the Legate's bodyguard looked these two most recent applicants up and down and didn't bother hiding his disgust. Clothes no better than rags, dirt-smeared faces, cracked sandals. Not even a scrap of armour or a weapon showing anywhere. Must have pawned the lotto buy booze. And must be alive with fleas. Trake's tail, I'm hereto hire guards– not beggars."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Names?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"he demanded, and grimaced as a wafting hint of their stink reached him.\n\n\"Scorch, sir,\" said one.\n\n\"Leff.\"\n\n\"You're in the lists, I assume? '\n\nThe two appeared to pale where they stood before him. They exchanged terrified glances. \"Ah, beggin\" yer pardon, \"said the one who had given his name as Scorch,\"but did you say list, sir? '\n\nSoen rolled his eyes. \"Gods, man. Yes. The lists. The record of all certified members in good standing with the guild in the city!\" At their expressions of complete blankness the captain leaned forward to explain, more slowly, \"Your references.\"\n\nThe one named Leff made a great show of understanding, nodding vigorously. \"Oh sure, Cap'n, sir. O'course.\"\n\nHis friend goggled what resembled complete surprise. Un-convinced, but required to be thorough, Soen walked over to the record keeper where he satin the rear of the hall. \"Scorch and Leff,\" he said.\n\nThe clerk immediately began scrolling through along rolled sheet, winding the document down and down. \"Now there's a list, ' one of these new applicants murmured to his companion.\n\nAfter searching fora time the clerk appeared to have found his place, for he stopped and began to read. His brows shot up and he went back to the beginning once again. His brows continued to rise, almost touching his slicked-flat hair. He looked up, amazement plain on his face. \"Their references are impeccable!\"\n\nSoen, who had leaned his elbows on the counter, flinched straight. \"What?\"\n\n\"These two are in excellent standing.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Let me see that.\" He reached for the scroll.\n\nThe clerk backed away, hugging the roll to his chest. \"This is proprietary information, I'll have you know! Try that again and you'll be blacklisted.\"\n\nSoen turned on the two applicants, who stood shifting from foot to foot like eunuchs in a brothel. Gods. Guild rules are that I have to hire them now. Damn their stranglehold. He marched up to them, as close as their stink would allow. \"Okay. Your references are in order. Fine.\" He held up a finger. \"But before I see you tomorrow you'd better be cleaned up and fit for duty– or I'll have some ex-Urdomen I know scrub you allover with rayskin brushes. How would you like that?\"\n\nThe one who had given his name as Scorch raised a hand.\n\n\"Yes? What?\"\n\n\"Ah... does this mean we're hired, Captain, sir? '\n\n\"Does this...\" Soen dragged a hand down his face, took a deep breath to calm himself. \"Yes,\" he hissed, \"you're hired. Report to the Legate's manor tomorrow.\" He eyed them up and down once more. \"Mind you,\" and he raised a warning finger, \"you two report to the servants\" gate– is that understood? '\n\nScorch nodded vigorously. \"Oh yes, sir. Understood.\" He saluted multiple times.\n\nSoen waved a dismissal and stalked off, muttering. Elder gods, look away! How standards have fallen from the old days. Damned embarrassing it is. Still, these two could free up a couple of good men I could use elsewhere...\n\nOnce the Captain was gone Leff cuffed Scorch. \"There! Y'see? Wasn't so hard, was it?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I thought I said we should try here.\"\n\nLeff appeared not to have heard. \"Let's go. '\n\n\"Where?\"\n\nLeff made a great show of looking to the sky. \"Well, you heard the Captain! It's as obvious as Moon's Spawn in full-on daylight, o\" course. '\n\n\"What is?\"\n\n\"Where we have t'go! '\n\n\"An\" that's...\"\n\n\"To the lake, man!\"\n\nScorch's permanent scowl of uncertainty deepened into stunned incomprehension.\"The lake? '\n\nLeff sighed his impatience. \"Yes! Can't you hear? The man told us to get cleaned up. So it's awash in the lake for us.\" He stomped out.\n\nScorch was slow to follow. He scratched the thick grime caking one cheek, muttering, bemused, \"People do that? They wash? In the lake...?\"\n\nYusek guided her two charges north up the slopes of the coastal Mengal range. She was aware that these peaks were also known as the Mountains of Rain and she mused, bitterly, that they were damned well living up to that title. This wide pass in particular led all the way to the coast. Her leathers were rotting off her; the skin of her toes was peeling off like bark; and she had a constant racking cough, spitting up great wads of thick green catarrh.\n\nShe took out her frustrations on the two Seguleh. Their silence and impenetrable calm only sharpened her tongue. Think they're so damned superior. Nothing more than smug arseholes is what they are!\n\nThis day she was off ahead alone, if only to give herself a break from her constant snarling and sniping. She studied the lower slopes where the banners of sinking mist were burning away, leaving shallow rivulets and gullies that would eventually come together to form the headwaters of the Maiten River."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 11\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Report, he told himself– or thought he did. Report!\\n\\nHe lurched to his feet, muffling a cry of pain. Then he staggered, hunched, arms wrapped around his torso, across the grounds to the rallying point.\\n\\n*\\n\\nRallick satin his room in an old tenement building of the Gadrobi district. He sipped the morning's first cup of tea while considering all that he'd learned– or, rather, what little he'd learned.\\n\\nBaruk missing. Vorcan secreting herself away. Both reputed members of this half-mythic T'orrud Cabal. And in the Council an old forbidden title renewed.\\n\\nA power struggle. It all adds up to a power struggle. Yet with whom? This upstart Legate?\\n\\nAnd Vorcan's words: No matter what happens, you will not act.\\n\\nThen there's what Raest said. Bluff. It's a game of bluff. And what is bluff but lies, deception, misdirection?\\n\\nAnd who does that remind him of?\\n\\nHe stilled, hands wrapped around the warm cup. He cocked his head, listening; the building was silent. Not in all the years he'd kept this room was the building ever silent. He stood, pushing back the chair, hands loose at his sides.\\n\\n\\\"Who's there? '\\n\\nThe door swung open revealing the empty hall beyond. Someone spoke, and Rallick recognized the voice of Krute of Talient. \\\"It's all come clear now, Rallick. '\\n\\n\\\"What's clear, Krute? '\\n\\n\\\"No longer in the guild, you said... aye, I'll give you that. But it's all in the open now. No need to play the innocent.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What are you talking about, Krute?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's backing the Legate, ain't she? And maybe you are too. We lost six of our best this night. But one made it out. What he brought with him made everything clear. I'm sorry you chose to go your own way on this, my friend. '\\n\\nSomething came sliding in along the floor. A blade: blued, slim, needle-tipped, good for close-infighting and balanced for throwing. An exquisite weapon exactly like those commissioned by only one person he knew.\\n\\nThe old floor creaked in the hall: a number of men on both sides of the door. Rallick considered the window and the sheer three-storey drop.\\n\\nDamn. Done in by my own precautions.\\n\\nHe raced through a number of other options, none particularly promising. Then he noticed a smell. A strong sewer stink.\\n\\n\\\"Gas leak, lads!\\\" Krute shouted from the hall. \\\"Damn you, Rallick! A trap! Make for the roof.\\\"\\n\\nRallick remained frozen, hands close to the heavy curved knives beneath his loose shirt. The floorboards of the hall creaked and popped, then were silent. He edged towards the door, leaned to peer out. It was empty.\\n\\nGas? None can afford gas here.\\n\\nHe returned to his room, froze again. Something was on the table that had not been there before. A small leaf-wrapped object. He pulled open the greasy package to reveal a rolled crepe. A breakfast crepe with a delicate nibble taken from one end, as if the purchaser couldn't bear to part with the treat without a taste and hoped no one would notice.\\n\\nLies, deception and misdirection.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"So be it.\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"So you are saying that your timely arrival scared them off? Is that what you're saying? \\\"Lim eyed the two estate guards, both retired members of the city watch, standing uncomfortable, and extremely nervous, before him. Somehow he was not convinced. He pulled his dressing gown tighter about himself.\\\"And the mess outside? '\\n\\n\\\"Ah! Well, in their haste to flee– one appears to have fallen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that so? A clumsy assassin. It's standards that appear to have fallen. '\\n\\nThe guards shared embarrassed glances. One swallowed while the other clasped and reclasped a hand on the shortsword at his side.\\n\\nSighing his disgust, Lim turned away. He faced the small desk he kept in his room for correspondence and composing his memoirs. He picked up a slim gold mask among the mementos there and turned it in his hands. \\\"I suppose I should hire more guards.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We strongly recommend it, sir.\\\"\\n\\nHe turned, favoured the two with an arched brow. \\\"Well... do so. Take your leave. Hire as many as you deem appropriate.\\\"\\n\\nThey snapped salutes. \\\"Yes, sir. Right away, sir.\\\"\\n\\nIncompetents. It's a miracle I'm alive. Someone had taken out a contract on me and I slept right through it. And frankly, who it is I suspect is no mystery. The Abyss has no fury like a patron scorned, as they may say. I'll have to respond. Hit him where it hurts. In the moneybelt.\\n\\nLim crossed the room to dress, then paused, confused. Hadn't there been a rug here? The servants appear to betaking great liberties with the furnishings. They ought to let me know when they take things away to be cleaned.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald Nom and Tiserra eyed one another across the table of their house. Her gaze was a steady unswerving pressure while he shot furtive skittish glances her way between long perusals of the various ceramic bowls, jars and cups arrayed about the room. A breakfast meal of tea, honey and flatbreads lay untouched between them.\\n\\n\\\"I'm not moving, ' Tiserra said.\\n\\n\\\"No one has mentioned such a thing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well... I'm not. '\\n\\n\\\"As you say.\\\"\\n\\nShe sipped her tea. Torvald shifted in his seat. \\\"Did you say something?\\\" she demanded.\\n\\n\\\"No– nothing at all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suppose you'll be receiving all sorts of petitions to intervene in this or that. Ladies throwing themselves at you, bosoms heaving, panting how they'll do anything to have your support.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No bosoms heaved my way yet, dear.\\\"\\n\\nTiserra glared. Torvald cleared his throat, reached fora flatbread.\\n\\n\\\"And I'll attend none of those damned fancy parties, or gala fetes. '\\n\\nTorvald withdrew his hand. \\\"Perish the thought.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Won't have those harridans whispering behind their hands about the cut of my dress or the state of my hair. '\\n\\n\\\"Who would do such a thing?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Won't have it. '\\n\\n\\\"Quite.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I like it here!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Absolutely.\\\"\\n\\nShe raised the cup to her mouth, set it down untouched. \\\"So we're agreed, then. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right then.\\\" She shifted in her seat, tore a flatbread. \\\"Good.\\\" She nibbled at the bread. \\\"So... what has this Legate proposed?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Nothing too shocking yet.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Various construction and maintenance projects. All long overdue, really.\\\" He spread honey on a flatbread.\\n\\n\\\"And how much does the position pay?\\\"\\n\\nThe rolled flatbread paused before it reached his mouth. Damn.\\n\\nIn his private room in the Malazan garrison at Pale, Fist K'ess was woken by shouts of alarm and banging. He leapt up from his piled furs and blankets already gripping the sheathed shortsword he always slept with and thumped barefoot to unlatch the heavy wood door. Captain Fal-ej stood waiting there, fully armed and armoured, torch in hand.\\n\\n\\\"What is it, Captain?\\\" he demanded.\\n\\nThe Seven Cities officer took in her Fist standing in the open doorway and quickly looked away. \\\"Fire, sir. Kitchens and barracks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kitchens and barracks?\\\"\\n\\nA weary nod. \\\"They abut each other.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who in the name of Togg built...\\\"\\n\\nThe captain raised a forestalling hand. \\\"Be that as it may– perhaps the Fist should get dressed.\\\"\\n\\nK'ess frowned, then remembered that he was naked.\\\"Well... if you think it would help. ' He gave the captain a courtly nod and slammed the door shut. Facing the adzed wooden slats Captain Fal-ej let out a silent breath of awe and headed down the hall on weak knees. By the great stallions of Ugarat. This puts the man into a different perspective.\\n\\nFist K'ess caught up with Fal-ej where the captain stood shouting commands to a bucket-brigade vainly tossing water on the burgeoning flames consuming the barracks. Studying the conflagration, a hand raised to shield his face from the heat, the Fist shouted:\\\"Never mind! It's a loss! Just try to stop it from spreading.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fal-ej saluted. \\\"Yes, sir.\\\" She jogged off, shouting more commands.\\n\\nAfter the captain had reorganized the soldiers K'ess waved her to him.\\\"Anyone hurt? '\\n\\n\\\"No, sir.\\\"\\n\\nA roar as the roof collapsed silenced any further talk and drove everyone back a step, coughing and covering their faces. Fist K'ess wiped a smear of some sort of air-borne grease from his face– the larders up in smoke.\\n\\n\\\"What happened?\\\" he asked. \\\"An accident?\\\" He asked but he didn't believe it: the fire had spread far too swiftly. The shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. Sabotage, act of rebellion, call it what you will. They never wanted us here.\\n\\nAnd now this new Legate down in Darujhistan to goad them on.\\n\\nHe waved the captain further back to talk. \\\"Any suspects?\\\"\\n\\nShe'd pulled off her helmet and now ran a hand through her matted dark hair. K'ess noted how her features seemed to glow– a combination of sweat from the heat and the grease of the smoke. He realized she had a strange look in her eyes even as he studied them.\\n\\nShe glanced away, clearing her throat. \\\"One of the kitchen staff, probably. Or one of the local servants.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have them?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A few. They all claim innocence, of course. What do you want done with them? We could... send a message.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I very much doubt that the one who set this hung about to get caught.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I agree, Fist.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So... let them know what we could do with them should we be so inclined. Then let them go.\\\"\\n\\nHer thick black brows rose. \\\"Let them... go?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We're soldiers, not executioners, or some sort of police. It's subjugation that requires brutality, and I'm not willing to stoop to that yet. Do you understand, Captain? '\\n\\nThe woman's face hardened as if struck.\\\"I am from Seven Cities, Fist. '\\n\\nK'ess cursed himself for his obvious misstep but kept his expression blank. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.\\\"My apologies– then you more than understand. '\\n\\nA lieutenant arrived, rescuing the Fist from his discomfort. \\\"A mob at the gates, sir. Blocking the exit.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Armed?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Haphazardly so. Though there maybe veterans mixed in among'em. '\\n\\nK'ess turned to Fal-ej.\\\"My apologies again, Captain. You were correct. Perhaps we should have withdrawn earlier. It seems we're always underestimating Pale.\\\" He motioned to the lieutenant. \\\"Have the entire command salvage what they can then form up before the gates. We're evacuating. '\\n\\nThe lieutenant saluted. \\\"Aye, sir.\\\" He ran off, bellowing.\\n\\n\\\"North, sir?\\\" Fal-ej asked.\\n\\nThey flinched at another thundering reverberation accompanied by curtains of sparks from the collapsing barracks. Did we have any Moranth munitions stored there? Well, I understand they aren't flammable anyway.\\n\\nTheir few horses, pulled from the stalls, began screaming their terror as the flames drew nearer the mustering square. \\\"No, Captain. South. We'll catch up with the Twenty-second. '\\n\\n\\\"Aye. And the gates?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand they're designed to be unhinged, if need be. '\\n\\nThe Captain's full lips drew up in a feral grin of anticipation.\\\"I'll see to it.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Very good.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"K'ess saluted. Fal-ej jogged for the gates. He wiped his sweat-slick face. Now to toss everything from my office into these damned flames.\\n\\nA short time later, mounting amid the column, K'ess slapped his gauntlets against his cape to putout drifting sparks. Then he nodded to the bannerman, who dipped the black, grey and silver standard of the Fifth. At the gates Fal-ej oversaw the saboteurs who struck the hinges. At her wave, K'ess motioned that the banner be pointed forward and the entire garrison charged into the broad timber doors. For an instant the gates wavered, creaking, then shouts of alarm from beyond signalled their leaning outwards.\\n\\nK'ess drew his longsword, bellowing,\\\"Onward, Fifth! '\\n\\nThe entire column leaned forward, shields to backs, pressing. The gates groaned, gave, toppled. Screams sounded beyond. The broad timber leaves crashed down– but they did not lie flat– far from it, in truth. The front ranks stepped upon to the planks, ignoring the cries beneath. The garrison marched out, stamping over a good portion of the crushed mob while the rest fled. Even halfway back in the column, when K'ess urged his mount upon to the planking the flattened gate still settled slightly.\\n\\nWatching from across the square, the Lord Mayor stared in utter horror at the slaughter done by the Malazans in one murderous gesture. He turned to the shadowy figure next to him. \\\"This is unspeakable! What have we done?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We?\\\" intoned the shade of Hinter. \\\"As yet I have done nothing. This is all your doing, Lord Mayor.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's plump hands clasped the furred robes at his neck as if he were strangling himself.\\\"What? \\\"he spluttered.\\\"But you assured me... '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The shade made a gesture as if to remove dust from one translucent sleeve. \\\"All I assured you was that you would be rid of the Malazans. And behold– am I not good to my word?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But... these deaths!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not nearly so many as when they arrived, I understand.\\\"\\n\\nThat comment, so calmly delivered, touched something in the Lord Mayor and he clenched his fists around the rich material. \\\"You will fare no better! Darujhistan has no more army than we!\\\"\\n\\nThe tall shade's regard seemed to radiate an almost godlike disinterest.\\\"We shall see. In any case, I suppose we do owe you our thanks for sending them off. Therefore– you are now on your own. \\\"The shimmering figure bowed mockingly, murmuring,\\\"Better luck to come. '\\n\\nThe Lord Mayor's eyes bulged.\\\"You are... leaving? But what of the Rhivi raiders? Barghast war bands? The Moranth? You said you would protect us! ' The mayor, nearly breathless, ceased his objections when he saw he was alone; the shade had faded from view. He glanced, terrified, at the shadows surrounding him in the empty night, then quickly scuttled away.\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe Malazans had not entirely abandoned southern Genabackis. After the crushing of the Pannion Seer Dujek embarked with the battered remnants of his Host for some distant continent, while Captain Paran collected his remaining columns and also departed. Not all elements withdrew, however. A small portion consisting mainly of the last under-strength legion of the Second Army was left behind. Its mandate, straight from Dujek, was to maintain order while the surviving inhabitants of the region rebuilt their lives, their cities, and their defences. Command of this garrison fell to a veteran who had risen through the logistics and supply side of campaigning. Her name was Argell Steppen and she was awarded the honorary rank of Fist.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What she was entrusted with some thought no honour. Many soldiers muttered that these last fragments of the Second, Fifth and Sixth armies were shattered, if not irrevocably broken. Whether the blunt-talking, short, and some thought rather unattractive woman agreed with this estimation she never said. What she did do was order a general withdrawal from the festering wrecks that were the one-time urban centres of the south– Bastion, Capustan and others– to a hillock near the headwaters of the River Eryn, close by the verges of the Cinnamon Wastes. And here she ordered a fortress built. Most of her command thought her mad to be constructing a redoubt in the middle of nowhere so far from the coast.\\n\\nThen the raids began.\\n\\nBendan, son of Hurule, had grownup among the huts, open sewers and garbage heaps of the Gadrobi slums west of Darujhistan. Being a young lad kicking about the alleys with no income or any likelihood of it, he naturally joined together with other youths of his background to form a brotherhood for mutual support and protection. And for the generation of gainful profit. An organization that the city Wardens and ruling Council of Darujhistan denounced as a gang.\\n\\nAfter a successful run of thefts, beatings and a few murders, the ire of the wealthier class of merchants was finally roused and the Wardens were spurred to corner Bendan and his fellows in the abandoned two-storey house they used as their base. By this time he had acquired a nickname, the Butcher, of which he was extremely proud, but which stood him in no stead against the armour and shortswords of the Wardens.\\n\\nHe escaped the encirclement, unlike most of the brothers and sisters of his gang, the last remaining friends of or ties to his youth. Hunted, with nowhere to turn, he naturally sought out the final option available for someone without any attachments to his homeland: enlistment among the invading Malazans.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He watched now, under the cover of night, from the crest of a shoreward dune on the coast just north of Coral, close to Maurik, while four ships stole quietly upon to the strand. He glanced to his right, down the line of his fellow squad-members, anxious for the signal. Eventually, the sergeant, a giant of a man with skin so black Bendan had thought it paint, gave the sign.\\n\\nAs one the squad slithered down the rear of the crest then jogged for the narrow streambed the raiders had been using. Here, undercover of the scraggy brittle brush, they readied crossbows and javelins. Somewhere in the dark across the steep-sided cut waited the 33rd. Once his squad, the 23rd, opened fire and engaged the raiders, they'd charge in from the rear. Meanwhile, the 4th was perhaps even now coming up the shore, ready to cutoff retreat to the ships.\\n\\n\\\"Like herding sheep,\\\" the corporal, Little, had told him, winking. \\\"Just keep them from breaking out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"More like wolves,\\\" the oldest of the squad had warned, a hairy and very dirty fellow in tattered leathers everyone called Bone. \\\"These Confederation boys are pirates and slavers. Been raiding this coast for generations. Think it's their gods-given right. This'll be right sharp.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not afraid of no fight, \\\"he'd said.\\n\\n\\\"Right, Butcher,\\\" Bone had answered.\\n\\nHe'd given that name when asked. And surprisingly, they used it. Only when they said it they used the same tone they used for arse, or idiot. And somehow there was noway he could call them on it. So he'd shrunk back, glowering, determined to show them what fighting was all about. After all, it was the one thing he'd had to do everyday of his life, and since he wasn't dead yet he was obviously good at it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Let none escape,\\\" had been bald Sergeant Hektar's last rumbled instruction.\\\"This is our warning stroke. Our last chance before we go. '\\n\\nBefore they left. Marching out! Bendan had seen everyone's reaction to that stunning news. Crazy as one of them Tenescowri! Abandoning the fortress before it's even finished. Who was this ambassador to order them out? Couldn't Steppen have just sent tenor twenty for that marionette to inspect?\\n\\nEveryone in his squad was disgusted at this typical army stupidity. All except Bone, who'd muttered through a mouthful of the leaves he chewed,\\\"The ways of officers is a mystery to regular people. '\\n\\nBendan thought it an improvement– he was damned sick of hammering rocks and humping dirt. He'd take a bit of marching over that backbreaking work anytime.\\n\\nNow, it seemed, was their last chance for any real action and everyone was eager to make it count. Beneath them, tracing the bed of the dry cut, came the Confederacy raiders jogging along to their target, another defenceless farming hamlet. He struggled with his crossbow in the disorienting light of the silvery bright reborn moon, and the greenish glow of the swelling arc of light in the sky that some named the Sword of God– though just which god varied.\\n\\nThe mechanism of the crossbow defeated him once again. He couldn't seem to master the damned foreign thing. He set it down and readied one of the wicked barbed javelins he'd brought against just such a possibility. And just in time as well, as the whistled signal came to fire.\\n\\nEveryone straightened, letting loose. Crossbows thumped, soldiers shouted, tossing javelins. Bendan hurled his, then, without waiting to see whether he'd struck anyone or not, he started down the slope readying his shortsword and shield. What he glimpsed below worried him. Instead of the milling chaos he'd been told to expect the line of warriors had simply knelt behind large shields, taken the initial barrage, and even now was counter-charging up through the rock and brush.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And damn his dead and gone ancestors but there were a lot of them.\\n\\nNo more time to think as his headlong run brought him smack into the first of the raiders. He shield-bashed the man and knocked him backwards off his feet. That shock absorbed almost all his inertia and now he traded blows with two others. His squad was ridiculously outnumbered. Bendan released all the ferocity he'd learned in life or death fights before he'd even grown hair on his chin. He gave himself into the blazing rage completely, whirling, screaming, attacking without let-up. Raiders backpedalled before him, overborne. Blades struck his hauberk of leather hardened with mail andiron lozenges but he ignored the blows in a determination to carry on until dead. Only this complete abandon had seen him walkaway from all his fights– bloodied and punished, but upright.\\n\\nThen in what seemed like an instant all that stood before him wore the black of Malaz and he lowered his arm, weaving, sucking in great ragged breaths, near to vomiting. The other squad had pushed through from the other side. The column of raiders had broken and men were running for their ships. Bendan and his squad mates left them for the others.\\n\\nSomeone offered him a skin of water and he sucked in a small mouthful and splashed one spray over his face. The blows he'd taken were agony and he knew he'd be hardly able to move tomorrow but he'd been lucky: none was serious enough to take him down.\\n\\nSergeant Hektar came by and cuffed his shoulder. \\\"Damn, Butcher,\\\" he rumbled. \\\"I can see we're gonna have to rein you in some. '\\n\\nNearby Bone had a cloth pressed to his blood-smeared face, still grinning. \\\"Lookin\\\" forward to a full day's march tomorrow, lad?\\\" He laughed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bendan waved that off.\\n\\n\\\"What about these wounded, Hek?\\\" someone called.\\n\\nThe massive Dal Hon ran a handover his gleaming nut-brown scalp. \\\"These are slavers... give them a taste of it. We sell them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can't do that, \\\"Bone shouted from where he was rifling the bodies, one-handed.\\\"Empire don't sell slaves.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indentureship is so much better, is it?\\\" the Dal Hon muttered, and shrugged. \\\"So we give them away to the Coral merchants.\\\"\\n\\nBone's answering laugh was genuine, but it wasn't pleasant.\\n\\nLater that night as he was walking back to camp it occurred to Bendan that when Hektar had called him \\\"Butcher\\\" he hadn't used that tone. The sergeant had seemed to mean it. He felt grateful, but also a little embarrassed. Because for the entire fight he'd been so terrified he'd pissed himself.\\n\\nAwareness came to Ebbin in brief disconnected instants. Like startling flashes of lightning in an otherwise terrifying pitch-black landscape of lashing, spinning winds. Each illuminated an instant tableau frozen in stark contrast of light and shadow: he huddled among the bones of a hilltop sepulchre, its stone door shattered; he was chiselling layers of barnacles and sea-growths from a stone revealing it white and pure as mountain snow; he was being kicked aside by Aman while the girl Taya danced frenziedly before a cloaked figure with the face of the sun; his hands held before his face cracked and bloodied, sleeves in tatters.\\n\\nAt other times, the worst times, he was called to writhe in abject terror before that cloaked figure. During these times, lost in the eternal storm that now raged in his mind, the being's face shone silver like the moon. At other times he raged insane against this monster, shook his fists, swore himself hoarse.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"All his tormentor ever gave in return was lofty mocking amusement. As if not only his life and ambitions were meaningless, puerile, but the hopes, struggles and dreams of everyone in the city and beyond were nothing more than puffery and self-important vacuousness. This god-like overview of the entire sweep of human civilization on the continent sent Ebbin once more into the eternal raging storm within his mind.\\n\\nYet the stones are important. He is worried about the stones. Will there be enough to complete the base?\\n\\nAt other times they shook him from his tortured nightmare trance to perform tasks for them. The girl– though hardly a girl, Taya– always accompanied him. He helped oversee the salvaging of these very stone blocks being taken from the city mole. He hired craftsmen, answered queries. In short, he was the human face before the operations these fiends wished to complete.\\n\\nAnd all the while he was powerless to speak of any of it. He tried– gods, how he fought to utter a word of objection or defiance! But the moment he contemplated such rebellion his mouth and throat constricted as if throttled. Not even his hands would cooperate to scrawl a plea for help. And so, like a prisoner within his own skull, he could only watch and speculate.\\n\\nWhatever these fiends planned, it reached back all the way to their internment. A resurrection of their rule as one of the legendary Tyrants. Yet why the elaborate charade? Why wait to declare their return? Why the mask? Ebbin was frustrated beyond measure by the mystery. He felt that he had almost all the pieces, yet arranging a meaningful pattern defied him.\\n\\nOne strange moment seemed to almost shock him out of his fugue. He was working in the tent on the salvage site near the shore at the base of Majesty Hill when someone stopped before his table and spoke to him. He looked up from the wage lists, blinking, to see a dark muscled fellow with a wide mane of black hair peering down at him; startling honest concern creased the man's features.\\\"Yes...? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Are you sure you are all right?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"the fellow asked.\\n\\nSomething squeezed Ebbin's chest painfully– and it was no outside coercion from the masked fiend. He fought to find his voice.\\\"Yes... yes. Thank you. ' Emboldened, he took another breath.\\n\\n\\\"Your name...?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Barathol Mekhar.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin searched his mental lists, found the man. Foreigner, skilled, unregistered blacksmith. Something in that sketch moved him to lurch forward, saying, \\\"You have to-\\\" Then came the clenching fist at his throat. He struggled to continue, even to breathe.\\n\\nThe man's puzzled concern returned.\\\"Yes? '\\n\\nThen Taya was thereat his side to wrap an arm about his shoulders, and squeeze, painfully. \\\"My uncle has a lot on his mind,\\\" she explained sweetly. \\\"He is ashamed. He gambled, you see. And he lost. He lost everything.\\\" She squeezed him again, digging in the nails of a hand. \\\"Isn't that so, Uncle? '\\n\\nEbbin could only nod his sunken head.\\n\\n\\\"Well,\\\" the man said, his voice gruff but gentle, \\\"I understand. I was just saying that I could setup a smithing station here for your needs. Sharpening tools, forging items.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Taya said. \\\"That would be excellent. Thank you. I believe we will have need of that.\\\"\\n\\nAfter one last warning clasp she watched while the man moved off, then she left Ebbin to pickup his stylus and return to his record-keeping.\\n\\nAntsy and Corien led the way out of Pearl Town, as Panar had named it. Malakai immediately slipped away without a word. Ashamed to be seen with the likes of us, Antsy grumbled to himself. Progress was slow, as they elected to travel with no light at all. Orchid murmured directions from close behind. Despite the girl's descriptions of the way ahead Antsy kept crashing into walls in the pitch black. And Corien limped, unsteady, grunting his pain, his breathing wet and laboured.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I see them,\\\" Orchid announced after they'd walked amaze of narrow streets.\\\"Stairs, ahead. '\\n\\nAntsy let out a snort of disgust. Just great– climbing blasted stairs in the dark!\\n\\n\\\"They're very broad. Open on the right. They climb a cliff up and up... Great Mother– so high! '\\n\\nIn the dark Antsy rolled his eyes. Wonderful. Absolute night all around and a drop-off. Couldn't get any better.\\\"Malakai? '\\n\\n\\\"No sign.\\\"\\n\\nGettin'too casual, he is. Antsy's right foot banged up against the riser of the first stair and he tumbled forward onto them. He dropped his sword and scraped a shin, cursing. The blade clanged from the stone steps like anvils falling in the dark.\\n\\n\\\"Sorry, Red,\\\" Orchid offered, sounding embarrassed.\\n\\nAntsy just cursed under his breath. Corien almost fell over him as he felt his way forward in the black ink. Fucking band of travelling harlequins, we are. Just missing the floppy hats.\\n\\nOrchid grasped his arm to help him up and he almost yanked it free.\\n\\n\\\"Keep tight to the left,\\\" she suggested. \\\"Single file... I guess.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'll go first, \\\"Antsy said. Then he froze, his lips clenching tight.\\\"Orchid– where's my Hood-damned sword?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh! Sorry.\\\" She pressed it to his hand. He snapped it up, grated a sullen, \\\"Thanks.\\\"\\n\\nCan't even find my own damned sword! Useless! Completely useless!\\n\\nUp they went, sliding along the smooth left wall. The staircase was quite broad, with shallow risers only a hand's breadth or so in height. Luckily the natural list of the Spawn tilted forward and to the left. If it had leaned the other way he didn't think they could have managed. A gathering warm breeze dried the sweat on the nape of his neck and pressed against his back as the air pushed in around him, rushing up this access. Just warm air rising? Or something more... worrisome? He couldn't be sure.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Feel that wind?\\\" Corien asked from the dark.\\n\\n\\\"So pleasant fora change,\\\" Orchid answered.\\n\\nAntsy said nothing.\\n\\nFinally, Orchid ordered a stop. \\\"Something's ahead. Doors. Broken doors. Stone. Very thick. Looks like we can get through, though. \\\"Antsy grunted his understanding.\\\"Careful now. Slow. '\\n\\nAntsy and Corien felt their way over shards of shattered rock, ducked under leaning eaves of larger fragments. The Darujhistani swordsman was stumbling more and more and Antsy found himself helping him constantly now. He whispered, \\\"How're you doing? '\\n\\n\\\"Not so well, I'm afraid. Feeling weak. '\\n\\nAntsy touched the back of a hand to the lad's forehead: hot and slick with sweat. Maybe an infection. That blade or sharpened stick couldn't have been too clean. \\\"We have to stop,\\\" he said, louder.\\n\\n\\\"Corien?\\\" Orchid asked. \\\"It's bad? '\\n\\n\\\"My apologies. Not what I had in mind.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why didn't you say so? \\\"she demanded, outraged.\\\"I asked earlier! '\\n\\n\\\"We couldn't very well have stayed there, \\\"he said, tired and patient,\\\"could we? '\\n\\n\\\"There are rooms ahead,\\\" came Malakai's voice from far to the fore.\\n\\nDespite himself Antsy flinched at the sudden announcement from the dark. Hate it when he does that! \\\"What've you been doing! ' he yelled back angrily.\\n\\n\\\"Scouting,\\\" came the answer, much closer now. \\\"Orchid, the hall goes on straight then there are multiple rooms to either side. Take one. We need to rest anyway.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Antsy started forward, still helping Corien. \\\"Any sign of the Malazans?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. None. No sign of anyone at all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps we should've brought that fellow Panar with us, ' Orchid said.\\n\\nAntsy snorted. \\\"What could he do for us?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He knows his way around the Spawn. He could direct us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Almost all of what he told us was lies,\\\" Malakai said, dismissive.\\n\\n\\\"How do you know?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"His story's full of holes. How did he getaway from the attacks he described? I wager he betrayed his comrades. Sold them out to save his skin. '\\n\\n\\\"You don't know that, \\\"said Orchid, outraged.\\\"You weren't there. Why assume that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because of his other lies.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean his other lies?\\\" she demanded, her voice getting even louder. \\\"Stop making empty accusations. Either you know or you don't. '\\n\\n\\\"Leave it be,\\\" Antsy murmured. \\\"I agree with him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! I will not be shut up by this man's airs and knowing hints. '\\n\\n\\\"Very well,\\\" Malakai answered, sounding grimly pleased. \\\"These poor starving men and women you seem to feel such sympathy for. These scrapings of the would-be treasure-hunters who came scrambling for easy riches. They can't buy food and water from any Confederation boats. They've nothing left to sell. They didn't even have the weapons left to stab our two friends. Now, there's only one thing left down hereto eat– which is why they attacked us in the first place, and why they didn't pursue us afterwards. We killed or badly wounded a number of them, and– for the time being at least– they have enough to eat. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Orchid's breath caught in the dark.\\\"No, \\\"she said, her voice strangled.\\\"I don't believe you.\\\"\\n\\nMalakai didn't answer; he didn't need to.\\n\\nAntsy remembered those snarling rat-like faces, the bared teeth, the frenzied glistening eyes, and thought he'd vomit right then. Instead, he took a bracing deep breath of the sea-tinged air.\\\"So this is not the way? ' he asked, dizzy.\\n\\n\\\"The way?\\\" Malakai answered. \\\"It's away– at least that. And that's what I want. We'll reconnoitre after a rest. '\\n\\nAntsy grunted his agreement and he and Corien continued shambling up the hall.\\n\\nThey took turns keeping watch, or in Antsy's case listening very hard indeed. And the titanic fragment of Moon's Spawn spoke to him. A saboteur, he understood the deep groans that came shuddering up through the stone beneath his thighs and hands. The sharp distant poppings of snaps and cracks. He'd spent a lot of time underground. It reminded him of something... something from his youth. But for the life of him he couldn't quite place it just then.\\n\\nEven Malakai stayed with them to lie down and to stand a watch. It seemed he wasn't the sort to pretend he needed less sleep than anyone else.\\n\\nIn the \\\"morning\\\", when Malakai woke everyone, Orchid came to Antsy and set a hand on his arm to crouch down next to him. \\\"Corien's getting worse, \\\"she whispered.\\\"I've done everything I can, but that weapon, whatever it was, must've been filthy. '\\n\\n\\\"How bad-\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I can still walk,\\\" Corien interrupted loudly. \\\"The quiet and dark, you know. Sharpens the hearing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You'll have to walk on your own, ' Malakai said flatly.\\n\\n\\\"Your concern is a soothing balm,\\\" the youth replied.\\n\\nAntsy smiled in the dark: he would've just told Malakai to go fuck himself.\\n\\n\\\"Red, you lead then,\\\" Malakai said, ignoring the sarcasm. \\\"Corien... walk with Orchid.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And you?\\\" Orchid demanded. \\\"Wandering off gods know where? You should stay with us in case there's trouble. '\\n\\n\\\"If there's trouble I'll be more use as a hidden asset.\\\"\\n\\nOrchid just snorted at that. Antsy imagined her throwing up her hands in the dark.\\n\\nAs they readied, Antsy asked Orchid over and held out his pannier. \\\"You're sure? ' she said, surprised.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah– no use in a fight. An\\\" I'll need both hands. Corien? The use of your sword perhaps?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Red.\\\" There came the unmistakable sound of polished iron brushing wood as the blade cleared the mouth of the sheath. \\\"Orchid?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes.\\\" Fumblings as Corien handed Orchid the weapon. \\\"Ach!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" from both Antsy and Corien.\\n\\n\\\"Cut my hand on the edge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't hold it by the blade! \\\"Corien exclaimed.\\\"Both edges are razor sharp. '\\n\\n\\\"So I see,\\\" she answered, scathing. \\\"Here.\\\"\\n\\nThe grip was pressed to Antsy, who took it and readied his own sword in his left hand. \\\"Okay. Which way?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"To the right.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy edged to the right. He held the blades before him, off slightly to each side. Occasionally a tip grated against a wall and he would adjust his direction. Behind, Corien grunted his effort. His boots slid heavily over the smooth stone floor and every breath was tight with pain. Antsy knew Orchid was doing her best to help him along.\\n\\nAfter a time turning corners and crossing large chambers– meeting places, or assemblies, Orchid thought them– she sent them climbing up against the Spawn's slant to what she said was a large building front across abroad open court.\\\"Do you even know where you're going?\\\" Antsy finally complained.\\n\\n\\\"Malakai is there, waiting,\\\" she said; then, rather impatiently, \\\"I've been keeping us to the main ways, you know! '\\n\\nAntsy now said aloud what had been bothering him for sometime: \\\"Then where is everyone? The place is deserted! Where're these Malazans? Where's anyone?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How in the name of-\\\" She stopped herself. \\\"How should I know?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy just grumbled. Again it seemed the constant straining to see in the utter dark was giving him hallucinations. Lights blossomed before his eyes. Shapes of deepest blue seemed to waver in his vision like ghosts. He silently fumed against it all. What a fool I was for throwing myself into this. A bad start before a worse end! I'm gonna die in the dark like a blasted worm.\\n\\n\\\"You made it,\\\" Malakai said blandly from the dark. Antsy pulled up sharply. The observation was neither a compliment nor a complaint. \\\"This looks to be some sort of large complex. We should take a look.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not so sure we should go in there, ' Orchid said, sounding worried.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Not for you to say.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Corien, perhaps you can sit down inside, in any case.\\\"\\n\\nThe lad managed a tight, \\\"Certainly. That would be... most welcome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are agreed then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" Antsy rasped, his throat dry– already they were getting low on water.\\n\\n\\\"There are stairs up,\\\" Orchid said.\\n\\nHe slid his foot ahead until he bumped up against the first, then he carefully felt his way up until Orchid told him he was on the last. \\\"This is a very wide doorway, tall too,\\\" she murmured. \\\"Open double doors. Inside is a kind of arcade with many side openings and corridors.\\\"\\n\\nShit. This could take forever. \\\"Look, Malakai,\\\" he grumbled, \\\"it would help if we knew what we were looking for... Malakai...?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's gone. '\\n\\nOsserc-damned useless whore's son! That's fucking well it! He pulled off his rolled blanket and began rummaging through it.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doing?\\\" Orchid asked.\\n\\n\\\"I'm getting the lantern. '\\n\\n\\\"Malakai said-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Malakai can dick himself with his own-\\\" Antsy bit off his words, cleared his throat. \\\"Sorry, lass. Malakai isn't here, is he? '\\n\\nHe set the lantern on the stone floor, pulled out his set of flints and tinder and began striking. The sparks startled him at first, so huge and bright were they. Light deprivation– seen it before in the mines. Have to shield the lantern. In moments he had the tinder glowing: that alone seemed light enough. He took up a pinch of the lint and shavings and held them to the wick and blew. Once the wick caught he blew again, steadily, pinched out the tinder and shoved it away back into its box, which he snapped shut.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The lantern's flame blossomed to life and he had to turn his face away, so harsh was the golden light. Blinking, squinting against the pain the light struck in his eyes, he could eventually see and what he saw took his breath away.\\n\\nEverything was black, yes, but not plain or grim. The walls, the columns of the carved stone arcades, all writhed with intricate carving. Stone vines climbed the walls, delicate stone leaves seemed to wave before his eyes. Bowers of trees, all carved from the glittering finely grained black stone, arched over a second-storey walkway above.\\n\\nThen he saw the smooth polished floor and he frowned. Dust covered it, but so too did a litter of broken pots and scattered furniture. No looting here. Why?\\n\\nIn the light, Corien shuffled over to aside alcove of carved benches and sat down, hissing his pain. Antsy set the lantern on the bench next to him. The lad squinted his puzzlement. His face gleamed sickly pale, sheathed in sweat. \\\"You keep the light,\\\" Antsy told him. \\\"I'll have a poke around. \\\"Corien drew breath to object but Antsy held out his sword, pommel first. Offering a tired smile, Corien took it.\\\"Look after Orchid here while I'm gone.\\\"\\n\\nOrchid had the sense not to object to that bit of chauvinism.\\n\\nShortsword out, Antsy picked his way through the litter. It was a large main entrance hall, or gathering chamber. Halls opened off it all around. Stairs led down and up from it on both the right and the left. The stairs were intricately carved, the balusters with vines and blossoms. His light-starved eyes made out much more in the weak light than he knew he could've normally; as on a night of a full moon or afresh snow. In places the floor bore carved designs like grille-work or lattices bearing foliage.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Far off across the chamber the lantern glowed like a star. Next to it Orchid paced restlessly. Antsy found an overturned chest or travel box, its contents of cloth spilled across the floor. He kicked through the dark rich robes. Damn me if I don't know what's valuable or not! A Togg-damned waste of time this is.\\n\\nSomething about the nearby stairs caught his attention and he crossed to them. The dust was disturbed here. Not by tracks, but brushed aside, as if disturbed by a wind or the dragging of a wide cloth. He decided to follow as far the light extended. The stairs brought him to a floor just beneath the main one. Here light streamed down through the carvings in the floor above, casting illuminated scenes of bowers of trees across another smooth floor. An intended effect, Antsy wondered? Did lamps or suchlike burning above cast the same shadows when this place was occupied? He walked out onto the floor.\\n\\nAn object gleamed in the light streaming down. A stick of some kind. Antsy walked up and crouched over it. A bone. A leg bone. A human tibia. And not clean, either. Tangles of ligaments and dried meat still clung to its ends.\\n\\nHe straightened, swallowed the bile churning sickly in his stomach. A dense glow now shone from the far end of the chamber. Fascinated, unable to turn away, he edged closer until the light was sufficient to reveal a carpet of similar remains choking the far side. The shadows of alien blossoms streamed down upon amass of human carcasses. Many still wore their helmets. Their feet remained in boots. The meat of calf and thigh was gone, as were the viscera from empty gutted chests and abdomens. Ribcages gaped like open mouths hanging with desiccated strips of flesh and meat. Antsy had seen similar remains after battles where scavengers had picked over the dead, taking the choice bits and leaving the rest.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He choked back a yell of alarm and ran for the stairs.\\n\\nNot looted. Avoided! Everyone else knows better! And Panar sent us here! To our damned deaths.\\n\\nHe came pelting back to Orchid and Corien, who stared, tensing in alarm. \\\"What is it?\\\" Orchid demanded, rising.\\n\\n\\\"We have to get out of here– now!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That– thing– everyone was scared of below. I think this is its lair. We have to go.\\\" He snatched up the lantern, took Corien by the arm. \\\"Come on.\\\"\\n\\nHe chivvied them backup the hall to the doors. Here Orchid suddenly let out a cry and froze. Antsy let goof Corien, drew his shortsword. He squinted, seeing nothing. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\nHand at mouth, the girl stammered, \\\"The door.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy peered at the doorway anew. What of it? Dark, yes, but... Dark. The light did not penetrate. Something was blocking the entrance, something utterly black like a curtain of night. \\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\nBut Orchid could not speak. She merely jerked her head side to side, appalled, eyes huge.\\n\\nShit. Antsy hefted his shortsword. Somehow he didn't think it would do him much good. And munitions? Probably not them either. He looked to Corien; that finely curled hair now hung down sweat-plastered. The lad met his eye and nodded, hand tightening on his swordgrip.\\n\\n\\\"It is a creature of Elder Night,\\\" said Malakai, stepping out from an alcove next to them. \\\"Call it what you will. A daemon, or a fiend. Night animate. No doubt to it we are the invaders, the monsters.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Spare me your sophistry,\\\" Antsy grated. \\\"What can you do against it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I?\\\" The man cocked a brow. \\\"Nothing. We are trapped. It would seem Panar has the last laugh after all.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy almost threw his shortsword at the man. \\\"Fine,\\\" he snarled. \\\"Everyone back! I'll try my munitions. '\\n\\n\\\"Red...\\\" Corien warned, touching his arm.\\n\\nAntsy spun: Orchid had advanced upon the creature.\\n\\nShit! \\\"Orchid!\\\"\\n\\nThe girl ignored him, or couldn't hear. One hand was at her throat, the other reaching out as if entreating. She spoke, and Antsy started, for now she uttered another language. One completely unfamiliar to him. Sing-song, it was. Not unpleasant to his ears.\\n\\nShe spoke at length, pausing from time to time as if awaiting an answer. Antsy, Corien and Malakai waited, silent, scarcely breathing.\\n\\nDespite his anticipation Antsy jerked when a reply came at last. Words murmured from the night, deep and resonating, as if enunciated by all the immeasurable dark surrounding them. Orchid shuddered as if burned– Antsy wondered if she was even more surprised to hear an answer than they. Her breath caught and she looked aside, head bowed as if searching for something, grasping after memories.\\n\\nCome on... Do it, girl. You can do it...\\n\\nShe nodded then, her gaze distant, and returned her attention to the doorway in front of her. Both hands went to her neck, as if she would throttle herself, and she spoke slowly, haltingly, for sometime. The speech ended in a gasp, Orchid wrung out, breathless.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Silence followed. The barrier across the doorway seemed to waver in the lantern light like a wall of hanging velvet. The thing spoke again, a brief response, and Orchid launched into some sort of recitation. Antsy squeezed the grip of his shortsword, his hand wet with sweat. A biting cold now filled the hall. His breath plumed before him.\\n\\nShe finished again with a gasp as if barely able to squeeze out the words. In the silence that followed, Antsy wiped the ice from his hands then examined his fingers: blue and numb with cold. An answer rolled out of the dark: a speech in slow measured tones, a chant almost. The coal-black curtain wavered, then disappeared or slipped away like a shadow exposed to light.\\n\\nA hissed exhalation escaped Orchid and she would have toppled but for Antsy rushing forward to steady her. He guided her to a bench. Her skirts rattled ice-stiff and rimed with hoarfrost. Her skin was burning cold to the touch. Corien sat beside her, holding the lantern close.\\n\\n\\\"Malakai...\\\" Antsy said, gesturing to the entrance.\\n\\nAfter a moment the man answered from beyond, \\\"It's gone. '\\n\\nA distant shout sounded from the darkened halls beyond: a frenzied cry of frustration and rage, and Antsy barked a laugh. \\\"So much for Panar's vengeance. I'm tempted to slit his throat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" said Orchid, struggling up. Antsy helped her stand. \\\"Let's just go. '\\n\\n\\\"And just which way do we go?\\\" Malakai asked, appearing from the dark.\\n\\n\\\"Any way,\\\" she answered, annoyed. \\\"Right. Left. It doesn't matter. Just find away up. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Because what you seek is in the upper levels.\\\"\\n\\nMalakai froze, astonished. His eyes widened with new appreciation, and he gave a bow of his head– though shallow and tinged by irony. \\\"Very well. I will be back shortly.\\\"\\n\\nOrchid turned to Corien where he slouched on the bench, a hand pressed to his side. She knelt before him. Gently, she set her own handover his and he hissed at the touch. She spoke again in that same eerie tongue that raised the hairs on the small of Antsy's neck. It sounded like an invocation or recitation.\\n\\nA great sigh escaped from Corien and the man would have fallen forward if Antsy hadn't steadied him. Antsy let him slide down on the bench, unconscious.\\n\\n\\\"What was that!\\\" he demanded, far more harshly than he'd intended. Fear. I'm hearing fear in my voice.\\n\\nOrchid held her hands out before her, studying them. She stood, wiped the wet condensation from her face. \\\"Strange, isn't it? \\\"she said dreamily.\\\"To be told stories all your life, to read them, study them, then suddenly discover it's all true...\\\"\\n\\nAntsy was looking at a line of empty pedestals. Someone had set a rusted helmet on one. It looked just like a decapitated head. \\\"Yeah. Life's full o'twists and turns,\\\" he breathed, uneasy.\\n\\nShe sat, folded her graceful dark hands primly on her lap. Like a priestess, Antsy thought. She looks like some kinda damned ancient priestess with her thick mane of tousled black hair, tattered skirts, and torn lace. Who was she?\\n\\nHe cleared his throat. \\\"So... what happened there?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Her gaze was tired, half-lidded, directed at the entrance. \\\"I'm not sure myself. It surprised me, answering like that. Probably was just as amazed as I was to hear the old tongue. '\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. The old tongue. Imagine that. And?\\\"\\n\\nAn exhausted lift and fall of the shoulders. \\\"I invoked the Rite of Passage as recorded by Hul\\\" Alanen-Teth, a Jaghut who claimed to have travelled the Paths of Eternal Night. The guardian honoured the formula. '\\n\\nBeside her Corien stirred groggily. Antsy nodded to her, accepting her words. \\\"Well, thanks for saving our lives.\\\"\\n\\nAwry smile twisted her lips. Head lowered, she peered up at him. \\\"I did not save your life, Red. You it called... \\\"Honoured Guest\\\".\\\"\\n\\nHe frowned at her. \\\"What...?\\\"\\n\\nCorien sat up. He held his head, touched his side. His brows rose. \\\"The pain is gone.\\\"\\n\\nOrchid nodded. \\\"Good. That was an Andii invocation of healing. You will be weak fora time, but you should mend.\\\" She stood. \\\"Now, if you will excuse me. I... I want to be alone fora time.\\\"\\n\\nAs she passed, Antsy touched the cloth of her sleeve. He tried to catch her gaze but she would not meet his eyes. \\\"And what did it call you...?\\\"\\n\\nShe flinched away. \\\"Not now.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy eased himself down next to Corien. They exchanged wondering glances. Antsy blew out a breath. \\\"Well... what d'you know. '\\n\\nThe lad gave along thoughtful nod.\\n\\nWhen Malakai returned he found them still sitting side by side. He cocked a brow. \\\"What's this? Why aren't we moving?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Orchid's resting, ' Antsy said, smiling up at him.\\n\\n\\\"And what are you so pleased about?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy tucked his hands up under his arms. \\\"Oh, I'm always in a better mood when the squad has its cadre mage. '\\n\\nThe man wrinkled his dark brows, uncertain what to make of that. But Antsy just smiled. It seemed to him that everything had changed. As in battle. Things had reversed themselves as they can in any close engagement. There'd been no announcement, no horns blowing to signal it. Everyone involved just knew it, sensed it. The energy had shifted. Earlier, the party had been Malakai's. Now, it was Orchid's. And he and Corien? Well, they were her guards now.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Madrun and Lazan Door–\\n\\nFrom distant lands they hail.\\n\\nOne day Door did announce:\\n\\n'Tis time my hair to cut.\\n\\nYet no shear would tear\\n\\nNo blade would part\\n\\nNo scissor snick nor sever\\n\\nAnd so it grew–\\n\\nthis bounteous mane.\\n\\nWenches plotted\\n\\nKnives were sharpened\\n\\nYet no helm nor hat could tame\\n\\nThese wilful, prideful curls.\\n\\nWhen last Door heard\\n\\nHis hair had fled\\n\\nFighting pirates off far Elingarth!\\n\\nattributed to Fisher\\n\\nIN THE MORNING Brood pushed aside the heavy cloth flap of his tent to find the Rhivi warriors in the process of breaking camp. He frowned then, feeling a chill premonition, and crossed to where one of the Elders stood wrapped in a blanket warming himself at afire. It was one of the more amiable of them, Tserig, called the Toothless. The Warlord inclined his head in greeting. \\\"Word from the north?\\\"\\n\\nLooking unhappy, the old man gave a shallow bow. \\\"Yes, Great One. A rider came in the night. The Malazans are in disarray. They have been driven from Pale and are retreating to the southwest.\\\" He shrugged, apologetic. \\\"The circle of war leaders decided to act.\\\"\\n\\nWithout consulting me. \\\"I see. Since when did the Rhivi chase after war?\\\"\\n\\nThe old man seemed to consider one answer but clamped his lips tight against it. He adjusted the folds of the horse blanket, indicated the embers dying before him. \\\"War is like a grass fire, Great One, is it not? Once sparked it cannot be controlled. It will burn and burn until it has consumed everything it can reach.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Its fuel is blood, Tserig.\\\"\\n\\nA gloomy nod of agreement. \\\"I know, Ancient One. I was against it. But I am old– and toothless.\\\"\\n\\nBrood smiled his appreciation. \\\"And so your reward is to be the one who has to break the news that my, ah, leadership is no longer required.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man offered another half-bow. \\\"I am sorry, Warlord... perhaps they merely did not wish to disturb you in your mourning.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's putting about as pretty a face on it as anyone can manage. ' He eyed the embers fora time, rubbed a forefinger along his jaw. Tserig, he noted, was cringing away and Brood realized the old man must think he was scowling his displeasure at him, so he turned to face the west.\\n\\n\\\"What will you do now, Great One?\\\" the old man ventured after a time.\\n\\nAround them the last of the burdened asses, carts, travois and herded bhederin made their way north, following the track through the Gadrobi hills. Riders bowed to Brood as they passed, or saluted, raising spears and loosing their war calls. \\\"If the Mhybe was still with us, or Silverfox, none of this would be happening...\\\" he murmured, but distractedly, his thoughts elsewhere.\\n\\n\\\"I agree, Warlord. But they are gone from us. The Mhybe was given her great reward. And Silverfox has departed. Gone to another land, some say.\\\" Like Brood, the old man did not mention the other who was gone from them as well.\\n\\nThe Warlord cleared his throat, profoundly uncomfortable. How to broach this without insulting this man, his people, and all they have sacrificed these last years?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Would you share the morning tea with me, Warlord?\\\" Tserig said suddenly, his gaze oddly gentle, as if he were addressing a youth rather than someone incalculably older than he.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Thank you, Tserig. I would welcome that.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man motioned aside to an attendant, who hurried to ready the tall bronze pot and the tiny thimble-sized cups, and the two stood in silence waiting for the leaves to steep. Both watched the ragged columns of the Rhivi snaking their way north through a cut in the hills. Behind them Tserig's servants struck his tent.\\n\\n\\\"You'll make much better time now with the herds returned to the north, ' Brood observed.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Mostly it is those fearful of the Malazans, or anxious to prove themselves as warriors, who have remained. Is it any wonder then that they should have found their excuse? And Jiwan had at his service a most convincing weapon.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And what is that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An earnest belief in his cause.\\\"\\n\\nBrood found himself again appreciating the old man. He allowed himself a grin.\\n\\nA servant handed each a tiny bronze cup then poured tea in long hissing streams from the slim pot. Tserig raised his cup to the Warlord. \\\"To wise counsel.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wise counsel.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man smacked his lips, sucking in the tea. \\\"I ask then, again. What will you do?\\\"\\n\\nBrood grimaced his awkwardness. He looked off to the west. \\\"I've become convinced that we shouldn't confront these Malazans any longer. It will be a disaster for the Rhivi, in the long run.\\\"\\n\\nDistaste wrinkled Tserig's pursed lips.\\\"Yet they hem us in on all sides. Trespass across our lands. Kill all the animals they find. They are like a plague. Are we to abandon our way of life? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Tserig,\\\" Brood's voice was low and hoarse with emotion,\\\"that will happen anyway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It is inevitable. Question is, then, how best to mitigate the damage of it all? The answer is ugly and brutal, but it is plain... You get better terms in a peace treaty than you get when you're conquered– which is to say, no terms whatsoever.\\\"\\n\\nThat stung the old man's pride and he straightened, offended.\\\"You question our spirit! '\\n\\nThe Warlord raised a placating hand. \\\"No. Never that. I am not talking about the brief season of war... I am talking about the generations that follow.\\\"\\n\\nTserig's gaze sank to the fire. His face was pained as if he were studying such a future within the dying embers.\\\"Treaties, \\\"he finally spat.\\\"Never honoured by the powerful. I place no faith in such agreements. '\\n\\n\\\"They will be honoured,\\\" Brood grated, \\\"if I witness them.\\\"\\n\\nTserig's greying brows rose as he considered this, then he bowed his head almost in salute.\\\"I accept your plan, Warlord, as the best course for my people. How then do we proceed? '\\n\\nBrood, who had been eyeing the west before, raised his chin to the distant horizon, the brown hills, and Lake Azur beyond. \\\"Have you ever been on a boat, Tserig?\\\"\\n\\nThe old man shuddered. \\\"Ancient hearth-goddess, no. My feet have never left touch with our Mother.\\\"\\n\\nThe Warlord's beast-like eyes swung to him, held steady.\\n\\nTserig hunched beneath the weight of that gaze, gummed his lips. \\\"Please... Great One. Have mercy on an old man.\\\"\\n\\nIn Darujhistan's guildhall of guards, sentinels, wardens and gate-men, Captain Soen of the Legate's bodyguard looked these two most recent applicants up and down and didn't bother hiding his disgust. Clothes no better than rags, dirt-smeared faces, cracked sandals. Not even a scrap of armour or a weapon showing anywhere. Must have pawned the lotto buy booze. And must be alive with fleas. Trake's tail, I'm hereto hire guards– not beggars.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Names?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"he demanded, and grimaced as a wafting hint of their stink reached him.\\n\\n\\\"Scorch, sir,\\\" said one.\\n\\n\\\"Leff.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're in the lists, I assume? '\\n\\nThe two appeared to pale where they stood before him. They exchanged terrified glances. \\\"Ah, beggin\\\" yer pardon, \\\"said the one who had given his name as Scorch,\\\"but did you say list, sir? '\\n\\nSoen rolled his eyes. \\\"Gods, man. Yes. The lists. The record of all certified members in good standing with the guild in the city!\\\" At their expressions of complete blankness the captain leaned forward to explain, more slowly, \\\"Your references.\\\"\\n\\nThe one named Leff made a great show of understanding, nodding vigorously. \\\"Oh sure, Cap'n, sir. O'course.\\\"\\n\\nHis friend goggled what resembled complete surprise. Un-convinced, but required to be thorough, Soen walked over to the record keeper where he satin the rear of the hall. \\\"Scorch and Leff,\\\" he said.\\n\\nThe clerk immediately began scrolling through along rolled sheet, winding the document down and down. \\\"Now there's a list, ' one of these new applicants murmured to his companion.\\n\\nAfter searching fora time the clerk appeared to have found his place, for he stopped and began to read. His brows shot up and he went back to the beginning once again. His brows continued to rise, almost touching his slicked-flat hair. He looked up, amazement plain on his face. \\\"Their references are impeccable!\\\"\\n\\nSoen, who had leaned his elbows on the counter, flinched straight. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"These two are in excellent standing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Let me see that.\\\" He reached for the scroll.\\n\\nThe clerk backed away, hugging the roll to his chest. \\\"This is proprietary information, I'll have you know! Try that again and you'll be blacklisted.\\\"\\n\\nSoen turned on the two applicants, who stood shifting from foot to foot like eunuchs in a brothel. Gods. Guild rules are that I have to hire them now. Damn their stranglehold. He marched up to them, as close as their stink would allow. \\\"Okay. Your references are in order. Fine.\\\" He held up a finger. \\\"But before I see you tomorrow you'd better be cleaned up and fit for duty– or I'll have some ex-Urdomen I know scrub you allover with rayskin brushes. How would you like that?\\\"\\n\\nThe one who had given his name as Scorch raised a hand.\\n\\n\\\"Yes? What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah... does this mean we're hired, Captain, sir? '\\n\\n\\\"Does this...\\\" Soen dragged a hand down his face, took a deep breath to calm himself. \\\"Yes,\\\" he hissed, \\\"you're hired. Report to the Legate's manor tomorrow.\\\" He eyed them up and down once more. \\\"Mind you,\\\" and he raised a warning finger, \\\"you two report to the servants\\\" gate– is that understood? '\\n\\nScorch nodded vigorously. \\\"Oh yes, sir. Understood.\\\" He saluted multiple times.\\n\\nSoen waved a dismissal and stalked off, muttering. Elder gods, look away! How standards have fallen from the old days. Damned embarrassing it is. Still, these two could free up a couple of good men I could use elsewhere...\\n\\nOnce the Captain was gone Leff cuffed Scorch. \\\"There! Y'see? Wasn't so hard, was it?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I thought I said we should try here.\\\"\\n\\nLeff appeared not to have heard. \\\"Let's go. '\\n\\n\\\"Where?\\\"\\n\\nLeff made a great show of looking to the sky. \\\"Well, you heard the Captain! It's as obvious as Moon's Spawn in full-on daylight, o\\\" course. '\\n\\n\\\"What is?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where we have t'go! '\\n\\n\\\"An\\\" that's...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To the lake, man!\\\"\\n\\nScorch's permanent scowl of uncertainty deepened into stunned incomprehension.\\\"The lake? '\\n\\nLeff sighed his impatience. \\\"Yes! Can't you hear? The man told us to get cleaned up. So it's awash in the lake for us.\\\" He stomped out.\\n\\nScorch was slow to follow. He scratched the thick grime caking one cheek, muttering, bemused, \\\"People do that? They wash? In the lake...?\\\"\\n\\nYusek guided her two charges north up the slopes of the coastal Mengal range. She was aware that these peaks were also known as the Mountains of Rain and she mused, bitterly, that they were damned well living up to that title. This wide pass in particular led all the way to the coast. Her leathers were rotting off her; the skin of her toes was peeling off like bark; and she had a constant racking cough, spitting up great wads of thick green catarrh.\\n\\nShe took out her frustrations on the two Seguleh. Their silence and impenetrable calm only sharpened her tongue. Think they're so damned superior. Nothing more than smug arseholes is what they are!\\n\\nThis day she was off ahead alone, if only to give herself a break from her constant snarling and sniping. She studied the lower slopes where the banners of sinking mist were burning away, leaving shallow rivulets and gullies that would eventually come together to form the headwaters of the Maiten River.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":91,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 13"},{"from":"human","value":"They had found Tayschrenn."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Succeeded in an apparently impossible task. Followed him through the Whorl to the very edge of existence. And now he did not even recognize them.\n\nEventually, the tall figure re-emerged from the glare of the Vitr. Kiska climbed to her feet. The man favoured her and Leoman with a harsh, unforgiving gaze. Kiska couldn't trust herself to speak; she was afraid that anything she might say would be wrong.\"So, \"he began at last, musing,\"you are from my past. '\n\nKiska swallowed to wet her throat, managed a faint, \"Yes.\" Then, stronger, \"You are needed-\" She stopped as he raised a hand to silence her. He examined that hand, and the other, turning them over before his face. Kiska noted that his flesh was healed. The Vitr appeared to have somehow restored him.\n\nHe continued to study his hands, flexing them. \"And I take it that I, too, was a mage.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Kiska breathed, knowing that she could not lie.\n\nLeoman, to his credit, remained silent, his narrowed dark eyes travelling between them, observing, gauging. The demon was also silent, watching, its great taloned hands clenched, the lenses of its bulbous eyes flashing as it blinked.\n\nAt Kiska's whispered yes the man shuddered as if struck. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands fisted rigid, then fell to his sides. He exhaled through clenched teeth, made a sweeping gesture with one hand as if cutting the air between them.\"Well, you can keep that past. I want nothing to do with it. \"He motioned to the demon.\"Come, Korus. We have work to do. '\n\nKiska could not read the demon's alien face but the massive tangle of fangs at its mouth seemed to curve in a grin of triumph."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"But Tayschrenn!\"\n\nThe man paused. He turned back, his expression unchanged. \"If that was my name it is no longer. You can keep it as well... and take it with you when you go.\"\n\nShe could not think of anything more to say. The ex-High Mage walked away, trailed by the demon Korus. She turned to Leoman; the man gave along slow shrug. \"Kiska, I'm sorry... '\n\nSnarling, she turned and stalked off along the shore. I've not come all this way...\n\nThe gentle metal jingling of Leoman's armour announced his following.\"Kiska, listen... You've done everything that could be expected. If he does not want to come then that is his choice...\"\n\nKiska kept walking. I'll convince him. He's needed.\n\n\"You may not believe me but I've been through something rather similar before. '\n\nDid he really say that? She spun on her heel. \"Yes– you're right. I do not believe you've followed a quarry to the edge of creation only to have him walkaway!\"\n\nLeoman gripped his belt in both hands, rocked ever so slightly under her glare. \"I was bodyguard to Sha'ik. You know that. '\n\nHer rage abated and she hesitated, interested despite her doubts. \"Yes?\"\n\nHis narrowed gaze was on the middle distance, perhaps unwilling to meet her eyes. \"I was with the uprising from the start. Rose through the ranks to become her bodyguard. She dragged my partner and me out to the deep desert, claimed she was going to be reborn. She had her blasted Holy Book with her. She'd consulted it, the divinatory deck, the astrological signs, everything. All to beat the right place at the right time to be reborn... '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And?\" Kiska prompted.\n\n\"The Malazans put a crossbow bolt through her head at that very moment.\"\n\nQueen preserve me! She turned away, furious. \"There is a point to this?\"\n\nStung, his voice hardened. \"The point is that what happened was not what I thought was supposed to happen– that's the point! '\n\nShe stopped, glancing back. \"But she was reborn...\"\n\n\"A– girl– showed up just then to take on the mantle. She became the new Sha'ik. '\n\n\"Ah-ha! So eventually you did succeed! Your determination paid off.\"\n\n\"No. Actually, that's not my point at all. I was thinking more that we should strike inland, see what turns up. '\n\n\"Well, I'm staying. His memory might return. \"She waved him away and walked on after Tayschrenn, yelling over her shoulder:\"Did you think of that! '\n\nLeoman stood kicking at the black sand. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. \"Yes,\" he said, all alone. \"I thought of that.\"\n\nAfter they left the temple quarters Malakai scouted ahead as usual. Antsy was content to let him range about as before. Frankly, part of him hoped he'd never return. Orchid was subdued. The lass had been handed a lotto think about. Corien was still weak and so he carried the dimmed lantern and the crossbow while Antsy led.\n\nThe way up was an ornate hall, or tunnel, broad and gently rising. More like a covered boulevard, with openings off it, perhaps shops or private dwellings. These chambers gaped empty, stripped of furnishings but fora litter of broken pots, trampled torn cloth, and shattered glass. The avenue opened to what appeared to be abroad square, and beyond this, just hinted at by the weak lantern light, marched street after street of another underground city."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Shit. Now what? He turned to Orchid. \"Which way?\"\n\nShe was eyeing the buildings, her lower lip clenched in her teeth. Clearly, this was not what she'd been expecting.\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"I don't know. We should explore... I guess. '\n\n\"Where is Malakai, I wonder?\" Corien murmured, keeping his voice down.\n\n\"Exploring, I guess,\" Antsy said, rather more acidly than he'd intended.\"C'mon. This way.\"\n\nHe led them up a narrow alleyway where the tilt, or cant, of the entire structure was uncomfortably evident. Antsy had to push off occasionally from the right-leaning wall.\n\n\"We should make for one edge of the town,\" Orchid finally announced, perhaps having regained her bearings.\n\n\"Why?\" Antsy asked, and stopped for her answer. Both spoke in subdued tones, almost whispering; the quiet emptiness and gaping doorways seemed to demand a reverent, or at least sombre, response. Gone, the silent stone streets and alleys seemed to sigh. They are gone from us.\n\n\"Because we're under a kind of cave roof here, that's why.\"\n\nAntsy couldn't help glancing up into what was, for him, an impenetrable gloom. He grunted his understanding.\"All right. This way. ' He headed in what he believed to be the right direction.\n\nA short time later he felt it before he heard it: a massive shuddering that threw them all from side to side. They reached out to steady themselves on the walls. Stones fell all around them, shattering. Orchid let out a panicked cry. Wreckage within the buildings about them shifted and crashed anew. It felt like every earthquake Antsy had experienced– only in this case a Spawnquake."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then, slowly, ponderously, the entire structure around them rolled slightly, forwards and backwards, like a titanic ship. They tottered and fought to keep their balance just as one would on any vessel. In the slow, almost gentle rocking Antsy thought he sensed anew equilibrium in the massive artefact's balance. Thankfully a poise slightly closer to upright than before.\n\n\"What is it?\" Orchid whispered, fierce.\n\n\"I do believe we just lost a chunk of our island.\"\n\n\"Are we sinking?\" Corien asked, dread tightening his voice.\n\nAntsy scratched the bristles of his untrimmed beard. \"It's possible... of course, we might just rise some, too. '\n\n\"Rise?\" Orchid scoffed. \"How could that be possible?\"\n\nAntsy took a breath to explain but both had moved on, obviously uninterested in anything too technical. He cleared his throat, muttering, \"Well– it's just a theory. '\n\nThey came to where walls of stone bordered the town. Some sections of the rock had been left naked, others smoothed. Some bore mosaics depicting scenes of a great river of brightness running through darkness, others of an immense city of towers. Antsy wondered if such a city were somewhere within this gigantic mountain of stone. Tracing round the edge of the town they came to a set of three broad staircases leading upwards. A strong breeze blew into their faces down out of the shafts.\n\n\"Definitely rising,\" Antsy said. Corien and Orchid just eyed one another, uncertain. Corien, Antsy saw, was walking more and more stiffly, grimacing with the effort, while Orchid looked bedraggled and exhausted. \"We'll rest here. '\n\nOrchid was so worn out she merely gestured her acceptance and slumped down against a wall. Corien eased himself down with a hiss of pain. Antsy crouched to sort through their provisions. \"How're you holding up? ' he asked Corien, if only to hold back the darkness and the unsettling, watchful silence."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Bed rest would have been better,\" he answered with a grin. \"But I'm much improved. Thank you, Orchid. '\n\nAnon-committal murmur sounded from where she lay on her bedroll of cloaks and blankets. Antsy gnawed on some sort of dried meat, passed a waterskin to Corien. \"I don't know about you, lad, but my goals have experienced a major revision. '\n\nThe aristocratic youth's answering grin was bright in the gloom.\"Getting off alive would be a good start. '\n\n\"Un-huh. I think we understand each other.\" Antsy hefted the waterskin, stoppered it. Too damned low. \"You rest. I'll take first watch. '\n\nThe lad nodded his gratitude and eased further down. Antsy pushed himself to his feet. He set the lamp in the middle of the alcove they'd chosen, then turned his back to the light to stare out into the dimly lit adjacent street and portals. He cradled his cocked crossbow in his arms. So many damned nights spent on sentry duty. Seems like nothin's changed. Just the venue. Same ol'same old. Still... there's not many as can say they've wandered the bowels of the Moon's Spawn. Thought I was gonna collect a retirement package but seems I've just bought myself a last hurrah.\n\nDamned stupid waste. Looks like someone on this rock is gonna be cleaning his teeth with my bones.\n\nAn'to think Blend and Picker were relieved to see me go! Not like there's so many of us Bridgeburners left, is there? Even Ferret got a proper service and remembrance. Whiskeyjack took off his helmet and said a few words with Free Cities battle magics blastin'overhead and two dragons circling. And it's not like he was a popular guy."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Thinking of Ferret he found he could almost seethe skinny hunched figure therein front of him: his pinched paleface and sharp teeth– gods! We weren't kind to the fellow, were we?\n\nThen Ferret looked him up and down and said: \"What the fuck are you doin\" here, Antsy? You're not dead.\"\n\nAntsy jerked a startled breath and the crossbow jumped in his hands, the bolt skittering off down the stone street.\n\nCorien called, alarmed, \"What is it?\"\n\nFeeling that he'd, well, seen a ghost, Antsy squinted into the empty dark.\"Nothin\". False alarm.\"\n\n\"Time for my watch?\"\n\nAntsy eyed the remaining fuel in the lamp. \"Naw. Bit longer.\"\n\n\"Well. I'm up now. '\n\nAntsy nodded, distracted, while he rubbed the back of his neck. \"Yeah. Fine.\" I swear this damned dark is gonna drive me rat-crazy.\n\nIn the \"morning\"– that is, when they were all up and eating alight meal of dried fruit and old stale bread– Malakai emerged from the dark. He looked much the worse for wear, was growing a beard, and his dark jacket hung torn and stained with sweat.\n\nBut then, Antsy reflected, none of us is looking any prettier.\n\nDistaste curled the man's slash of a mouth as he studied them.\"What's this? You should be up the stairs by now.\"\n\nAntsy decided he'd had a stomachful of the man's command style. He's never with us yet he presumes he's leading. He cleared his throat. \"Ah, we had us a talk. An\" we've decided we're goin'our own way in our own time.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Oh?\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"the man breathed, a dangerous edge entering his voice.\n\nRather belatedly Antsy glanced about for his crossbow. He saw it sitting to one side, uncocked. Damn. Gotta think these things through before I open my stupid mouth.\n\n\"Yes,\" Orchid cut in quickly. \"We've decided. '\n\nThe dark glittering eyes shifted to her. A scoffing smile now openly stretched his lips. \"And where will you go?\"\n\n\"The closest way out. We're going to get off this rock while we still have food and water and strength in our legs. '\n\n\"You'll never make it. '\n\nAntsy cast a quick anxious glance to Orchid: that evaluation, so final, made her flinch.\n\n\"That maybe so,\" Corien said into the silence following Malakai's comment,\"but that's our worry.\"\n\nThe man seemed to make a show of considering the idea. He gave a great exaggerated frown while his hands brushed his belt. Antsy knew all the blades the man carried at that belt, and in other places. He ached to slip a hand into his shirt to the shoulder harness where he kept a munition in reserve, but he also knew Malakai would act the moment he saw him do that. \"There's still the matter of my investment in you two, ' Malakai said, and cocked an eye to Antsy.\n\nShit. Why didn't I load the damned crossbow when I had the chance?\n\n\"If I may...?\" Corien spoke up. Malakai gave the slightest dip of his head, his eyes fixed on Antsy. \"Well. It seems tome that you are already of the opinion that you've afar better chance of achieving your goal– whatever that is– without us... yes? '"},{"from":"human","value":"Both Antsy and Malakai turned to eye the lad."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes?\" Malakai prompted.\n\n\"Well, then, cutting us free recoups your investment by improving your odds of success.\"\n\nAntsy glared his anger. What in Osserc's dark humour is this?\n\nBut Malakai nodded thoughtfully. Something in the proposition seemed to touch on his own private evaluation and he slipped his hands from his belt. \"Very well. On your heads let it be.\"\n\n\"Yeah– right,\" Antsy said, scratching his stubbled jaw, still rather puzzled.\n\n\"We'll part company here, then. \"Malakai bowed to Orchid.\"I would wish you luck but I'm afraid your luck will run to the lad's pull. '\n\n\"We'll see, ' she answered, firm, having regained her confidence.\n\n\"Farewell then.\" And the man backed away into the darkness to disappear up a narrow side alley. Antsy listened fora time but couldn't hear one betraying step or scuff. He thought the man had gone but looked to Orchid for confirmation.\n\n\"He's left, ' she said after a time.\n\nCorien let out along breath. \"Thank the gods.\"\n\n\"He didn't ask for any of the water or food, ' Orchid said, surprised.\n\n\"Maybe he knows where he can steal any he needs,\" Antsy said.\n\n\"So what now?\" Corien asked.\n\nAntsy was silent, until it occurred to him that maybe that question had been asked of him. He cleared his throat. \"Well... I suppose we press on. Keep an eye out.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Orchid said, emphatic. \"I don't want him to get too far ahead of us. '\n\nAntsy blinked in the dimming light of the lamp. \"Hunh? What's that supposed to mean? '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"I mean just that."},{"from":"gpt","value":"I don't trust him. He's after something. And there are things hereon Moon's Spawn that mustn't seethe light of day.\"\n\nAs if on cue the lamp guttered then, and went out. After a moment of surprised silence Corien laughed. Even Orchid joined in, though Antsy just swore. \"Can't see a damned thing! ' he complained, and started searching through his bags for more oil.\n\n\"Would you like to see then, Red?\" Orchid offered from the dark.\n\n\"Hunh? You can do that? Why didn't you-'\n\n\"I told you I don't trust Malakai. I don't want him to know what I can do. If I can, that is.\"\n\n\"Well, gods, yes! If you would.\"\n\nShe crossed to his side. He heard her skirts rustling over the stones, felt the warmth radiating from her. Her cool dry hands touched his face. The touch pleased him.\n\n\"I'm glad you managed that without violence, Red, \"she whispered.\"You nudged him just the right way. '\n\nAntsy resisted the urge to shrug, kept his head steady in her hands. \"He's been itching to drop us since we landed. I just handed him the moment. Anyway, it was Corien here who sealed the deal. '\n\n\"I just helped out,\" Corien protested.\n\n\"No. How'd you know he'd buy that argument?\"\n\nThe lad grunted from the dark, sitting down. \"Well... it's a touch embarrassing to say, but my guess is that he didn't want to face you down, Red.\"\n\nAntsy jerked his surprise in Orchid's hands and she let out an impatient hiss.\"Sorry, \"he murmured.\"Lad, the man's a killer. I think he just decided he didn't want our blood on his hands. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Is he a killer? Think on it, Red. We actually haven't seen him use all that hardware, have we? '\n\n\"In Pearl Town he knifed plenty.\"\n\n\"Certainly– scared unarmed men and women in the dark from behind. But you're a veteran, Red. You wouldn't flinch. You may not know it, but you're a rather intimidating presence. '\n\nAntsy snorted. Me? You haven't met the scary Bridgeburners, friend.\n\nOrchid's long-fingered hands tightened on Antsy's cheeks. \"If you've quite finished? '\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Fine. Now hold still. Shut your eyes.\"\n\nHe obeyed. She began speaking, singing really, in that smooth quiet tongue she'd used with the guardian. He was hearing Tiste Andii, he realized, and a sort of shiver ran up his spine. Been hunted too often by those strange people. The language seemed to hold more silence and pauses than sounds. It was as a whispering of a distant wind and seemed so suited to the dark. After a time she stopped, or the sounds drifted away to silence. The hands withdrew, warmed now by the heat of his cheeks. Antsy remained motionless; he felt profoundly relaxed, almost asleep. It reminded him of a trick Mallet used to pull on the wounded. A few low sounds, a steady touch, and the troopers calmed right down.\n\nBut nothing happened. A profound depression gripped his chest. Now he was doomed for sure. His last hope lost. How could he be any use, blind, a cripple? Then he realized that he was so relaxed he hadn't opened his eyes.\n\nHe blinked and a world of vision jumped to life before him. He couldn't believe it. Couldn't credit his eyes because what he saw was so alien. Monochrome, it was. All shades of deepest blue. As if he was looking at the world through a shard of blue-stained glass. The darkness of deep murky mauve even gathered in the distances, just like true vision. He looked up. There, almost directly overhead, was a stone set in the wall. It was carved in the likeness of an Andii face, feline, almost, and it gave off a lantern-like blue glow. It had been there all this time yet he'd had no idea."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He laughed. It was amazing.\n\n\"So... it worked?\"\n\nHe looked to Orchid's anxious, glistening face. The girl had never looked so beautiful to him. He quelled an urge to kiss her.\"Yeah. Worked just great. It's just... amazin\". '\n\n\"So you can see me then?\" Corien asked. Antsy turned to where the lad sat slumped higher upon the stairs. He was squinting roughly in their direction.\n\n\"Yeah. It's like the light of a full moon. You look terrible. '\n\n\"Oh dear. What would they say in Majesty Hall?\"\n\n\"Can you do him?\" he asked of Orchid.\n\n\"Yes, I think so.\"\n\nCorien raised a gloved hand. \"No need. Time to see to myself.\" He fumbled at his waist-pouch and withdrew a tiny wooden box. \"Now we shall see,\" and he chuckled. He pulled off one glove and dipped the tip of a finger into the box. It looked to Antsy as if the man was about to take snuff but the finger went into one eye instead. Corien hissed his pain. After doing the other eye he peered about, blinking comically, eyes watering.\n\n\"Well?\" Antsy asked.\n\n\"Like pressing salt to one's eyes. I really must talk to my alchemist about this. Tell me, is that face up there really glowing? '\n\nA presence haunted the estate of Lady Varada. It brushed against windows and pressed against locked doors. The two colourfully dressed guards it easily bypassed to enter the main rooms of the manor house. In these empty halls it hovered near door handles and latches to find each and all dusted with a white powder the presence knew to be a rare poison sifted from the pollen of a flower found only in the near-mythical land of Drift Avalii. Other rooms it quickly sped through as if sensing the drifting fumes of scents deadly to any living creature."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Eventually, after much probing and many turnings back at dead ends, it gained access to the lower floors and here the tenebrous drifting presence coiled inwards, firmed and thickened into the figure of a slim young woman in diaphanous white cloth, silver wristlets and anklets tinkling musically on her limbs.\n\nThe girl descended a last set of raw granite steps to the deepest chamber to come to a halt where a figure crouched in the middle of the empty room, legs drawn up beneath her stomach, head bowed. The girl pressed a hand to her mouth to cover a smile but her eyes held a savage triumph.\n\n\"Mother,\" she said. \"You're looking... poorly. '\n\nThe figure raised her head to peer up through tangled black hairlike a sweep of night. \"Taya,\" she answered, her voice tight with suppressed pain. \"I asked you to stay away.\"\n\n\"You sent me away,\" Taya snapped. \"Why, I now know.\"\n\n\"You know nothing,\" the woman snarled. She surged to her knees, revealing fine mesh chains at wrist and ankle that thrummed taut, and she gasped her agony as flames burst into life where the metal of the fetters clasped her flesh.\n\nTaya nodded her appreciation. \"So that is how you managed. Otataral chains. We'd wondered. Imagine. Vorcan Radok imprisoning herself. \"She pressed a hand to her lips.\"Dare I say it? How... ironic? '\n\nVorcan returned to her crouch, panting and hissing her pain. \"You've come. You've seen. Now you can go.\"\n\nThe arm swept down savagely. \"No, Mother. You do not dismiss me. Not any longer. Now it is I who dismiss you. And seeing you now... like this... I can finally do so.\" She set her hands on her hips, tsking. \"Look at you. Such a mess. And your so-called guards! I could have slain the lot had I wished.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Head down, Vorcan half gasped, \"I would advise you not to draw any weapon on Lazan or Madrun. And Studlock... well, you wouldn't know whereto stick your knife to slay him. '\n\n\"Where is that creature from?\"\n\n\"Not even I know.\"\n\nTaya's mouth drew down in the small pout of a frown and she sighed her exaggerated boredom.\"Well, it has been a treat talking, Mother. But I have a life worth living. \"She raised her hand to her mouth once more, this time blowing a kiss.\"Thank you. Your wretched failure here frees me of so much. I had come dreaming of killing you but now I see that your suffering pleases me more. Farewell! Think of me often at the court of Darujhistan's rightful king reinstated. I know I will bethinking of you.\"\n\nShe backed away, climbing the steps, waving. Vorcan did not raise her head.\n\nSometime later another figure came shambling down the stairs, long tatters of his cloth wrappings trailing behind. Studlock bowed, \"She is gone, mistress.\"\n\nVorcan nodded heavily. \"Good. None interfered? Madrun? Lazan?\"\n\n\"None. Your instructions were most precise. Only she and the other are to be allowed to pass.\"\n\nShe sank lower, relaxing, the chains clattering. \"Good. Good.\"\n\nStudlock rubbed his cloth-wrapped hands together, perhaps as a gesture of worry. \"What shall we do, mistress?\"\n\n\"We will wait. Wait and see. His arising will be contested. We will see what form that will take.\"\n\n\"But who, mistress? Who will contend?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The same as before.\"\n\nThe strangely jointed hands fell. \"Oh dear. Him.\"\n\nA short stout man (generous of diameter, thank you!), dapper in waistcoat and frilled sleeves, daintily crosses the mud and open sewer channel of the town of broken hopes west of the dreaming city. And what is this? Does that city now whimper and grimace in its sleep? Does the dream threaten to slide into nightmare? Does a crowned figure stalk the edges of its vision?\n\nAnd where all the frustrated failed gods take it does this meandering alley lead?\n\nVexed hero turns aside to a file of washerwomen bent to task at nearby trickle of stream. He pauses, struck breathless for the nonce by glorious vista of said washerwomen's backsides presented. He mops brow with handkerchief, sighs wistfully. Then, remembering errand, approaches.\n\n\"Good washerwomen! Would you be so kind as to help a poor lost soul?\"\n\nThe stolid women slow in their hearty slapping of wet garments and muscular wringing of alarmingly wound cloth. \"Who in Oponn's poor jest are you? ' one welcomes rather undemurely.\n\n\"I am but a humble petitioner hoping to find my way to a resident of these parts.\"\n\n\"Who's \"at?\" another fine strapping figure of her trade asks, and spits a brown stream of chewing leaf juice.\n\nAfter hastily shifting silk-slippered foot aside of striking juice our heroic quester bows gallantly. \"Why, an old woman. Living alone. A widow, truth be told, many times over. Some think her perhaps crazy and ignorantly ascribe to her charges of witchery and hexing... and such...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Enquirer splutters to silence as all slapping and wringing of cloths cease. All eyes turn narrowed and flashing to the fine generous figure of our innocent searcher– who extends one foot to his rear, poised.\n\n\"Get'im! '\n\n\"Slimy rat!\"\n\n\"The nerve!\"\n\nLater that same evening a family of Maiten town was quite mystified to find a fat fellow in black and red silk finery, rather faded, hiding behind their goat pen. \"Yes?\" the father asked, quite slowly, worried that perhaps the poor man had lost his senses.\n\nThe man straightened up, his head coming almost to the shoulders of the father. He adjusted his stained clothes, brushed soapsuds from his lapels, glanced about. \"Just admiring your handsome animals, good sir. Ah! You wouldn't by any chance happen to know of an old woman living alone hereabouts, that is about here– one whom the uncaring world unjustly ostracizes with calumny and obloquy? '\n\nThe father's brow furrowed as he attempted to make sense of the question. He motioned upriver.\"Well, there's a crazy old witch further along at the edge of town.\"\n\nThe rotund fellow bowed. \"My thanks, keeper of such handsome animals.\"\n\nLater, after much dodging of roving packs of washerwomen armed with wet laundry, the out-of-breath and by now very hungry wanderer came across a straw-roofed wattle-and-daub hut upon the threshold of which sat a nest-haired old woman, pipe in mouth, busy kneading the mud with her naked toes.\n\nHe bowed in a lace-sleeved flourish. \"Ah! Queen of the dreaming city! What a privilege! I am come to pay my respects.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The old woman peered up, eyes red and unfocused. A vague smile came and went around her pipe. \"Slippery ball offish oil... do you bring offering?\"\n\n\"But of course.\" Another flourish and a wrapped object the size of a walnut appeared. He bowed, holding it out.\n\nThe old woman snatched it up with a speed that belied her years. She tore the paper and pinched off apiece of the dark gum within and pushed it into her pipe. Fumbling behind her at the hearth fire inside the hut, she found a smouldering stick that she touched to the pipe while pulling in long steady inhalations. After a few breaths the stick glowed and she drew long and hard. Her eyes closed in silky pleasure.\n\nThe man clasped his hands behind his back, looked to the sky, lips pursed, rocked back and forth on his muddy heels.\n\nEventually the woman exhaled, allowing the smoke to drift from her mouth and immediately sucking it in once more by drawing it up through her nose.\n\nThe man let out his own long breath and examined his fingernails.\n\nSometime later a satisfied sigh returned the man's attention to the old woman. He found her peering up at him, eyes dreamy, a wicked smile at the lips.\"Oily Kruppe– what can this poor nobody do for you? '\n\n\"Nobody! Calumny in truth! You are the secret carrier of my heart! This you have known all these years.\"\n\n\"Oiliness indeed...\" But the smile broadened, became rather lascivious. \"You know my price.\"\n\n\"Of course! I am all aquiver. And so, the, ah... objects... are ready then?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Almost now.\"\n\n\"Almost. Ah... well. Somehow I must contain myself. More dunkings in handy chilly river for this frustrated suitor.\"\n\n\"Come back again– and don't forget more offering. '\n\n\"Fates forfend! I shall come courting again, queen of my heart. You shall not be rid of me so easily. The siege has hardly begun!\"\n\nThe woman leaned forward and clutched a clawed hand at the man's knee.\"Then don't forget your battering ram!\"\n\nThe man shrank back, paling, his arms nearly crossing over his crotch. \"Earthy princess! Your saltiness is, and will be, a treat... I am sure. But I must go– ceaseless labour, twisty plottings, constant confounding, as you know.\"\n\nBut the woman merely murmured, smiling dreamily, \"Almost now.\" She giggled and patted her chest.\n\n\"Er, yes. Farewell! He backed away, bowing, blowing kisses.\"I shiver in anticipation. ' And he turned and waddled, rather swiftly, up the mud track.\n\nThe crowd of washerwomen watched the slimy interloper disappear into the maze of Maiten town. \"Why let the wretch go?\" one hissed, furious.\n\n\"Why?\" another snarled, turning upon her. \"Why? Didn't you see? He's a friend of that crazy old witch!\"\n\nLooking out over the night-time blue-lit streets Ambassador Aragan considered whether the city had ever been this quiet. His gaze rose to the yawning banner of green slicing the night sky and he wondered if perhaps that had much to do with the general reserve. Somehow he didn't think so."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was out of the command loop now. The Fists had control. He'd remained as a sort of standing offer of dialogue with... whatever... was gathering power around Majesty Hill. Something that drove the Moranth off just by showing up. And we're powerless to do anything.\n\nHe crossed his arms, leaned against the windowsill. At least the troops will be in a position to withdraw north if need be. Gods! He'd almost prefer a plain old physical threat like the Pannion Domin. Here he felt as if he were pushing against nothing. It was unnerving in the extreme. And he had to say that it reminded him of the way the old Emperor used to operate.\n\nSomeone stepped up next to him at the window then, making him jump aside, a hand going to his throat. \"Gods, man! Don't do that! '\n\nThe newcomer merely offered a slit of a smile, hands clasped behind his back. Aragan took in the green silk shirt, dark green cloak, long thin face and cat-like, openly dismissive eyes. Well, at least Unta is taking things seriously– sending this fellow, of all people. He cleared his throat. \"So, what word from the capital?\"\n\n\"Darujhistan is important to the throne, Ambassador. Whosoever controls this city potentially controls the entire continent. The Empress knew it, as does the Emperor.\"\n\nAragan simply nodded, returning his gaze to the city. \"My thoughts as well. What will you do?\"\n\n\"What I do best, Ambassador. I will watch and wait.\"\n\nNot sure what to make of that, Aragan merely grunted, hoping his reaction would betaken as wise agreement.\n\nThe tall man turned to him. \"I understand you have hired someone to gather intelligence already. I'd like to question him, if possible. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Certainly. Dreshen has the particulars.\"\n\n\"Very good.\" The man gave the slightest inclination of his head. \"I will be in touch, Ambassador.\"\n\nAragan nodded, openly relieved that the man was going. \"Yes, of course. Until later.\"\n\nThe shadowy figure backed away to cross the room to the door. He quietly shut it behind him. Aragan was rather disappointed; he had expected something much more dramatic. Sulphurous smoke and a clap of thunder, perhaps. Still, shouldn't be disillusioned. It's few can boast of having the Master of all the Claw come up behind them out of the dark and live to tell the tale.\n\n*\n\nIt was the dead of night but torches and lanterns set on poles lit the long excavation trench that extended in an immense arc all round one side of the sprawling Old Palace and the assembly galleries of Majesty Hall. Work continued day and night. Cleaned polished stones were delivered by hand-drawn cart up the steep Way of Just Rulership to be delivered to the excavation for setting within the trench. Workers dug, laid gravel and sand, levelled, compressed and prepared the foundation. All under the watchful exacting eyes of the construction bosses; one a hunched fellow with large hands that appeared to have been mangled by the white blocks he was always caressing; the other, tall, fierce and scowling, quick with a cuff or a strike of the staff he sometimes carried.\n\nThe stones were gently laid one by one. A moving tent enclosed the last touches of the installation and the refilling of the trench behind. \"Interment\" the two overseers called this final series of hidden steps.\n\nOne worker, levelling-board in hand, often lingered close to the flaps of the heavy canvas tent. His fellow crew members frequently had to call him back to task. \"If we fall behind I'll not take a lashing for your laziness, ' one grumbled to him while they tamped down a layer of fine sand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Walk away then,\" the new fellow answered. \"There's other work. '\n\n\"Ha! Other work! Listen to this one, would you? There is no other work at all! Everything's shutdown. The mines, the ironworks, all road crews. It's work here or starve for all of us. Where've you been, anyway? '\n\nThe newcomer shrugged. \"Been working in a tavern lately.\"\n\n\"So that's what you call working? \"another of the crew said, laughing.\"I can believe that. '\n\nThe new hand pulled on the long ratty shirt he wore, mouth clamped against any comment.\n\nThe man next to him grimaced his distaste, covering his nose. \"And it doesn't cost anything to douse yourself with water once in awhile too, you know. '\n\n\"Back to work!\" came a barked command followed by a slap of wood against the shoulder of the newcomer, who straightened, glaring, hands fisted.\n\nBut the overseer had moved on, his back turned. Another of the crew dragged the newcomer back down to the bottom of the trench. \"Don't try it, friend. And what's your name, anyway?\"\n\nThe newcomer looked startled, as if the question was completely unexpected. He pulled at the greasy long shirt. \"Ah... Turn-er. Turner.\"\n\n\"Turner? Harmon. Well, friend, a word to the wise. There's much worse they've done to some.\"\n\n\"Oh? Such as?\"\n\nThey were levelling a layer of gravel over the foundation. Head down, one answered, \"A fellow dropped a tool on one of them stones and what happened to him was a terrible thing to see.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So? What happened?\"\n\nEyes met to share gauging looks. \"Magery happened,\" whispered a crew member. \"The tall one with the staff– he just points, he does, and the mangoes down screaming in agony. Bites his own tongue off.\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Aye. There's Warren magics here. Maybe these two are Free Cities mages from up north. Maybe Pale necromancers. Who knows? '\n\nThe crew had a break as more gravel was sent for. They stood, stretching and grimacing over their aches and pains. \"What're they up to? ' Turner asked.\n\nGazes slid aside, feet were shifted, uneasy. Harmon peered right and left then edged closer. A pained look crossed his face and he backed up a step. Then, taking a great breath, he leaned in. \"Some kinda protection for the city, right? This is one o\" the new Legate's improvements, right?\"\n\n\"One?\" grumbled another. \"Only one I knows.\"\n\nTurner looked suitably impressed. \"Damn... you don't say. Must be them stones, hey? '\n\nHarmon frowned, suddenly a touch uneasy. \"Well, I suppose so.\"\n\n\"Only one way to find out, don't you think? ' And Turner picked up a shovel and headed backup the trench for the tent.\n\n\"Gods, man...\" Harmon hissed, appalled.\n\n\"Don't be a fool! ' another called, voice low.\n\nAfter that, hammers started clanging and chisels ringing as the crew was suddenly very busy.\n\nSpindle was damned terrified, but he bet that these two Adepts– and he knew the two as such: as far above his capabilities as any Imperial High Mage– would see only what they expected to see: an empty-headed labourer."},{"from":"human","value":"He pushed through the hanging flap to find himself almost blind in the shrouded darkness."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Burn take it! Didn't think of that.\n\n\"What in the name of the Cursed Ones do you think you're doing? \"a voice snarled down the length of the tent. Spindle bowed, touching his forehead repeatedly.\"Just reportin\", sir. We're almost done with the-'\n\n\"I don't give a shit what you're finished with or not. Never come inhere. Get out! Now!\"\n\nSpindle could just make out a hunched figure, lantern set before him, bent over the glowing white blocks, instruments in hand. He bowed again, touching his forehead. \"O\" course, sir. Yes. Course. Sorry. ' He backed away, bowing, feeling behind himself for the flap.\n\n\"Out!\"\n\nHe scuttled backwards through the flap, turned round and ran straight into the other overseer, the tall quick-tempered one. This mage grabbed his arm, glowering murder. At his touch Spindle felt his hair shirt writhe as if it had come alive. The mage let go, obviously quite shocked. Spindle froze; he'd been found out. This Adept had him. But the tall fellow, scars healing on his face and hands, simply regripped his staff, slowly and stiffly, his knuckles white with strain. And the eyes, black pits in yellowed orbs, shifted to the side, urging him onwards. Spindle bowed again in his role of a normal labourer returning to his work, though this man had seen through his façade.\n\nAll the rest of his shift he shared in the loading, levelling and tamping of dirt, sand and gravels, but he hardly saw any of it. Nor did any of the crew bother him. They'd marked him as either touched or irredeemably dim. Trouble to be avoided, in either case. His hands did their tasks but his mind puzzled over what he'd glimpsed inside that tent. That strange hunchback bent over the stones– and such stones! Glowing, they were, as if lit from within. But what had captured his attention were the tools. Magnificent iron etching styluses, and an assortment of engineering instruments any saboteur would give his left hand for. A compass for inscribing arcs, a spirit level– only the second one he'd ever seen outside the Academy in Unta– and an eyepiece of what he suspected might be part of a surveyor's instrument, one he'd only heard described: an alidade. Gods, he'd never even touched an alidade!"},{"from":"human","value":"How he wished he could talk to Fiddler or Hedge about this."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Those two knew more engineering than he. With such tools you could lay down a perfect wall– straight or curved.\n\nAnd no one needs that kind of precision fora battlement!\n\nIn the auditorium of the assembly chambers Councillor Coll had lately had a great deal of time on his hands. Fewer of his fellow Councillors than ever were now comfortable being seen in his company. The faction supporting the reinstallation of the Legate was pre-eminent and the subsequent favours, funds and prestige flowed accordingly. So now, in assembly, Councillor Coll sat surrounded by empty seats, hands clasped over his wide stomach, tapping his fingers. He used the time to think.\n\nThat day it occurred to him that in fact it had been sometime since he'd even seen Lim; not that this'Legate'was legally obliged to officiate here at the Council. Around mid-morning he heaved himself out of his seat– Ye gods but I am starting to get a touch heavy– to walk the steps down to the debate floor. Among the councillors present he selected one clearly in the Legate's camp, one who would have nothing to risk in actually being seen talking to him. Conversation quietened in the man's group as he drew near and the three councillors sketched the briefest greetings his way. Coll bowed to Councillor Ester-Jeen, who merely arched a supercilious brow.\n\n\"Councillor Coll,\" he murmured.\n\n\"Ester-Jeen.\"\n\nThe other two councillors remembered pressing business and bowed their leave-taking. \"Yes?\" Ester-Jeen said, his tone implying the relationship of a superior to a petitioner. Coll let that pass, though in his youth such a peremptory and disrespectful greeting would have drawn a challenge from him. He noted an unusual ornament on the man's breast, a gold brooch worked in the shape of a tiny oval mask."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I was wondering, Ester-Jeen, just where is our illustrious leader? He doesn't seem very interested in actually leading. '\n\nThe man physically paled at Coll's daring in giving voice to such disrespect. He dropped a gloved hand to the gilt rapier at his hip even though, as Coll knew, the councillor had never fought a duel. Then his eyes fluttered and the hand fell away as he seemed to remember that not only had Coll fought many duels but he was also a veteran of the Free Cities wars from years ago.\n\nHe opted fora superior frosty glare. \"The Legate is not required to sit here and be bored by the Council's unending chatter. He will grant audience in the Great Hall for any official business. '\n\n\"Audience?\" Coll repeated, outraged. Conversations surrounding them stilled. Coll glanced about, met many hostile, even some pitying, gazes. He lowered his voice. \"Since when do we herein Darujhistan use such language as'audience\"? And the Great Hall... we don't use that. It's considered...\" Coll searched for the right term, \"well... cursed.\"\n\nHaving gauged the atmosphere of the room, Councillor Ester-Jeen was now quite at ease. No one, it appeared, was prepared to offer Coll any support whatsoever. The man was simply making a sad spectacle of his ignorance and isolation. Perhaps now, if he was very careful, he could even lure him into discrediting himself entirely. He spoke up loudly. \"If you have any legitimate business regarding matters before the Council then of course you may approach the Legate. Otherwise, Coll, I would suggest you not waste his time.\" And he offered a small shrug of embarrassment as if to say: I am very sorry to be the one to have to tell you this."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was gratified by the reaction his words elicited. The big man reared up as if slapped– which of course he had been– and his eyes widened, stunned. He glanced about at the gathered councillors and Ester-Jeen saw only flat gazes answering. Then Coll spun on his heels and marched for the doors. Ester-Jeen was delighted. He's actually going to do it– the fool.\n\nWhen Coll pushed past Councillor Orr the young woman whispered through gritted teeth: \"Don't. ' But he was past listening. He could not let this stand. There was noway he could ever face anyone of those present again unless he did exactly what that upstart useless popinjay wanted him to. He marched for the Great Hall.\n\nMajesty Hall itself was in truth amaze of halls and chambers and auditoriums, all of various sizes, ages, and levels of decrepitude. The Great Hall was among the most ancient of the hill's architecture. It was sometimes used for ceremonial balls and mass assemblies. But other than that it stood empty and neglected, having a rather off-putting dusty air, quite similar to that of the equally old Despot's Barbican.\n\nColl found the double doors of panelled beaten copper and bronze, as tall as three men, unaccountably closed. Before them stood two city Wardens.\n\n\"Open up,\" he snapped, not slowing in his headlong rush.\n\nThe two shared helpless glances. Then, bowing to the inevitable, one threw open a small clerk's door just before Coll brained himself on the polished copper panels. Coll was furious that he had to enter like some damned mouse but enter he did, ducking and stepping over the threshold. Within, he found the long hall lit by shafts of light streaming down from high openings. Motes hung in the shafts like the downy seeds of wildflowers over a sunny field. Other than that the Great Hall appeared empty. He walked slowly up its polished pink marble floor– recently dusted, he noted– his boot heels clicking loudly in the silence."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Someone, or something, waited at the far end. Some sort of large seat had been constructed of white stone blocks and someone sat upon it. He wore along loose cloak of rich material, a deep maroon. But what was most mystifying was the large gold mask that entirely covered his face.\n\nThe Queen-damned Legate has lost his gibbering mind.\n\nColl stopped short of the– what should he call it? A dais? – and squinted up at the figure. \"Lim? Is that you? What is all this ridiculous mummery?\"\n\nThe figure on the dais flicked a hand and out from the side of the hall shuffled an old man in dusty frayed clothes, grey hair all askew. The man bowed to Coll, and, nervously rubbing his hands at his chest, gulped, \"I speak for the Legate.\"\n\n\"What? You?\" Coll turned on Lim. \"Speak for your damned self!\" He drew breath to excoriate the fool but stopped; he saw that the gold mask, beaten in the design of a calm half-smiling face, had no holes in it whatsoever. None for eyes or mouth. How in Burn's mysteries does the man breathe?\n\nA strange urge almost overcame Coll then to tear the mask from the fool's face but he was distracted by the emergence of a second man from the side of the hall. A tall familiar figure walking with a staff of twisted gnarled wood. His one-time employer, High Alchemist Baruk.\n\nRelief flooded Coll. \"Thank goodness... Baruk, what is all this nonsense?\"\n\nThe man came very close and Coll saw that the man was Baruk, yet not. A nest of pale scars skeined his face and hands and his lips were drawn back from his teeth in a savage gleeful smile. Yet only a dead sort of dismissal, if even that, animated his eyes."},{"from":"human","value":"And suddenly Coll knew."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He knew. All those whispered rumours and hearsay. The T'orrud Cabal. It was true. Baruk had been with them all along. And now, after all these years, they'd made their move and claimed power. He flinched away from this man whom he'd thought a friend.\"You'll never succeed,\" he breathed, feeling utterly hollow inside. \"The Cabal will be deposed. You will see.\"\n\nBaruk shook his head, the smile broadening to become somehow even more fey. \"You still don't understand, Coll, \"he whispered, leaning close.\"We're here now because the Cabal failed.\"\n\nThe hamlet clinging on at the southern edge of the Dwelling Plain was on no map. Once every few years a caravan train of camels and mules passed by on its way south to Callows and Morn beyond. But other than such intermittent visitors only ill-advised travellers, the desperate, criminal, or utterly lost, ever found their way to such an isolated stretch of emptiness. The inhabitants, refugees mostly, peppered by a few hardened locals born and raised, were bent to their task of squeezing any sustenance out of the unproductive sandy soil. Those in the southernmost fields noted the strange phenomenon first: a dark snaking line coming out of the depths of the hard brush of the Plain of Lamatath to the south. A few stopped to peer, hands shading their eyes, then returned to hoeing and jabbing at the hard soil as if to beat it into submission.\n\nWhen next they looked up, the line had drawn nearer, taken on more dimension in the shimmering heat-glare of the sun. It looked like a double file of men jogging, no doubt on the move since dawn and not stopping yet. Some leaned on their hoes to watch fora time, wondering at the bizarre sight. One or two thought that perhaps they ought to sound some sort of alarm. Though what any of them could do in the face of such an unprecedented visitation they were not sure."},{"from":"human","value":"Close to noon, the sun at its highest, their unrelenting steady approach brought the file of men– and women– close enough now to make out details."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Everyone had stopped working to watch, silent. Lightly armoured, they were, in leathers, those leathers now dark with sweat. All were armed with long blades, some carrying two. All lean, wiry and nut-dark. But these details were as nothing compared to their most extraordinary feature: all wore masks. And multicoloured, they were, too. Painted almost gaily.\n\nThey could be faintly heard now. Their sandalled feet fell unusually light upon the dry hardpan, all in unison, like a distant drumming. The double file of men and women passed straight across the landscape, unwavering, arrow-like, pointed north-east. Without a pause each easily vaulted a heaped wall of fieldstone as they came to it. The sight made one farmer think of a stream of water flowing magically northward.\n\nAnd on they passed, none even sparing a glance for the closest of the farmers who stood not an arm's reach aside. Apart from the beat of their footfalls, utterly silent. Ghost-like. Indeed, it was almost like a vision imposed by the heat. Only the dust remained to hang in the still air, the file now to the north, jogging onward, diminishing.\n\nYet as the dust settled it revealed a newcomer. One of the masked. He'd stopped next to one of the children: young Hireth. Who stood staring up, mouth agape, water gourd in one hand. The man knelt, held out a hand for the gourd. Hireth's father dared to edge slightly closer; the visitor seemed to ignore him. As if being shaken out of a daze Hireth snapped her mouth shut then held out the gourd. The man took it. He turned his head aside while he lifted his mask to drink, then rose and handed back the gourd. Something in his manner made her bend her knees in a curtsy. The man reached out to gently run a hand down one cheek of her bare upturned face. The father almost started forward then but something in the gentleness of the touch, its near reverence, made him stop. He watched spellbound, his pickaxe clenched in his sweaty hands. Jogging all the day under this sun and not even breathing hard! These are demons off on some summoned errand. Go now. Do not trouble us!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And the stranger set off, running gracefully at a league-swallowing easy pace. Hireth's father came to her.\"Did he say anything, child? '\n\nShe shook her head, as if she too had somehow been captured by the visitors' spell of silence.\n\nHe squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. So, he hadn't spoken. Somehow he didn't imagine the man, or demon, had. And he'd been different from the rest. His mask had been very pale, all creamy white, it was. With only one smear of reddish dirt across the brow."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Let it be known that a number of centuries past an ambitious and expansionist dynasty of rulers named the Jannids asserted control over the southern city states. These rulers prosecuted successful campaigns across the lands gaining sway all the way north to the Pannion region. They were famous for having raised countless stelae upon which they ordered engraved the detailed histories of those campaigns, listing their victories, together with exhaustive compilings of treasure taken, prisoners, and states humbled. Only in one campaign were they crushed– a defeat that triggered their downfall. This is known because of one unpolished boulder that lies on the western shore south of Morn. Carved on it area mere four words: \"The Jannids fell here.\"\n\nHistories of Genabackis\n\nSulerem of Mengal\n\nTHE FIRST VESSEL leaving Darujhistan's harbour that morning was an old merchantman ferrying passengers and freight westward around the lakeshore. Upon sighting the ancient ship, its paint sun-faded to a uniform pale grey, sails patched and threadbare, sides battered and scraped to naked slivers, Torvald halted on the wharf. Passengers brushed past laden with rolled reed mats and bags of possessions. Some drove young sucklings ahead of them. Just about all carried fowl gobbling inside cages woven of reed and green branches.\n\nHe turned on one of the city Wardens sent to escort him to the docks. \"This is supposed to be a diplomatic mission,\" he hissed, struggling to keep his voice low. \"I can't goon this tub! '\n\nOne of the guards tucked a folded pinch of leaves into a cheek and leaned against piled crates. \"It's a secret mission, Councillor, ' he drawled.\n\nTorvald tried his best superior glare but the fellow was clearly indifferent. \"If it's so secret then how come you know about it? And don't call me Councillor.\""},{"from":"human","value":"A lazy roll of the shoulders from the man."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Orders.\"\n\nTorvald began to wonder just what those orders were. See him from the city even if it means throwing him from the docks, perhaps. He picked up his heavy travelling bag and slipped its strap over a shoulder. \"Fine. Secret. Tell your superiors you saw me off then,\" he said, and headed up the gangway.\n\nThe small deck was crammed with goods. Pigs squealed, terrified, sheep bawled, and caged birds gabbled. All this did nothing for the state of the decking. The only available space was a suspiciously clear arc surrounding two figures sitting against the side close to the bow. Torvald could well understand the avoidance: one of them was a giant of a fellow with a massive tangle of hair and beard all unkempt together like a great mane of dirty blond and grey. His shoulders were titanic, his upper arms as massive as Torvald's own thighs, and his chest swept out like a barrel. Torvald thought him perhaps a travelling strongman. The fellow next to him was a skinny Rhivi tribesman elder looking particularly frail in such company. To Torvald the two would have appeared afar more intimidating pair if the big fellow hadn't been so clearly absorbed in studying the city, laid out pink and golden in the dawn's light, climbing in cliff ridge over cliff ridge to Majesty Hill beyond. The old fellow was clearly sick as a dog, bleary-eyed and pale.\n\nBut then Torvald had travelled fora time in the company of someone who could arguably be named the most intimidating figure these lands had ever met. He dropped his bag and leaned up against the side. \"Not going to try your luck?\" he said to the big fellow.\n\nThe man's gaze swung to him and Torvald suppressed a flinch when he saw the bestial eyes, the irises oddly shaped, and felt the plain sheer weight of the man's regard. The fellow cocked one thick brow, rumbled, \"How's that? '"},{"from":"human","value":"Torvald found his throat suddenly dry."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The city... they're always hungry for new acts. '\n\n\"Acts?\" the man slowly enunciated, his voice hardening.\n\n\"You know... bending bars, breaking chains.\"\n\nBoth brows rose as comprehension dawned and the fellow eased back, relaxing. \"Ah. No.\" He crooked a small nostalgic smile. \"Been a lot of years since I've had to do any of that. '\n\nSomehow, Torvald felt immense relief. \"I'm sorry– I thought... '\n\nThe man raised a gnarled hand to forestall any further explanation. \"I understand.\" The fierce eyes looked him up and down. \"What are you doing on a tub like this?\"\n\nMy point exactly. Torvald offered an indifferent shrug. \"First boat leaving.\"\n\n\"And far from the fastest,\" the man rumbled.\n\nUnformed suspicions writhed anew in Torvald's stomach and he glanced over to seethe two city Wardens, who, grinning, offered lazy waves of farewell.\n\nGods curse the Legate!\n\nThe gangway scraped up and wharf hands threw off the lines. Two of the crew pushed off with poles while others set the single lateen-rigged sail. The menagerie of animals squealed and voided anew.\n\nTorvald threw himself down against the side, rested his arms on his knees. Burn's love. Did I just sell myself onto a slow boat to nowhere for the price of a bright certificate and an empty fancy title? He pressed his hands to his head.\n\nLim has just rid himself of an irritating new councillor.\n\n\"Love or coin?\" A quavering thin voice spoke up.\n\nTorvald raised his head to seethe Rhivi elder studying him from around the great bulk of his companion. \"I'm sorry...? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your reasons for travel– if you would speak of them. In my experience a man travels for one of two reasons. A powerful husband or a powerful debt.\"\n\nTorvald snorted a self-mocking laugh. \"No. Nothing so romantic. Just a plain old powerful political rival.\"\n\nThe big fellow now eyed him sidelong, his gaze narrow. \"Really?\" he rumbled.\n\nThe lazy silt-laden stream that ran into Lake Azur at Dhavran hardly deserved a name. Some called it the Red, others the Muddy. In any case, it was a barrier of a sort. Over the years a crossing had been constructed of stones and garbage capped by a simple bridge of laid logs packed with dirt. Fist K'ess eyed the mud-choked channel and thought it the most pathetic crossing he'd ever seen.\n\n\"Do we defend here?\" Captain Fal-ej asked. Her tone more than made clear her own disenchantment.\n\nK'ess adjusted his seat astride his mount. He'd been too long out of the saddle and his thighs were scraped raw. Fora time he eyed the troops marching onto the short causeway. Not enough to make a stand. And Dhavran? This collection of mud and wood huts doesn't boast one defensible position.\n\nHe sipped some water from a skin hung on his saddle then sucked his teeth. At first he'd considered heading west into the Moranth mountains to wait things out there. But then a rider had arrived from Captain Goyan's contingent: they were moving on. And why? Word had come from the Fifth. Fist Steppen moving north. Rendezvous south of Dhavran.\n\nAll very well and good. Altogether they might field close to ten thousand. Every remaining Malazan trooper south of Cat. Enough for him to finally unclench his anxious buttocks fora moment or two."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But before he could allow himself that one moment of relaxation reports arrived from loyal Barghast scouts in the eastward foothills of the Tahlyn range: a large force moving west. Rhivi tribals, apparently. Some three days out and moving far faster than they.\n\nIt was a race he knew he wouldn't win. Thus the hope of contesting the crossing here at Dhavran. And thus his disappointment.\n\nHe straightened in his stirrups fora moment to adjust the sweaty leathers beneath his mail skirting. He eyed Fal-ej while she watched the troops march. Her helmet hung from her pommel and she'd wrapped a scarf around her head in the style of her homeland, Seven Cities. A handsome woman. Damned smart. But a touch sharp-edged. Haughty, some of the officers thought her, he knew. But not he. Good wide hips on her too. Fit for throwing out sons, as his ma would've said. Womanlike that ought to have someone to hold onto.\n\n\"Sir?\" she said. Her gaze had moved to him, questioning.\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"We keep going. Double-time. This place is too wretched.\"\n\nShe nodded her curt assent, relieved. \"Yes, Fist.\"\n\nK'ess plucked at the gauntlets he held in one hand.\"Fal-ej... ' he began.\n\n\"Yes, Fist?\" she answered quickly.\n\nHe slapped the gauntlets to his armoured thigh. \"Nothing. It's not important. \"He waved towards the stream.\"Keep the sappers on that ramshackle excuse fora bridge. The last thing we need is for it to fall apart under us. '\n\nFal-ej saluted, kneed her mount into motion. \"Yes, Fist.\""},{"from":"human","value":"He watched her go, frowning at himself."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Now's not the time– what with a horde of Rhivi closing in onus. He sighed.\n\nCaptain Fal-ej urged her mount down the stream's oversized channel more savagely than she intended. Remember your priorities, woman, she castigated herself. By the Seven False Gods, what's gotten into you? Hanging about like a mare in heat. It must be offensive to the man.\n\nShe pulled up next to abridge picket, demanded, \"Where are the damned saboteurs, trooper?\"\n\nThe man saluted twice for good measure. He pointed vaguely down towards the stream. \"Thought I saw them headin\" off that way, Captain, sir... '\n\nFal-ej yanked the reins over, kneed the mount onward. Has the responsibility of every soldier on his shoulders, woman! Not likely to allow himself to be distracted– and hardly by a figure such as yourself! Calluses on your cheeks from the helmet. Stink of sweat always on you. Arms like some blacksmith's!\n\nCresting a grassed sandbar she spotted the crew squatting around a campfire, gutted fish on sticks over the flames. She slapped her mount down towards the stream and pulled up, kicking mud over them. \"What is this?\"\n\nThe marine sergeant, a great fat woman, merely peered up unperturbed. \"Just havin\" a bite, Cap'n.\"\n\n\"You were ordered to keep an eye on the bridge.\"\n\n\"Bridge is good as beer, Cap'n. Nothin'thereto break. Just big ol\" logs. '\n\nFal-ej glared down at them. \"Well... just the same, stay on it! Something might give.\"\n\nThe sergeant rubbed a large black mole on one cheek, considering. \"Such as...?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fal-ej threw her arms out wide. \"How in the name of Ehrlitan should I know! I'm not the engineer. Now get going! '\n\nFrowning her agreement, the sergeant motioned to a trooper. \"Whitey, take your team over.\"\n\n\"Aw, c'mon, Sarge. Fish is almost ready. '\n\nThe sergeant's voice took on an edge.\"Get going... now. '\n\n\"Fine!\" The man straightened to slap dirt off his hide trousers, motioned his team up. The sergeant turned to the captain, cocked a brow and saluted.\n\nFal-ej answered the salute and yanked her mount round. \"Thank you, sergeant.\" She rode off kicking up more mud.\n\n\"What's gotten under her saddle? \"a trooper muttered.\"Martinet bitch. '\n\n\"Naw,\" the sergeant said as she watched the woman go, a hand shading her gaze. \"Ain't nothing a good humping wouldn't cure.\"\n\n\"Sarge!\" one trooper groaned. \"Do you have to?\"\n\n\"That's your answer for everything, ' another complained.\n\nThe sergeant turned, rubbing her hands together. \"Yes indeed– too bad none of you poor excuses are up to it.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't goon about the damned Moranth. We don't believe none o\" those stories. '\n\n\"Now don't go and just kill everyone, okay! ' Yusek snarled over her shoulder as they struggled up the narrow mountain trail.\n\n\"You exaggerate,\" Sall answered calmly.\n\n\"No, I do not fucking exaggerate! Someone raises a cooking ladle your way and you two butcher two hundred! Try to show a little respect. This is some kinda monastery or something.\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 13\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"They had found Tayschrenn.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Succeeded in an apparently impossible task. Followed him through the Whorl to the very edge of existence. And now he did not even recognize them.\\n\\nEventually, the tall figure re-emerged from the glare of the Vitr. Kiska climbed to her feet. The man favoured her and Leoman with a harsh, unforgiving gaze. Kiska couldn't trust herself to speak; she was afraid that anything she might say would be wrong.\\\"So, \\\"he began at last, musing,\\\"you are from my past. '\\n\\nKiska swallowed to wet her throat, managed a faint, \\\"Yes.\\\" Then, stronger, \\\"You are needed-\\\" She stopped as he raised a hand to silence her. He examined that hand, and the other, turning them over before his face. Kiska noted that his flesh was healed. The Vitr appeared to have somehow restored him.\\n\\nHe continued to study his hands, flexing them. \\\"And I take it that I, too, was a mage.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Kiska breathed, knowing that she could not lie.\\n\\nLeoman, to his credit, remained silent, his narrowed dark eyes travelling between them, observing, gauging. The demon was also silent, watching, its great taloned hands clenched, the lenses of its bulbous eyes flashing as it blinked.\\n\\nAt Kiska's whispered yes the man shuddered as if struck. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands fisted rigid, then fell to his sides. He exhaled through clenched teeth, made a sweeping gesture with one hand as if cutting the air between them.\\\"Well, you can keep that past. I want nothing to do with it. \\\"He motioned to the demon.\\\"Come, Korus. We have work to do. '\\n\\nKiska could not read the demon's alien face but the massive tangle of fangs at its mouth seemed to curve in a grin of triumph.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But Tayschrenn!\\\"\\n\\nThe man paused. He turned back, his expression unchanged. \\\"If that was my name it is no longer. You can keep it as well... and take it with you when you go.\\\"\\n\\nShe could not think of anything more to say. The ex-High Mage walked away, trailed by the demon Korus. She turned to Leoman; the man gave along slow shrug. \\\"Kiska, I'm sorry... '\\n\\nSnarling, she turned and stalked off along the shore. I've not come all this way...\\n\\nThe gentle metal jingling of Leoman's armour announced his following.\\\"Kiska, listen... You've done everything that could be expected. If he does not want to come then that is his choice...\\\"\\n\\nKiska kept walking. I'll convince him. He's needed.\\n\\n\\\"You may not believe me but I've been through something rather similar before. '\\n\\nDid he really say that? She spun on her heel. \\\"Yes– you're right. I do not believe you've followed a quarry to the edge of creation only to have him walkaway!\\\"\\n\\nLeoman gripped his belt in both hands, rocked ever so slightly under her glare. \\\"I was bodyguard to Sha'ik. You know that. '\\n\\nHer rage abated and she hesitated, interested despite her doubts. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\nHis narrowed gaze was on the middle distance, perhaps unwilling to meet her eyes. \\\"I was with the uprising from the start. Rose through the ranks to become her bodyguard. She dragged my partner and me out to the deep desert, claimed she was going to be reborn. She had her blasted Holy Book with her. She'd consulted it, the divinatory deck, the astrological signs, everything. All to beat the right place at the right time to be reborn... '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And?\\\" Kiska prompted.\\n\\n\\\"The Malazans put a crossbow bolt through her head at that very moment.\\\"\\n\\nQueen preserve me! She turned away, furious. \\\"There is a point to this?\\\"\\n\\nStung, his voice hardened. \\\"The point is that what happened was not what I thought was supposed to happen– that's the point! '\\n\\nShe stopped, glancing back. \\\"But she was reborn...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A– girl– showed up just then to take on the mantle. She became the new Sha'ik. '\\n\\n\\\"Ah-ha! So eventually you did succeed! Your determination paid off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Actually, that's not my point at all. I was thinking more that we should strike inland, see what turns up. '\\n\\n\\\"Well, I'm staying. His memory might return. \\\"She waved him away and walked on after Tayschrenn, yelling over her shoulder:\\\"Did you think of that! '\\n\\nLeoman stood kicking at the black sand. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. \\\"Yes,\\\" he said, all alone. \\\"I thought of that.\\\"\\n\\nAfter they left the temple quarters Malakai scouted ahead as usual. Antsy was content to let him range about as before. Frankly, part of him hoped he'd never return. Orchid was subdued. The lass had been handed a lotto think about. Corien was still weak and so he carried the dimmed lantern and the crossbow while Antsy led.\\n\\nThe way up was an ornate hall, or tunnel, broad and gently rising. More like a covered boulevard, with openings off it, perhaps shops or private dwellings. These chambers gaped empty, stripped of furnishings but fora litter of broken pots, trampled torn cloth, and shattered glass. The avenue opened to what appeared to be abroad square, and beyond this, just hinted at by the weak lantern light, marched street after street of another underground city.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Shit. Now what? He turned to Orchid. \\\"Which way?\\\"\\n\\nShe was eyeing the buildings, her lower lip clenched in her teeth. Clearly, this was not what she'd been expecting.\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't know. We should explore... I guess. '\\n\\n\\\"Where is Malakai, I wonder?\\\" Corien murmured, keeping his voice down.\\n\\n\\\"Exploring, I guess,\\\" Antsy said, rather more acidly than he'd intended.\\\"C'mon. This way.\\\"\\n\\nHe led them up a narrow alleyway where the tilt, or cant, of the entire structure was uncomfortably evident. Antsy had to push off occasionally from the right-leaning wall.\\n\\n\\\"We should make for one edge of the town,\\\" Orchid finally announced, perhaps having regained her bearings.\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" Antsy asked, and stopped for her answer. Both spoke in subdued tones, almost whispering; the quiet emptiness and gaping doorways seemed to demand a reverent, or at least sombre, response. Gone, the silent stone streets and alleys seemed to sigh. They are gone from us.\\n\\n\\\"Because we're under a kind of cave roof here, that's why.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy couldn't help glancing up into what was, for him, an impenetrable gloom. He grunted his understanding.\\\"All right. This way. ' He headed in what he believed to be the right direction.\\n\\nA short time later he felt it before he heard it: a massive shuddering that threw them all from side to side. They reached out to steady themselves on the walls. Stones fell all around them, shattering. Orchid let out a panicked cry. Wreckage within the buildings about them shifted and crashed anew. It felt like every earthquake Antsy had experienced– only in this case a Spawnquake.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then, slowly, ponderously, the entire structure around them rolled slightly, forwards and backwards, like a titanic ship. They tottered and fought to keep their balance just as one would on any vessel. In the slow, almost gentle rocking Antsy thought he sensed anew equilibrium in the massive artefact's balance. Thankfully a poise slightly closer to upright than before.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Orchid whispered, fierce.\\n\\n\\\"I do believe we just lost a chunk of our island.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Are we sinking?\\\" Corien asked, dread tightening his voice.\\n\\nAntsy scratched the bristles of his untrimmed beard. \\\"It's possible... of course, we might just rise some, too. '\\n\\n\\\"Rise?\\\" Orchid scoffed. \\\"How could that be possible?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy took a breath to explain but both had moved on, obviously uninterested in anything too technical. He cleared his throat, muttering, \\\"Well– it's just a theory. '\\n\\nThey came to where walls of stone bordered the town. Some sections of the rock had been left naked, others smoothed. Some bore mosaics depicting scenes of a great river of brightness running through darkness, others of an immense city of towers. Antsy wondered if such a city were somewhere within this gigantic mountain of stone. Tracing round the edge of the town they came to a set of three broad staircases leading upwards. A strong breeze blew into their faces down out of the shafts.\\n\\n\\\"Definitely rising,\\\" Antsy said. Corien and Orchid just eyed one another, uncertain. Corien, Antsy saw, was walking more and more stiffly, grimacing with the effort, while Orchid looked bedraggled and exhausted. \\\"We'll rest here. '\\n\\nOrchid was so worn out she merely gestured her acceptance and slumped down against a wall. Corien eased himself down with a hiss of pain. Antsy crouched to sort through their provisions. \\\"How're you holding up? ' he asked Corien, if only to hold back the darkness and the unsettling, watchful silence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Bed rest would have been better,\\\" he answered with a grin. \\\"But I'm much improved. Thank you, Orchid. '\\n\\nAnon-committal murmur sounded from where she lay on her bedroll of cloaks and blankets. Antsy gnawed on some sort of dried meat, passed a waterskin to Corien. \\\"I don't know about you, lad, but my goals have experienced a major revision. '\\n\\nThe aristocratic youth's answering grin was bright in the gloom.\\\"Getting off alive would be a good start. '\\n\\n\\\"Un-huh. I think we understand each other.\\\" Antsy hefted the waterskin, stoppered it. Too damned low. \\\"You rest. I'll take first watch. '\\n\\nThe lad nodded his gratitude and eased further down. Antsy pushed himself to his feet. He set the lamp in the middle of the alcove they'd chosen, then turned his back to the light to stare out into the dimly lit adjacent street and portals. He cradled his cocked crossbow in his arms. So many damned nights spent on sentry duty. Seems like nothin's changed. Just the venue. Same ol'same old. Still... there's not many as can say they've wandered the bowels of the Moon's Spawn. Thought I was gonna collect a retirement package but seems I've just bought myself a last hurrah.\\n\\nDamned stupid waste. Looks like someone on this rock is gonna be cleaning his teeth with my bones.\\n\\nAn'to think Blend and Picker were relieved to see me go! Not like there's so many of us Bridgeburners left, is there? Even Ferret got a proper service and remembrance. Whiskeyjack took off his helmet and said a few words with Free Cities battle magics blastin'overhead and two dragons circling. And it's not like he was a popular guy.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Thinking of Ferret he found he could almost seethe skinny hunched figure therein front of him: his pinched paleface and sharp teeth– gods! We weren't kind to the fellow, were we?\\n\\nThen Ferret looked him up and down and said: \\\"What the fuck are you doin\\\" here, Antsy? You're not dead.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy jerked a startled breath and the crossbow jumped in his hands, the bolt skittering off down the stone street.\\n\\nCorien called, alarmed, \\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\nFeeling that he'd, well, seen a ghost, Antsy squinted into the empty dark.\\\"Nothin\\\". False alarm.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Time for my watch?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy eyed the remaining fuel in the lamp. \\\"Naw. Bit longer.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well. I'm up now. '\\n\\nAntsy nodded, distracted, while he rubbed the back of his neck. \\\"Yeah. Fine.\\\" I swear this damned dark is gonna drive me rat-crazy.\\n\\nIn the \\\"morning\\\"– that is, when they were all up and eating alight meal of dried fruit and old stale bread– Malakai emerged from the dark. He looked much the worse for wear, was growing a beard, and his dark jacket hung torn and stained with sweat.\\n\\nBut then, Antsy reflected, none of us is looking any prettier.\\n\\nDistaste curled the man's slash of a mouth as he studied them.\\\"What's this? You should be up the stairs by now.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy decided he'd had a stomachful of the man's command style. He's never with us yet he presumes he's leading. He cleared his throat. \\\"Ah, we had us a talk. An\\\" we've decided we're goin'our own way in our own time.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"the man breathed, a dangerous edge entering his voice.\\n\\nRather belatedly Antsy glanced about for his crossbow. He saw it sitting to one side, uncocked. Damn. Gotta think these things through before I open my stupid mouth.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Orchid cut in quickly. \\\"We've decided. '\\n\\nThe dark glittering eyes shifted to her. A scoffing smile now openly stretched his lips. \\\"And where will you go?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The closest way out. We're going to get off this rock while we still have food and water and strength in our legs. '\\n\\n\\\"You'll never make it. '\\n\\nAntsy cast a quick anxious glance to Orchid: that evaluation, so final, made her flinch.\\n\\n\\\"That maybe so,\\\" Corien said into the silence following Malakai's comment,\\\"but that's our worry.\\\"\\n\\nThe man seemed to make a show of considering the idea. He gave a great exaggerated frown while his hands brushed his belt. Antsy knew all the blades the man carried at that belt, and in other places. He ached to slip a hand into his shirt to the shoulder harness where he kept a munition in reserve, but he also knew Malakai would act the moment he saw him do that. \\\"There's still the matter of my investment in you two, ' Malakai said, and cocked an eye to Antsy.\\n\\nShit. Why didn't I load the damned crossbow when I had the chance?\\n\\n\\\"If I may...?\\\" Corien spoke up. Malakai gave the slightest dip of his head, his eyes fixed on Antsy. \\\"Well. It seems tome that you are already of the opinion that you've afar better chance of achieving your goal– whatever that is– without us... yes? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Both Antsy and Malakai turned to eye the lad.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes?\\\" Malakai prompted.\\n\\n\\\"Well, then, cutting us free recoups your investment by improving your odds of success.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy glared his anger. What in Osserc's dark humour is this?\\n\\nBut Malakai nodded thoughtfully. Something in the proposition seemed to touch on his own private evaluation and he slipped his hands from his belt. \\\"Very well. On your heads let it be.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah– right,\\\" Antsy said, scratching his stubbled jaw, still rather puzzled.\\n\\n\\\"We'll part company here, then. \\\"Malakai bowed to Orchid.\\\"I would wish you luck but I'm afraid your luck will run to the lad's pull. '\\n\\n\\\"We'll see, ' she answered, firm, having regained her confidence.\\n\\n\\\"Farewell then.\\\" And the man backed away into the darkness to disappear up a narrow side alley. Antsy listened fora time but couldn't hear one betraying step or scuff. He thought the man had gone but looked to Orchid for confirmation.\\n\\n\\\"He's left, ' she said after a time.\\n\\nCorien let out along breath. \\\"Thank the gods.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He didn't ask for any of the water or food, ' Orchid said, surprised.\\n\\n\\\"Maybe he knows where he can steal any he needs,\\\" Antsy said.\\n\\n\\\"So what now?\\\" Corien asked.\\n\\nAntsy was silent, until it occurred to him that maybe that question had been asked of him. He cleared his throat. \\\"Well... I suppose we press on. Keep an eye out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" Orchid said, emphatic. \\\"I don't want him to get too far ahead of us. '\\n\\nAntsy blinked in the dimming light of the lamp. \\\"Hunh? What's that supposed to mean? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I mean just that.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I don't trust him. He's after something. And there are things hereon Moon's Spawn that mustn't seethe light of day.\\\"\\n\\nAs if on cue the lamp guttered then, and went out. After a moment of surprised silence Corien laughed. Even Orchid joined in, though Antsy just swore. \\\"Can't see a damned thing! ' he complained, and started searching through his bags for more oil.\\n\\n\\\"Would you like to see then, Red?\\\" Orchid offered from the dark.\\n\\n\\\"Hunh? You can do that? Why didn't you-'\\n\\n\\\"I told you I don't trust Malakai. I don't want him to know what I can do. If I can, that is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, gods, yes! If you would.\\\"\\n\\nShe crossed to his side. He heard her skirts rustling over the stones, felt the warmth radiating from her. Her cool dry hands touched his face. The touch pleased him.\\n\\n\\\"I'm glad you managed that without violence, Red, \\\"she whispered.\\\"You nudged him just the right way. '\\n\\nAntsy resisted the urge to shrug, kept his head steady in her hands. \\\"He's been itching to drop us since we landed. I just handed him the moment. Anyway, it was Corien here who sealed the deal. '\\n\\n\\\"I just helped out,\\\" Corien protested.\\n\\n\\\"No. How'd you know he'd buy that argument?\\\"\\n\\nThe lad grunted from the dark, sitting down. \\\"Well... it's a touch embarrassing to say, but my guess is that he didn't want to face you down, Red.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy jerked his surprise in Orchid's hands and she let out an impatient hiss.\\\"Sorry, \\\"he murmured.\\\"Lad, the man's a killer. I think he just decided he didn't want our blood on his hands. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Is he a killer? Think on it, Red. We actually haven't seen him use all that hardware, have we? '\\n\\n\\\"In Pearl Town he knifed plenty.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Certainly– scared unarmed men and women in the dark from behind. But you're a veteran, Red. You wouldn't flinch. You may not know it, but you're a rather intimidating presence. '\\n\\nAntsy snorted. Me? You haven't met the scary Bridgeburners, friend.\\n\\nOrchid's long-fingered hands tightened on Antsy's cheeks. \\\"If you've quite finished? '\\n\\n\\\"Sorry.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine. Now hold still. Shut your eyes.\\\"\\n\\nHe obeyed. She began speaking, singing really, in that smooth quiet tongue she'd used with the guardian. He was hearing Tiste Andii, he realized, and a sort of shiver ran up his spine. Been hunted too often by those strange people. The language seemed to hold more silence and pauses than sounds. It was as a whispering of a distant wind and seemed so suited to the dark. After a time she stopped, or the sounds drifted away to silence. The hands withdrew, warmed now by the heat of his cheeks. Antsy remained motionless; he felt profoundly relaxed, almost asleep. It reminded him of a trick Mallet used to pull on the wounded. A few low sounds, a steady touch, and the troopers calmed right down.\\n\\nBut nothing happened. A profound depression gripped his chest. Now he was doomed for sure. His last hope lost. How could he be any use, blind, a cripple? Then he realized that he was so relaxed he hadn't opened his eyes.\\n\\nHe blinked and a world of vision jumped to life before him. He couldn't believe it. Couldn't credit his eyes because what he saw was so alien. Monochrome, it was. All shades of deepest blue. As if he was looking at the world through a shard of blue-stained glass. The darkness of deep murky mauve even gathered in the distances, just like true vision. He looked up. There, almost directly overhead, was a stone set in the wall. It was carved in the likeness of an Andii face, feline, almost, and it gave off a lantern-like blue glow. It had been there all this time yet he'd had no idea.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He laughed. It was amazing.\\n\\n\\\"So... it worked?\\\"\\n\\nHe looked to Orchid's anxious, glistening face. The girl had never looked so beautiful to him. He quelled an urge to kiss her.\\\"Yeah. Worked just great. It's just... amazin\\\". '\\n\\n\\\"So you can see me then?\\\" Corien asked. Antsy turned to where the lad sat slumped higher upon the stairs. He was squinting roughly in their direction.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. It's like the light of a full moon. You look terrible. '\\n\\n\\\"Oh dear. What would they say in Majesty Hall?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can you do him?\\\" he asked of Orchid.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, I think so.\\\"\\n\\nCorien raised a gloved hand. \\\"No need. Time to see to myself.\\\" He fumbled at his waist-pouch and withdrew a tiny wooden box. \\\"Now we shall see,\\\" and he chuckled. He pulled off one glove and dipped the tip of a finger into the box. It looked to Antsy as if the man was about to take snuff but the finger went into one eye instead. Corien hissed his pain. After doing the other eye he peered about, blinking comically, eyes watering.\\n\\n\\\"Well?\\\" Antsy asked.\\n\\n\\\"Like pressing salt to one's eyes. I really must talk to my alchemist about this. Tell me, is that face up there really glowing? '\\n\\nA presence haunted the estate of Lady Varada. It brushed against windows and pressed against locked doors. The two colourfully dressed guards it easily bypassed to enter the main rooms of the manor house. In these empty halls it hovered near door handles and latches to find each and all dusted with a white powder the presence knew to be a rare poison sifted from the pollen of a flower found only in the near-mythical land of Drift Avalii. Other rooms it quickly sped through as if sensing the drifting fumes of scents deadly to any living creature.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Eventually, after much probing and many turnings back at dead ends, it gained access to the lower floors and here the tenebrous drifting presence coiled inwards, firmed and thickened into the figure of a slim young woman in diaphanous white cloth, silver wristlets and anklets tinkling musically on her limbs.\\n\\nThe girl descended a last set of raw granite steps to the deepest chamber to come to a halt where a figure crouched in the middle of the empty room, legs drawn up beneath her stomach, head bowed. The girl pressed a hand to her mouth to cover a smile but her eyes held a savage triumph.\\n\\n\\\"Mother,\\\" she said. \\\"You're looking... poorly. '\\n\\nThe figure raised her head to peer up through tangled black hairlike a sweep of night. \\\"Taya,\\\" she answered, her voice tight with suppressed pain. \\\"I asked you to stay away.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You sent me away,\\\" Taya snapped. \\\"Why, I now know.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know nothing,\\\" the woman snarled. She surged to her knees, revealing fine mesh chains at wrist and ankle that thrummed taut, and she gasped her agony as flames burst into life where the metal of the fetters clasped her flesh.\\n\\nTaya nodded her appreciation. \\\"So that is how you managed. Otataral chains. We'd wondered. Imagine. Vorcan Radok imprisoning herself. \\\"She pressed a hand to her lips.\\\"Dare I say it? How... ironic? '\\n\\nVorcan returned to her crouch, panting and hissing her pain. \\\"You've come. You've seen. Now you can go.\\\"\\n\\nThe arm swept down savagely. \\\"No, Mother. You do not dismiss me. Not any longer. Now it is I who dismiss you. And seeing you now... like this... I can finally do so.\\\" She set her hands on her hips, tsking. \\\"Look at you. Such a mess. And your so-called guards! I could have slain the lot had I wished.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Head down, Vorcan half gasped, \\\"I would advise you not to draw any weapon on Lazan or Madrun. And Studlock... well, you wouldn't know whereto stick your knife to slay him. '\\n\\n\\\"Where is that creature from?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not even I know.\\\"\\n\\nTaya's mouth drew down in the small pout of a frown and she sighed her exaggerated boredom.\\\"Well, it has been a treat talking, Mother. But I have a life worth living. \\\"She raised her hand to her mouth once more, this time blowing a kiss.\\\"Thank you. Your wretched failure here frees me of so much. I had come dreaming of killing you but now I see that your suffering pleases me more. Farewell! Think of me often at the court of Darujhistan's rightful king reinstated. I know I will bethinking of you.\\\"\\n\\nShe backed away, climbing the steps, waving. Vorcan did not raise her head.\\n\\nSometime later another figure came shambling down the stairs, long tatters of his cloth wrappings trailing behind. Studlock bowed, \\\"She is gone, mistress.\\\"\\n\\nVorcan nodded heavily. \\\"Good. None interfered? Madrun? Lazan?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None. Your instructions were most precise. Only she and the other are to be allowed to pass.\\\"\\n\\nShe sank lower, relaxing, the chains clattering. \\\"Good. Good.\\\"\\n\\nStudlock rubbed his cloth-wrapped hands together, perhaps as a gesture of worry. \\\"What shall we do, mistress?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will wait. Wait and see. His arising will be contested. We will see what form that will take.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But who, mistress? Who will contend?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The same as before.\\\"\\n\\nThe strangely jointed hands fell. \\\"Oh dear. Him.\\\"\\n\\nA short stout man (generous of diameter, thank you!), dapper in waistcoat and frilled sleeves, daintily crosses the mud and open sewer channel of the town of broken hopes west of the dreaming city. And what is this? Does that city now whimper and grimace in its sleep? Does the dream threaten to slide into nightmare? Does a crowned figure stalk the edges of its vision?\\n\\nAnd where all the frustrated failed gods take it does this meandering alley lead?\\n\\nVexed hero turns aside to a file of washerwomen bent to task at nearby trickle of stream. He pauses, struck breathless for the nonce by glorious vista of said washerwomen's backsides presented. He mops brow with handkerchief, sighs wistfully. Then, remembering errand, approaches.\\n\\n\\\"Good washerwomen! Would you be so kind as to help a poor lost soul?\\\"\\n\\nThe stolid women slow in their hearty slapping of wet garments and muscular wringing of alarmingly wound cloth. \\\"Who in Oponn's poor jest are you? ' one welcomes rather undemurely.\\n\\n\\\"I am but a humble petitioner hoping to find my way to a resident of these parts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who's \\\"at?\\\" another fine strapping figure of her trade asks, and spits a brown stream of chewing leaf juice.\\n\\nAfter hastily shifting silk-slippered foot aside of striking juice our heroic quester bows gallantly. \\\"Why, an old woman. Living alone. A widow, truth be told, many times over. Some think her perhaps crazy and ignorantly ascribe to her charges of witchery and hexing... and such...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Enquirer splutters to silence as all slapping and wringing of cloths cease. All eyes turn narrowed and flashing to the fine generous figure of our innocent searcher– who extends one foot to his rear, poised.\\n\\n\\\"Get'im! '\\n\\n\\\"Slimy rat!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The nerve!\\\"\\n\\nLater that same evening a family of Maiten town was quite mystified to find a fat fellow in black and red silk finery, rather faded, hiding behind their goat pen. \\\"Yes?\\\" the father asked, quite slowly, worried that perhaps the poor man had lost his senses.\\n\\nThe man straightened up, his head coming almost to the shoulders of the father. He adjusted his stained clothes, brushed soapsuds from his lapels, glanced about. \\\"Just admiring your handsome animals, good sir. Ah! You wouldn't by any chance happen to know of an old woman living alone hereabouts, that is about here– one whom the uncaring world unjustly ostracizes with calumny and obloquy? '\\n\\nThe father's brow furrowed as he attempted to make sense of the question. He motioned upriver.\\\"Well, there's a crazy old witch further along at the edge of town.\\\"\\n\\nThe rotund fellow bowed. \\\"My thanks, keeper of such handsome animals.\\\"\\n\\nLater, after much dodging of roving packs of washerwomen armed with wet laundry, the out-of-breath and by now very hungry wanderer came across a straw-roofed wattle-and-daub hut upon the threshold of which sat a nest-haired old woman, pipe in mouth, busy kneading the mud with her naked toes.\\n\\nHe bowed in a lace-sleeved flourish. \\\"Ah! Queen of the dreaming city! What a privilege! I am come to pay my respects.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The old woman peered up, eyes red and unfocused. A vague smile came and went around her pipe. \\\"Slippery ball offish oil... do you bring offering?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But of course.\\\" Another flourish and a wrapped object the size of a walnut appeared. He bowed, holding it out.\\n\\nThe old woman snatched it up with a speed that belied her years. She tore the paper and pinched off apiece of the dark gum within and pushed it into her pipe. Fumbling behind her at the hearth fire inside the hut, she found a smouldering stick that she touched to the pipe while pulling in long steady inhalations. After a few breaths the stick glowed and she drew long and hard. Her eyes closed in silky pleasure.\\n\\nThe man clasped his hands behind his back, looked to the sky, lips pursed, rocked back and forth on his muddy heels.\\n\\nEventually the woman exhaled, allowing the smoke to drift from her mouth and immediately sucking it in once more by drawing it up through her nose.\\n\\nThe man let out his own long breath and examined his fingernails.\\n\\nSometime later a satisfied sigh returned the man's attention to the old woman. He found her peering up at him, eyes dreamy, a wicked smile at the lips.\\\"Oily Kruppe– what can this poor nobody do for you? '\\n\\n\\\"Nobody! Calumny in truth! You are the secret carrier of my heart! This you have known all these years.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oiliness indeed...\\\" But the smile broadened, became rather lascivious. \\\"You know my price.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course! I am all aquiver. And so, the, ah... objects... are ready then?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Almost now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Almost. Ah... well. Somehow I must contain myself. More dunkings in handy chilly river for this frustrated suitor.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Come back again– and don't forget more offering. '\\n\\n\\\"Fates forfend! I shall come courting again, queen of my heart. You shall not be rid of me so easily. The siege has hardly begun!\\\"\\n\\nThe woman leaned forward and clutched a clawed hand at the man's knee.\\\"Then don't forget your battering ram!\\\"\\n\\nThe man shrank back, paling, his arms nearly crossing over his crotch. \\\"Earthy princess! Your saltiness is, and will be, a treat... I am sure. But I must go– ceaseless labour, twisty plottings, constant confounding, as you know.\\\"\\n\\nBut the woman merely murmured, smiling dreamily, \\\"Almost now.\\\" She giggled and patted her chest.\\n\\n\\\"Er, yes. Farewell! He backed away, bowing, blowing kisses.\\\"I shiver in anticipation. ' And he turned and waddled, rather swiftly, up the mud track.\\n\\nThe crowd of washerwomen watched the slimy interloper disappear into the maze of Maiten town. \\\"Why let the wretch go?\\\" one hissed, furious.\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" another snarled, turning upon her. \\\"Why? Didn't you see? He's a friend of that crazy old witch!\\\"\\n\\nLooking out over the night-time blue-lit streets Ambassador Aragan considered whether the city had ever been this quiet. His gaze rose to the yawning banner of green slicing the night sky and he wondered if perhaps that had much to do with the general reserve. Somehow he didn't think so.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was out of the command loop now. The Fists had control. He'd remained as a sort of standing offer of dialogue with... whatever... was gathering power around Majesty Hill. Something that drove the Moranth off just by showing up. And we're powerless to do anything.\\n\\nHe crossed his arms, leaned against the windowsill. At least the troops will be in a position to withdraw north if need be. Gods! He'd almost prefer a plain old physical threat like the Pannion Domin. Here he felt as if he were pushing against nothing. It was unnerving in the extreme. And he had to say that it reminded him of the way the old Emperor used to operate.\\n\\nSomeone stepped up next to him at the window then, making him jump aside, a hand going to his throat. \\\"Gods, man! Don't do that! '\\n\\nThe newcomer merely offered a slit of a smile, hands clasped behind his back. Aragan took in the green silk shirt, dark green cloak, long thin face and cat-like, openly dismissive eyes. Well, at least Unta is taking things seriously– sending this fellow, of all people. He cleared his throat. \\\"So, what word from the capital?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Darujhistan is important to the throne, Ambassador. Whosoever controls this city potentially controls the entire continent. The Empress knew it, as does the Emperor.\\\"\\n\\nAragan simply nodded, returning his gaze to the city. \\\"My thoughts as well. What will you do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What I do best, Ambassador. I will watch and wait.\\\"\\n\\nNot sure what to make of that, Aragan merely grunted, hoping his reaction would betaken as wise agreement.\\n\\nThe tall man turned to him. \\\"I understand you have hired someone to gather intelligence already. I'd like to question him, if possible. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Certainly. Dreshen has the particulars.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very good.\\\" The man gave the slightest inclination of his head. \\\"I will be in touch, Ambassador.\\\"\\n\\nAragan nodded, openly relieved that the man was going. \\\"Yes, of course. Until later.\\\"\\n\\nThe shadowy figure backed away to cross the room to the door. He quietly shut it behind him. Aragan was rather disappointed; he had expected something much more dramatic. Sulphurous smoke and a clap of thunder, perhaps. Still, shouldn't be disillusioned. It's few can boast of having the Master of all the Claw come up behind them out of the dark and live to tell the tale.\\n\\n*\\n\\nIt was the dead of night but torches and lanterns set on poles lit the long excavation trench that extended in an immense arc all round one side of the sprawling Old Palace and the assembly galleries of Majesty Hall. Work continued day and night. Cleaned polished stones were delivered by hand-drawn cart up the steep Way of Just Rulership to be delivered to the excavation for setting within the trench. Workers dug, laid gravel and sand, levelled, compressed and prepared the foundation. All under the watchful exacting eyes of the construction bosses; one a hunched fellow with large hands that appeared to have been mangled by the white blocks he was always caressing; the other, tall, fierce and scowling, quick with a cuff or a strike of the staff he sometimes carried.\\n\\nThe stones were gently laid one by one. A moving tent enclosed the last touches of the installation and the refilling of the trench behind. \\\"Interment\\\" the two overseers called this final series of hidden steps.\\n\\nOne worker, levelling-board in hand, often lingered close to the flaps of the heavy canvas tent. His fellow crew members frequently had to call him back to task. \\\"If we fall behind I'll not take a lashing for your laziness, ' one grumbled to him while they tamped down a layer of fine sand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Walk away then,\\\" the new fellow answered. \\\"There's other work. '\\n\\n\\\"Ha! Other work! Listen to this one, would you? There is no other work at all! Everything's shutdown. The mines, the ironworks, all road crews. It's work here or starve for all of us. Where've you been, anyway? '\\n\\nThe newcomer shrugged. \\\"Been working in a tavern lately.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So that's what you call working? \\\"another of the crew said, laughing.\\\"I can believe that. '\\n\\nThe new hand pulled on the long ratty shirt he wore, mouth clamped against any comment.\\n\\nThe man next to him grimaced his distaste, covering his nose. \\\"And it doesn't cost anything to douse yourself with water once in awhile too, you know. '\\n\\n\\\"Back to work!\\\" came a barked command followed by a slap of wood against the shoulder of the newcomer, who straightened, glaring, hands fisted.\\n\\nBut the overseer had moved on, his back turned. Another of the crew dragged the newcomer back down to the bottom of the trench. \\\"Don't try it, friend. And what's your name, anyway?\\\"\\n\\nThe newcomer looked startled, as if the question was completely unexpected. He pulled at the greasy long shirt. \\\"Ah... Turn-er. Turner.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Turner? Harmon. Well, friend, a word to the wise. There's much worse they've done to some.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh? Such as?\\\"\\n\\nThey were levelling a layer of gravel over the foundation. Head down, one answered, \\\"A fellow dropped a tool on one of them stones and what happened to him was a terrible thing to see.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So? What happened?\\\"\\n\\nEyes met to share gauging looks. \\\"Magery happened,\\\" whispered a crew member. \\\"The tall one with the staff– he just points, he does, and the mangoes down screaming in agony. Bites his own tongue off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. There's Warren magics here. Maybe these two are Free Cities mages from up north. Maybe Pale necromancers. Who knows? '\\n\\nThe crew had a break as more gravel was sent for. They stood, stretching and grimacing over their aches and pains. \\\"What're they up to? ' Turner asked.\\n\\nGazes slid aside, feet were shifted, uneasy. Harmon peered right and left then edged closer. A pained look crossed his face and he backed up a step. Then, taking a great breath, he leaned in. \\\"Some kinda protection for the city, right? This is one o\\\" the new Legate's improvements, right?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One?\\\" grumbled another. \\\"Only one I knows.\\\"\\n\\nTurner looked suitably impressed. \\\"Damn... you don't say. Must be them stones, hey? '\\n\\nHarmon frowned, suddenly a touch uneasy. \\\"Well, I suppose so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Only one way to find out, don't you think? ' And Turner picked up a shovel and headed backup the trench for the tent.\\n\\n\\\"Gods, man...\\\" Harmon hissed, appalled.\\n\\n\\\"Don't be a fool! ' another called, voice low.\\n\\nAfter that, hammers started clanging and chisels ringing as the crew was suddenly very busy.\\n\\nSpindle was damned terrified, but he bet that these two Adepts– and he knew the two as such: as far above his capabilities as any Imperial High Mage– would see only what they expected to see: an empty-headed labourer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He pushed through the hanging flap to find himself almost blind in the shrouded darkness.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Burn take it! Didn't think of that.\\n\\n\\\"What in the name of the Cursed Ones do you think you're doing? \\\"a voice snarled down the length of the tent. Spindle bowed, touching his forehead repeatedly.\\\"Just reportin\\\", sir. We're almost done with the-'\\n\\n\\\"I don't give a shit what you're finished with or not. Never come inhere. Get out! Now!\\\"\\n\\nSpindle could just make out a hunched figure, lantern set before him, bent over the glowing white blocks, instruments in hand. He bowed again, touching his forehead. \\\"O\\\" course, sir. Yes. Course. Sorry. ' He backed away, bowing, feeling behind himself for the flap.\\n\\n\\\"Out!\\\"\\n\\nHe scuttled backwards through the flap, turned round and ran straight into the other overseer, the tall quick-tempered one. This mage grabbed his arm, glowering murder. At his touch Spindle felt his hair shirt writhe as if it had come alive. The mage let go, obviously quite shocked. Spindle froze; he'd been found out. This Adept had him. But the tall fellow, scars healing on his face and hands, simply regripped his staff, slowly and stiffly, his knuckles white with strain. And the eyes, black pits in yellowed orbs, shifted to the side, urging him onwards. Spindle bowed again in his role of a normal labourer returning to his work, though this man had seen through his façade.\\n\\nAll the rest of his shift he shared in the loading, levelling and tamping of dirt, sand and gravels, but he hardly saw any of it. Nor did any of the crew bother him. They'd marked him as either touched or irredeemably dim. Trouble to be avoided, in either case. His hands did their tasks but his mind puzzled over what he'd glimpsed inside that tent. That strange hunchback bent over the stones– and such stones! Glowing, they were, as if lit from within. But what had captured his attention were the tools. Magnificent iron etching styluses, and an assortment of engineering instruments any saboteur would give his left hand for. A compass for inscribing arcs, a spirit level– only the second one he'd ever seen outside the Academy in Unta– and an eyepiece of what he suspected might be part of a surveyor's instrument, one he'd only heard described: an alidade. Gods, he'd never even touched an alidade!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"How he wished he could talk to Fiddler or Hedge about this.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Those two knew more engineering than he. With such tools you could lay down a perfect wall– straight or curved.\\n\\nAnd no one needs that kind of precision fora battlement!\\n\\nIn the auditorium of the assembly chambers Councillor Coll had lately had a great deal of time on his hands. Fewer of his fellow Councillors than ever were now comfortable being seen in his company. The faction supporting the reinstallation of the Legate was pre-eminent and the subsequent favours, funds and prestige flowed accordingly. So now, in assembly, Councillor Coll sat surrounded by empty seats, hands clasped over his wide stomach, tapping his fingers. He used the time to think.\\n\\nThat day it occurred to him that in fact it had been sometime since he'd even seen Lim; not that this'Legate'was legally obliged to officiate here at the Council. Around mid-morning he heaved himself out of his seat– Ye gods but I am starting to get a touch heavy– to walk the steps down to the debate floor. Among the councillors present he selected one clearly in the Legate's camp, one who would have nothing to risk in actually being seen talking to him. Conversation quietened in the man's group as he drew near and the three councillors sketched the briefest greetings his way. Coll bowed to Councillor Ester-Jeen, who merely arched a supercilious brow.\\n\\n\\\"Councillor Coll,\\\" he murmured.\\n\\n\\\"Ester-Jeen.\\\"\\n\\nThe other two councillors remembered pressing business and bowed their leave-taking. \\\"Yes?\\\" Ester-Jeen said, his tone implying the relationship of a superior to a petitioner. Coll let that pass, though in his youth such a peremptory and disrespectful greeting would have drawn a challenge from him. He noted an unusual ornament on the man's breast, a gold brooch worked in the shape of a tiny oval mask.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I was wondering, Ester-Jeen, just where is our illustrious leader? He doesn't seem very interested in actually leading. '\\n\\nThe man physically paled at Coll's daring in giving voice to such disrespect. He dropped a gloved hand to the gilt rapier at his hip even though, as Coll knew, the councillor had never fought a duel. Then his eyes fluttered and the hand fell away as he seemed to remember that not only had Coll fought many duels but he was also a veteran of the Free Cities wars from years ago.\\n\\nHe opted fora superior frosty glare. \\\"The Legate is not required to sit here and be bored by the Council's unending chatter. He will grant audience in the Great Hall for any official business. '\\n\\n\\\"Audience?\\\" Coll repeated, outraged. Conversations surrounding them stilled. Coll glanced about, met many hostile, even some pitying, gazes. He lowered his voice. \\\"Since when do we herein Darujhistan use such language as'audience\\\"? And the Great Hall... we don't use that. It's considered...\\\" Coll searched for the right term, \\\"well... cursed.\\\"\\n\\nHaving gauged the atmosphere of the room, Councillor Ester-Jeen was now quite at ease. No one, it appeared, was prepared to offer Coll any support whatsoever. The man was simply making a sad spectacle of his ignorance and isolation. Perhaps now, if he was very careful, he could even lure him into discrediting himself entirely. He spoke up loudly. \\\"If you have any legitimate business regarding matters before the Council then of course you may approach the Legate. Otherwise, Coll, I would suggest you not waste his time.\\\" And he offered a small shrug of embarrassment as if to say: I am very sorry to be the one to have to tell you this.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was gratified by the reaction his words elicited. The big man reared up as if slapped– which of course he had been– and his eyes widened, stunned. He glanced about at the gathered councillors and Ester-Jeen saw only flat gazes answering. Then Coll spun on his heels and marched for the doors. Ester-Jeen was delighted. He's actually going to do it– the fool.\\n\\nWhen Coll pushed past Councillor Orr the young woman whispered through gritted teeth: \\\"Don't. ' But he was past listening. He could not let this stand. There was noway he could ever face anyone of those present again unless he did exactly what that upstart useless popinjay wanted him to. He marched for the Great Hall.\\n\\nMajesty Hall itself was in truth amaze of halls and chambers and auditoriums, all of various sizes, ages, and levels of decrepitude. The Great Hall was among the most ancient of the hill's architecture. It was sometimes used for ceremonial balls and mass assemblies. But other than that it stood empty and neglected, having a rather off-putting dusty air, quite similar to that of the equally old Despot's Barbican.\\n\\nColl found the double doors of panelled beaten copper and bronze, as tall as three men, unaccountably closed. Before them stood two city Wardens.\\n\\n\\\"Open up,\\\" he snapped, not slowing in his headlong rush.\\n\\nThe two shared helpless glances. Then, bowing to the inevitable, one threw open a small clerk's door just before Coll brained himself on the polished copper panels. Coll was furious that he had to enter like some damned mouse but enter he did, ducking and stepping over the threshold. Within, he found the long hall lit by shafts of light streaming down from high openings. Motes hung in the shafts like the downy seeds of wildflowers over a sunny field. Other than that the Great Hall appeared empty. He walked slowly up its polished pink marble floor– recently dusted, he noted– his boot heels clicking loudly in the silence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Someone, or something, waited at the far end. Some sort of large seat had been constructed of white stone blocks and someone sat upon it. He wore along loose cloak of rich material, a deep maroon. But what was most mystifying was the large gold mask that entirely covered his face.\\n\\nThe Queen-damned Legate has lost his gibbering mind.\\n\\nColl stopped short of the– what should he call it? A dais? – and squinted up at the figure. \\\"Lim? Is that you? What is all this ridiculous mummery?\\\"\\n\\nThe figure on the dais flicked a hand and out from the side of the hall shuffled an old man in dusty frayed clothes, grey hair all askew. The man bowed to Coll, and, nervously rubbing his hands at his chest, gulped, \\\"I speak for the Legate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What? You?\\\" Coll turned on Lim. \\\"Speak for your damned self!\\\" He drew breath to excoriate the fool but stopped; he saw that the gold mask, beaten in the design of a calm half-smiling face, had no holes in it whatsoever. None for eyes or mouth. How in Burn's mysteries does the man breathe?\\n\\nA strange urge almost overcame Coll then to tear the mask from the fool's face but he was distracted by the emergence of a second man from the side of the hall. A tall familiar figure walking with a staff of twisted gnarled wood. His one-time employer, High Alchemist Baruk.\\n\\nRelief flooded Coll. \\\"Thank goodness... Baruk, what is all this nonsense?\\\"\\n\\nThe man came very close and Coll saw that the man was Baruk, yet not. A nest of pale scars skeined his face and hands and his lips were drawn back from his teeth in a savage gleeful smile. Yet only a dead sort of dismissal, if even that, animated his eyes.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"And suddenly Coll knew.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He knew. All those whispered rumours and hearsay. The T'orrud Cabal. It was true. Baruk had been with them all along. And now, after all these years, they'd made their move and claimed power. He flinched away from this man whom he'd thought a friend.\\\"You'll never succeed,\\\" he breathed, feeling utterly hollow inside. \\\"The Cabal will be deposed. You will see.\\\"\\n\\nBaruk shook his head, the smile broadening to become somehow even more fey. \\\"You still don't understand, Coll, \\\"he whispered, leaning close.\\\"We're here now because the Cabal failed.\\\"\\n\\nThe hamlet clinging on at the southern edge of the Dwelling Plain was on no map. Once every few years a caravan train of camels and mules passed by on its way south to Callows and Morn beyond. But other than such intermittent visitors only ill-advised travellers, the desperate, criminal, or utterly lost, ever found their way to such an isolated stretch of emptiness. The inhabitants, refugees mostly, peppered by a few hardened locals born and raised, were bent to their task of squeezing any sustenance out of the unproductive sandy soil. Those in the southernmost fields noted the strange phenomenon first: a dark snaking line coming out of the depths of the hard brush of the Plain of Lamatath to the south. A few stopped to peer, hands shading their eyes, then returned to hoeing and jabbing at the hard soil as if to beat it into submission.\\n\\nWhen next they looked up, the line had drawn nearer, taken on more dimension in the shimmering heat-glare of the sun. It looked like a double file of men jogging, no doubt on the move since dawn and not stopping yet. Some leaned on their hoes to watch fora time, wondering at the bizarre sight. One or two thought that perhaps they ought to sound some sort of alarm. Though what any of them could do in the face of such an unprecedented visitation they were not sure.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Close to noon, the sun at its highest, their unrelenting steady approach brought the file of men– and women– close enough now to make out details.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Everyone had stopped working to watch, silent. Lightly armoured, they were, in leathers, those leathers now dark with sweat. All were armed with long blades, some carrying two. All lean, wiry and nut-dark. But these details were as nothing compared to their most extraordinary feature: all wore masks. And multicoloured, they were, too. Painted almost gaily.\\n\\nThey could be faintly heard now. Their sandalled feet fell unusually light upon the dry hardpan, all in unison, like a distant drumming. The double file of men and women passed straight across the landscape, unwavering, arrow-like, pointed north-east. Without a pause each easily vaulted a heaped wall of fieldstone as they came to it. The sight made one farmer think of a stream of water flowing magically northward.\\n\\nAnd on they passed, none even sparing a glance for the closest of the farmers who stood not an arm's reach aside. Apart from the beat of their footfalls, utterly silent. Ghost-like. Indeed, it was almost like a vision imposed by the heat. Only the dust remained to hang in the still air, the file now to the north, jogging onward, diminishing.\\n\\nYet as the dust settled it revealed a newcomer. One of the masked. He'd stopped next to one of the children: young Hireth. Who stood staring up, mouth agape, water gourd in one hand. The man knelt, held out a hand for the gourd. Hireth's father dared to edge slightly closer; the visitor seemed to ignore him. As if being shaken out of a daze Hireth snapped her mouth shut then held out the gourd. The man took it. He turned his head aside while he lifted his mask to drink, then rose and handed back the gourd. Something in his manner made her bend her knees in a curtsy. The man reached out to gently run a hand down one cheek of her bare upturned face. The father almost started forward then but something in the gentleness of the touch, its near reverence, made him stop. He watched spellbound, his pickaxe clenched in his sweaty hands. Jogging all the day under this sun and not even breathing hard! These are demons off on some summoned errand. Go now. Do not trouble us!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And the stranger set off, running gracefully at a league-swallowing easy pace. Hireth's father came to her.\\\"Did he say anything, child? '\\n\\nShe shook her head, as if she too had somehow been captured by the visitors' spell of silence.\\n\\nHe squeezed her shoulder to reassure her. So, he hadn't spoken. Somehow he didn't imagine the man, or demon, had. And he'd been different from the rest. His mask had been very pale, all creamy white, it was. With only one smear of reddish dirt across the brow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Let it be known that a number of centuries past an ambitious and expansionist dynasty of rulers named the Jannids asserted control over the southern city states. These rulers prosecuted successful campaigns across the lands gaining sway all the way north to the Pannion region. They were famous for having raised countless stelae upon which they ordered engraved the detailed histories of those campaigns, listing their victories, together with exhaustive compilings of treasure taken, prisoners, and states humbled. Only in one campaign were they crushed– a defeat that triggered their downfall. This is known because of one unpolished boulder that lies on the western shore south of Morn. Carved on it area mere four words: \\\"The Jannids fell here.\\\"\\n\\nHistories of Genabackis\\n\\nSulerem of Mengal\\n\\nTHE FIRST VESSEL leaving Darujhistan's harbour that morning was an old merchantman ferrying passengers and freight westward around the lakeshore. Upon sighting the ancient ship, its paint sun-faded to a uniform pale grey, sails patched and threadbare, sides battered and scraped to naked slivers, Torvald halted on the wharf. Passengers brushed past laden with rolled reed mats and bags of possessions. Some drove young sucklings ahead of them. Just about all carried fowl gobbling inside cages woven of reed and green branches.\\n\\nHe turned on one of the city Wardens sent to escort him to the docks. \\\"This is supposed to be a diplomatic mission,\\\" he hissed, struggling to keep his voice low. \\\"I can't goon this tub! '\\n\\nOne of the guards tucked a folded pinch of leaves into a cheek and leaned against piled crates. \\\"It's a secret mission, Councillor, ' he drawled.\\n\\nTorvald tried his best superior glare but the fellow was clearly indifferent. \\\"If it's so secret then how come you know about it? And don't call me Councillor.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"A lazy roll of the shoulders from the man.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Orders.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald began to wonder just what those orders were. See him from the city even if it means throwing him from the docks, perhaps. He picked up his heavy travelling bag and slipped its strap over a shoulder. \\\"Fine. Secret. Tell your superiors you saw me off then,\\\" he said, and headed up the gangway.\\n\\nThe small deck was crammed with goods. Pigs squealed, terrified, sheep bawled, and caged birds gabbled. All this did nothing for the state of the decking. The only available space was a suspiciously clear arc surrounding two figures sitting against the side close to the bow. Torvald could well understand the avoidance: one of them was a giant of a fellow with a massive tangle of hair and beard all unkempt together like a great mane of dirty blond and grey. His shoulders were titanic, his upper arms as massive as Torvald's own thighs, and his chest swept out like a barrel. Torvald thought him perhaps a travelling strongman. The fellow next to him was a skinny Rhivi tribesman elder looking particularly frail in such company. To Torvald the two would have appeared afar more intimidating pair if the big fellow hadn't been so clearly absorbed in studying the city, laid out pink and golden in the dawn's light, climbing in cliff ridge over cliff ridge to Majesty Hill beyond. The old fellow was clearly sick as a dog, bleary-eyed and pale.\\n\\nBut then Torvald had travelled fora time in the company of someone who could arguably be named the most intimidating figure these lands had ever met. He dropped his bag and leaned up against the side. \\\"Not going to try your luck?\\\" he said to the big fellow.\\n\\nThe man's gaze swung to him and Torvald suppressed a flinch when he saw the bestial eyes, the irises oddly shaped, and felt the plain sheer weight of the man's regard. The fellow cocked one thick brow, rumbled, \\\"How's that? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald found his throat suddenly dry.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The city... they're always hungry for new acts. '\\n\\n\\\"Acts?\\\" the man slowly enunciated, his voice hardening.\\n\\n\\\"You know... bending bars, breaking chains.\\\"\\n\\nBoth brows rose as comprehension dawned and the fellow eased back, relaxing. \\\"Ah. No.\\\" He crooked a small nostalgic smile. \\\"Been a lot of years since I've had to do any of that. '\\n\\nSomehow, Torvald felt immense relief. \\\"I'm sorry– I thought... '\\n\\nThe man raised a gnarled hand to forestall any further explanation. \\\"I understand.\\\" The fierce eyes looked him up and down. \\\"What are you doing on a tub like this?\\\"\\n\\nMy point exactly. Torvald offered an indifferent shrug. \\\"First boat leaving.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And far from the fastest,\\\" the man rumbled.\\n\\nUnformed suspicions writhed anew in Torvald's stomach and he glanced over to seethe two city Wardens, who, grinning, offered lazy waves of farewell.\\n\\nGods curse the Legate!\\n\\nThe gangway scraped up and wharf hands threw off the lines. Two of the crew pushed off with poles while others set the single lateen-rigged sail. The menagerie of animals squealed and voided anew.\\n\\nTorvald threw himself down against the side, rested his arms on his knees. Burn's love. Did I just sell myself onto a slow boat to nowhere for the price of a bright certificate and an empty fancy title? He pressed his hands to his head.\\n\\nLim has just rid himself of an irritating new councillor.\\n\\n\\\"Love or coin?\\\" A quavering thin voice spoke up.\\n\\nTorvald raised his head to seethe Rhivi elder studying him from around the great bulk of his companion. \\\"I'm sorry...? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your reasons for travel– if you would speak of them. In my experience a man travels for one of two reasons. A powerful husband or a powerful debt.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald snorted a self-mocking laugh. \\\"No. Nothing so romantic. Just a plain old powerful political rival.\\\"\\n\\nThe big fellow now eyed him sidelong, his gaze narrow. \\\"Really?\\\" he rumbled.\\n\\nThe lazy silt-laden stream that ran into Lake Azur at Dhavran hardly deserved a name. Some called it the Red, others the Muddy. In any case, it was a barrier of a sort. Over the years a crossing had been constructed of stones and garbage capped by a simple bridge of laid logs packed with dirt. Fist K'ess eyed the mud-choked channel and thought it the most pathetic crossing he'd ever seen.\\n\\n\\\"Do we defend here?\\\" Captain Fal-ej asked. Her tone more than made clear her own disenchantment.\\n\\nK'ess adjusted his seat astride his mount. He'd been too long out of the saddle and his thighs were scraped raw. Fora time he eyed the troops marching onto the short causeway. Not enough to make a stand. And Dhavran? This collection of mud and wood huts doesn't boast one defensible position.\\n\\nHe sipped some water from a skin hung on his saddle then sucked his teeth. At first he'd considered heading west into the Moranth mountains to wait things out there. But then a rider had arrived from Captain Goyan's contingent: they were moving on. And why? Word had come from the Fifth. Fist Steppen moving north. Rendezvous south of Dhavran.\\n\\nAll very well and good. Altogether they might field close to ten thousand. Every remaining Malazan trooper south of Cat. Enough for him to finally unclench his anxious buttocks fora moment or two.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But before he could allow himself that one moment of relaxation reports arrived from loyal Barghast scouts in the eastward foothills of the Tahlyn range: a large force moving west. Rhivi tribals, apparently. Some three days out and moving far faster than they.\\n\\nIt was a race he knew he wouldn't win. Thus the hope of contesting the crossing here at Dhavran. And thus his disappointment.\\n\\nHe straightened in his stirrups fora moment to adjust the sweaty leathers beneath his mail skirting. He eyed Fal-ej while she watched the troops march. Her helmet hung from her pommel and she'd wrapped a scarf around her head in the style of her homeland, Seven Cities. A handsome woman. Damned smart. But a touch sharp-edged. Haughty, some of the officers thought her, he knew. But not he. Good wide hips on her too. Fit for throwing out sons, as his ma would've said. Womanlike that ought to have someone to hold onto.\\n\\n\\\"Sir?\\\" she said. Her gaze had moved to him, questioning.\\n\\nHe cleared his throat. \\\"We keep going. Double-time. This place is too wretched.\\\"\\n\\nShe nodded her curt assent, relieved. \\\"Yes, Fist.\\\"\\n\\nK'ess plucked at the gauntlets he held in one hand.\\\"Fal-ej... ' he began.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Fist?\\\" she answered quickly.\\n\\nHe slapped the gauntlets to his armoured thigh. \\\"Nothing. It's not important. \\\"He waved towards the stream.\\\"Keep the sappers on that ramshackle excuse fora bridge. The last thing we need is for it to fall apart under us. '\\n\\nFal-ej saluted, kneed her mount into motion. \\\"Yes, Fist.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He watched her go, frowning at himself.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Now's not the time– what with a horde of Rhivi closing in onus. He sighed.\\n\\nCaptain Fal-ej urged her mount down the stream's oversized channel more savagely than she intended. Remember your priorities, woman, she castigated herself. By the Seven False Gods, what's gotten into you? Hanging about like a mare in heat. It must be offensive to the man.\\n\\nShe pulled up next to abridge picket, demanded, \\\"Where are the damned saboteurs, trooper?\\\"\\n\\nThe man saluted twice for good measure. He pointed vaguely down towards the stream. \\\"Thought I saw them headin\\\" off that way, Captain, sir... '\\n\\nFal-ej yanked the reins over, kneed the mount onward. Has the responsibility of every soldier on his shoulders, woman! Not likely to allow himself to be distracted– and hardly by a figure such as yourself! Calluses on your cheeks from the helmet. Stink of sweat always on you. Arms like some blacksmith's!\\n\\nCresting a grassed sandbar she spotted the crew squatting around a campfire, gutted fish on sticks over the flames. She slapped her mount down towards the stream and pulled up, kicking mud over them. \\\"What is this?\\\"\\n\\nThe marine sergeant, a great fat woman, merely peered up unperturbed. \\\"Just havin\\\" a bite, Cap'n.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You were ordered to keep an eye on the bridge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bridge is good as beer, Cap'n. Nothin'thereto break. Just big ol\\\" logs. '\\n\\nFal-ej glared down at them. \\\"Well... just the same, stay on it! Something might give.\\\"\\n\\nThe sergeant rubbed a large black mole on one cheek, considering. \\\"Such as...?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fal-ej threw her arms out wide. \\\"How in the name of Ehrlitan should I know! I'm not the engineer. Now get going! '\\n\\nFrowning her agreement, the sergeant motioned to a trooper. \\\"Whitey, take your team over.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aw, c'mon, Sarge. Fish is almost ready. '\\n\\nThe sergeant's voice took on an edge.\\\"Get going... now. '\\n\\n\\\"Fine!\\\" The man straightened to slap dirt off his hide trousers, motioned his team up. The sergeant turned to the captain, cocked a brow and saluted.\\n\\nFal-ej answered the salute and yanked her mount round. \\\"Thank you, sergeant.\\\" She rode off kicking up more mud.\\n\\n\\\"What's gotten under her saddle? \\\"a trooper muttered.\\\"Martinet bitch. '\\n\\n\\\"Naw,\\\" the sergeant said as she watched the woman go, a hand shading her gaze. \\\"Ain't nothing a good humping wouldn't cure.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sarge!\\\" one trooper groaned. \\\"Do you have to?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's your answer for everything, ' another complained.\\n\\nThe sergeant turned, rubbing her hands together. \\\"Yes indeed– too bad none of you poor excuses are up to it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, don't goon about the damned Moranth. We don't believe none o\\\" those stories. '\\n\\n\\\"Now don't go and just kill everyone, okay! ' Yusek snarled over her shoulder as they struggled up the narrow mountain trail.\\n\\n\\\"You exaggerate,\\\" Sall answered calmly.\\n\\n\\\"No, I do not fucking exaggerate! Someone raises a cooking ladle your way and you two butcher two hundred! Try to show a little respect. This is some kinda monastery or something.\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":92,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 14"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fal-ej threw her arms out wide. \"How in the name of Ehrlitan should I know! I'm not the engineer. Now get going! '\n\nFrowning her agreement, the sergeant motioned to a trooper. \"Whitey, take your team over.\"\n\n\"Aw, c'mon, Sarge. Fish is almost ready. '\n\nThe sergeant's voice took on an edge.\"Get going... now. '\n\n\"Fine!\" The man straightened to slap dirt off his hide trousers, motioned his team up. The sergeant turned to the captain, cocked a brow and saluted.\n\nFal-ej answered the salute and yanked her mount round. \"Thank you, sergeant.\" She rode off kicking up more mud.\n\n\"What's gotten under her saddle? \"a trooper muttered.\"Martinet bitch. '\n\n\"Naw,\" the sergeant said as she watched the woman go, a hand shading her gaze. \"Ain't nothing a good humping wouldn't cure.\"\n\n\"Sarge!\" one trooper groaned. \"Do you have to?\"\n\n\"That's your answer for everything, ' another complained.\n\nThe sergeant turned, rubbing her hands together. \"Yes indeed– too bad none of you poor excuses are up to it.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't goon about the damned Moranth. We don't believe none o\" those stories. '\n\n\"Now don't go and just kill everyone, okay! ' Yusek snarled over her shoulder as they struggled up the narrow mountain trail.\n\n\"You exaggerate,\" Sall answered calmly.\n\n\"No, I do not fucking exaggerate! Someone raises a cooking ladle your way and you two butcher two hundred! Try to show a little respect. This is some kinda monastery or something.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If they are unarmed they have nothing to fear from us.\"\n\nShe snorted her scorn. Pausing, she glanced further down to distant Lo making his way up after them. No sign of sweat or labour on either of them! No shortage of breath. Yusek, for her part, felt light-headed and nauseous with the height. Gods. Never been this high before. They say the air is poisonous up here. Kill you assure as a blade to the heart.\n\nSwallowing to wet her rasping throat she glanced ahead to the monastery walls of heaped cobbles. Tattered prayer flags snapped in the cold wind. White tendrils of smoke blew here and therefrom cook-fires. Overhead a clear, painfully bright blue sky domed the world. Beautiful, in its way, but fora faint green blemish across its vault– the Scimitar of a god's vengeance, some named that banner.\n\nA monk, or acolyte, or whatever you would call him, met them at the stone arch that was the compound's entrance. Yusek took the shaven-headed slim figure fora boy until she spoke, revealing her sex.\"Enter, please, the adytum. We offer food, shelter, and peace for contemplation to all who would enter. '\n\n\"Adytum?\" Yusek repeated. \"Is that the place's name? '\n\n\"The adytum is a location. The most sacred place. The inner shrine of worship for our faith.\"\n\n\"What faith is that?\"\n\n\"Dessembrae.\" And the woman gestured aside, inviting. Nor did she blink in the face of the two masked Seguleh.\n\nYusek urged Sall forward. \"Well? Goon!\"\n\nBy his hesitation the young man appeared almost embarrassed. \"There is a proper time for everything,\" he told Yusek aside; then, to the acolyte: \"Thank you. We would rest. And any hot food you may spare would be welcome.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The acolyte showed them to a simple hut of piled stone cobbles, almost like a cell. Afire already burned in its small central hearth. Smoke drifted up to the ceiling hole. A black iron pot was heating over the low flames. The young acolyte– no older than I am, Yusek reflected– in her loose shirt over trousers of plain cloth and bare feet, stopped at the threshold. \"You would prefer separate quarters?\" she asked Yusek, who nodded. \"This way.\"\n\nThe hut she showed Yusek was no different from the other. \"Listen,\" Yusek told her, lowering her voice, \"those two are Seguleh.\"\n\n\"I have heard of them.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Well, they're hereto kill someone. You have to warn him– tell him to get out of here. '\n\n\"They've come to kill someone? I doubt that very much. '\n\nYusek found herself clenching her teeth. \"You don't understand-'\n\nThe young woman held up a hand. \"Your concern does you credit. But there is no need for worry. The man you speak of has no interest in their challenges. They will leave empty-handed.\"\n\nYusek wanted to grab the girl's shoulder and shake her. You little fool! You have no idea what you are facing here! But the girl studied her, calm, uninflected, and something in that steady regard made Yusek uneasy. As if she's looking through me... like I'm a ghost or something.\n\nThe girl bowed. \"If that is all.\"\n\n\"Yeah... I suppose so.\"\n\nThe girl withdrew. Yusek sat on the cot, unrolled the bedding of thick woven blankets provided against the cold. In truth she was exhausted, which surprised her. Hardly a full day's journey since their last camp, she freezing her butt off, complaining the entire time, and those two maintaining their infuriating silence– not even telling her to shut the Abyss up."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She lay down, threw an arm across her eyes. Well, she was free of them. She'd brought them to the monastery and now her obligation was over. She'd takeoff tomorrow and leave these pathetic empty wastes behind. Maybe she'd head on north to Mengal. Who knew, maybe she'd take a ship to some rich distant land like Quon Tali or Seven Cities.\n\nShe fell asleep dreaming of that. Of getting away, faraway.\n\nWhen she started awake the light coming in through the shutters over the single tiny window held the pink of dawn. Normally she never woke up this early but normally she never fell asleep in the afternoon. Groaning, she stretched her stiff frozen limbs, then dropped to her knees before the hearth to tease the fire back to life. After a hot cup of tea she felt alive enough to head out.\n\nWhen she opened the door the first thing that struck her was the silence. She'd grown used to the forest with its constant background noise of the wind through the branches, the trunks groaning as they flexed. Here there was only the low moan of the wind over stone, the faint snap of the prayer flags. She found herself almost trying to soften the fall of her moccasins on the stone-flagged walk. Almost. Then she shook off the spell and went to find something to eat.\n\nTo her chagrin she found everyone up already. What is it with these people that they getup so early? It's inhuman. A group of the monks, or priests, were out on a central field of sand, weaving through some sort of exercise or devotional movements. She watched fora time: the practice held a kind of flowing beauty. It seemed almost hypnotic. But she was hungry and so she turned away to find someone to ask for directions to a kitchen or mess."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Later, chewing on a hot flatbread, she wandered back out to the central open field to see Sall and Lo watching the monks, who were now engaged in some sort of paired physical training of throws and falls.\n\nAha, she thought. This is more like it. She stepped up to Sall. \"Going to talk tome? Or am Ia nobody now?\"\n\nStanding arms crossed, the youth did not shift his gaze from the monks. \"I will speak to you... for the time being.\"\n\n\"Well, that's something, I suppose. What now? What will you two do? '\n\n\"Lo will challenge the– the man here.\"\n\nYusek gave an exaggerated nod. She too watched the monks. \"So which one's he? '\n\nA heavy breath raised Sall's shoulders.\"That is the problem. He will not identify himself. Nor will anyone else do so. \"His voice took on an almost puzzled edge:\"They are simply ignoring us. '\n\nYusek choked on her bread. Gulping, she managed to swallow, then broke out in a laugh that left her almost helpless. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She straightened, wiping her cheeks. Sall was regarding her from behind his mask, his dark brown eyes uncomfortable. She took a steadying breath. \"Aii-ya. So... how does it feel to be on the receiving end, hey?\"\n\nThe lad had the grace to lower his gaze. Again a great breath raised his chest behind his crossed arms. \"It is most... frustrating,\" he admitted.\n\nYusek gave a satisfied: \"It most certainly is.\"\n\nThe lad returned to watching the monks go through their regimen of exercise and training. Yusek sat on the stone kerb surrounding the practice field. Need five days'rations fora start. I wonder if there's any dried meat in the larder here. Probably not. This lot do not look like the hunter type."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And she'd be on her own again. Target of any arsehole who thought he could twist her arm...\n\nIt occurred to her that perhaps she shouldn't be in such an all-fire hurry to getaway.\n\nSall straightened then and Yusek peered up. Sticks were being brought out: wooden swords. Oh-ho. Things are getting interesting now.\n\nThe monks paired off, one practice sword per pair, attacker and defender. While Yusek watched, the swordsmen cut and thrust and the defenders threw them like dolls, or bent them to their knees, sword-arm twisted.\n\nRidiculous! Any real swordsman would cut an unarmed manor woman to pieces. Sall must be laughing inside– or groaning.\n\nShe gave a glance and saw him turn his masked face to Lo. Something imperceptible to her passed between them, and the lad unclasped his cloak. He laid it on the stone flags then placed his sheathed swords on top of the cloth and walked out onto the sands. Yusek shifted to look at Lo and jumped to find him next to her. It gave her the creeps how he did that.\n\nThe monks all stopped their exercises to watch while Sall approached the nearest pair. Bowing, he held out a hand for the wooden sword. The acolyte turned a glance to the monk leading the practice, a wiry petite woman. She nodded and the acolyte handed over the sword.\n\nSall faced his partner. He bowed then struck a ready stance, left foot shifting back behind him. Yusek rose to her feet. The acolyte, even younger than Sall, brought his empty hands up between them, one above the other, elbows bent.\n\nSall struck then, but not as Yusek had seen before. Slowly, gently, he brought the wooden blade down in an exaggerated overhead drop cut. The youth shifted inwards underneath the cut, somehow hooked Sall's arms, and bent, pulling the swordsman over his shoulder and throwing him to the ground. But Sall rolled easily and came to his feet once more."},{"from":"human","value":"The two faced off once again."},{"from":"gpt","value":"This time Sall swung a horizontal slash. The youth side-stepped, took the Seguleh's arm, and somehow led him in a spinning dance then let go and sent him flying out over the sands. The performance would have appeared laughably false had not Yusek known that Sall was in noway cooperating. Next, Sall mimed a slow two-handed thrust. The youth stepped aside of the move, somehow pushing Sall to send him tumbling aside.\n\nLo stood silent at Yusek's side.\n\nSall rose to brush the dust from his shoulders. He bowed again and the two paired off once more. This time he raised his sword high above his head, the blade vertical. He held it therefor a time, motionless, then brought it down in a slow angled strike. The youth again stepped in close, but Sall now side-stepped himself, bringing the sword around for another sweep. The youth pursued and now the two circled faster and faster, swords arcing and the youth's arms twisting as if attempting to ensnare his opponent's. The nearest monks scrambled backwards out of the way of the match as it spun seemingly out of control.\n\nThe silence of it was the most eerie thing to Yusek. All she could hear was the snap and flutter of the monk's sleeves and the hiss of the wooden sword. Neither man gasped or yelled or snarled. Even their feet shifted noiselessly over the sands. At first she'd thought this some sort of a duel, but she saw now that it was more of a sparring match– the exchange of known moves and countermoves, each now faster than the last, each testing the other.\n\nFinally, at some signal or agreement between the two, they spun apart to face one another.\n\nAmazingly, neither betrayed the least hint of exertion. Neither's chest rose more than before; neither breathed loudly at all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Both bowed. Sall now stepped up, his blade held low at his side, his right leg back. The monk matched his step. Swiftly, Sall thrust the wooden sword through his belt and faced the youth with his hands at his sides.\n\nThe youth's large brown eyes shifted to the woman leading the practice; she gave another small nod. The youth raised his hands again, ready.\n\nThis time when Sall moved Yusek missed it. So too did his partner. One moment Sall stood with his hands at his sides, empty. The next he held the blade one-handed against the youth's neck.\n\nA soft grunt escaped Lo.\n\nThe young acolyte's eyes grew huge and after taking a moment to digest what had just happened he bowed to Sall.\n\nSo ends the lesson.\n\nBut apparently not. For the woman who had been leading the practice now approached Sall. She bowed and waved in an unmistakable try that with me gesture.\n\nThe woman, Yusek noted with interest, was no taller or heavier than herself. Her hair was cut short and her bare arms were extraordinarily lean and muscled. Sall's mask turned towards Lo, who, his arms across his chest, gave a small flick of one hand. Sall bowed to the woman, accepting.\n\nThe two faced off. Sall pushed the wooden sword through his belt once more. The woman struck a ready pose exactly like that of her student. The acolytes stood frozen, silent, and their watchful intensity reminded Yusek of the Seguleh themselves.\n\nSall shifted his sandalled feet in the sand a few times, as if unhappy with his stance, then stilled. This time Yusek almost caught it. One moment Sall was motionless. Then, in the next, he was off his feet describing an arc through the air over the back of the spinning woman, who had thrown him flying high to land in a great swath of bursting sand."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sall sprang to his feet, sword still in hand, and to Yusek every line of his body shouted of his utter astonishment.\n\nA clenched hiss sounded from Lo and the man walked away.\n\nYusek looked to Sall; the youth's masked face followed Lo's retreat, then fell. Yusek did not need to see his expression to recognize the crushing shame that hunched his form. Bowing, he handed over the sword, then walked off in the opposite direction. Yusek followed.\n\nShe found him sitting on a ledge on the very lip of the cliff the monastery occupied. Before his feet the mountain swept down thousands of feet into misted emptiness. Yusek sat next to him. The frigid cutting wind buffeted both of them. Yusek's cloak snapped.\n\nShe was not used to such dizzying heights and a sickening vertigo gripped her as she clutched the stone she sat upon. \"Not that bad, is it?\" she offered, trying to make light of things.\n\nAfter a time the Seguleh youth let out along, pained breath. \"You do not understand, Yusek.\"\n\n\"Try me.\"\n\n\"I lost. I have shamed Lo. I can no longer be considered among the Agatii.\"\n\n\"The Agatii?\"\n\n\"The Honoured Thousand. The select warriors of the Seguleh.\"\n\n\"So? Have to turn in your mask or some such thing?\"\n\nAt least he snorted a weak laugh at that. \"No. But... I will have to repaint it.\"\n\n\"Well, so what? I mean, it's not like it was deliberate, or some kind of crime, or something. '\n\nThe lad sighed, his breath almost cracking in its suppressed emotion. \"You don't understand, Yusek. Lois Eighth! He sits with Jan among the ruling Ten, the Eldrii. \"He clenched his hands, held them where the mask curved to expose the mouth.\"But one other thing... he is my father. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Yusek stared, speechless. Ye Gods... the poor kid. What a burden! That's just fucking cruel, that's what that is.\n\nShe selected a small stone, tossed it over the edge. She watched its stomach-turning descent for an instant then glanced away, her throat burning. She swallowed sour bile. \"Listen, Sall– so what if some woman beat you in some match. Who the fuck cares? C'mon, she wasn't even armed!\"\n\nThe lad turned to study her directly through his mask. His brown eyes appeared even more pained. \"Exactly, Yusek. She wasn't even armed. '\n\n\"Well... so what? Big deal. It wasn't for real. You weren't prepared for it, were you?\" She nudged his shoulder. \"It's a valuable lesson, right? Listen. I was thinking. When I head out I want to be able to handle myself better... won't you teach me a few moves?\" She nudged him again. \"Hey? What do you say?\"\n\nIf anything his masked head hung even lower. \"I'm not worthy of teaching anyone anything, Yusek. Ask that woman. '\n\n\"Well, I'm asking you. C'mon. You know more than I do about it all, right?\"\n\n\"It would be improper...\"\n\n\"Never mind that. Just the basics, hey?\"\n\n\"Not right now.\"\n\n\"Naw... tomorrow, hey?\"\n\nHe let out another long-suffering breath. \"Tomorrow, then.\"\n\n\"Yeah. All right. Tomorrow.\" She stood, brushed the dust off her bottom, and left him to sit alone fora time. Poor bastard. Obviously thinks the world of his father. And to think she'd travelled with them all these days and hadn't even the first suspicion they were father and son! What an odd people."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Personally, Krute of Talient did not want to honour yet another request from this particular client, but the communication had percolated up through standard channels thereby ensuring that enough of the guild knew of it to make it impossible for him to simply ignore it. Of course as Parish Master of the Gadrobi district he had a measure of influence on which contracts to pursue– but it was a short-lived master who neglected the fundamental truth that, in the end, everyone was only in it for the treasure.\n\nAnd so come the mid-night he found himself stepping carefully through the empty and eerily quiet yards of the Eldra Iron Mongers. It was an unnatural sensation; to his memory the works had never been still. The Legate, however, had commandeered all labour for his city works projects, leaving Humble Measure with no one to run his forges, furnaces and mine.\n\nAll very deliberate and calculated, of course, as a sort of unannounced war had broken out between the two: the successful political protégé and his former patron and sponsor. And this kind of falling-out always generated the most vicious and wilful vendettas. His boots loud on the scattered gravel as he peered around at the dark sheds and silent furnaces, it occurred to Krute that his reservations might all be for naught; surely even this man's legendary wealth must be exhausted by now. There could be noway the man could offer enough to tempt the guild anew. In point of fact, he wouldn't be all that surprised to turn a corner in one of these cavernous warehouses and find the man hanging from a rafter.\n\nNo such easy resolution confronted him, however, when he pushed aside a great slab-like door to enter a silent smelting shed. The tang of smoke still clung to everything and he fancied he could still feel a residual heat leaking out of the great furnaces."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Undisguised steps sounded from the front of the shed and Krute turned to seethe proprietor, Humble Measure himself, at the door. The closing of his works had obviously not been kind to him. His hair was unkempt and soot marred his face. The black of the soot cast the whites of his eyes into a bright, almost fevered, glow. His clothes were likewise askew, torn and soot-blackened. It appeared as if the man was attempting the impossible, and frankly insane, task of single-handedly keeping the works going.\n\nKrute inclined his head in greeting. \"Humble Measure.\"\n\n\"Parish Master. I was beginning to suspect that the guild had lost its edge.\"\n\n\"Whosoever has the coin gets our blades,\" Krute observed, congratulating himself on that pointed reminder.\n\n\"Of course. That is as it should be.\" The man drew a cloth from a shirt pocket and wiped his hands. Krute noted with growing unease that the cloth was just as blackened as the man's hands. Humble waved him forward.\"This way, Master. \"As they walked, the ironmonger talked.\"It strikes me that you assassins represent the exchange of business reduced to its purest form. What say you, Master? '\n\nKrute shrugged. \"Hadn't really given it much thought. \"Gabble on, man. I'm really not interested in what crazy things you have to say.\n\n\"You do not care who you kill, or for what hidden purpose, or to what consequences. You are merely paid money to do something, and so you do it. Rather like a prostitute, yes?\"\n\nKrute frowned, eyeing the man sidelong. \"What're you gettin'at?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I mean that questions of morality or ethics, honour or principles– all are irrelevant, yes?\"\n\nKrute hunched his shoulders. \"Not all principles...\"\n\nThe man flashed him a smile bright against his grimed face. \"Of course. The principle of greed and profit remains paramount. Utterly uninhibited, in fact.\"\n\nHe led Krute to a dilapidated manor house, pushed open the front door. \"Let me provide an example, if I may.\" At the back of the house the ironmonger unlocked a trapdoor, revealing stone steps leading down. \"Let us say there exists a city occupying a marshy lowland. The inhabitants of this urban centre are cursed by a wasting disease carried by flies that multiply like... well, like flies, within the swamps. Then, let us suppose that a learned man studies the situation and proposes a solution to said curse: move the city to the hills nearby where the scouring winds will keep the flies at bay.\"\n\nThey reached a stone-walled cellar. Here Humble lit a lantern and led the way to an arched portal sealed by an iron-barred gate, which he unlocked. \"An excavation fora wine cellar here revealed much more,\" he explained, pointing to a hole in the floor where a ladder led on down. \"Now, the leaders of this fair– but cursed– city, landowners all, were naturally horrified by the idea of all their property becoming worthless and so they hired local assassins to put an end to such unwelcome talk.\"\n\nStepping down off the ladder Krute was astonished to find himself in a corridor of brick lined by niches. \"Burial catacombs,\" Humble told him, leaning close. \"They date back thousands of years.\" He motioned onward. \"This way, if you please. These killers, now, all local, were themselves victims of this wasting disease, with milky eyes and withered limbs. And all had lost sisters, brothers and parents to the fevers. But– and here is where the tale demonstrates the perversity of humanity– they accepted the contract to kill this scholar.\" The ironmonger turned to Krute. \"Is that not, well, so sadly predictable?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The assassin rubbed the back of a hand against his jaw. Won't this man ever shut up?\"Sounds like waters too deep for me, sir. '\n\n\"Are they?\" the man asked, his eyes bright in the gloom. Then he shrugged. \"Perhaps so.\" He waved a hand. \"Well, just ten years later the city was an abandoned fever-infested field of ruins in any case.\"\n\n\"Your point being?\"\n\n\"Ah!\" Humble got to his knees and began pulling bricks from the wall. Slowly, brick by brick, a small opening was revealed. He invited Krute to slither in. Fora moment Krute wondered whether the man intended to kill him, or bury him alive, or some such thing. But he knew the guild would avenge his death and he also knew that Humble was aware of this. Nevertheless, he decided some measure of caution was called for and so he motioned Humble ahead.\n\n\"After you.\"\n\nA shrug. \"If you wish.\"\n\nWithin, the darkness hinted at a larger room, perhaps a burial chamber. Humble edged inwards, lantern pushed along ahead. Krute followed. What he saw took his breath away. A sea of gold reflected the already golden flame. Stacks of bars set out in rows crammed the tomb. A fortune countless leaps beyond any of Krute's imaginings.\n\n\"Poured by myself and a few trusted aides in the very works above our heads,\" Humble murmured with a touch of pride. \"All of this is yours should you succeed in the contract.\"\n\n\"And that contract?\" Krute asked, distracted. He didn't move his gaze from the neatly heaped bars. Take twenty men all day to move this mountain...\n\n\"The contract, and my point, is that I still want the Legate's head. Even if his improvements or plans for the city are somehow in alignment with my own, they are not what I planned and so I want his head. '"},{"from":"human","value":"Krute's nod was one of slow deliberate agreement."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Vindictiveness. You can always count on that. The guild practically survives on it. He thought of Vorcan now standing behind the Legate. No doubt she means to retake the guild– then there will be a harrowing!\"The man has powerful allies... '\n\n\"Thus this astonishing price.\"\n\nKrute rubbed his stubbled cheek once more, swallowed hard. \"Speaking for the guild, ironmonger, we agree to try again. But it will take sometime to prepare.\"\n\n\"I understand. Time you have. This chamber will remain sealed until you succeed. And should we both die in what comes– it will remain sealed forever.\"\n\n\"We have an agreement then, Humble Measure.\"\n\nOn a rooftop across the broad avenue facing the main doors of the Eldra Iron Mongers, Rallick Nom lay prone, chin resting on a fist, crossbow cradled in an elbow. He'd watched while Krute entered the closed and now quiet works, and he kept watch until, many hours later, the man exited as well.\n\nSo, Humble Measure wasn't a man to abandon a task half finished. Rallick could tell from the character of his old friend's thoughtful and distracted walk that he was already planning ahead, considering the coming job.\n\nWhat to do? Too late to kill the client now. An agreement's already been struck. The guild will follow through regardless. A matter of reputation. And I'm in the crosshairs. Have to find a place to lie low; somewhere no one's going to come hunting. And there's only one place comes to mind... Hope he won't object to house guests.\n\nRallick pushed himself backwards along the slate-shake roof.\n\nA knock at the door to his offices drew Ambassador Aragan out of his thoughts as he stood at the window overlooking the city. He'd been thinking of the troubling lack of word from the north– it wasn't like K'ess to be out of touch for this long. Nor had word come from the south, either, for that matter. It was oddly as if events outside the city were somehow unreal, or suspended in time. A bizarre sensation."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He turned at the knock, growling, \"Yes?\"\n\nA trooper, one of his personal guard, opened the door. \"Trouble downstairs, sir.\"\n\nComing down, Aragan found a city Warden in the open doorway, the rest of his detachment waiting outside. His own guard was ranged across the bottom of the stairs, tensed, awaiting his command.\n\n\"Ambassador Aragan,\" the city Warden officer called, \"you are summoned to an audience with the Legate.\"\n\nAt least this Legate sent an escort of twenty... Anything less would have been an insult.\n\n\"Stand down ranks,\" he ordered. Passing the sergeant, he murmured, \"Remain until I return.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\nAragan stopped before the Warden, gestured to invite the man outside. \"After you.\"\n\nThe man's gaze slid over the solid front of Malazan veterans and his lips compressed. He backed up then aside to allow Aragan to exit. The detachment formed up to either side of the ambassador and the officer waved a hand. They marched off, heading, Aragan knew, for Majesty Hill.\n\nAlong the way, the only thing of interest Aragan noted was the scar of recent construction that marred the grounds atop the hill. Abroad trench had been dug up and back-filled. It cut through crushed gravel walkways, ornamental hedges and beds of flowering perennials. He only caught a glimpse as they passed, but it appeared to describe an immense arc heading off round the buildings. Some sort of defensive installation? Pits?\n\nThen he was hurried along through the interminable stone halls of the complex. To his surprise and growing discomfort, he was not escorted as he'd expected straight to Council. Rather, he was taken into older dusty halls where they met almost no one save for the odd harried-looking clerk. Was he to be imprisoned? Questioned?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The way led to what he recognized from formal gatherings as the Great Hall. The largest of the surviving ancient wings of Majesty Hall. Guards pushed open one of the immense copper and bronze panelled doors and Aragan was escorted in.\n\nThe long hall was, for the most part, empty. The only light entered in long shafts from openings high up where the pale marble of the walls met the arched roof. A small scattering of people waited at the far end, where one fellow sat on a large seat, or throne, of white stone blocks: the Legate. As Aragan had heard rumoured, the man had indeed taken to wearing a gold mask. However, a few of the gathered coterie also sported gold masks– slim things that encircled their eyes and covered only the upper half of their faces.\n\nThe escort stopped Aragan directly before what he guessed he ought to consider a \"throne\". He crossed his arms, waiting. In time the Legate ceased his low conversation with an old man– a rather jarring figure in his old tattered clothes amid the glittering finery and riches on display among the coterie. This fellow stepped forward, hunched, hands clasped to his chest as if hugging himself.\n\n\"Ambassador Aragan,\" he began, almost cringing, \"I speak for the Legate.\"\n\nAragan ignored the ridiculous figure and addressed the Legate. \"You speak to the Imperium when you speak tome... You should show proper respect.\"\n\nThe old man glanced backwards to the Legate– like a dog to its master, Aragan thought. \"Invaders, thieves and murderers deserve no respect,\" he said, gulping as if in horror of what he'd just announced.\n\n\"Darujhistan was more than eager to cooperate with us in the crushing of the Pannions,\" Aragan observed as drily as he could manage given his growing anger."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Self-interest guided us both in that,\" the old man said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Now, that same self-interest should guide your diminished forces north to Cat in a withdrawal and complete abandonment of the lands of South Genabackis.\"\n\n\"That is your demand?\"\n\n\"Such is our generous offer.\"\n\nAragan couldn't help himself; he had to drawl,\"Or what? '\n\nThe figure on the throne gave one lazy flick of a hand. \"Or they will be annihilated,\" the old man said, disbelief in his hoarse voice.\n\nA number of the gathered crowd hissed their anxiety at that announcement; clearly it was far beyond anything they anticipated. All faces, masked and otherwise, now turned to study Aragan. He squinted his scepticism and opened his hands. \"With what? By whom? You have no army worth the name.\"\n\n\"We need no army,\" said the old man, rubbing his chest. \"We merely speak for all the peoples of the south. It is they who will throw off your foreign yoke.\"\n\n\"Or trade anew one for an old one, I suspect,\" Aragan answered, now eyeing the masked figure with new suspicion.\n\n\"We merely advise and guide... just as a caring parent wishes the best for his children.\"\n\nAragan cocked a brow. \"What?\" Where did that come from?\n\nOne of the masked followers– a tall fellow with a great mane of salted hair– motioned curtly then, and the spokesman bowed. \"The audience is at an end. You have our terms. Follow them or many will die.\"\n\nThe Wardens urged Aragan back. He retreated, eyeing the masked Legate who sat so immobile on his throne. Was that even the Lim in truth, he wondered. Yet he'd recognized a number of councillors among the crowd. They would know him. Surely they would not put up with some impostor."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His thoughts elsewhere, Aragan allowed himself to be ushered out and back down Majesty Hill. So, it was all out in the open now. War had been declared. Yet a war against what, or whom? He felt as if he was facing a ghost, a shadow. Who is our enemy? This masked would-be king? If Darujhistan wants a king in all but name then that is up to them– we never controlled the city.\n\nBut if the army is attacked... well, that is another matter entirely.\n\nBack in the manor house Aragan entered his offices to find the emissary from the Imperial Throne sitting on his couch, legs outstretched, waiting for him.\n\nIn the plain light of day he saw more clearly whom he faced: the tall thin frame, the oddly shaped eyes, silvered hair. So this was Topper– true to his descriptions. The once and returned Clawmaster.\n\n\"You witnessed?\" Aragan grunted, and headed to a sideboard to pour a drink.\n\n\"From a distance, yes.\"\n\n\"A distance?\"\n\n\"There are some very powerful magi gathered together on that hilltop.\"\n\nAragan gulped down his drink, studied the lanky, unnerving man. \"Too much for you?\"\n\nA thin humourless smile. \"Let's just say it would be counterproductive for me to tip my hand as yet. \"The man's gaze roved about the room as if uninterested in him. \"And what ridiculous demands were made?\"\n\n\"Very ridiculous ones. We're to withdraw to the north. Relinquish all territory south of Cat. '\n\n\"Including Pale?\"\n\nA sombre nod from Aragan. \"Yes. Including Pale.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"That would not go down well.\"\n\n\"No. I imagine it wouldn't. '\n\nThe man cocked his head like a grackle, watching him. \"And what would you recommend?\"\n\nIt occurred to Aragan that he was angry. He felt insulted. As if he, and by extension the entire Empire which he represented, had been accorded none of the respect they warranted. He sucked his teeth then finished the last few drops of the rare Moranth liqueur. \"It seems tome that so far whatever it is that now squats on Majesty Hill has done all the pushing. It's long past time someone pushed back. '\n\nThe thin slash of a smile drew up, revealing sharp white teeth. \"Mallick chose well in you, I think, Ambassador Aragan.\"\n\n\"Most of my promotions were under Laseen.\"\n\nThe smile faltered and the man sat up, leaning forward. The mention of the former Empress seemed to have stung him. Ah yes, Aragan realized. His failure in averting her assassination. \"Yes. A lesson therefor all of us.\"\n\n\"Lesson?\" Somehow Aragan could not help probing; it pleased him to be able to penetrate the fellow's irritating manner.\n\nElbows on his knees and hands hanging loose, the master assassin said, \"That in our line of work we all die alone, Ambassador.\"\n\nAragan didn't know whether to laugh or snort his scorn. What the devil did he mean by that? What line of work? He served the Throne.\n\nTopper stood. \"I will begin making my arrangements, then.\"\n\n\"You've located our assets? '\n\n\"Oh yes. And it's time I paid a visit. They will be none too pleased. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Is there anything I can do?\"\n\n\"See to our regular forces, Ambassador. Leave the rest tome.\"\n\nAragan nodded. \"Very good. May Oponn favour you, Clawmaster.\"\n\nA clench of pain crossed Topper's face.\"Let's leave those two out of this, shall we?\"\n\n*\n\n\"I'm tellin'ya it's some kinda foundation... but for what I got no idea. \"Spindle sat back in his chair and frowned his confusion.\"Seems too flimsy fora wall. '\n\nAt the table Picker sent a glance to the historian, Duiker. The man was unaware of her regard, his thoughts obviously distant as he pursued the problem. Good. May it rouse the man even further. \"Guards?\" she asked Spindle.\n\n\"Hardly any. City Wardens, that's it. \"The mage drummed his fingers on the table.\"Naw, it's them mages you gotta watch for. Plenty scary, them. Remind me of the Old Guard cadre, Hairlock and Sister Chill.\" He rubbed a handover his greasy shirt. \"You know, I swear one had me cold to rights. But damned if he didn't let me go. '\n\n\"Which?\" the old man asked.\n\n\"The tall one– scholarly look to him.\"\n\nThe historian grunted, returned to studying the tabletop.\n\n\"There's more than them to worry about, ' the bard, Fisher, said from the bar.\n\nPicker cocked a brow. \"Oh?\"\n\n\"Sadly, Envy supports this Legate.\"\n\nBlend, behind the bar, let out along drawn-out'Damn...\" The front door opened and a customer entered. Blend sent a cursory glance over then froze, her eyes bulging. \"Look out!\" she bellowed and disappeared behind the bar."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Fisher just stared his puzzlement.\n\nPicker knocked over the table to duck behind. Spindle threw himself into a booth. The historian remained in his chair. He eyed the newcomer first with surprise, then distaste. He raised a hand fora halt. \"He came in the front door, Blend,\" he called.\n\nBlend straightened from behind the bar, a cocked crossbow trained on the man at the door. \"You've got some nerve showing yourself here, y'damned snake.\"\n\nThe tall fellow held up both gloved hands. \"Now, now. I come in peace.\"\n\nSpindle emerged, hand on the shortsword at his side. \"What d'ya want? '\n\n\"Just a chat. Let us sit down together over drinks. Reminisce and tell lies of the old days.\"\n\n\"I'd rather fall into a privy, ' Picker said, standing, twin long-knives out.\n\n\"Who's this? ' Fisher asked Blend.\n\n\"Topper. Clawmaster. The Empire's found us. '\n\nTopper looked to the ceiling. \"We never lost track of you, Blend.\"\n\n\"Everyone relax,\" Duiker said. \"If Mallick wanted your heads he wouldn't send this one. '\n\nTopper squinted, edging forward. \"Do my eyes deceive me? Not Imperial Historian Duiker?\"\n\n\"Ex.\"\n\nBlend raised her crossbow, pulled out the bolt. Picker sheathed her long-knives and righted the table. \"What're you after? ' she grumbled.\n\n\"We have a common enemy.\"\n\nBlend, Picker and Spindle shared quick looks, then Picker snorted, \"No, we don't. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Topper pulled a chair to the table. He undid his dark green silk-lined cloak and hung it over the back, then sat. The shirt beneath was a fine satiny forest green. He drew off his gloves and peered round innocently at everyone. \"A drink, perhaps?\"\n\nBlend drew a pint from the bar and ambled over. \"Whatever you're sellin'we don't want any, ' she growled.\n\nThe Clawmaster took the earthenware pint and sipped. He made a face. \"Are you trying to kill me?\" Spindle started up from the table and Picker flinched. Topper raised a placating hand. \"A joke.\"\n\nSpindle's mocking smile was sickly.\"Very funny. '\n\nDuiker eyed the Clawmaster, his lined face stony behind his grey beard. He steepled his hands on the table. \"What is your proposal? And bear in mind– these soldiers are retired.\"\n\nTopper hooked an arm over the top of his chair. He turned the pint in circles before him. \"Retired? Is that what you call it? According to the lists you are all deserters. Except for our honoured historian here.\"\n\n\"Not according to us,\" Picker ground out.\n\n\"Dujek told us-\" began Spindle.\n\n\"He was not in a position to offer anything,\" Topper interrupted.\n\n\"Don't push that line, \"Blend warned from where she now stood behind Topper's chair. \"That dog won't hunt. '\n\nTopper gave a small shrug. \"Fair enough. I understand you've already accepted a contract to collect intelligence. What would it take for you to sign on for something a little more... direct? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"As free agents?\" Picker said.\n\n\"Yes. Free agents.\"\n\nPicker opened her mouth to name something, a price perhaps, but Duiker took hold of her arm, silencing her. He whispered into her ear and her tangled brows rose. She cuffed the old man's shoulder.\"Our price, Clawmaster, is the formal decommissioning of the Bridgeburners. '\n\nTopper's slit gaze glanced aside to the historian and his lips pursed. After turning the mug in circles on the rough slats of the table he gave a slow nod.\"Agreed. It will be arranged. '\n\n\"And the job?\" Spindle asked nervously.\n\nAn easy shrug from the slouched Clawmaster. \"Well... it seems for reasons known only to himself this Legate wants a wall built... Therefore, we should do our best to interfere with that.\" His gaze rose to Spindle. \"I take it you have munitions?\" The saboteur-trained mage gave a jerked nod. \"Excellent. Then you lot can do what you're best at. '\n\n\"And you?\" Blend demanded, her chin stuck out.\n\n\"I'll provide cover in case there are any... complications. '\n\nPicker snorted. \"Somehow I'm not so relieved by that. '\n\nThe Clawmaster laid his hands flat on the table. His smile was now supremely assured. \"You should be.\"\n\nAt their servants'table in the kitchens of the Lim estate, Leff let out along loud sigh. Scorch, opposite, roused himself, blinking.\"You say somethin\"?\"\n\nLeff shook his head. He tucked his hands up under his arms, sighed again. \"You know, Scorch, I don't think anyone's comin\" back. I'm gettin\" the distinct feeling that we've been handed our hats.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Scorch's puzzled frown deepened even further.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Howzat? Hats? I ain't got no hat.\"\n\nLeff glared his disapproval. \"It's an expression, man. Means we're fired.\"\n\nScorch goggled at his partner. \"What? Fired? We ain't even been paid yet! '\n\nNow Leff banged his chair forward, gaping. \"Ain't been paid yet? How can that be? You're supposed to be in charge of all that.\"\n\nScorch's consternation creased his forehead until his brows met between his small darting eyes.\"I thought you were supposed to be handlin'that.\"\n\nLeff pressed a hand to his brow. \"I distinctly remember me saying that you should do it.\"\n\n\"Oh. Well, we could take it up with the boss. What's \"is name– Ebbin.\"\n\nNow Leff's brow wrinkled in bewilderment.\"The scholar? What in the Queen's name does he have to do with any of this?\"\n\n\"He's with the Legate. I seen him. '\n\nLeff dropped his hand, amazed. \"Burn protect us! Why didn't you say so? '\n\n\"You didn't say it was important. '\n\nLeff pushed himself up from the table, stretched his numb legs, wincing. \"Gods, man. You have to learn to think for yourself! I can't be expected to keep doin'all the thinking for us.\"\n\nScorch hung his head. \"Sorry, Leff.\"\n\n\"Well, I should think so!\"\n\nCity Wardens stopped them at the gate to the Way of Justice leading up Majesty Hill. The two Wardens gripped their wood truncheons. \"You're carrying weapons, ' one called, accusing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Leff and Scorch glanced to their peace-strapped swords, the crossbows over their shoulders. \"Looks like it,\" Leff answered and attempted to brush past. The thick wooden portal was closed, however, and he pushed against it to no effect. \"Open up,\" he shouted. \"Official business.\"\n\nThe two Wardens shared smirks. \"Official? You two?\"\n\n\"Go squat your official business off in the bushes,\" the other suggested.\n\nScorch drew himself up, offended. \"I'll have you know we're all certified, listed and official. I'd go ahead \"n\" check if I were you. Otherwise could be consequences. '\n\n\"That's right, \"Leff put in, though with much less certainty.\"Consequences. '\n\nOne of the Wardens banged his truncheon on the rough timbers of the door. A small communicating slit opened. \"Names?\" someone demanded from behind the slit.\n\n\"Leff and Scorch,\" Leff shouted, mouth to the slit.\n\n\"All right, all right!\" the hidden clerk grumbled. \"You don't have to shout. '\n\nOne Warden leaned against the door, arms crossed, shaking his head. Leff adjusted the weight of the crossbow against his shoulder. Scorch dug a finger into his ear and twisted it round.\n\nThe heavy door slid backwards and the Warden almost fell with it. He jerked, wildly surprised, and received a superior look from Leff as the latter pushed through. Scorch ambled after, crossbow held behind his neck, arms draped over it. \"Consequences,\" he murmured, and winked.\n\nAs they wandered their slow way up the twisting path Leff rubbed his unshaven jaw, casting narrowed wondering glances Scorch's way. Finally an idea occurred to him and he gave an exaggerated knowing nod, saying,\"Ah! I get it now... good ol'Captain Soen. Ever conscientious, that one. Good guess, Scorch.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Scorch's permanent scowl of resentful confusion took on an even greater perplexity.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"What're you talking about? I just said that, that's all. Sounded like the kinda thing important persons say. '\n\nLeff used his crossbow to brush aside a clerk who was waving papers at him. \"Sometimes I wonder about you, Scorch. I really do.\"\n\nBut his partner was ambling down another hall. \"Got us in, didn't it? '\n\nEventually, after being shooed out of a number of chambers and offices, they found the guarded doors to the Great Hall. Leff approached the city Wardens, and as one opened his mouth to challenge them, bellowed: \"Message for Captain Soen!\" The Warden snapped his mouth shut and exchanged an uncertain glance with his fellow. Leff pushed open the small clerk's door and strode in.\n\n\"Message for Captain Soen!\" Scorch echoed as he stepped through.\n\n\"You don't have to say it again! ' Leff hissed, pushing him aside.\n\nScorch pushed back and Leff nearly dropped his crossbow. \"I got us in, didn't I! '\n\n\"We're already... ' Leff tailed off, feeling the weight of numerous eyes. He turned.\n\nA great crowd of nobles and councillors filled the length of the Great Hall. All were dressed in rich finery. Many wore masks, as was traditional for the various city religious ceremonies and fetes. Leff bowed, cuffing Scorch, who bowed as well. Dismissing them, the many eyes turned away. Leff scanned the crowd. \"There he is.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Soen, dammit! Who else? C'mon. '\n\nThey tramped forward. The clank and clatter of their weaponry almost drowned out the low murmured conversations. A figure sat motionless on a raised seat of white stone at the far end of the hall. Before Scorch and Leff were halfway across Soen intercepted them, a sharp grip on the forearm of each. He steered them aside into the shadows of a colonnaded walk along one wall of the hall."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What in the name of the Queen of Mysteries are you two doing here?\" he hissed, furious.\n\nScorch looked to Leff. Leff saluted. \"Reporting in, sir.\"\n\nThe big man's salted brows clenched.\"What? Reporting? Why? '\n\nA panicked look gripped Leff's lined features, as if he'd reached the end of his gambit and hadn't realized more might be required.\"Ah... reporting that the manor house is all secure, sir! '\n\n\"What? Secure? Who gives a-\" The captain bit back his rising voice, peered round, anxious. \"You two are fired,\" he said, his voice low and fierce. \"Get out of here and never comeback.\"\n\n\"Fired?\" Scorch echoed, outraged. \"What for? Guild rules-\"\n\n\"Guild rules require justification, I know. Deserting your post. How's that? '\n\nThe two shared a pained look. Leff pulled at his lower lip. \"Well... I suppose that would kinda do it.\"\n\n\"It most certainly does. Pay can be collected at the guild office. Now leave– or must I escort you out?\" The captain didn't wait for an answer but beckoned others of Lim's private guard over.\n\n\"Wait!\" a voice called. Captain Soen turned and immediately bowed to one knee. \"Sir.\"\n\nScorch and Leff were astonished to see their old employer, the scholar Ebbin. Something like wonder was on the man's face as he gazed upon them.\"I... know... you, ' he breathed, as if awed by the realization.\n\nLeff knuckled his brow. \"Yes, sir. Been working for you for sometime now, sir.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The old man's gaze seemed to wander as he stood, brows furrowed in concentration.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"Yes. I remember. I... remember you. \"He glanced to the captain.\"These men work for me, Soen. They are my guards. '\n\nThe captain's brows climbed almost all the way up to the rim of his helmet. He shot a glance to the immobile and silent figure on the throne, blew out a breath.\"Well... if you say so... sir. '\n\n\"They may remain.\"\n\nSoen was obviously still very confused, but as a good private soldier he accepted his employer's dictates– no matter how stupid in his estimation. He saluted.\"Yes, sir. '\n\nLeff saluted too. Then he cuffed Scorch, who also saluted.\n\nBut the scholar had wandered off. He'd pulled out a cloth and was wiping his sweaty strained face, the other hand rubbing his chest. Captain Soen scowled down at the pair; then he nodded to himself.\"I see it now. Friends in high places. Looks like I'm stuck with you.\" He eyed them up and down again, his disgust increasing. \"At least get yourselves cleaned up.\"\n\nScorch straightened, outraged. \"I washed just a few weeks ago!\"\n\n\"Your clothes and armour, man! Clean them up.\"\n\nLeff saluted. \"Yessir. Right away, sir.\"\n\nThe captain just shook his head, jerked a thumb to another of his guards. \"Willa here will kit you out. Comeback when you're presentable. '\n\n\"Yes, sir! With pleasure, sir!\"\n\nSoen answered with a gesture that was half salute, half dismissive wave. \"Whatever. Get out of here– now.\"\n\nThey travelled at night once they entered the desolate hills of the Dwelling Plain. Despite this, and all Fist Steppen's many precautions in water conservation, they still lost irreplaceable mounts and dray animals. Even a few men and women collapsed under the unrelenting pace. Some died; others recuperated in the wagons trailing the column."},{"from":"human","value":"That pace was nightmare for Bendan."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Never having had cause to walk for longer than one bell– what in Fanderay's name for? There was never any need– he couldn't believe what was being demanded of them. What in all the Lost Lands could be so important? He managed to keep up, but barely. He walked in a daze and knew he'd be no use in a fight. Not that there'd been any raids. But still, he felt defenceless, hardly able to stand.\n\nThis day their scout, a Rhivi exile named Tarat– word was the young woman had killed a relative– raised her hand and crouched, studying the dry dusty ground. Sergeant Hektar joined her, and, bored, Bendan staggered over.\n\n\"What is it?\" the giant Dal Hon rumbled.\n\n\"The column has crossed this trail,\" she answered, a hand indicating a line northward.\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"It's like nothing I have ever seen before. '\n\n\"So?\"\n\nThe girl blew out a breath and pushed the unruly kinked hair from her freckled face. \"Malazan. I know every spoor on the face of these lands. If I see something new it is a strange matter. Still... this trail reminds me of something. Something from an old story...\"\n\nBendan simply took the opportunity fora breather; and he didn't mind standing looking down at the tribal girl, either. Fine haunches she had. Too bad she also had a knife for anyone who got too close. He pulled out his skin of water and took a pull. He was about to take another when Hektar pushed the skin down.\n\n\"That's enough, trooper. You know the water rules. '\n\n\"I know I'm damned thirsty. '\n\n\"You'll be even more thirsty two days from now when you run out. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Both of them jumped when the Rhivi girl let out a shout of alarm and scrambled back from the trail as if it was a snake that had reared at her. \"What is it?\" Hektar demanded.\n\nTarat's gaze swung to them, her eyes huge with wonder.\"I have to speak to the commander. '\n\nAlmost the entire column had passed now. Hektar drew off his helmet to wipe his dark sweaty face. \"She's with the van... ' he began.\n\n\"I must. Immediately.\"\n\nHektar sighed his disgust. He wiped the leather liner inside the helmet then pulled it on again. \"All right. Let's go. '\n\n\"I'll tell Little, ' Bendan said.\n\n\"No– you're comin'with us. Let's go. '\n\n\"What for? You got her. You don't need me. '\n\n\"You seen it too. Now c'mon. '\n\n\"Aw, for Hood's sake... ' But the big sergeant crooked a finger and started after the scout. Bendan dragged himself along behind.\n\nThe van was a damned long way ahead. First, they were all mounted, something which irked Bendan no end. Why should they be mounted when the rest of them had to plod along? And second, they were all so much cleaner and better accoutred than he. Something that also never failed to stir his resentment. Why should they wear such superior armour– cuirasses of hammered iron and banded hauberks– when all he wore was a hauberk of boiled leather faced with ring mail, with mailed sleeves? It was his general view that anyone with better equipment than his, or with greater wealth, just didn't deserve it.\n\nIn response to a signal from the sergeant a messenger rode over, spoke to him briefly, then wheeled off to take his request to the Fist. Shortly thereafter a small mounted body broke off from the van to return to them. It was Fist Steppen, accompanied by a small guard and her inner staff. They parted around the three waiting troopers. Sergeant Hektar saluted the dumpy sunburned woman in her sweat-stained riding trousers and loose shirting. The skin of her forehead was angry-red and peeling."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fist Steppen.\"\n\n\"You have a report?\"\n\nHektar gestured to Tarat. \"Our Rhivi scout has news.\"\n\nTarat saluted, quite smartly. Steppen nodded to her. \"The trail the column passed just back-\" the girl began, but was interrupted.\n\n\"We all saw it,\" an officer put in. \"A band marching double-file, north. Bandits, perhaps.\"\n\nTarat's hand snapped closed on the bone-handled knife at her side and she glared at the man.\n\nSteppen raised a hand for silence. \"Continue,\" she said to Tarat.\n\nThe girl did so, but still glared murder at the officer. \"No bandits– or even soldiers– have the discipline to maintain such a straight trail. Look to our own meandering track if you don't believe me. Men and women pause to adjust gear, to relieve themselves, to remove stones from their sandals. Only one people are capable of moving across the land in this manner. It is said they can march for four days and nights without a single pause. '\n\n\"It is said?\" Steppen asked, cocking her head.\n\nTarat lost her glare, removed her hand from her blade. \"In our stories, Fist. Among us Rhivi are told stories of these people. Most speak darkly of them.\"\n\n\"And they are?\"\n\nTarat was clearly unwilling to say just who she was talking about, but asked directly she hunched slightly, as if expecting scorn, and said, \"The Seguleh.\"\n\nBendan laughed out loud. Hektar glared for him to shut up but he couldn't help it. The Fist arched a brow.\"You have something to add, trooper? I see you too area local. What is your opinion? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He waved a hand in apology. \"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just... the Seguleh? Scary stories for children only, ma'am.\"\n\n\"I assure you they are quite real.\"\n\n\"Oh yes. Real enough. Down south. I'd say they're damned good all right– damned good at puffing up their reputation, if you follow me, ma'am. '\n\nLeather creaked as the Fist leaned forward onto her pommel. \"You are from Darujhistan, yes?\"\n\n\"Yes, m'am. '\n\n\"And the opinion you express regarding these people... this would be typical of the city, would it?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Just a lot of tall tales.\"\n\n\"I see. Thank you. Very informative.\" She turned to Tarat. \"Thank you for your report. That is all.\"\n\nThe troop edged their mounts aside and cantered off to return to the van. Tarat whirled to face Bendan. \"Laugh at me again and I'll slit you open like a weasel. Yes? '\n\nBendan held out his arms. \"Yeah. Fine. Whatever.\"\n\nThe tribal girl stalked away on those fine haunches.\n\nGods! So damned prickly!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"We are the freemen privateers.\n\nWe sail the forested isles\n\nfrom Callows to far Galatan!\n\nWe have thrown off the chains\n\nof yoke, coin and tyrant.\n\nSo join us who dare to be free!\n\nThe Freemen Privateers\n\nAuthor unknown\n\nBARATHOL HAD TAKEN to sleeping in his work tent. During the late afternoon he'd drop in on the house to make sure little Chaur was fed and clean. He didn't blame Scillara for her lack of maternal instincts– he was resigned to it. Perhaps it balanced what he admitted might be his own over-developed nurturing instinct.\n\nThis night he was bringing up the heat of the forge, readying for another shift, when he heard a strange sound. It seemed to becoming from the excavation trench. Outside the tent, the work crew was on break and all should have been silent, yet intermittent clanging or thumping reached him. He stepped out into the dig, listening.\n\nHe thought it came from the exposed stone blocks themselves. Kneeling, he placed an ear close to the cold smooth stone. Shortly, he heard it: a clanging or banging reverberating down the stones. It sounded as if someone was digging somewhere along the now nearly completed arc of set blocks. He stood to peer about; no one was around. The mages who oversaw the installations never arrived until much later. Frowning, he picked up a crowbar and set off to walk the circuit.\n\nHe sensed nothing strange until halfway round the nearly completed circle. Here the arc cut through a patch of woods dense in underbrush, part of an artificial park planted on the hilltop. Damn good cover, it occurred to him, and he immediately ducked down to take advantage. Edging forward, he found another excavation, this one much smaller. A pit had been dug over the arc of the stone ring. Even as he watched, dirt flew up to land in the brush. What in the Twins' name was this?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then he sensed someone behind him. He spun, gripping the crowbar horizontally in both hands. Steel rang from the heavy tool and a wide burly figure readied for another thrust. Barathol fell, swinging the crowbar; it glanced from a shin and the figure grunted her– her? – pain, tumbling. As the assassin fell, her foot caught him across the throat. Both rolled in the dirt, gasping. Barathol rose just in time to block another stab then readied the crowbar fora swing but stopped, astonished. His attacker also froze.\n\n\"Barathol?\" she said, amazed.\n\n\"Blend?\"\n\n\"What in the Queen's name're you doing here?\" she snarled, wincing and holding her shin.\n\n\"What are you marines up to?\" he demanded.\n\nA needle-point pricked his back and a voice whispered from behind, \"The Legate has declared war on Malaz, friend. Time to choose sides.\"\n\n\"Don't do it, Topper, ' Blend warned.\n\nTopper? Where had he heard that name before?\n\nBlend straightened, tested her weight on her leg. \"Stand aside, Barathol. This is nothing to do with you.\"\n\n\"Barathol?\" said the one named Topper. \"Mekhar? Kalam's relation? '\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nThe knife point pressed harder for an instant, as if its holder were of a mind to finish him quickly then and there. He wasn't the type to go quietly and he almost moved rather than just stand and be slaughtered but the thought of little Chaur stopped him and he froze, tensed, his limbs twitching.\n\n\"Don't, \"Blend urged Topper.\"He's a friend.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The blade withdrew– slightly. \"Are you, Barathol... a friend?\"\n\n\"This is just a job. I have rent to pay. A family to feed. I'm lucky to have any work. '\n\n\"If it's just a question of coin– you'll have it.\"\n\n\"On your word?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nBarathol allowed himself a small shrug. \"Then I'll be on my way. This isn't my business.\"\n\n\"Very well. On your way. But I'll be watching. One word to anyone and you'll die. Understood?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I know the drill.\"\n\nThe blade pricked him to urge him on. He nodded to Blend and headed off. A few steps later he tossed the crowbar into the woods and continued along the path.\n\nAt the trench the work crew had returned to prepping the foundation. Barathol made a show of straightening his trousers as he descended into the trench. He pushed aside the tent flap and ducked in. The tall mage was there waiting for him, staff of old wood in one hand.\n\n\"Where were you?\" he growled.\n\n\"Call of nature.\"\n\n\"Took your time.\"\n\n\"I'm not eating right these days. '\n\n\"How much do you think I care about the state of your bowels?\"\n\nBarathol held a handover the coals, thrust in a bar to stir them. \"You asked.\"\n\n\"Don't leave the forge again. We are on a timetable. There can be no delay. '\n\nOver his shoulder Barathol studied the strangely lean angular fellow. \"Oh? To accomplish what?\"\n\nThe man's eyes seemed to flare and he clasped the staff in both hands. The wood creaked in the fierce grip.\"That is not your concern, ' he ground out."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Barathol shrugged. He gestured to the wood and leather bellows. \"Work those for me then.\"\n\nThe mage sneered. The fresh scars on his face twisted in disgust. \"Find another to do that, imbecile.\"\n\nBarathol threw down the bar. \"Fine. More delay.\"\n\nHe impressed a worker from the crew to help on the bellows. The entire time, the mage paced the narrow confines of the tent. The work might have gone as usual, but for Barathol it seemed to flow as slowly as the silver melting in the glowing ceramic crucible. He kept suppressing the urge to peer over his shoulder, and he hunched at particularly loud bangs and crashes of dropped equipment in the trench.\n\nAll the time, he felt the gaze of the mage on his back like the twin impressions of heated dagger-points. Finally, the work was done. Both moulds were poured, and the mage shouldered him aside to inspect the cooling bars. \"These appear acceptable,\" he growled, bent over them. A flicked hand dismissed Barathol, who straightened his back with a murmured \"You're welcome'.\n\nHe pushed aside the heavy canvas flap and stepped out into cool dawn air. He drew a cloth from inside his shirt and wiped his face and hands, then stood still fora moment, enjoying the caress of the wind. Walking up from the trench he paused, glanced back towards the distant woods hidden behind awing of the rambling complex of Majesty Hall. No alarm as yet. Not even a peep. Reconnoitring? Investigating the stones? Or... no, they wouldn't dare try that, would they?\n\nBest to be faraway in any case.\n\nHe headed fora twisting walkway down the hill.\n\nHalfway along the trail he flinched as a boom erupted over the hillside, echoing and rolling into the distance. It sounded eerily like broad sails catching a brisk wind. He turned in time to see a great cloud of dirt and dust billowing up over the tiled rooftops of the various buildings crowding the hilltop. He could even make out the clattering of rocks as they tumbled down the cliffs. Distant shouts and screams sounded. He hung his head. Damn! Now I have to go back fora look– it would be strange if I didn't."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Assist the writer, move the story forward.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 14\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fal-ej threw her arms out wide. \\\"How in the name of Ehrlitan should I know! I'm not the engineer. Now get going! '\\n\\nFrowning her agreement, the sergeant motioned to a trooper. \\\"Whitey, take your team over.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aw, c'mon, Sarge. Fish is almost ready. '\\n\\nThe sergeant's voice took on an edge.\\\"Get going... now. '\\n\\n\\\"Fine!\\\" The man straightened to slap dirt off his hide trousers, motioned his team up. The sergeant turned to the captain, cocked a brow and saluted.\\n\\nFal-ej answered the salute and yanked her mount round. \\\"Thank you, sergeant.\\\" She rode off kicking up more mud.\\n\\n\\\"What's gotten under her saddle? \\\"a trooper muttered.\\\"Martinet bitch. '\\n\\n\\\"Naw,\\\" the sergeant said as she watched the woman go, a hand shading her gaze. \\\"Ain't nothing a good humping wouldn't cure.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sarge!\\\" one trooper groaned. \\\"Do you have to?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's your answer for everything, ' another complained.\\n\\nThe sergeant turned, rubbing her hands together. \\\"Yes indeed– too bad none of you poor excuses are up to it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, don't goon about the damned Moranth. We don't believe none o\\\" those stories. '\\n\\n\\\"Now don't go and just kill everyone, okay! ' Yusek snarled over her shoulder as they struggled up the narrow mountain trail.\\n\\n\\\"You exaggerate,\\\" Sall answered calmly.\\n\\n\\\"No, I do not fucking exaggerate! Someone raises a cooking ladle your way and you two butcher two hundred! Try to show a little respect. This is some kinda monastery or something.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If they are unarmed they have nothing to fear from us.\\\"\\n\\nShe snorted her scorn. Pausing, she glanced further down to distant Lo making his way up after them. No sign of sweat or labour on either of them! No shortage of breath. Yusek, for her part, felt light-headed and nauseous with the height. Gods. Never been this high before. They say the air is poisonous up here. Kill you assure as a blade to the heart.\\n\\nSwallowing to wet her rasping throat she glanced ahead to the monastery walls of heaped cobbles. Tattered prayer flags snapped in the cold wind. White tendrils of smoke blew here and therefrom cook-fires. Overhead a clear, painfully bright blue sky domed the world. Beautiful, in its way, but fora faint green blemish across its vault– the Scimitar of a god's vengeance, some named that banner.\\n\\nA monk, or acolyte, or whatever you would call him, met them at the stone arch that was the compound's entrance. Yusek took the shaven-headed slim figure fora boy until she spoke, revealing her sex.\\\"Enter, please, the adytum. We offer food, shelter, and peace for contemplation to all who would enter. '\\n\\n\\\"Adytum?\\\" Yusek repeated. \\\"Is that the place's name? '\\n\\n\\\"The adytum is a location. The most sacred place. The inner shrine of worship for our faith.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What faith is that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dessembrae.\\\" And the woman gestured aside, inviting. Nor did she blink in the face of the two masked Seguleh.\\n\\nYusek urged Sall forward. \\\"Well? Goon!\\\"\\n\\nBy his hesitation the young man appeared almost embarrassed. \\\"There is a proper time for everything,\\\" he told Yusek aside; then, to the acolyte: \\\"Thank you. We would rest. And any hot food you may spare would be welcome.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The acolyte showed them to a simple hut of piled stone cobbles, almost like a cell. Afire already burned in its small central hearth. Smoke drifted up to the ceiling hole. A black iron pot was heating over the low flames. The young acolyte– no older than I am, Yusek reflected– in her loose shirt over trousers of plain cloth and bare feet, stopped at the threshold. \\\"You would prefer separate quarters?\\\" she asked Yusek, who nodded. \\\"This way.\\\"\\n\\nThe hut she showed Yusek was no different from the other. \\\"Listen,\\\" Yusek told her, lowering her voice, \\\"those two are Seguleh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have heard of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. Well, they're hereto kill someone. You have to warn him– tell him to get out of here. '\\n\\n\\\"They've come to kill someone? I doubt that very much. '\\n\\nYusek found herself clenching her teeth. \\\"You don't understand-'\\n\\nThe young woman held up a hand. \\\"Your concern does you credit. But there is no need for worry. The man you speak of has no interest in their challenges. They will leave empty-handed.\\\"\\n\\nYusek wanted to grab the girl's shoulder and shake her. You little fool! You have no idea what you are facing here! But the girl studied her, calm, uninflected, and something in that steady regard made Yusek uneasy. As if she's looking through me... like I'm a ghost or something.\\n\\nThe girl bowed. \\\"If that is all.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah... I suppose so.\\\"\\n\\nThe girl withdrew. Yusek sat on the cot, unrolled the bedding of thick woven blankets provided against the cold. In truth she was exhausted, which surprised her. Hardly a full day's journey since their last camp, she freezing her butt off, complaining the entire time, and those two maintaining their infuriating silence– not even telling her to shut the Abyss up.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She lay down, threw an arm across her eyes. Well, she was free of them. She'd brought them to the monastery and now her obligation was over. She'd takeoff tomorrow and leave these pathetic empty wastes behind. Maybe she'd head on north to Mengal. Who knew, maybe she'd take a ship to some rich distant land like Quon Tali or Seven Cities.\\n\\nShe fell asleep dreaming of that. Of getting away, faraway.\\n\\nWhen she started awake the light coming in through the shutters over the single tiny window held the pink of dawn. Normally she never woke up this early but normally she never fell asleep in the afternoon. Groaning, she stretched her stiff frozen limbs, then dropped to her knees before the hearth to tease the fire back to life. After a hot cup of tea she felt alive enough to head out.\\n\\nWhen she opened the door the first thing that struck her was the silence. She'd grown used to the forest with its constant background noise of the wind through the branches, the trunks groaning as they flexed. Here there was only the low moan of the wind over stone, the faint snap of the prayer flags. She found herself almost trying to soften the fall of her moccasins on the stone-flagged walk. Almost. Then she shook off the spell and went to find something to eat.\\n\\nTo her chagrin she found everyone up already. What is it with these people that they getup so early? It's inhuman. A group of the monks, or priests, were out on a central field of sand, weaving through some sort of exercise or devotional movements. She watched fora time: the practice held a kind of flowing beauty. It seemed almost hypnotic. But she was hungry and so she turned away to find someone to ask for directions to a kitchen or mess.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Later, chewing on a hot flatbread, she wandered back out to the central open field to see Sall and Lo watching the monks, who were now engaged in some sort of paired physical training of throws and falls.\\n\\nAha, she thought. This is more like it. She stepped up to Sall. \\\"Going to talk tome? Or am Ia nobody now?\\\"\\n\\nStanding arms crossed, the youth did not shift his gaze from the monks. \\\"I will speak to you... for the time being.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, that's something, I suppose. What now? What will you two do? '\\n\\n\\\"Lo will challenge the– the man here.\\\"\\n\\nYusek gave an exaggerated nod. She too watched the monks. \\\"So which one's he? '\\n\\nA heavy breath raised Sall's shoulders.\\\"That is the problem. He will not identify himself. Nor will anyone else do so. \\\"His voice took on an almost puzzled edge:\\\"They are simply ignoring us. '\\n\\nYusek choked on her bread. Gulping, she managed to swallow, then broke out in a laugh that left her almost helpless. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She straightened, wiping her cheeks. Sall was regarding her from behind his mask, his dark brown eyes uncomfortable. She took a steadying breath. \\\"Aii-ya. So... how does it feel to be on the receiving end, hey?\\\"\\n\\nThe lad had the grace to lower his gaze. Again a great breath raised his chest behind his crossed arms. \\\"It is most... frustrating,\\\" he admitted.\\n\\nYusek gave a satisfied: \\\"It most certainly is.\\\"\\n\\nThe lad returned to watching the monks go through their regimen of exercise and training. Yusek sat on the stone kerb surrounding the practice field. Need five days'rations fora start. I wonder if there's any dried meat in the larder here. Probably not. This lot do not look like the hunter type.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And she'd be on her own again. Target of any arsehole who thought he could twist her arm...\\n\\nIt occurred to her that perhaps she shouldn't be in such an all-fire hurry to getaway.\\n\\nSall straightened then and Yusek peered up. Sticks were being brought out: wooden swords. Oh-ho. Things are getting interesting now.\\n\\nThe monks paired off, one practice sword per pair, attacker and defender. While Yusek watched, the swordsmen cut and thrust and the defenders threw them like dolls, or bent them to their knees, sword-arm twisted.\\n\\nRidiculous! Any real swordsman would cut an unarmed manor woman to pieces. Sall must be laughing inside– or groaning.\\n\\nShe gave a glance and saw him turn his masked face to Lo. Something imperceptible to her passed between them, and the lad unclasped his cloak. He laid it on the stone flags then placed his sheathed swords on top of the cloth and walked out onto the sands. Yusek shifted to look at Lo and jumped to find him next to her. It gave her the creeps how he did that.\\n\\nThe monks all stopped their exercises to watch while Sall approached the nearest pair. Bowing, he held out a hand for the wooden sword. The acolyte turned a glance to the monk leading the practice, a wiry petite woman. She nodded and the acolyte handed over the sword.\\n\\nSall faced his partner. He bowed then struck a ready stance, left foot shifting back behind him. Yusek rose to her feet. The acolyte, even younger than Sall, brought his empty hands up between them, one above the other, elbows bent.\\n\\nSall struck then, but not as Yusek had seen before. Slowly, gently, he brought the wooden blade down in an exaggerated overhead drop cut. The youth shifted inwards underneath the cut, somehow hooked Sall's arms, and bent, pulling the swordsman over his shoulder and throwing him to the ground. But Sall rolled easily and came to his feet once more.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The two faced off once again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"This time Sall swung a horizontal slash. The youth side-stepped, took the Seguleh's arm, and somehow led him in a spinning dance then let go and sent him flying out over the sands. The performance would have appeared laughably false had not Yusek known that Sall was in noway cooperating. Next, Sall mimed a slow two-handed thrust. The youth stepped aside of the move, somehow pushing Sall to send him tumbling aside.\\n\\nLo stood silent at Yusek's side.\\n\\nSall rose to brush the dust from his shoulders. He bowed again and the two paired off once more. This time he raised his sword high above his head, the blade vertical. He held it therefor a time, motionless, then brought it down in a slow angled strike. The youth again stepped in close, but Sall now side-stepped himself, bringing the sword around for another sweep. The youth pursued and now the two circled faster and faster, swords arcing and the youth's arms twisting as if attempting to ensnare his opponent's. The nearest monks scrambled backwards out of the way of the match as it spun seemingly out of control.\\n\\nThe silence of it was the most eerie thing to Yusek. All she could hear was the snap and flutter of the monk's sleeves and the hiss of the wooden sword. Neither man gasped or yelled or snarled. Even their feet shifted noiselessly over the sands. At first she'd thought this some sort of a duel, but she saw now that it was more of a sparring match– the exchange of known moves and countermoves, each now faster than the last, each testing the other.\\n\\nFinally, at some signal or agreement between the two, they spun apart to face one another.\\n\\nAmazingly, neither betrayed the least hint of exertion. Neither's chest rose more than before; neither breathed loudly at all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Both bowed. Sall now stepped up, his blade held low at his side, his right leg back. The monk matched his step. Swiftly, Sall thrust the wooden sword through his belt and faced the youth with his hands at his sides.\\n\\nThe youth's large brown eyes shifted to the woman leading the practice; she gave another small nod. The youth raised his hands again, ready.\\n\\nThis time when Sall moved Yusek missed it. So too did his partner. One moment Sall stood with his hands at his sides, empty. The next he held the blade one-handed against the youth's neck.\\n\\nA soft grunt escaped Lo.\\n\\nThe young acolyte's eyes grew huge and after taking a moment to digest what had just happened he bowed to Sall.\\n\\nSo ends the lesson.\\n\\nBut apparently not. For the woman who had been leading the practice now approached Sall. She bowed and waved in an unmistakable try that with me gesture.\\n\\nThe woman, Yusek noted with interest, was no taller or heavier than herself. Her hair was cut short and her bare arms were extraordinarily lean and muscled. Sall's mask turned towards Lo, who, his arms across his chest, gave a small flick of one hand. Sall bowed to the woman, accepting.\\n\\nThe two faced off. Sall pushed the wooden sword through his belt once more. The woman struck a ready pose exactly like that of her student. The acolytes stood frozen, silent, and their watchful intensity reminded Yusek of the Seguleh themselves.\\n\\nSall shifted his sandalled feet in the sand a few times, as if unhappy with his stance, then stilled. This time Yusek almost caught it. One moment Sall was motionless. Then, in the next, he was off his feet describing an arc through the air over the back of the spinning woman, who had thrown him flying high to land in a great swath of bursting sand.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sall sprang to his feet, sword still in hand, and to Yusek every line of his body shouted of his utter astonishment.\\n\\nA clenched hiss sounded from Lo and the man walked away.\\n\\nYusek looked to Sall; the youth's masked face followed Lo's retreat, then fell. Yusek did not need to see his expression to recognize the crushing shame that hunched his form. Bowing, he handed over the sword, then walked off in the opposite direction. Yusek followed.\\n\\nShe found him sitting on a ledge on the very lip of the cliff the monastery occupied. Before his feet the mountain swept down thousands of feet into misted emptiness. Yusek sat next to him. The frigid cutting wind buffeted both of them. Yusek's cloak snapped.\\n\\nShe was not used to such dizzying heights and a sickening vertigo gripped her as she clutched the stone she sat upon. \\\"Not that bad, is it?\\\" she offered, trying to make light of things.\\n\\nAfter a time the Seguleh youth let out along, pained breath. \\\"You do not understand, Yusek.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Try me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I lost. I have shamed Lo. I can no longer be considered among the Agatii.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Agatii?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Honoured Thousand. The select warriors of the Seguleh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So? Have to turn in your mask or some such thing?\\\"\\n\\nAt least he snorted a weak laugh at that. \\\"No. But... I will have to repaint it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, so what? I mean, it's not like it was deliberate, or some kind of crime, or something. '\\n\\nThe lad sighed, his breath almost cracking in its suppressed emotion. \\\"You don't understand, Yusek. Lois Eighth! He sits with Jan among the ruling Ten, the Eldrii. \\\"He clenched his hands, held them where the mask curved to expose the mouth.\\\"But one other thing... he is my father. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Yusek stared, speechless. Ye Gods... the poor kid. What a burden! That's just fucking cruel, that's what that is.\\n\\nShe selected a small stone, tossed it over the edge. She watched its stomach-turning descent for an instant then glanced away, her throat burning. She swallowed sour bile. \\\"Listen, Sall– so what if some woman beat you in some match. Who the fuck cares? C'mon, she wasn't even armed!\\\"\\n\\nThe lad turned to study her directly through his mask. His brown eyes appeared even more pained. \\\"Exactly, Yusek. She wasn't even armed. '\\n\\n\\\"Well... so what? Big deal. It wasn't for real. You weren't prepared for it, were you?\\\" She nudged his shoulder. \\\"It's a valuable lesson, right? Listen. I was thinking. When I head out I want to be able to handle myself better... won't you teach me a few moves?\\\" She nudged him again. \\\"Hey? What do you say?\\\"\\n\\nIf anything his masked head hung even lower. \\\"I'm not worthy of teaching anyone anything, Yusek. Ask that woman. '\\n\\n\\\"Well, I'm asking you. C'mon. You know more than I do about it all, right?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It would be improper...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never mind that. Just the basics, hey?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not right now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Naw... tomorrow, hey?\\\"\\n\\nHe let out another long-suffering breath. \\\"Tomorrow, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. All right. Tomorrow.\\\" She stood, brushed the dust off her bottom, and left him to sit alone fora time. Poor bastard. Obviously thinks the world of his father. And to think she'd travelled with them all these days and hadn't even the first suspicion they were father and son! What an odd people.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Personally, Krute of Talient did not want to honour yet another request from this particular client, but the communication had percolated up through standard channels thereby ensuring that enough of the guild knew of it to make it impossible for him to simply ignore it. Of course as Parish Master of the Gadrobi district he had a measure of influence on which contracts to pursue– but it was a short-lived master who neglected the fundamental truth that, in the end, everyone was only in it for the treasure.\\n\\nAnd so come the mid-night he found himself stepping carefully through the empty and eerily quiet yards of the Eldra Iron Mongers. It was an unnatural sensation; to his memory the works had never been still. The Legate, however, had commandeered all labour for his city works projects, leaving Humble Measure with no one to run his forges, furnaces and mine.\\n\\nAll very deliberate and calculated, of course, as a sort of unannounced war had broken out between the two: the successful political protégé and his former patron and sponsor. And this kind of falling-out always generated the most vicious and wilful vendettas. His boots loud on the scattered gravel as he peered around at the dark sheds and silent furnaces, it occurred to Krute that his reservations might all be for naught; surely even this man's legendary wealth must be exhausted by now. There could be noway the man could offer enough to tempt the guild anew. In point of fact, he wouldn't be all that surprised to turn a corner in one of these cavernous warehouses and find the man hanging from a rafter.\\n\\nNo such easy resolution confronted him, however, when he pushed aside a great slab-like door to enter a silent smelting shed. The tang of smoke still clung to everything and he fancied he could still feel a residual heat leaking out of the great furnaces.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Undisguised steps sounded from the front of the shed and Krute turned to seethe proprietor, Humble Measure himself, at the door. The closing of his works had obviously not been kind to him. His hair was unkempt and soot marred his face. The black of the soot cast the whites of his eyes into a bright, almost fevered, glow. His clothes were likewise askew, torn and soot-blackened. It appeared as if the man was attempting the impossible, and frankly insane, task of single-handedly keeping the works going.\\n\\nKrute inclined his head in greeting. \\\"Humble Measure.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Parish Master. I was beginning to suspect that the guild had lost its edge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Whosoever has the coin gets our blades,\\\" Krute observed, congratulating himself on that pointed reminder.\\n\\n\\\"Of course. That is as it should be.\\\" The man drew a cloth from a shirt pocket and wiped his hands. Krute noted with growing unease that the cloth was just as blackened as the man's hands. Humble waved him forward.\\\"This way, Master. \\\"As they walked, the ironmonger talked.\\\"It strikes me that you assassins represent the exchange of business reduced to its purest form. What say you, Master? '\\n\\nKrute shrugged. \\\"Hadn't really given it much thought. \\\"Gabble on, man. I'm really not interested in what crazy things you have to say.\\n\\n\\\"You do not care who you kill, or for what hidden purpose, or to what consequences. You are merely paid money to do something, and so you do it. Rather like a prostitute, yes?\\\"\\n\\nKrute frowned, eyeing the man sidelong. \\\"What're you gettin'at?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I mean that questions of morality or ethics, honour or principles– all are irrelevant, yes?\\\"\\n\\nKrute hunched his shoulders. \\\"Not all principles...\\\"\\n\\nThe man flashed him a smile bright against his grimed face. \\\"Of course. The principle of greed and profit remains paramount. Utterly uninhibited, in fact.\\\"\\n\\nHe led Krute to a dilapidated manor house, pushed open the front door. \\\"Let me provide an example, if I may.\\\" At the back of the house the ironmonger unlocked a trapdoor, revealing stone steps leading down. \\\"Let us say there exists a city occupying a marshy lowland. The inhabitants of this urban centre are cursed by a wasting disease carried by flies that multiply like... well, like flies, within the swamps. Then, let us suppose that a learned man studies the situation and proposes a solution to said curse: move the city to the hills nearby where the scouring winds will keep the flies at bay.\\\"\\n\\nThey reached a stone-walled cellar. Here Humble lit a lantern and led the way to an arched portal sealed by an iron-barred gate, which he unlocked. \\\"An excavation fora wine cellar here revealed much more,\\\" he explained, pointing to a hole in the floor where a ladder led on down. \\\"Now, the leaders of this fair– but cursed– city, landowners all, were naturally horrified by the idea of all their property becoming worthless and so they hired local assassins to put an end to such unwelcome talk.\\\"\\n\\nStepping down off the ladder Krute was astonished to find himself in a corridor of brick lined by niches. \\\"Burial catacombs,\\\" Humble told him, leaning close. \\\"They date back thousands of years.\\\" He motioned onward. \\\"This way, if you please. These killers, now, all local, were themselves victims of this wasting disease, with milky eyes and withered limbs. And all had lost sisters, brothers and parents to the fevers. But– and here is where the tale demonstrates the perversity of humanity– they accepted the contract to kill this scholar.\\\" The ironmonger turned to Krute. \\\"Is that not, well, so sadly predictable?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The assassin rubbed the back of a hand against his jaw. Won't this man ever shut up?\\\"Sounds like waters too deep for me, sir. '\\n\\n\\\"Are they?\\\" the man asked, his eyes bright in the gloom. Then he shrugged. \\\"Perhaps so.\\\" He waved a hand. \\\"Well, just ten years later the city was an abandoned fever-infested field of ruins in any case.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your point being?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah!\\\" Humble got to his knees and began pulling bricks from the wall. Slowly, brick by brick, a small opening was revealed. He invited Krute to slither in. Fora moment Krute wondered whether the man intended to kill him, or bury him alive, or some such thing. But he knew the guild would avenge his death and he also knew that Humble was aware of this. Nevertheless, he decided some measure of caution was called for and so he motioned Humble ahead.\\n\\n\\\"After you.\\\"\\n\\nA shrug. \\\"If you wish.\\\"\\n\\nWithin, the darkness hinted at a larger room, perhaps a burial chamber. Humble edged inwards, lantern pushed along ahead. Krute followed. What he saw took his breath away. A sea of gold reflected the already golden flame. Stacks of bars set out in rows crammed the tomb. A fortune countless leaps beyond any of Krute's imaginings.\\n\\n\\\"Poured by myself and a few trusted aides in the very works above our heads,\\\" Humble murmured with a touch of pride. \\\"All of this is yours should you succeed in the contract.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And that contract?\\\" Krute asked, distracted. He didn't move his gaze from the neatly heaped bars. Take twenty men all day to move this mountain...\\n\\n\\\"The contract, and my point, is that I still want the Legate's head. Even if his improvements or plans for the city are somehow in alignment with my own, they are not what I planned and so I want his head. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Krute's nod was one of slow deliberate agreement.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Vindictiveness. You can always count on that. The guild practically survives on it. He thought of Vorcan now standing behind the Legate. No doubt she means to retake the guild– then there will be a harrowing!\\\"The man has powerful allies... '\\n\\n\\\"Thus this astonishing price.\\\"\\n\\nKrute rubbed his stubbled cheek once more, swallowed hard. \\\"Speaking for the guild, ironmonger, we agree to try again. But it will take sometime to prepare.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand. Time you have. This chamber will remain sealed until you succeed. And should we both die in what comes– it will remain sealed forever.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We have an agreement then, Humble Measure.\\\"\\n\\nOn a rooftop across the broad avenue facing the main doors of the Eldra Iron Mongers, Rallick Nom lay prone, chin resting on a fist, crossbow cradled in an elbow. He'd watched while Krute entered the closed and now quiet works, and he kept watch until, many hours later, the man exited as well.\\n\\nSo, Humble Measure wasn't a man to abandon a task half finished. Rallick could tell from the character of his old friend's thoughtful and distracted walk that he was already planning ahead, considering the coming job.\\n\\nWhat to do? Too late to kill the client now. An agreement's already been struck. The guild will follow through regardless. A matter of reputation. And I'm in the crosshairs. Have to find a place to lie low; somewhere no one's going to come hunting. And there's only one place comes to mind... Hope he won't object to house guests.\\n\\nRallick pushed himself backwards along the slate-shake roof.\\n\\nA knock at the door to his offices drew Ambassador Aragan out of his thoughts as he stood at the window overlooking the city. He'd been thinking of the troubling lack of word from the north– it wasn't like K'ess to be out of touch for this long. Nor had word come from the south, either, for that matter. It was oddly as if events outside the city were somehow unreal, or suspended in time. A bizarre sensation.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He turned at the knock, growling, \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\nA trooper, one of his personal guard, opened the door. \\\"Trouble downstairs, sir.\\\"\\n\\nComing down, Aragan found a city Warden in the open doorway, the rest of his detachment waiting outside. His own guard was ranged across the bottom of the stairs, tensed, awaiting his command.\\n\\n\\\"Ambassador Aragan,\\\" the city Warden officer called, \\\"you are summoned to an audience with the Legate.\\\"\\n\\nAt least this Legate sent an escort of twenty... Anything less would have been an insult.\\n\\n\\\"Stand down ranks,\\\" he ordered. Passing the sergeant, he murmured, \\\"Remain until I return.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sir.\\\"\\n\\nAragan stopped before the Warden, gestured to invite the man outside. \\\"After you.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's gaze slid over the solid front of Malazan veterans and his lips compressed. He backed up then aside to allow Aragan to exit. The detachment formed up to either side of the ambassador and the officer waved a hand. They marched off, heading, Aragan knew, for Majesty Hill.\\n\\nAlong the way, the only thing of interest Aragan noted was the scar of recent construction that marred the grounds atop the hill. Abroad trench had been dug up and back-filled. It cut through crushed gravel walkways, ornamental hedges and beds of flowering perennials. He only caught a glimpse as they passed, but it appeared to describe an immense arc heading off round the buildings. Some sort of defensive installation? Pits?\\n\\nThen he was hurried along through the interminable stone halls of the complex. To his surprise and growing discomfort, he was not escorted as he'd expected straight to Council. Rather, he was taken into older dusty halls where they met almost no one save for the odd harried-looking clerk. Was he to be imprisoned? Questioned?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The way led to what he recognized from formal gatherings as the Great Hall. The largest of the surviving ancient wings of Majesty Hall. Guards pushed open one of the immense copper and bronze panelled doors and Aragan was escorted in.\\n\\nThe long hall was, for the most part, empty. The only light entered in long shafts from openings high up where the pale marble of the walls met the arched roof. A small scattering of people waited at the far end, where one fellow sat on a large seat, or throne, of white stone blocks: the Legate. As Aragan had heard rumoured, the man had indeed taken to wearing a gold mask. However, a few of the gathered coterie also sported gold masks– slim things that encircled their eyes and covered only the upper half of their faces.\\n\\nThe escort stopped Aragan directly before what he guessed he ought to consider a \\\"throne\\\". He crossed his arms, waiting. In time the Legate ceased his low conversation with an old man– a rather jarring figure in his old tattered clothes amid the glittering finery and riches on display among the coterie. This fellow stepped forward, hunched, hands clasped to his chest as if hugging himself.\\n\\n\\\"Ambassador Aragan,\\\" he began, almost cringing, \\\"I speak for the Legate.\\\"\\n\\nAragan ignored the ridiculous figure and addressed the Legate. \\\"You speak to the Imperium when you speak tome... You should show proper respect.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man glanced backwards to the Legate– like a dog to its master, Aragan thought. \\\"Invaders, thieves and murderers deserve no respect,\\\" he said, gulping as if in horror of what he'd just announced.\\n\\n\\\"Darujhistan was more than eager to cooperate with us in the crushing of the Pannions,\\\" Aragan observed as drily as he could manage given his growing anger.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Self-interest guided us both in that,\\\" the old man said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Now, that same self-interest should guide your diminished forces north to Cat in a withdrawal and complete abandonment of the lands of South Genabackis.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is your demand?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Such is our generous offer.\\\"\\n\\nAragan couldn't help himself; he had to drawl,\\\"Or what? '\\n\\nThe figure on the throne gave one lazy flick of a hand. \\\"Or they will be annihilated,\\\" the old man said, disbelief in his hoarse voice.\\n\\nA number of the gathered crowd hissed their anxiety at that announcement; clearly it was far beyond anything they anticipated. All faces, masked and otherwise, now turned to study Aragan. He squinted his scepticism and opened his hands. \\\"With what? By whom? You have no army worth the name.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We need no army,\\\" said the old man, rubbing his chest. \\\"We merely speak for all the peoples of the south. It is they who will throw off your foreign yoke.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Or trade anew one for an old one, I suspect,\\\" Aragan answered, now eyeing the masked figure with new suspicion.\\n\\n\\\"We merely advise and guide... just as a caring parent wishes the best for his children.\\\"\\n\\nAragan cocked a brow. \\\"What?\\\" Where did that come from?\\n\\nOne of the masked followers– a tall fellow with a great mane of salted hair– motioned curtly then, and the spokesman bowed. \\\"The audience is at an end. You have our terms. Follow them or many will die.\\\"\\n\\nThe Wardens urged Aragan back. He retreated, eyeing the masked Legate who sat so immobile on his throne. Was that even the Lim in truth, he wondered. Yet he'd recognized a number of councillors among the crowd. They would know him. Surely they would not put up with some impostor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His thoughts elsewhere, Aragan allowed himself to be ushered out and back down Majesty Hill. So, it was all out in the open now. War had been declared. Yet a war against what, or whom? He felt as if he was facing a ghost, a shadow. Who is our enemy? This masked would-be king? If Darujhistan wants a king in all but name then that is up to them– we never controlled the city.\\n\\nBut if the army is attacked... well, that is another matter entirely.\\n\\nBack in the manor house Aragan entered his offices to find the emissary from the Imperial Throne sitting on his couch, legs outstretched, waiting for him.\\n\\nIn the plain light of day he saw more clearly whom he faced: the tall thin frame, the oddly shaped eyes, silvered hair. So this was Topper– true to his descriptions. The once and returned Clawmaster.\\n\\n\\\"You witnessed?\\\" Aragan grunted, and headed to a sideboard to pour a drink.\\n\\n\\\"From a distance, yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A distance?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There are some very powerful magi gathered together on that hilltop.\\\"\\n\\nAragan gulped down his drink, studied the lanky, unnerving man. \\\"Too much for you?\\\"\\n\\nA thin humourless smile. \\\"Let's just say it would be counterproductive for me to tip my hand as yet. \\\"The man's gaze roved about the room as if uninterested in him. \\\"And what ridiculous demands were made?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very ridiculous ones. We're to withdraw to the north. Relinquish all territory south of Cat. '\\n\\n\\\"Including Pale?\\\"\\n\\nA sombre nod from Aragan. \\\"Yes. Including Pale.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"That would not go down well.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I imagine it wouldn't. '\\n\\nThe man cocked his head like a grackle, watching him. \\\"And what would you recommend?\\\"\\n\\nIt occurred to Aragan that he was angry. He felt insulted. As if he, and by extension the entire Empire which he represented, had been accorded none of the respect they warranted. He sucked his teeth then finished the last few drops of the rare Moranth liqueur. \\\"It seems tome that so far whatever it is that now squats on Majesty Hill has done all the pushing. It's long past time someone pushed back. '\\n\\nThe thin slash of a smile drew up, revealing sharp white teeth. \\\"Mallick chose well in you, I think, Ambassador Aragan.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Most of my promotions were under Laseen.\\\"\\n\\nThe smile faltered and the man sat up, leaning forward. The mention of the former Empress seemed to have stung him. Ah yes, Aragan realized. His failure in averting her assassination. \\\"Yes. A lesson therefor all of us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lesson?\\\" Somehow Aragan could not help probing; it pleased him to be able to penetrate the fellow's irritating manner.\\n\\nElbows on his knees and hands hanging loose, the master assassin said, \\\"That in our line of work we all die alone, Ambassador.\\\"\\n\\nAragan didn't know whether to laugh or snort his scorn. What the devil did he mean by that? What line of work? He served the Throne.\\n\\nTopper stood. \\\"I will begin making my arrangements, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You've located our assets? '\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes. And it's time I paid a visit. They will be none too pleased. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Is there anything I can do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"See to our regular forces, Ambassador. Leave the rest tome.\\\"\\n\\nAragan nodded. \\\"Very good. May Oponn favour you, Clawmaster.\\\"\\n\\nA clench of pain crossed Topper's face.\\\"Let's leave those two out of this, shall we?\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"I'm tellin'ya it's some kinda foundation... but for what I got no idea. \\\"Spindle sat back in his chair and frowned his confusion.\\\"Seems too flimsy fora wall. '\\n\\nAt the table Picker sent a glance to the historian, Duiker. The man was unaware of her regard, his thoughts obviously distant as he pursued the problem. Good. May it rouse the man even further. \\\"Guards?\\\" she asked Spindle.\\n\\n\\\"Hardly any. City Wardens, that's it. \\\"The mage drummed his fingers on the table.\\\"Naw, it's them mages you gotta watch for. Plenty scary, them. Remind me of the Old Guard cadre, Hairlock and Sister Chill.\\\" He rubbed a handover his greasy shirt. \\\"You know, I swear one had me cold to rights. But damned if he didn't let me go. '\\n\\n\\\"Which?\\\" the old man asked.\\n\\n\\\"The tall one– scholarly look to him.\\\"\\n\\nThe historian grunted, returned to studying the tabletop.\\n\\n\\\"There's more than them to worry about, ' the bard, Fisher, said from the bar.\\n\\nPicker cocked a brow. \\\"Oh?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sadly, Envy supports this Legate.\\\"\\n\\nBlend, behind the bar, let out along drawn-out'Damn...\\\" The front door opened and a customer entered. Blend sent a cursory glance over then froze, her eyes bulging. \\\"Look out!\\\" she bellowed and disappeared behind the bar.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Fisher just stared his puzzlement.\\n\\nPicker knocked over the table to duck behind. Spindle threw himself into a booth. The historian remained in his chair. He eyed the newcomer first with surprise, then distaste. He raised a hand fora halt. \\\"He came in the front door, Blend,\\\" he called.\\n\\nBlend straightened from behind the bar, a cocked crossbow trained on the man at the door. \\\"You've got some nerve showing yourself here, y'damned snake.\\\"\\n\\nThe tall fellow held up both gloved hands. \\\"Now, now. I come in peace.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle emerged, hand on the shortsword at his side. \\\"What d'ya want? '\\n\\n\\\"Just a chat. Let us sit down together over drinks. Reminisce and tell lies of the old days.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'd rather fall into a privy, ' Picker said, standing, twin long-knives out.\\n\\n\\\"Who's this? ' Fisher asked Blend.\\n\\n\\\"Topper. Clawmaster. The Empire's found us. '\\n\\nTopper looked to the ceiling. \\\"We never lost track of you, Blend.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Everyone relax,\\\" Duiker said. \\\"If Mallick wanted your heads he wouldn't send this one. '\\n\\nTopper squinted, edging forward. \\\"Do my eyes deceive me? Not Imperial Historian Duiker?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ex.\\\"\\n\\nBlend raised her crossbow, pulled out the bolt. Picker sheathed her long-knives and righted the table. \\\"What're you after? ' she grumbled.\\n\\n\\\"We have a common enemy.\\\"\\n\\nBlend, Picker and Spindle shared quick looks, then Picker snorted, \\\"No, we don't. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Topper pulled a chair to the table. He undid his dark green silk-lined cloak and hung it over the back, then sat. The shirt beneath was a fine satiny forest green. He drew off his gloves and peered round innocently at everyone. \\\"A drink, perhaps?\\\"\\n\\nBlend drew a pint from the bar and ambled over. \\\"Whatever you're sellin'we don't want any, ' she growled.\\n\\nThe Clawmaster took the earthenware pint and sipped. He made a face. \\\"Are you trying to kill me?\\\" Spindle started up from the table and Picker flinched. Topper raised a placating hand. \\\"A joke.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle's mocking smile was sickly.\\\"Very funny. '\\n\\nDuiker eyed the Clawmaster, his lined face stony behind his grey beard. He steepled his hands on the table. \\\"What is your proposal? And bear in mind– these soldiers are retired.\\\"\\n\\nTopper hooked an arm over the top of his chair. He turned the pint in circles before him. \\\"Retired? Is that what you call it? According to the lists you are all deserters. Except for our honoured historian here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not according to us,\\\" Picker ground out.\\n\\n\\\"Dujek told us-\\\" began Spindle.\\n\\n\\\"He was not in a position to offer anything,\\\" Topper interrupted.\\n\\n\\\"Don't push that line, \\\"Blend warned from where she now stood behind Topper's chair. \\\"That dog won't hunt. '\\n\\nTopper gave a small shrug. \\\"Fair enough. I understand you've already accepted a contract to collect intelligence. What would it take for you to sign on for something a little more... direct? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"As free agents?\\\" Picker said.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Free agents.\\\"\\n\\nPicker opened her mouth to name something, a price perhaps, but Duiker took hold of her arm, silencing her. He whispered into her ear and her tangled brows rose. She cuffed the old man's shoulder.\\\"Our price, Clawmaster, is the formal decommissioning of the Bridgeburners. '\\n\\nTopper's slit gaze glanced aside to the historian and his lips pursed. After turning the mug in circles on the rough slats of the table he gave a slow nod.\\\"Agreed. It will be arranged. '\\n\\n\\\"And the job?\\\" Spindle asked nervously.\\n\\nAn easy shrug from the slouched Clawmaster. \\\"Well... it seems for reasons known only to himself this Legate wants a wall built... Therefore, we should do our best to interfere with that.\\\" His gaze rose to Spindle. \\\"I take it you have munitions?\\\" The saboteur-trained mage gave a jerked nod. \\\"Excellent. Then you lot can do what you're best at. '\\n\\n\\\"And you?\\\" Blend demanded, her chin stuck out.\\n\\n\\\"I'll provide cover in case there are any... complications. '\\n\\nPicker snorted. \\\"Somehow I'm not so relieved by that. '\\n\\nThe Clawmaster laid his hands flat on the table. His smile was now supremely assured. \\\"You should be.\\\"\\n\\nAt their servants'table in the kitchens of the Lim estate, Leff let out along loud sigh. Scorch, opposite, roused himself, blinking.\\\"You say somethin\\\"?\\\"\\n\\nLeff shook his head. He tucked his hands up under his arms, sighed again. \\\"You know, Scorch, I don't think anyone's comin\\\" back. I'm gettin\\\" the distinct feeling that we've been handed our hats.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Scorch's puzzled frown deepened even further.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Howzat? Hats? I ain't got no hat.\\\"\\n\\nLeff glared his disapproval. \\\"It's an expression, man. Means we're fired.\\\"\\n\\nScorch goggled at his partner. \\\"What? Fired? We ain't even been paid yet! '\\n\\nNow Leff banged his chair forward, gaping. \\\"Ain't been paid yet? How can that be? You're supposed to be in charge of all that.\\\"\\n\\nScorch's consternation creased his forehead until his brows met between his small darting eyes.\\\"I thought you were supposed to be handlin'that.\\\"\\n\\nLeff pressed a hand to his brow. \\\"I distinctly remember me saying that you should do it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh. Well, we could take it up with the boss. What's \\\"is name– Ebbin.\\\"\\n\\nNow Leff's brow wrinkled in bewilderment.\\\"The scholar? What in the Queen's name does he have to do with any of this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He's with the Legate. I seen him. '\\n\\nLeff dropped his hand, amazed. \\\"Burn protect us! Why didn't you say so? '\\n\\n\\\"You didn't say it was important. '\\n\\nLeff pushed himself up from the table, stretched his numb legs, wincing. \\\"Gods, man. You have to learn to think for yourself! I can't be expected to keep doin'all the thinking for us.\\\"\\n\\nScorch hung his head. \\\"Sorry, Leff.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I should think so!\\\"\\n\\nCity Wardens stopped them at the gate to the Way of Justice leading up Majesty Hill. The two Wardens gripped their wood truncheons. \\\"You're carrying weapons, ' one called, accusing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Leff and Scorch glanced to their peace-strapped swords, the crossbows over their shoulders. \\\"Looks like it,\\\" Leff answered and attempted to brush past. The thick wooden portal was closed, however, and he pushed against it to no effect. \\\"Open up,\\\" he shouted. \\\"Official business.\\\"\\n\\nThe two Wardens shared smirks. \\\"Official? You two?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go squat your official business off in the bushes,\\\" the other suggested.\\n\\nScorch drew himself up, offended. \\\"I'll have you know we're all certified, listed and official. I'd go ahead \\\"n\\\" check if I were you. Otherwise could be consequences. '\\n\\n\\\"That's right, \\\"Leff put in, though with much less certainty.\\\"Consequences. '\\n\\nOne of the Wardens banged his truncheon on the rough timbers of the door. A small communicating slit opened. \\\"Names?\\\" someone demanded from behind the slit.\\n\\n\\\"Leff and Scorch,\\\" Leff shouted, mouth to the slit.\\n\\n\\\"All right, all right!\\\" the hidden clerk grumbled. \\\"You don't have to shout. '\\n\\nOne Warden leaned against the door, arms crossed, shaking his head. Leff adjusted the weight of the crossbow against his shoulder. Scorch dug a finger into his ear and twisted it round.\\n\\nThe heavy door slid backwards and the Warden almost fell with it. He jerked, wildly surprised, and received a superior look from Leff as the latter pushed through. Scorch ambled after, crossbow held behind his neck, arms draped over it. \\\"Consequences,\\\" he murmured, and winked.\\n\\nAs they wandered their slow way up the twisting path Leff rubbed his unshaven jaw, casting narrowed wondering glances Scorch's way. Finally an idea occurred to him and he gave an exaggerated knowing nod, saying,\\\"Ah! I get it now... good ol'Captain Soen. Ever conscientious, that one. Good guess, Scorch.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Scorch's permanent scowl of resentful confusion took on an even greater perplexity.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"What're you talking about? I just said that, that's all. Sounded like the kinda thing important persons say. '\\n\\nLeff used his crossbow to brush aside a clerk who was waving papers at him. \\\"Sometimes I wonder about you, Scorch. I really do.\\\"\\n\\nBut his partner was ambling down another hall. \\\"Got us in, didn't it? '\\n\\nEventually, after being shooed out of a number of chambers and offices, they found the guarded doors to the Great Hall. Leff approached the city Wardens, and as one opened his mouth to challenge them, bellowed: \\\"Message for Captain Soen!\\\" The Warden snapped his mouth shut and exchanged an uncertain glance with his fellow. Leff pushed open the small clerk's door and strode in.\\n\\n\\\"Message for Captain Soen!\\\" Scorch echoed as he stepped through.\\n\\n\\\"You don't have to say it again! ' Leff hissed, pushing him aside.\\n\\nScorch pushed back and Leff nearly dropped his crossbow. \\\"I got us in, didn't I! '\\n\\n\\\"We're already... ' Leff tailed off, feeling the weight of numerous eyes. He turned.\\n\\nA great crowd of nobles and councillors filled the length of the Great Hall. All were dressed in rich finery. Many wore masks, as was traditional for the various city religious ceremonies and fetes. Leff bowed, cuffing Scorch, who bowed as well. Dismissing them, the many eyes turned away. Leff scanned the crowd. \\\"There he is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Soen, dammit! Who else? C'mon. '\\n\\nThey tramped forward. The clank and clatter of their weaponry almost drowned out the low murmured conversations. A figure sat motionless on a raised seat of white stone at the far end of the hall. Before Scorch and Leff were halfway across Soen intercepted them, a sharp grip on the forearm of each. He steered them aside into the shadows of a colonnaded walk along one wall of the hall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What in the name of the Queen of Mysteries are you two doing here?\\\" he hissed, furious.\\n\\nScorch looked to Leff. Leff saluted. \\\"Reporting in, sir.\\\"\\n\\nThe big man's salted brows clenched.\\\"What? Reporting? Why? '\\n\\nA panicked look gripped Leff's lined features, as if he'd reached the end of his gambit and hadn't realized more might be required.\\\"Ah... reporting that the manor house is all secure, sir! '\\n\\n\\\"What? Secure? Who gives a-\\\" The captain bit back his rising voice, peered round, anxious. \\\"You two are fired,\\\" he said, his voice low and fierce. \\\"Get out of here and never comeback.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fired?\\\" Scorch echoed, outraged. \\\"What for? Guild rules-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Guild rules require justification, I know. Deserting your post. How's that? '\\n\\nThe two shared a pained look. Leff pulled at his lower lip. \\\"Well... I suppose that would kinda do it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It most certainly does. Pay can be collected at the guild office. Now leave– or must I escort you out?\\\" The captain didn't wait for an answer but beckoned others of Lim's private guard over.\\n\\n\\\"Wait!\\\" a voice called. Captain Soen turned and immediately bowed to one knee. \\\"Sir.\\\"\\n\\nScorch and Leff were astonished to see their old employer, the scholar Ebbin. Something like wonder was on the man's face as he gazed upon them.\\\"I... know... you, ' he breathed, as if awed by the realization.\\n\\nLeff knuckled his brow. \\\"Yes, sir. Been working for you for sometime now, sir.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The old man's gaze seemed to wander as he stood, brows furrowed in concentration.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Yes. I remember. I... remember you. \\\"He glanced to the captain.\\\"These men work for me, Soen. They are my guards. '\\n\\nThe captain's brows climbed almost all the way up to the rim of his helmet. He shot a glance to the immobile and silent figure on the throne, blew out a breath.\\\"Well... if you say so... sir. '\\n\\n\\\"They may remain.\\\"\\n\\nSoen was obviously still very confused, but as a good private soldier he accepted his employer's dictates– no matter how stupid in his estimation. He saluted.\\\"Yes, sir. '\\n\\nLeff saluted too. Then he cuffed Scorch, who also saluted.\\n\\nBut the scholar had wandered off. He'd pulled out a cloth and was wiping his sweaty strained face, the other hand rubbing his chest. Captain Soen scowled down at the pair; then he nodded to himself.\\\"I see it now. Friends in high places. Looks like I'm stuck with you.\\\" He eyed them up and down again, his disgust increasing. \\\"At least get yourselves cleaned up.\\\"\\n\\nScorch straightened, outraged. \\\"I washed just a few weeks ago!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your clothes and armour, man! Clean them up.\\\"\\n\\nLeff saluted. \\\"Yessir. Right away, sir.\\\"\\n\\nThe captain just shook his head, jerked a thumb to another of his guards. \\\"Willa here will kit you out. Comeback when you're presentable. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, sir! With pleasure, sir!\\\"\\n\\nSoen answered with a gesture that was half salute, half dismissive wave. \\\"Whatever. Get out of here– now.\\\"\\n\\nThey travelled at night once they entered the desolate hills of the Dwelling Plain. Despite this, and all Fist Steppen's many precautions in water conservation, they still lost irreplaceable mounts and dray animals. Even a few men and women collapsed under the unrelenting pace. Some died; others recuperated in the wagons trailing the column.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"That pace was nightmare for Bendan.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Never having had cause to walk for longer than one bell– what in Fanderay's name for? There was never any need– he couldn't believe what was being demanded of them. What in all the Lost Lands could be so important? He managed to keep up, but barely. He walked in a daze and knew he'd be no use in a fight. Not that there'd been any raids. But still, he felt defenceless, hardly able to stand.\\n\\nThis day their scout, a Rhivi exile named Tarat– word was the young woman had killed a relative– raised her hand and crouched, studying the dry dusty ground. Sergeant Hektar joined her, and, bored, Bendan staggered over.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" the giant Dal Hon rumbled.\\n\\n\\\"The column has crossed this trail,\\\" she answered, a hand indicating a line northward.\\n\\n\\\"So?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's like nothing I have ever seen before. '\\n\\n\\\"So?\\\"\\n\\nThe girl blew out a breath and pushed the unruly kinked hair from her freckled face. \\\"Malazan. I know every spoor on the face of these lands. If I see something new it is a strange matter. Still... this trail reminds me of something. Something from an old story...\\\"\\n\\nBendan simply took the opportunity fora breather; and he didn't mind standing looking down at the tribal girl, either. Fine haunches she had. Too bad she also had a knife for anyone who got too close. He pulled out his skin of water and took a pull. He was about to take another when Hektar pushed the skin down.\\n\\n\\\"That's enough, trooper. You know the water rules. '\\n\\n\\\"I know I'm damned thirsty. '\\n\\n\\\"You'll be even more thirsty two days from now when you run out. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Both of them jumped when the Rhivi girl let out a shout of alarm and scrambled back from the trail as if it was a snake that had reared at her. \\\"What is it?\\\" Hektar demanded.\\n\\nTarat's gaze swung to them, her eyes huge with wonder.\\\"I have to speak to the commander. '\\n\\nAlmost the entire column had passed now. Hektar drew off his helmet to wipe his dark sweaty face. \\\"She's with the van... ' he began.\\n\\n\\\"I must. Immediately.\\\"\\n\\nHektar sighed his disgust. He wiped the leather liner inside the helmet then pulled it on again. \\\"All right. Let's go. '\\n\\n\\\"I'll tell Little, ' Bendan said.\\n\\n\\\"No– you're comin'with us. Let's go. '\\n\\n\\\"What for? You got her. You don't need me. '\\n\\n\\\"You seen it too. Now c'mon. '\\n\\n\\\"Aw, for Hood's sake... ' But the big sergeant crooked a finger and started after the scout. Bendan dragged himself along behind.\\n\\nThe van was a damned long way ahead. First, they were all mounted, something which irked Bendan no end. Why should they be mounted when the rest of them had to plod along? And second, they were all so much cleaner and better accoutred than he. Something that also never failed to stir his resentment. Why should they wear such superior armour– cuirasses of hammered iron and banded hauberks– when all he wore was a hauberk of boiled leather faced with ring mail, with mailed sleeves? It was his general view that anyone with better equipment than his, or with greater wealth, just didn't deserve it.\\n\\nIn response to a signal from the sergeant a messenger rode over, spoke to him briefly, then wheeled off to take his request to the Fist. Shortly thereafter a small mounted body broke off from the van to return to them. It was Fist Steppen, accompanied by a small guard and her inner staff. They parted around the three waiting troopers. Sergeant Hektar saluted the dumpy sunburned woman in her sweat-stained riding trousers and loose shirting. The skin of her forehead was angry-red and peeling.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fist Steppen.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have a report?\\\"\\n\\nHektar gestured to Tarat. \\\"Our Rhivi scout has news.\\\"\\n\\nTarat saluted, quite smartly. Steppen nodded to her. \\\"The trail the column passed just back-\\\" the girl began, but was interrupted.\\n\\n\\\"We all saw it,\\\" an officer put in. \\\"A band marching double-file, north. Bandits, perhaps.\\\"\\n\\nTarat's hand snapped closed on the bone-handled knife at her side and she glared at the man.\\n\\nSteppen raised a hand for silence. \\\"Continue,\\\" she said to Tarat.\\n\\nThe girl did so, but still glared murder at the officer. \\\"No bandits– or even soldiers– have the discipline to maintain such a straight trail. Look to our own meandering track if you don't believe me. Men and women pause to adjust gear, to relieve themselves, to remove stones from their sandals. Only one people are capable of moving across the land in this manner. It is said they can march for four days and nights without a single pause. '\\n\\n\\\"It is said?\\\" Steppen asked, cocking her head.\\n\\nTarat lost her glare, removed her hand from her blade. \\\"In our stories, Fist. Among us Rhivi are told stories of these people. Most speak darkly of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And they are?\\\"\\n\\nTarat was clearly unwilling to say just who she was talking about, but asked directly she hunched slightly, as if expecting scorn, and said, \\\"The Seguleh.\\\"\\n\\nBendan laughed out loud. Hektar glared for him to shut up but he couldn't help it. The Fist arched a brow.\\\"You have something to add, trooper? I see you too area local. What is your opinion? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He waved a hand in apology. \\\"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's just... the Seguleh? Scary stories for children only, ma'am.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I assure you they are quite real.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes. Real enough. Down south. I'd say they're damned good all right– damned good at puffing up their reputation, if you follow me, ma'am. '\\n\\nLeather creaked as the Fist leaned forward onto her pommel. \\\"You are from Darujhistan, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, m'am. '\\n\\n\\\"And the opinion you express regarding these people... this would be typical of the city, would it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh, yes. Just a lot of tall tales.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see. Thank you. Very informative.\\\" She turned to Tarat. \\\"Thank you for your report. That is all.\\\"\\n\\nThe troop edged their mounts aside and cantered off to return to the van. Tarat whirled to face Bendan. \\\"Laugh at me again and I'll slit you open like a weasel. Yes? '\\n\\nBendan held out his arms. \\\"Yeah. Fine. Whatever.\\\"\\n\\nThe tribal girl stalked away on those fine haunches.\\n\\nGods! So damned prickly!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We are the freemen privateers.\\n\\nWe sail the forested isles\\n\\nfrom Callows to far Galatan!\\n\\nWe have thrown off the chains\\n\\nof yoke, coin and tyrant.\\n\\nSo join us who dare to be free!\\n\\nThe Freemen Privateers\\n\\nAuthor unknown\\n\\nBARATHOL HAD TAKEN to sleeping in his work tent. During the late afternoon he'd drop in on the house to make sure little Chaur was fed and clean. He didn't blame Scillara for her lack of maternal instincts– he was resigned to it. Perhaps it balanced what he admitted might be his own over-developed nurturing instinct.\\n\\nThis night he was bringing up the heat of the forge, readying for another shift, when he heard a strange sound. It seemed to becoming from the excavation trench. Outside the tent, the work crew was on break and all should have been silent, yet intermittent clanging or thumping reached him. He stepped out into the dig, listening.\\n\\nHe thought it came from the exposed stone blocks themselves. Kneeling, he placed an ear close to the cold smooth stone. Shortly, he heard it: a clanging or banging reverberating down the stones. It sounded as if someone was digging somewhere along the now nearly completed arc of set blocks. He stood to peer about; no one was around. The mages who oversaw the installations never arrived until much later. Frowning, he picked up a crowbar and set off to walk the circuit.\\n\\nHe sensed nothing strange until halfway round the nearly completed circle. Here the arc cut through a patch of woods dense in underbrush, part of an artificial park planted on the hilltop. Damn good cover, it occurred to him, and he immediately ducked down to take advantage. Edging forward, he found another excavation, this one much smaller. A pit had been dug over the arc of the stone ring. Even as he watched, dirt flew up to land in the brush. What in the Twins' name was this?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then he sensed someone behind him. He spun, gripping the crowbar horizontally in both hands. Steel rang from the heavy tool and a wide burly figure readied for another thrust. Barathol fell, swinging the crowbar; it glanced from a shin and the figure grunted her– her? – pain, tumbling. As the assassin fell, her foot caught him across the throat. Both rolled in the dirt, gasping. Barathol rose just in time to block another stab then readied the crowbar fora swing but stopped, astonished. His attacker also froze.\\n\\n\\\"Barathol?\\\" she said, amazed.\\n\\n\\\"Blend?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What in the Queen's name're you doing here?\\\" she snarled, wincing and holding her shin.\\n\\n\\\"What are you marines up to?\\\" he demanded.\\n\\nA needle-point pricked his back and a voice whispered from behind, \\\"The Legate has declared war on Malaz, friend. Time to choose sides.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't do it, Topper, ' Blend warned.\\n\\nTopper? Where had he heard that name before?\\n\\nBlend straightened, tested her weight on her leg. \\\"Stand aside, Barathol. This is nothing to do with you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Barathol?\\\" said the one named Topper. \\\"Mekhar? Kalam's relation? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThe knife point pressed harder for an instant, as if its holder were of a mind to finish him quickly then and there. He wasn't the type to go quietly and he almost moved rather than just stand and be slaughtered but the thought of little Chaur stopped him and he froze, tensed, his limbs twitching.\\n\\n\\\"Don't, \\\"Blend urged Topper.\\\"He's a friend.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The blade withdrew– slightly. \\\"Are you, Barathol... a friend?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This is just a job. I have rent to pay. A family to feed. I'm lucky to have any work. '\\n\\n\\\"If it's just a question of coin– you'll have it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"On your word?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol allowed himself a small shrug. \\\"Then I'll be on my way. This isn't my business.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well. On your way. But I'll be watching. One word to anyone and you'll die. Understood?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. I know the drill.\\\"\\n\\nThe blade pricked him to urge him on. He nodded to Blend and headed off. A few steps later he tossed the crowbar into the woods and continued along the path.\\n\\nAt the trench the work crew had returned to prepping the foundation. Barathol made a show of straightening his trousers as he descended into the trench. He pushed aside the tent flap and ducked in. The tall mage was there waiting for him, staff of old wood in one hand.\\n\\n\\\"Where were you?\\\" he growled.\\n\\n\\\"Call of nature.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Took your time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not eating right these days. '\\n\\n\\\"How much do you think I care about the state of your bowels?\\\"\\n\\nBarathol held a handover the coals, thrust in a bar to stir them. \\\"You asked.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't leave the forge again. We are on a timetable. There can be no delay. '\\n\\nOver his shoulder Barathol studied the strangely lean angular fellow. \\\"Oh? To accomplish what?\\\"\\n\\nThe man's eyes seemed to flare and he clasped the staff in both hands. The wood creaked in the fierce grip.\\\"That is not your concern, ' he ground out.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Barathol shrugged. He gestured to the wood and leather bellows. \\\"Work those for me then.\\\"\\n\\nThe mage sneered. The fresh scars on his face twisted in disgust. \\\"Find another to do that, imbecile.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol threw down the bar. \\\"Fine. More delay.\\\"\\n\\nHe impressed a worker from the crew to help on the bellows. The entire time, the mage paced the narrow confines of the tent. The work might have gone as usual, but for Barathol it seemed to flow as slowly as the silver melting in the glowing ceramic crucible. He kept suppressing the urge to peer over his shoulder, and he hunched at particularly loud bangs and crashes of dropped equipment in the trench.\\n\\nAll the time, he felt the gaze of the mage on his back like the twin impressions of heated dagger-points. Finally, the work was done. Both moulds were poured, and the mage shouldered him aside to inspect the cooling bars. \\\"These appear acceptable,\\\" he growled, bent over them. A flicked hand dismissed Barathol, who straightened his back with a murmured \\\"You're welcome'.\\n\\nHe pushed aside the heavy canvas flap and stepped out into cool dawn air. He drew a cloth from inside his shirt and wiped his face and hands, then stood still fora moment, enjoying the caress of the wind. Walking up from the trench he paused, glanced back towards the distant woods hidden behind awing of the rambling complex of Majesty Hall. No alarm as yet. Not even a peep. Reconnoitring? Investigating the stones? Or... no, they wouldn't dare try that, would they?\\n\\nBest to be faraway in any case.\\n\\nHe headed fora twisting walkway down the hill.\\n\\nHalfway along the trail he flinched as a boom erupted over the hillside, echoing and rolling into the distance. It sounded eerily like broad sails catching a brisk wind. He turned in time to see a great cloud of dirt and dust billowing up over the tiled rooftops of the various buildings crowding the hilltop. He could even make out the clattering of rocks as they tumbled down the cliffs. Distant shouts and screams sounded. He hung his head. Damn! Now I have to go back fora look– it would be strange if I didn't.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":93,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Work to move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 17"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He launched himself into the slim tunnel and pushed himself along on elbows and knees to where it emptied into a larger chamber. Here he dusted himself off then peered about. Empty. Side vaults empty as well. He examined the skulls decorating the floor, the empty stone plinth. Then he found the one occupied side vault. Here he paused fora longtime.\n\nThe lingering magery flickering about this corpse interested him the most. He rested his hands on the stone ledge the carcass lay upon to lean closely over the remains. Why had this one alone resisted, or failed, reconstitution and escape? It seemed a puzzle. A trap within a trap within a trap. Subtle weavings. Yet who was trapping whom? And could he be certain? According to those cretin marines there could be only one witness. Only one individual emerged from the well before this masked creature appeared. The one others called scholar, a small-time potterer here among the ruins.\n\nHe leaned back, brushed his fingertip across his lips. As before: one set apart. Why? There must be some significance. He simply couldn't get a tight enough grip upon it yet. The lineaments of the castings held a cold sharp edge. They whispered of non-human origins. Not Tiste– he knew his own. Certainly not K'Chain nor Forkrul. That left Jaghut. So, the legends of the ancient Jaghut Tyrants. Returned? Didn't the Finnest house finish that?\n\nReason enough for any other to be wary.\n\nHe brushed his gloved hands together, climbed from the narrow alcove. Too many players for things to be straightforward and clear. Have to watch and wait.\n\nAt least until the inevitable frantic recall to the capital comes.\n\nWhile the cargo scow was slow, it made steady progress all through the day and on through the night and so far sooner than Torvald expected they drew up next to the sagging dilapidated pier at Dhavran. His travelling companions, he knew, would be disembarking here. He was saddened to see them go. They'd been extraordinarily informative regarding the political situation among the Free Cities and the Malazans to the north. From hints and details he gathered that the big fellow, Cal, had once been some sort of military commander far in the north."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In the dawn's light, alongside all the other passengers preparing to leave, the two put together their meagre travelling gear. At the rail Torvald waited to say his farewells. Sailors readied the gangway.\n\n\"Sorry to say goodbye,\" he told the old man, Tserig.\n\nThe fellow glanced up to his huge companion, who peered down at Torvald from amid his wild mane of blowing hair and beard, a half-smile at his lips, and rumbled, \"Haven't you been listening? You're coming with us.\"\n\nTorvald blinked. For an instant he had a flashback to another of his travelling companions, one similarly large and abstruse. \"I'm sorry? '\n\n\"There is no longer at Pale anything of any relevance to your master in Darujhistan. Here at Dhavran, however, will soon arrive something of great significance.\"\n\n\"And that is?\"\n\n\"The Rhivi nation is invading the south, meaning to crush the Malazans. Don't you think you should discuss the matter with them? You are, I gather, a duly appointed city councillor, yes? '\n\nTorvald coughed to clear his throat. \"You are not serious, I hope?\"\n\n\"Very serious.\"\n\nTserig gummed his nearly toothless mouth, nodding his agreement. \"We are hereto try to talk them out of it.\"\n\nThe gangway slammed down, rattling the dock. The crowd on the deck hefted their bags and rolls while babies cried, pigs squealed, and caged fowl gobbled. Torvald shouldered his own bag. \"Well... I suppose I ought to accompany you, then.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" Cal said. \"They should be here shortly.\""},{"from":"human","value":"They waited until all the other departing passengers had shuffled down the gangway."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Tor watched families reunited amid hugs and tears; travelling petty traders set down their wares and immediately start haggling; and local merchants fussed over the unloading of ordered goods. This was the stuff of normal life– the daily round of trying to build a better future. This was what people wanted. Really, in the final accounting, they just wanted to be left alone to get on with things.\n\nOnce the way was clear they hefted their bags and tramped down the planking. Tor noted that it bowed alarmingly beneath Cal's weight.\n\nThey setup camp close to the muddy riverside where a meagre bridge made a crossing. Here they waited. \"It will only be a few days,\" Tserig assured Torvald. In the meantime Torvald questioned Cal. It turned out the man knew an incredible amount regarding general history and politics. Torvald, who had been away from the region for sometime, suddenly found himself very well informed.\n\nJust a few days later the first of the Rhivi outriders arrived at the broad shallow valley that this creek, the Red, meandered through. Cal, Tserig and Torvald went to meet them at the bridge.\n\nThe riders trotted up to the bridge, dismounted. Cal awaited them with his hands tucked into the wide leather belt of his travel-stained trousers. Old Tserig leaned on a large walking stick. Torvald stood just behind. He keenly felt that he was intruding.\n\nThe two outriders knelt before Cal. \"Warlord,\" they said.\n\nTorvald slapped a hand to his mouth. Great gods! Warlord? Cal– Caladan– Caladan Brood! He heard a roaring in his ears and his vision darkened, narrowing to a tunnel. The old man grasped his arm with a grip like the snaring of a root, steadying him. The riders bowed to Tserig as well, murmuring, \"Elder.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"I would treat with Jiwan,\" Caladan said."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"If he will receive my words.\"\n\n\"We will carry your message.\"\n\n\"One more thing.\" The Warlord motioned aside to Torvald. \"I also have with mean emissary from the ruling council of Darujhistan, Torvald Nom. He too would speak with Jiwan.\"\n\nThe two bowed again, then returned to their mounts. Caladan watched them go. After a time he turned to Torvald. \"We should have an answer soon enough.\"\n\nTor struggled to find his voice. \"Why... why didn't you tell me...? '\n\n\"I could hardly announce it thereon that boat, could I?\"\n\n\"Well... I suppose not. But... why aren't you... \"Tor swallowed, realizing his indelicacy, and finished lamely,\"you know. '\n\n\"With them?\" the big man supplied, arching a bushy brow. \"I argued against any further war but I was outvoted. The young bloods want to prove themselves. And being the aggressive faction– they won the day.\" His hands knotted at his belt. \"At least that is how it had better have been. Otherwise...\" He shook the great mane about his head and gestured to the creek. \"In the meantime let's try and catch some fish. '\n\nIn the end, it was Tserig who caught them. Wading along the shore, robes pulled high up over his skinny shanks, he scared two whiskered bottom-feeders into the shallows and Torvald scooped them up. They skewered them over flames, and after the meal, the noise of hooves announced the approach of riders. Rising, Caladan pulled his hands through his thick beard then wiped them on his trousers. Torvald helped Tserig to his feet. \"My thanks,\" the man murmured. \"My joints are not what they used to be. Though I'll have you know my prick is just fine. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Torvald clamped his teeth together against a choking laugh. \"That... is... encouraging news, Elder.\"\n\nThe old man gummed his mouth, nodding. \"It should be!\"\n\nThe riders were Rhivi warriors finely accoutred in mail and enamelled leather armour with skirtings that hung down the sides of their mounts. Torvald recognized these men and women as the cream of the Rhivi's leading clans. The foremost rider drew off his helmet to nod to Caladan. His thin beard was braided, as was his long black hair.\n\n\"Warlord. To what do we owe this honour... again?\"\n\n\"Jiwan. I am hereto ask you one last time to put down the spear. No goodwill come of it, only suffering and tears. Think of your people– the lives that will be lost.\"\n\nThe young commander nodded thoughtfully, frowning. \"I hear your words, Warlord, and I honour you for your past leadership and wisdom. But these words are not those of a war leader. They are the words of an old man who has lost a great friend. A mourning elder who looks at life only to see death. Such a dark vision must not guide a people. We who see life, who look ahead to the future, we must lead. And so, Caladan... I ask that you stand aside.\"\n\n\"Pretty words, Jiwan,\" Brood answered, unruffled by the young man's dismissal.\"I see now how you turned the heads of the Circle of Elders. But I do not think I will stand aside. I think I will block this bridge to you and all those foolish enough to follow anyone hypocritical– or inexperienced– enough to speak of life while going to war. '\n\nTorvald's mood had fallen from uncomfortable to distinctly exposed hereon the open bridge as more and more of the Rhivi cavalry, mixed medium and light, came trotting down the shallow valley. He felt like an interloper among the negotiations of a war leader who had dominated the north for decades, and had led the resistance there against the invading Malazans. Now to be dismissed in such an ignoble and off-handed manner! It grated against his instincts. To so blindly dismiss the hard-learned wisdom of centuries!"},{"from":"human","value":"The young war leader's gaze now found Torvald."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He raised his chin.\"You are this Darujhistani emissary, Torvald, Nom of Nom? '\n\nTorvald bowed from the waist. \"I am he.\"\n\n\"What think you of this man's position here? '\n\n\"I think it... rather unassailable.\"\n\nA scornful smile drew back the youth's lips.\"Strange words from an emissary of Darujhistan when all the others are so eager for Malazan blood. '\n\n\"What's that? ' Caladan growled, his voice suddenly low and menacing.\n\nThe war leader seemed to believe he had scored a point and he nodded his assurances. \"Oh, yes. The city is with us. We have the fullest intelligence from them. For example, the remnant fleeing just before us numberless than twelve hundreds, while our numbers swell with every passing day. Soon we shall reach thirty thousands! And your Legate, Nom of Nom, promises aid during the engagement. Obviously he too recognizes the threat these Malazans pose.\" Jiwan sat up taller in his saddle. He raised his voice to be heard by the surrounding riders. \"Now is our chance to rid our lands of the invader! They are weak. Leaderless. Few in number. Now is our best chance and perhaps our only chance! We must strike now! While we are assembled! The gods have handed us this opportunity. We must not let it slip away out of fear.\"\n\n\"Your words lack respect!\" Tserig called suddenly. \"They displease the ancestors.\" The Elder pointed to Caladan. \"This man sheltered Silverfox the Liberator! The gift of the Mhybe!\"\n\nThe war leader bowed his head in acknowledgement. \"True. But where is the miraculous Silverfox now?\" He turned in his saddle to shout: \"She has abandoned us!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Enough!\" Caladan bellowed. So strong was the yell that Torvald felt the bridge judder beneath his feet. \"Enough talk. Jiwan, this bridge is closed to you.\"\n\nExaggerated regret drew the war leader's mouth down. He shook his head.\"Caladan, it is sad to see you reduced to such petty gestures. \"He pointed to the shallow waterway.\"You accomplish nothing. We will merely ride through the creek. '\n\nCaladan crossed his arms. \"You are welcome to do so. You are much overdue, I think, forgetting muddy.\"\n\nJiwan merely clamped his lips shut. Yanking on his reins he waved for the cavalry to go round. Torvald watched while the columns passed to either side of the bridge. Some refused to acknowledge the Warlord or glance his way, while the lingering eyes of others held sadness, regret, and even guilt.\n\nIt was many hours before the last of the riders passed. Above, the mottled moon and the Scimitar cast bright competing shadows while threads of clouds passed between them. Caladan finally let out along breath. \"A large force,\" he admitted. \"Every clan represented.\"\n\n\"They smell blood,\" Tserig agreed.\n\n\"Malazan blood.\"\n\n\"What will you do now?\" Torvald asked.\n\nThe huge man uncrossed his arms and shifted his stance. The logs of the bridge creaked beneath their feet. \"I warned your Legate not to interfere in this. But he has defied me. Whipped the Rhivi onto the Malazans. All Jiwan sees is the glory of being the war leader who defeats the Malazans. He doesn't see that Rhivi blood is simply ridding this creature of his enemies for him. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'll go back, then, \"Torvald said, certain of what he should do.\"Speak against this. '\n\nThe man's tangled brows rose.\"Great Burn, no, lad. You'll be killed out of hand. No. I'm going. I intend to take this Legate by the neck and let him know of my displeasure. '\n\nSuddenly Torvald felt rather afraid for his city. There were stories of this man– this Ascendant– levelling mountains in the north. \"You won't... \"he began, only to pause as he realized he wasn't sure what he intended to say. Won't destroy the city?\n\nThe man smiled his reassurance. \"Only this Legate troubles me. I am sorry, Torvald Nom, but all is not as you think in your home. I suspect something is controlling Lim, or he has struck a bargain where he should not have.\"\n\nSomething strange going on? What is strange about Lim's having resurrected an ancient reviled title? Or started wearing a gold mask? There is nothing strange in that.\n\n\"Tserig,\" Caladan continued, \"would you re-join Jiwan's forces? If things go badly there will be a need for your voice. '\n\n\"I understand, Warlord.\"\n\nCaladan regarded Torvald, stroked his beard. \"Perhaps if you accompanied me you would be safe enough.\"\n\nTor thought about the offer but realized that there might be something else he could do. Something perhaps only he could do. \"No.\"\n\nCaladan stopped to turn, frowning. \"No?\"\n\n\"No. The Moranth withdrew when they sensed something was happening. And here we are in the shadows of their mountains. I'll... I'll go to them.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Torvald Nom, that is an extraordinary offer. But no one has ever succeeded in reaching them in their mountain strongholds. They speak to no one. I've heard that only the Emperor and Dancer ever managed to sneak into Cloud Forest. '\n\n\"They will speak tome.\"\n\nThe Ascendant eyed him while he pulled at his beard. He was obviously curious as to the source of Torvald's certainty, but refrained from challenging it. He grunted instead, nodding.\"Very well. I wish there was some help I could offer. '\n\n\"Well– I could use a horse.\"\n\nThe big man smiled behind his beard. His gaze shifted to the south where a galaxy of campfires now lit the plain. \"I think I might be able to produce one.\"\n\nLeoman sat with his arms draped over his folded knees. He watched the titanic shadow of Maker high against the horizon where the giant continued his labour while the stars wheeled and the waves of glimmering Vitr worked their eternal erosion.\n\nHe sighed and glanced over to where Kiska stood high on the strand, facing the Sea of Vitr. Day after day she stood in plain view of Tayschrenn, or Thenaj, and his cohort of helpers while they carried out their rescue mission of dragging unfortunates from the burning energies of creation and destruction. Her goal, he believed he understood, was that somehow, eventually, the sight of her would trigger some memory within the archmagus and the man would come to his senses.\n\nHe thought it a forlorn hope. He stretched then sat back, his elbows in the black sand. Was he losing weight? Wasting away? Would he fade to a haunt doomed to wander the shores of creation wringing his hands or searching fora black button he'd dropped?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kiska nudged his leg– he'd been wool-gathering. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. She peered down at him, then away, screwing up her eyes. \"You don't have to stay, ' she said.\n\nHe nodded. \"True.\"\n\n\"You should go. There's no need for you to be here. '\n\n\"One does not return empty-handed to the Queen of Dreams.\"\n\n\"She's not vindictive. '\n\nHe snorted. \"This is all assuming we can return.\"\n\n\"She wouldn't have sent us to our deaths. '\n\n\"She said she couldn't see beyond Chaos. '\n\nKiska set her hands on her hips. \"Well... so, you're just going to lie around watching? '\n\nHe peered about as if searching for something else, then returned his gaze to her. \"Looks like it.\"\n\n\"Well... you're making me uncomfortable. '\n\n\"Oh– I'm making you uncomfortable? '\n\n\"Yes! So go away.\"\n\nHe pointed one sandalled foot to the beach. \"I'm sure our friends feel the same way. '\n\n\"That's different. '\n\n\"It is? Shall we ask them?\"\n\nKiska's lips tightened to almost nothing.\"They won't talk tome.\"\n\nFine lips they are for kissing. Too bad there's been precious little of that. Now there's a reason to go back. He squinted up at her. \"That's because you're making them uncomfortable.\"\n\nShe waved curtly, dismissing him– \"Gods, I don't know why I bother'– and marched away.\n\nWell... that didn't work. What now? Bash heron the head and drag her back to the Enchantress? Here you are, Your Ladyship– one troublesome agent returned safe and sound. Are we even now?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He eased back into studying the horizon. Time for that yet. Best wait a touch longer. See if she works this out of her system all on her own. As he'd learned from experience– it's always easiest simply to set out the bait and wait for them to come to you.\n\nThe old witch who lived at the very western edge of the shantytown that itself clung to the western edge of Darujhistan seemed to spend all her time whittling. That and incessantly humming and chanting to herself. People whose errands happened to bring them wandering by sometimes considered telling the hag to shut up. But, after reconsidering, none ever did so. It was after all asking for trouble to insult a witch.\n\nThis afternoon, as the sun descended to the west, where just visible was the top of the great hump of the tomb of the Andii prince– uncharacteristically unlooted as yet, as, again, it would be asking for trouble to attempt to rob the tomb of the Son of Darkness– this afternoon the witch's head snapped up from her sticks and she stuffed them away into the folds of her layered shirts. She stood, peering narrowly to the south. Out came her pipe in one hand and in her other a pinch of mud or gum that she rolled between grimy thumb and forefinger.\n\nShe brought the lump up to her eyes, squinting. Brought it even closer, so close that her thumb touched the bridge of her nose and her eyes crossed. Then she grunted, satisfied, and jammed the lump into the pipe. This she lit, puffing, before returning to studying the south, an arm tucked under the one holding the pipe. Passers-by noted her attention and stopped to look as well. But, seeing nothing but the dusty hills of the Dwelling Plain, they shook their heads at the woman's craziness and moved on."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Almost,\" the woman muttered aloud as if conversing with someone. She blew twin plumes of smoke from her nostrils. \"Almost.\"\n\nBarathol was in the back, building a crib. Little Chaur, he'd noticed, was now as long as the basket he currently slept in. It was late afternoon and the work was going slowly; he kept forgetting where he was in the process– which piece to cut and how long to make it. He was, frankly, dead on his feet. His hands were clumsy crude gloves, his thoughts glacial.\n\nGlancing up he noticed Scillara at the backdoor, watching, arms crossed over her broad chest. \"Asleep then?\" he said.\n\n\"Aye. A feed and a nap– practising being a regular man, he is.\"\n\n\"Our needs are simple.\"\n\n\"Bar...\" she began slowly.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I'm... sorry. I was– I am– angry that you took that work. I'm scared that...\"\n\nHe set down his handsaw. \"Yes?\"\n\nShe raised her eyes to the darkening sky as if not believing what she was about to confess. \"I'm scared. Scared that I'm going to lose you.\"\n\nHe sat back, resting his hands on his thighs, and gave her a crooked smile. \"You'll never lose me so long as you have Chaur, yes? '\n\n\"I'm sorry, Bar. All I see is a lump of need that looks at me with hungry eyes. I don't like that look, Bar.\"\n\n\"In time then, Scil. Ashe grows you'll see more and more of you and me in him. '\n\nShe was looking to the north, picking at the cracked wood of the jamb. \"I don't know. It's you I chose– not him. Maybe... maybe we should go. Leave tonight while we can.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"There's work for me here."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Enough for us to get by on. '\n\n\"And this other work? When will it finish?\"\n\n\"Soon. Very soon. They're almost done now. '\n\nShe watched him carefully, as if studying him. \"What've they got you doing up there anyway? '\n\n\"Nothing important, Scil. Nothing important.\"\n\nGrisp Falaunt was lord of one row of turnips. That and a shack that really wasn't a shack being as it was more of a lean-to of broken lumber and canvas cobbled from the remains of what once was a shack. But from the shade of his wholly-owned domicile he could look south to the shimmering images of orchards, fields and groves covering the hills of the Dwelling Plain. All that had almost been– and rightfully ought to have been– his. For in the absence of all other claims was he not the lord and master of all the vast plain? Who could dispute that? Why, none, o\" course.\n\nAgain he reached down next to his chair, where his hand encountered nothing, and he growled and adjusted the cactus spine held between his teeth from one side to the other. Damned trespassing devil-dogs. Broke his fine cabin and burst the heart of his last loyal friend, fine Scamper, buried now among the turnips.\n\nOught to fence his property. That's what he ought to do. Then them fancy nobles in Darujhistan would come a callin\". Why, then-\n\nGrisp leaned forward, the front legs of his chair thumping in the dust. What in the name o' dried-up Burn was that? More trespassers?\n\nA file of men had emerged from a gulch, or draw, or gully, or whatever it was you called a damned depression out thereon the plain. A great cloud of dust was following them. In fact, they was running like the very devil-dogs was after them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And they was headed right for him.\n\nOr not. Maybe not quite right for him. More like... His slit gaze shifted aslant to his last remaining row of turnips. The spine clamped between his lips stood straight up. Oh no.\n\nHood's bones! They was headed for his turnip plantation!\n\nChair thrown aside numb bare feet tangling with staked rope ties of canvas roof much cursing and flailing to stand bony chest thrown out athwart limp brown leaves defiant!\n\nThe jogging twin files of men and women– masked, for all sakes! – parted to either side, their sandalled feet trampling the row into flattened dirt and bruised turnip flesh.\n\nUpraised fists fell. Screwed-up features twisted into puzzlement, then despair.\n\nGrisp landed on the tattered rear of his trousers while the yellow ochre dust of the Dwelling Plain blew about him. There, between his feet, brown leaves intact, lay his last undamaged turnip.\n\n\"Fair enough,\" he croaked, waving the dust from his face. \"This time, Scamper m'boy. This time I mean it. Time for action. Time for pullin'up stakes and movin\" on. Fer... \"He eyed the limp bug-gnawed specimen before him and slumped even further into the dry dirt.\"Aw, t'Hood with it.\"\n\n*\n\nNot long after that, the guards of Cutter Road Gate, newly reconstructed, let goof the robes of the dealer in rare woods from the plains of Lamatath as the alarm from the watchtower sent up its strident warning. Both peered down the length of Cutter Lake Road over the heads of the crowd of farmers and petty traders held up behind the tottering wagon of the dealer in rare woods."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The elder guard noticed that the wagon was blocking the gate. \"Get moving, you damned fool!\" he bellowed at the man. The other guard, staring south, mouthed something like \"Ghak!\"\n\nGhak? the elder wondered, then an arm slammed him backwards into the wall of the gatehouse and he slid down the gritty stones, dazed and breathless, while a file of men and women jogged by, hands resting near the grips of sheathed swords as they passed without so much as a glance down.\n\nAfter the last of the file had gone the man pulled himself up, wincing and gasping and rubbing his chest. Masks, he wondered? Why in Beru's name were they wearin\" masks? He and his partner shared helpless stricken looks across the wagon. The dealer leaned to one side to spit a stream of thick brown fluid across the dusty road.\n\n\"You all are in big trouble now,\" he commented with great satisfaction, and flicked the reins.\n\nOn a street in the Gadrobi district a boy coming into adolescence ran up to a heavyset woman standing in the entranceway to the open hall of a school of swordsmanship. \"Masked men!\" he cried excitedly, his eyes shining. \"Masked men running through the streets!\"\n\n\"What's that? ' the woman answered sharply.\n\n\"Some say Seguleh!\" He waved her out. \"Come.\"\n\n\"Inside,\" she demanded.\n\n\"But...\"\n\n\"Harllo...\"\n\nHis shoulders slumped and he brushed in past her. \"Yes, Mother.\"\n\nThe woman slowly closed the door on people running past, on yells sounding from the distance. Inside, she lowered a heavy bar across the door then pulled a crossbow from where it hung on the wall. She flexed its band, testing it, and nodded."},{"from":"human","value":"Sulty handed out the plates of hot goat skewers on couscous then paused, tilting her head– marching feet, double-time."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Been along time since she'd heard that sound. Her gaze caught Scurve at the bar and he shrugged; evidently he knew nothing of it.\n\nMoments later a man ducked inside, breathless, red-faced. \"Seguleh!\" he shouted. \"On the Way!\"\n\nAs one the patrons surged to their feet to charge the door.\n\n\"You ain't paid! \"Jess bellowed. Then the two women were left alone in the room amid fallen chairs and steaming food. Sulty blew hair from her face. Jess motioned the others outside.\"Might as well have a look. '\n\nThey joined the crowd eyeing the distant Second Tier Way. But there was nothing to see. Whoever, or whatever, had passed, and only the witnesses remained. The patrons gathered round those who claimed to have seen. The women rubbed their aching chapped hands in their aprons, shrugged, and went back inside.\n\nIt had nothing to do with them.\n\nIn the common room, Sulty eyed the table with its steaming plates and skewers and wondered– hadn't there been five?\n\nThe clerk posted at the gate to the Way of Justice heard the marching echoing up the walls enclosing the Way. Puzzled, he picked up his scrolls and stepped outside. No notice of procession had been filed for this day. Who were these fools?\n\nA double file of men and women came jogging round a corner and the clerk stared, squinting. Great Fanderay... were they... Before he could complete his thought they sped past to either side, leather jerkins stained wet with sweat, limbs glistening, eyes hidden behind masks riveted straight ahead.\n\nOne by one the scrolls slid from the clerk's hands. Kicked and trampled, they flew, wind-caught, to flutter over the wall of the Second Tier, wafting towards the glimmering waters of Lake Azur."},{"from":"human","value":"After the last had passed the clerk quickly finished his sums and came to an astounding number that kept him from discovering his empty hands."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Five hundred. Great Ancient Mother of the Hearth! Surely they cannot be real!\n\nHe crossed to one of the city Wardens who guarded the Way. The man was staring off up the rising cobbled path, a gourd of water half-raised to his mouth. \"Do something,\" the clerk demanded.\n\nThe man swallowed, his face as pale as the finest vellum. \"Do what?\"\n\n\"Warn them! Warn the Council!\"\n\nThe man slammed the wooden stopper home. \"I'll just trot along behind, shall I? '\n\nThe clerk raised his hands to shake a finger, then realized. He started, gaping. \"Great Mother of Pain!\" He threw himself to the stone lip of the wall to peer over and down. \"I'm ruined! '\n\n\"You're ruined? \"The guard flicked the truncheon at his side and snorted.\"I think we're all fucking ruined.\"\n\n*\n\nThe journey had been a strange experience in double vision for Jan. All the landmarks, major features and place names remained as handed down through the ancient lays and stories of his people. And yet all was different. Gone were the orchards, groves and fields of the verdant Dwelling Plain. All was dust and desolation. The great network of irrigation canals and the artificial lakes sand-choked and buried; the many brick towers, the leagues of urban dwelling, all gnawed to the barest foundations and scatterings of eroded sun-dried brick. A population collapse– just as described in the catastrophe of their exile.\n\nAnd the city itself, fair white-walled Darujhistan. White-walled no more. Oh, it appeared large and wealthy enough. But gone were the soaring towers of translucent white stone so clear one could seethe sun through their walls. Gone the great Orb of the King, the Circle of Pure Justice. All destroyed in the Great Shattering and Fall."},{"from":"human","value":"Many of the inhabitants carried weapons, as well."},{"from":"gpt","value":"There appeared to have been a proliferation of those willing to place themselves under the judgement of the sword. But that could wait. Ahead lay the Throne and the one who sent out the call. What would it be? The fulfilment of the long-held dream of his people? It seemed unreal that this should be achieved, now, in his lifetime. The last First had never spoken of it, had always deflected Jan's probes. It was this uncharacteristic reluctance that troubled him now as he jogged up the Way of Justice. Such guardedness had all been too much for one Second, the one whose name had been stricken. Slaves to tradition, he had denounced them, as he threw away his sword.\n\nAnd it was said the man had subsequently taken up a sword in the service of true slavery. But such were tales outside the testing circle and thus beneath attending.\n\nIn any case, they would soon know. Jan led the way. He hardly noticed the figures he brushed aside as he entered the Hall of Majesty. The body of their handed-down songs and stories contained many descriptions of the approach to the Throne, although it took a moment to sort through the subsequent alterations and additions to the rambling complex. That done, Jan directed those of the Fiftieth to guard the path, then walked up to the tall panelled doors– not even noting the two guards who stood ashen-faced to either side– and pushed them open.\n\nIt was dusk now, and the golden light of the sunset shone almost straight across the Great Hall, illuminating the gathered crowd inflames of argent. Jan paused, disconcerted to find a sea of plain golden masks directed his way. Though not all, he noted, wore them. And among those who did some now fell limp to crash to the floor.\n\nHe ignored them all as beneath his direct attention and strode for the Throne. His escort, the Twenty, followed him in. The crowd parted like torn cloth. Two of those insensate were dragged across the floor to clear the way."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The one on the throne rose to meet him.\n\nHe wore the template upon which all these others were obviously patterned. Jan recognized the power and authority radiating from it as if from the sun itself– but it was not the mask he had come all this way to meet. Halting, he met the man with his own masked head slightly inclined, eyes a shade downcast: the posture of uncertainty regarding rank.\n\nThe masked figure gestured, arms open, his thick burgundy robes wide.\n\n\"Greetings, loyal children.\" A voice spoke from one side, quavering and breathless, almost choking. \"You have answered the call of your master. Soon all shall be restored to what it was. The Circle of Perfect Rulership is near completion.\"\n\nThe golden Father? First guide me! Was this the source of your silence? Ancestors forgive me... which do I choose? The knee or the blade? Which will it be? All now are watching, waiting upon me, the Second, to show the way. And yet... there it is. For am I not Second? And did not the last First ever instruct– the Second has but one task.\n\nThe Second follows.\n\nAnd so he knelt before their ancient master reborn, his mask bent to the floor. And, leathers shifting and hissing, all the Twenty knelt in turn.\n\nIn the crowd yet another of those assembled crashed to the floor."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And the truth is not yet revealed\n\nWith the fall of the first gossamer veil\n\nNor does the second drifting shroud\n\nSent curling to the gold-dusted tiles\n\nBring the unthinking one step closer\n\nTo the necessary awareness of how\n\nClose wafts the third clinging cowl\n\nTroubling those fascinated as pure\n\nWhite flashes yet promise and allure\n\nDistracting the unwary from the\n\nFourth sheet unwound enlightening\n\nAll too late that only Death could\n\nDance so seductively\n\nSong of the White Throne\n\nMad Ira Nuer\n\nANTSY AWOKE TO a hammering on the wall of their room. \"Up and on your feet,\" someone growled. \"Let's go. ' The feeble yellow light of a lamp glowed through the burlap hanging. He sat up, stretched, and set to pulling on his gear. He and Corien stepped out first to give Orchid more privacy to squat over the chamber pot.\n\nThe motley crew in their mismatched armour, men mostly, all chuckled at the loud hiss of the liquid stream against metal that came echoing out from behind the hanging. In charge of this detachment was the fellow boasting the huge thick beard tied off in tails and the tattered dirty jupon over the banded iron hauberk, its heraldry rendered murky and indistinguishable. When Orchid stepped out he gestured impatiently. \"This way.\"\n\nThey were led through narrower and narrower private passages– what might have once been a large private dwelling– to a guarded room where tables stood crowded by scrolls and vellum sheets held down by countless statues of animals real and fantastic, some carved from semi-precious stone, others cast in silver and gold. Light was provided by a large candelabra so low it threatened to ignite the many sheets. A fat man sat with his boots upon one of the tables, leaning back, studying a document."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But what really caught Antsy's attention was the wonderful scent of fresh fruit and cooked meat. His stomach lurched and grumbled and his mouth, dry for days, now flooded.\n\n\"Prisoners, sir,\" their captor grunted.\n\nThe man did not lookup from the document. \"Very good, Lieutenant.\"\n\nThe lieutenant promptly slouched into a chair, one of slung cured leather over carved dark wood that itself looked like a work of art. He helped himself to a cut-crystal jug of red wine, pouring it into a cup that appeared to have been carved from jade. He waved away the guards.\n\nThe man tossed down the sheet. He was unshaven, his face glistening in the candlelight. His hair hung in a tangled mess around a bald dome. He rubbed his sunken red-ringed eyes with a pudgy hand thick with gem-studded rings. He blinked at them. \"A Darujhistan dandy, a Malazan deserter, and some rich merchant's plaything. How can any of you be of use tome? '\n\n\"Torbal Loat,\" Antsy blurted, the name suddenly coming to him.\n\nThe man cocked one bloodshot eye. \"Met before, have we?\"\n\n\"This fellow carved out quite the territory for himself up north during the wars,\" Antsy told Corien and Orchid.\n\n\"Before you Malazans drove me out.\"\n\nAntsy raised his hands. \"Hey, I chucked that in. No percentage there.\"\n\nThe man merely grunted. He raised his chin to Corien. \"You can use a blade, I assume?\"\n\nThe youth bowed. \"At your service.\"\n\nThe lieutenant laughed a harsh bray and raised his glass in salute."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And you?\" Torbal demanded of Orchid.\n\n\"She's a mage of Rashan, ' Antsy said before she could answer.\n\nTorbal's heavy mouth twisted his irritation.\"This true? If not, I'll kill you myself.\"\n\n\"I have some small gifts, yes,\" she stammered.\n\nHe grunted, unimpressed. \"Well... it's the usual deal. You swear to fight for me and you'll receive your fair share of food and shares in the profits. As you can see, we control the majority of the Spawn. Most of all that is worth anything is with us. Fight well and eventually your original gear will be returned. Though,\" and he glared at Antsy, \"not all of it. Desertion is of course punishable by immediate execution,\" he added, continuing to give Antsy a hard eye.\n\n\"For a share of the total profits I'm your man, ' Antsy said.\n\n\"As am I,\" Corien added.\n\n\"And I.\"\n\n\"Now,\" Torbal began, picking up a starfruit and examining it. \"Our lookouts report that there was someone else with you... What happened to him?\"\n\nAntsy could not take his eyes from the ripe yellow star-shaped fruit. \"He ran off.\"\n\n\"Ran off? You won't mind then if we have a look for him? '\n\nAntsy kept his face dead straight as he said: \"No. We don't mind at all. '\n\n\"Where do you get all this food?\" Corien breathed, his voice thick with longing.\n\nTorbal's expression said that he was very pleased his little demonstration had had the desired effect. He sat back and took a bite of the fruit.\"I have contacts with the Confederation boys. Fora few trinkets I get regular shipments. My people eat well– remember that. \"He gestured to the lieutenant.\"Get them rooms. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The lieutenant pushed himself up. \"Let's go. '\n\nHe marched them back through the rambling living quarters. Antsy quickly became lost though he was doing his best to keep his bearings; he suspected the man was leading them in circles. Eventually he stopped before a portal covered by a hanging– a hacked portion of a tapestry that must once have been worth a fortune before such desecration. \"You have a name?\" Antsy asked him.\n\nThe man pulled off his helmet and shook out long thick hair around his scarred and pitted face. \"Otan.\"\n\n\"Otan of Genalle?\"\n\n\"The same.\"\n\n\"You gave us– ah, the Malazans– a lot of trouble.\"\n\n\"I still do,\" the man said, eyeing Antsy with obvious distaste. \"Listen... Torbal says you live for now, but I don't like you. Spy or deserter, whichever you are, I'll be keeping an eye on you. Be sure of that.\"\n\n\"That'll keep me warm at night, friend. '\n\n\"We'll settle this. Don't worry. We'll settle up. ' He ambled off, his armour rattling and creaking.\n\nIt was a plain living chamber. Aside room allowed the option of privacy for Orchid. They remained together in the main room talking in low voices while Corien kept a watch at the hanging.\n\n\"What now?\" Orchid asked. \"We're captives. '\n\n\"Are we at the top?\" Antsy asked.\n\n\"No. According to all the descriptions I've heard there's still away to go.\"\n\n\"Thought so.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nHe gestured back the way they'd come.\"I didn't think this lot would be in charge.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"They have a lot of swords,\" Corien pointed out.\n\n\"Yeah. But they're fighting someone for control of the rock. '\n\n\"Who?\"\n\nAntsy rubbed his slick forehead; his fingers came away greasy and sticky. He sighed. \"I think maybe Malazans.\"\n\n\"Malazans?\" Orchid echoed in disbelief.\n\n\"Yeah.\" Antsy sat on a stone sleeping ledge. \"I heard that awhile back a Malazan man-of-war bulled its way through to here. That would be maybe some two hundred fighting men. That's why old Otan there's accusing me of being a spy.\"\n\nCorien raised a hand for silence. Someone approached and he opened the hanging. It was a slave, a skinny crippled fellow with one hand and one bandaged eye. He was hugging a platter containing a hunk of cheese, dry hardtack, smoked meat, and a ceramic pot of water.\n\n\"What's your story, old man? ' Antsy asked him.\n\nThe man's answer was the sad wreckage of a smile. A stream of clear fluid ran down his cheek from under the bandage.\"Came out to make my fortune. Like a gold rush, everyone said. Jewels to be plucked from the streets of the Spawn. \"With his remaining hand he gestured to himself.\"But, as I found, riches don't come cheap.\"\n\n\"I hear you, old man. What about weapons?\"\n\n\"When there's an attack. '\n\nCorien swore, then apologized to Orchid.\n\n\"An attack?\" Antsy continued. \"Who?\"\n\nThe man shook his battered head. \"Can't say. Talk means punishment. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I understand. Thanks for the food.\"\n\nThe old fellow bowed and padded off into the darkness. Antsy used his short eating knife to cut slices from the lump of cheese. Chewing, he squinted into the dark side room. \"I think your night vision thing is still working, Orchid.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" Corien affirmed.\n\n\"Good,\" she said bleakly.\n\nAntsy turned his squint on her. \"Could you give us darkness?\"\n\n\"There's plenty of that. '\n\nHe cut and handed out slivers of the hard meat. Tasting it he wasn't sure what it was. Horse?\"No. Real darkness. The kind that light can't penetrate– would we still be able to see in that?\"\n\n\"I think so, yes. I believe you should.\"\n\n\"Good. That might be enough to get us out of here.\"\n\n\"Darkness?\" Corien said. \"We have no weapons.\"\n\n\"Then we'll bash people over the head and take theirs! ' Antsy answered, a touch irritated.\n\nCorien inclined his head. \"Of course. A sophisticated plan. When?\"\n\nAntsy scratched his own thickening beard. \"Yeah. When. Common wisdom says we should wait awhile– look like we're fitting in. But I can't shake the feeling that time's not on our side. This whole rock is unstable. Who knows what might happen to it? Everyday we're stuck here we're tempting Oponn and I don't like that.\"\n\n\"So... we don't wait? '\n\n\"No.\" He wrapped the food to pack it away. \"We go now.\"\n\n\"But our supplies. Your munitions!\"\n\n\"I'm happier keeping my head, thanks. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Corien smiled his rueful admiration. \"You've weathered more reversals than we have, Red. '\n\nAntsy shoved the food into a roll of the tattered blankets and tied it off. \"Aw, Hood. It ain't Red. It's Antsy.\"\n\nThe youth and Orchid shared a glance of suppressed humour. \"Well,\" Corien said, \"we knew it wasn't Red. '\n\n\"So,\" Orchid whispered, facing Antsy. \"What do we do?\"\n\nHe moved to the hanging and motioned to Corien. \"Snuff the light.\"\n\nCorien wet his fingers and pinched the wick of twisted hemp. In the bloom of utter dark Antsy waited for his vision to adjust. Eventually the faint blue glow returned and the walls and his companions slowly emerged from the gloom as if wavering into existence. He raised his hands to the Darujhistani aristocrat, who nodded his affirmation.\n\nOrchid came up. \"Now?\" she whispered.\n\nHe motioned a negative. \"Let's give it awhile. Maybe they'll think we're sleeping. '\n\nShe was standing so close her thick mane of black hair brushed his ear, sending a shiver down his frame. He suddenly became very aware of the warmth of her body so close. The smell of her sweat was a pleasure to him. It reminded him of some rare spice. He turned his face away, clearing his throat. Ye gods, man. Get a grip.\n\n\"So,\" he began, his voice thick and hoarse, \"Morn thought you part Andii. What do you think?\"\n\nHer dark eyes sought his but he resolutely kept them on the hall. \"It feels right. I guess I'd never thought about it until he said it. It explains a lot of things. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He leaned back against the side of the portal. \"Never thought about it? Who raised you, then?\"\n\n\"I grew up in what I know now was some sort of temple, or religious community. The priests and priestesses were my parents and teachers. I never left it. As I grew older I explored a bit and found that the temple was on an island. Avery small island. After that I suppose I just contented myself with learning about the world through the stories and texts in the temple. That and my teachers.\"\n\n\"Who taught you the Andii tongue, and their letters.\"\n\n\"And their literature and legends and mythology.\"\n\n\"That didn't make you wonder? '\n\nShe cocked her head aside in the darkness, considering. \"No. Should it have? I just thought it was normal. I thought everyone learned these things. There was nothing to compare it to. Now, I know that must have been a temple to Elder Dark.\" She shook her head, a regretful smile at her lips. \"I'm not the first to discover that most of what I've been taught was either wrong, irrelevant, or insane.\"\n\nAntsy nodded at that. Yeah. Parents and family work their craziness too. Gods, just look at Spindle.\n\n\"There's more, of course, \"she continued, sounding puzzled.\"Other strange things that I still can't understand. I seem to remember...\" She shifted, uneasy.\n\n\"You don't have to goon, \"Antsy murmured, keeping his gaze fixed on the dark hall.\"I understand. But maybe I can help you sort through it. '\n\nShe let out a steadying breath, her lips clenched, then nodded. \"I had many teachers. They seemed to come and go.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh. And this is strange?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Antsy... They were young when they came and when they left... they were old.\"\n\nHe forced himself to swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat. \"Ah. That is strange. You sure...?\"\n\n\"Yes. And I seem to remember it happening many times.\"\n\nAntsy let out a sound as if thinking that through. Queen release me! When will I learn to keep my damned mouth shut? \"Well... Andii are long-lived, right? There you go.\" Hood! This \"child\" is probably more than twice my age! What's shebeen learning all that time?\"Listen. Maybe that's enough for-\"\n\nThe jarring clanging of metal on metal blasted through the Spawn's steady background noise of groans and clatterings. Corien leapt to his feet. Shouts sounded up the hall and quite a few screams as well. A figure stepped into the hall, shouted:\"C'mon, you lot! It's the alarm. Let's go!\"\n\nTheir watcher. Antsy nodded to Orchid. \"Put a darkness herein the hall.\"\n\nShe shut her eyes, murmuring, and all the faint glow of distant lights disappeared. The man peered about, panicked. \"What in the Abyss...\"\n\nAntsy made for him. The fellow heard his approach and went for his sword but he was obviously blind, so Antsy kicked him in the groin then kneed him in the face, shattering the cartilage of his nose and possibly killing him. He took the man's weapons while he lay stunned.\n\n\"Which way?\" he called to Orchid. She pointed up the other way. He gave the sword to Corien, kept a fighting dirk. \"I'll lead. Corien, watch the rear. '\n\nAs they traced halls and turned corners, it came to him that Orchid was attempting to lead them round the settlement. He was happy with that because occasional blasts and screams reached them from whatever was going on over atone side of the complex. But as Orchid took longer and longer to choose directions the noise steadily became louder with each length of empty hall or chamber traversed and the yellow glow of lanterns and lamps thickened. By the time she came to a full halt in a narrow chamber whose only other exit was an open portal, he could make out the thumping release of crossbows, the ringing of iron from stone, shouts, and, above all, an argument of some sort between a high strident harridan's voice and a much lower, deeper and fainter man's voice."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"This is not the way!\" the woman screeched.\n\n\"Let us hear what our guide has to say,\" the man murmured.\n\n\"Fire!\" a voice bellowed, Otan's, then a volley of crossbows released, the bolts clattering from stone.\n\n\"Aiya!\" the woman yelled. \"Who are these wretches?\"\n\n\"Indigenes? Perhaps?\"\n\n\"Indigenes? Are you brainless? These are not Andii!\"\n\n\"Yet strictly speaking... are they not the new residents here?\"\n\nWhat in the name of Oponn...? Antsy edged forward to peer round the lip of the opening. What was this? The portal gave access to a large hall, what seemed a main boulevard faced by many building fronts carved from the stone of the Spawn. Bodies lay scattered among wreckage across the floor. Lanterns lay fallen, spilled oil burning to send up clouds of black smoke that obscured the high ceiling.\n\nTwo figures faced each other in the centre of the hall. One, the old woman, wore an eye-watering costume of all shades of red, complete with a headdress of fluttering crimson ribbons, and what appeared to be carmine gloves on her hands. The other was a short round ball of a man, bland-faced, in layered dark robes, his hands clasped across his broad front as if to hold it in from bursting.\n\nSo amazed by these two was Antsy that he failed to notice a third figure scuttling up the hall. The fellow was staring at him, his eyes huge and his mouth open in his own incredulity. \"Kill that man!\" the skinny youth howled, pointing.\n\nAntsy flinched– and met the glaring eyes of the young thief from Hurly. Great Burn! What was that fool's name? Jallin! Yes, that's right."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The lad ran to the squabbling pair, still pointing. \"Kill him, mistress!\"\n\nThe woman took a swipe at him that he ducked. \"Shut up, fool. Does the way goon?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" the youth snarled.\n\nArmour clattering announced another file of crossbowmen led by Otan crossing the hall.\n\nGotta give the man credit for guts.\n\n\"Hesta...\" the fat man murmured.\n\nThe woman threw her hands in the air. \"Oh, cursed gods above! More of them?\"\n\nShe lowered her arms, palms out. Orchid yanked on the back of Antsy's armour.\"Down! ' she hissed. Like an upended forge, flames came billowing up the wide boulevard. Men and women screamed, reduced to dark shapes consumed by the churning yellow and orange.\n\nA furnace's searing heat crackled at Antsy's arms, which he had thrown up to protect his head, and then with a redoubled avalanche roar the radiance disappeared, leaving him blinking, momentarily blinded. The cackle of the youth sounded in the sudden silence, followed by a slap that cut it off. \"Show us!\" the woman commanded.\n\n\"Perhaps they merely wished to talk,\" the man's voice reached them, retreating.\n\n\"Oh, shut up!\"\n\nAntsy dared raise his head. Flames lit a scene out of Hood's own realm. Burning corpses and furnishings sent smoke curling up into the thickening miasma choking the air. He didn't like the way it just hung there. No outlet.\n\nOrchid was crushing the burnt ends of her frazzled hair. \"I'm sorry, Antsy, ' she said, sounding miserable."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Sorry for what?\"\n\nShe raised her soot-smeared chin to the boulevard. \"That's the way up. '\n\nSomehow I knew she was going to say that.\n\nBendan gave his name to everyone in the Malazan camp as \"Butcher\". His own squad didn't use it anymore now that they'd reached the main rendezvous south-west of Dhavran. They'd used it fora while after that last engagement and during the march, and it had been among the happiest times of his life. It even rivalled the feeling of belonging and safety he'd known among his peers in the mud ways and alleys of Maiten town. He'd revelled in it those few years alongside his brothers and sisters, jumping rival gangs and cleaning out anyone not a local and foolish enough to wander into their territory. He'd felt untouchable then, utterly secure. Wanted and appreciated. Valued, even, it seemed to him now, looking back. He'd gone from worthless to valued. When they'd all been together on the street they could stomp on anyone's face and no one dared say anything! He remembered how Biter and Short Legs had held one kid down and invited him to lay in. And he'd kicked and kicked on and on until the kid coughed up an explosion of blood and never moved anymore. How they'd all laughed! Good times then.\n\nNow when I say \"Butcher's the name'I just get funny looks. Even outright laughs. What's wrong with everyone? There's a guy in the 10th named'Rabbit. \"What kinda name's that fora soldier?\n\nHis squad spent the days digging a big-arse ditch to surround the new fort. Other squads were dragging logs from the nearest woods, raising a palisade. It was a damned crowded camp: all the remnants of the Second, Fifth and Sixth from Pale all jammed together on one round hilltop surrounded by a deep ditch that put the top of the palisade logs a good three man-heights above the head of any attacker. And on top of that Fist Steppen had them sharpening a forest of stakes to set leaning out like the quills on one of them mythical spiny lizards."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was gettin'so troops were starting to call her'Scaredy-Step\". Bendan just called her a dumb-arse granma hiding behind her walls when everyone knew the way to win was to go break heads. He had said as much to his squaddies and Corporal Little had comeback with some watery talk about how winning was control of ground, not battles. Ground? He understood that. In Maiten town he and his brothers and sisters had had theirs– and defending it meant fighting! You had to be out there everyday showing those rivals you were strong and so crazy-arse violent they'd better leave you alone. That he knew and understood.\n\nThen Corporal Little had said something really loopy. She said that the best way to win was not to have to fight at all! How the fuck was that possible? You had to fight to win. You had to tear the head off the other guy– otherwise it was you without ahead! He was starting to suspect that maybe Little was some kinda gutless woman hiding behind her fancy book-learned ideas.\n\nNot to mention how she slapped his hand away when he grabbed her tit. Imagine that? Turning him down? Back in Maiten town every girl he cornered went along with it in the end. All it took was a little playful arm-twisting– not like he was gonna really hurt them. This corporal must prefer women, not like a proper gal at all.\n\nThen orders came fora march west. Minimal gear. The squads formed up, including his, thank the gods! And they were off even though it was near dusk. Rumours flew up and down the column as they trotted along. Some of theirs under attack, apparently.\n\nThey jogged through half the night until they came over the rise of a gentle valley slope and there before them, under the bright starlight and emerald glare of the Scimitar, churned a horde of horsemen all circling a dark knot."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sergeant Hektar slapped him on the back as they headed down without a pause. \"Now there's action, hey, Butcher? '\n\n\"But look how fucking many there are!\"\n\nThe big black fellow made a face. \"Naw– that's just an advance force. Just a few thousand. Enough for you to butcher, hey? '\n\n\"Well... yeah,\" he answered as they picked up their pace. I suppose so... but why? Just to rescue a few troopers stupid enough to get caught out in the open? What a dumb waste.\n\n\"Ready shields!\" came the order.\n\nBendan struggled with his big rectangular burden as he trotted along.\n\n\"Form square!\"\n\nThe column thickened and slowed to a steady march. And just in time, as elements of the cavalry swung off to encircle them.\n\n\"Halt!\"\n\nOnce the manoeuvring was done Bendan's squad was far back from the front rank. They would wait for their turn to cycle through to the shield wall. Dust blew up, obscuring his view beyond the square. Riders, men and women– Rhivi, he recognized– circled them, firing their short-bows and hurling javelins.\n\nWhat's gotten them all riled up?\n\nThen the frantic call came: \"Merge! Merge!\" and the square shuddered, shields scraping shields. Everyone shifted position as men and women came surging into the centre, many supporting others or even carrying them over their backs. All grimed and dirt-smeared, battered, and gulping down air.\n\nUseless bastards. Gonna get killed \"cause of you. Hope you're happy.\n\nBeing near the centre he saw the captain commanding the column salute some beat-up burly fellow and heads around him craned, gawking, and people whispered: \"K'ess. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"So who's this K'ess?\" he asked Bone next to him.\n\nThe man gave him one of those funny looks as he struggled to keep his shield overhead. \"Served on Onearm's staff. Putin charge of Pale when the Host headed south. Now he's in charge of this whole mess. Other than the Ambassador, o\" course. '\n\nShit! And we had to rescue him? Piss-poor start if you ask me.\n\nOrders to reverse sounded and they turned to face the way they'd come. Then started the inevitable grinding march back. Bendan's squad cycled through to a turn in the shield wall. The Rhivi circled past, whooping and shouting and throwing their slim javelins. He watched from over the lip of his shield, fuming. \"Why don't the order come to rush \"em?\" he demanded. \"We're just hidin'here behind our shields like cowards!\"\n\n\"Be my guest!\" Bone laughed, and he hawked up a mouthful of all the dust they'd been swallowing.\n\n\"Hey, Tarat!\" Bendan shouted to their squad scout. \"Them's your people out there, ain't they?\"\n\n\"Just bone-headed fools tiring their horses for no good reason,\" she commented, sour.\n\n\"Looks like they're havin'fun,\" Hektar said, a wide smile on his face.\n\n\"What're you smiling about? ' Bendan snapped.\n\nThe big man turned his bright teeth on him. \"I'm smilin\"\"cause I see we got nothin'to worry about from these Rhivi. Another day's soldierin'under the belt, lads!\" he added.\n\nLaughter all around answered that.\n\nWhat was with these fools? Why were they laughing? Couldn't they see that one of these arrows or javelins could easily take any of them?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The sun was just topping hills to the east when their slogging retreat brought them within sight of the fort. The shield on Bendan's arm seemed to weigh as much as a horse itself. His arm was screaming and numb all at the same time. Dust coated his mouth and he was stumbling on his feet. Horns sounded then, pealing from behind the palisade as if welcoming the sun, and from all around, amid the fields of tall grass, crossbow ranks rose as if sprouting from the ground. The circling Rhivi flinched aside, their cartwheeling attack broken as wings of the cavalry swung to either side. Orders were shouted and salvos of bolts shot to either side of their square. Men and women in the formation shouted and bashed their shields, sending the Rhivi on.\n\nBendan rested his bronze-faced shield on the ground. Gods almighty! It was about Burn-damned time. What a useless errand! They'd been safe in the fort– why should they have to stick their necks out for these fools? And all they did was hide behind their shields. They didn't kick anyone's head!\n\nNew clarion calls sounded from the fort. The men and women around Bendan searched the horizons. Sergeant Hektar, one of the tallest of them all, grunted as he peered to the west.\n\n\"What is it?\" Bendan demanded.\n\n\"Company. They almost succeeded.\"\n\n\"Who succeeded? At what? What d'you mean? '\n\nA woman's voice bellowed astonishingly loud from within the square:\"To the fort! Double-time! Move out! '\n\nThe entire detachment immediately set off, jogging swiftly. Troopers ran carrying others on their backs, or supporting wounded between them.\n\nThen thunder reached Bendan. Thunder on a mostly clear dawn. He squinted back over his shoulder to see a dark tide flowing over the distant hills. A flood that seemed to extend from horizon to horizon. Dead god's bones! Thousands upon thousands of the bastards!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He heeled and toed it even faster for the cover of the fort.\n\nKrute heard first-hand from many in the guild the doubts raised by the arrival of these Seguleh. Their prowess was said to be unsurpassed. And perhaps it was. But he was now in agreement with Grand Master Seba. The guild in the recent past seemed to have lost its way. They were assassins. Their art was concealment and murder. To have to fight meant one had failed already. Rallick's unsanctioned storied feats of the past seemed to have convinced some that fighting ability actually had something to do with murdering people. The unromantic and ugly truth was that it really didn't.\n\nMuch as he admired Rallick– and was saddened by his betrayal– he thought the man had done this one disservice to the guild. In his opinion the best assassination was the one no one even suspected. And Rallick had succeeded in that requirement when he hid the act behind the façade of a duel. But most seemed to have misread that moment. Dazzled by the romanticism of the confrontation, they'd taken away the wrong lesson. The real lesson was not his prowess with his chosen weapons, but rather the stratagem of hitting upon one fatal weakness to reach the target, in that case the latter's overconfidence and bloated pride.\n\nAnd in this case he believed they'd found the correct weakness as well. Surrounded by these Seguleh the Legate seemed to consider himself invulnerable. He slept entirely unguarded in a small chamber behind the Great Hall, or the'throne room', as it was now officially known. Word from informants within the Wardens was that the Legate had even gone so far as to forbid anyone from entering the throne room at night, Seguleh or otherwise."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Squatting on his haunches on the roof of that selfsame hall, Krute looked to the three guild talents accompanying him as team leader. Hardly qualifying for the title mage, these two lads and one lass did have some small abilities in sensing the presence of Warren magics and powers. They nodded their approval and so Krute signed the all clear to the team assembled on the roof. These six tossed their hair-thin lines down the open windows and rappelled down. They would execute the target within and return in a matter of minutes– should all go as planned.\n\nHe glanced back to the three guild talents. The youths exchanged looks. One pressed a hand to the roof. The second raised her face to the gusting warm wind as if sniffing for scent. The third held his hands cupped close to one eye. Krute knew that in his hands the lad held four night bugs, the sort of flying insects that light up. What do they do when a haunt's around? Dance a jig?\n\nThe wind was high this night. Thin feathery clouds did nothing to diminish the combined light from the reborn moon and the Scimitar. Light that was both a blessing and a curse, depending upon when you wanted it, and when you didn't. He studied the ropes again and saw all still slack. The sight made him uneasy. Should be climbing by now. He signed that he would go to investigate.\n\nCloser, he saw that one of the ropes was now taut. In fact it fairly vibrated under some immense strain. Ashe watched, it narrowed even further to the thickness of a reed; then, instantly, it was gone. Snapped. He heard a muted thump from below.\n\nDamn the fates! What was it? A hidden guard? Yet no alarm."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Work to move the story forward.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 17\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He launched himself into the slim tunnel and pushed himself along on elbows and knees to where it emptied into a larger chamber. Here he dusted himself off then peered about. Empty. Side vaults empty as well. He examined the skulls decorating the floor, the empty stone plinth. Then he found the one occupied side vault. Here he paused fora longtime.\\n\\nThe lingering magery flickering about this corpse interested him the most. He rested his hands on the stone ledge the carcass lay upon to lean closely over the remains. Why had this one alone resisted, or failed, reconstitution and escape? It seemed a puzzle. A trap within a trap within a trap. Subtle weavings. Yet who was trapping whom? And could he be certain? According to those cretin marines there could be only one witness. Only one individual emerged from the well before this masked creature appeared. The one others called scholar, a small-time potterer here among the ruins.\\n\\nHe leaned back, brushed his fingertip across his lips. As before: one set apart. Why? There must be some significance. He simply couldn't get a tight enough grip upon it yet. The lineaments of the castings held a cold sharp edge. They whispered of non-human origins. Not Tiste– he knew his own. Certainly not K'Chain nor Forkrul. That left Jaghut. So, the legends of the ancient Jaghut Tyrants. Returned? Didn't the Finnest house finish that?\\n\\nReason enough for any other to be wary.\\n\\nHe brushed his gloved hands together, climbed from the narrow alcove. Too many players for things to be straightforward and clear. Have to watch and wait.\\n\\nAt least until the inevitable frantic recall to the capital comes.\\n\\nWhile the cargo scow was slow, it made steady progress all through the day and on through the night and so far sooner than Torvald expected they drew up next to the sagging dilapidated pier at Dhavran. His travelling companions, he knew, would be disembarking here. He was saddened to see them go. They'd been extraordinarily informative regarding the political situation among the Free Cities and the Malazans to the north. From hints and details he gathered that the big fellow, Cal, had once been some sort of military commander far in the north.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In the dawn's light, alongside all the other passengers preparing to leave, the two put together their meagre travelling gear. At the rail Torvald waited to say his farewells. Sailors readied the gangway.\\n\\n\\\"Sorry to say goodbye,\\\" he told the old man, Tserig.\\n\\nThe fellow glanced up to his huge companion, who peered down at Torvald from amid his wild mane of blowing hair and beard, a half-smile at his lips, and rumbled, \\\"Haven't you been listening? You're coming with us.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald blinked. For an instant he had a flashback to another of his travelling companions, one similarly large and abstruse. \\\"I'm sorry? '\\n\\n\\\"There is no longer at Pale anything of any relevance to your master in Darujhistan. Here at Dhavran, however, will soon arrive something of great significance.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And that is?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Rhivi nation is invading the south, meaning to crush the Malazans. Don't you think you should discuss the matter with them? You are, I gather, a duly appointed city councillor, yes? '\\n\\nTorvald coughed to clear his throat. \\\"You are not serious, I hope?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very serious.\\\"\\n\\nTserig gummed his nearly toothless mouth, nodding his agreement. \\\"We are hereto try to talk them out of it.\\\"\\n\\nThe gangway slammed down, rattling the dock. The crowd on the deck hefted their bags and rolls while babies cried, pigs squealed, and caged fowl gobbled. Torvald shouldered his own bag. \\\"Well... I suppose I ought to accompany you, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very good,\\\" Cal said. \\\"They should be here shortly.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"They waited until all the other departing passengers had shuffled down the gangway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Tor watched families reunited amid hugs and tears; travelling petty traders set down their wares and immediately start haggling; and local merchants fussed over the unloading of ordered goods. This was the stuff of normal life– the daily round of trying to build a better future. This was what people wanted. Really, in the final accounting, they just wanted to be left alone to get on with things.\\n\\nOnce the way was clear they hefted their bags and tramped down the planking. Tor noted that it bowed alarmingly beneath Cal's weight.\\n\\nThey setup camp close to the muddy riverside where a meagre bridge made a crossing. Here they waited. \\\"It will only be a few days,\\\" Tserig assured Torvald. In the meantime Torvald questioned Cal. It turned out the man knew an incredible amount regarding general history and politics. Torvald, who had been away from the region for sometime, suddenly found himself very well informed.\\n\\nJust a few days later the first of the Rhivi outriders arrived at the broad shallow valley that this creek, the Red, meandered through. Cal, Tserig and Torvald went to meet them at the bridge.\\n\\nThe riders trotted up to the bridge, dismounted. Cal awaited them with his hands tucked into the wide leather belt of his travel-stained trousers. Old Tserig leaned on a large walking stick. Torvald stood just behind. He keenly felt that he was intruding.\\n\\nThe two outriders knelt before Cal. \\\"Warlord,\\\" they said.\\n\\nTorvald slapped a hand to his mouth. Great gods! Warlord? Cal– Caladan– Caladan Brood! He heard a roaring in his ears and his vision darkened, narrowing to a tunnel. The old man grasped his arm with a grip like the snaring of a root, steadying him. The riders bowed to Tserig as well, murmuring, \\\"Elder.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I would treat with Jiwan,\\\" Caladan said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"If he will receive my words.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will carry your message.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"One more thing.\\\" The Warlord motioned aside to Torvald. \\\"I also have with mean emissary from the ruling council of Darujhistan, Torvald Nom. He too would speak with Jiwan.\\\"\\n\\nThe two bowed again, then returned to their mounts. Caladan watched them go. After a time he turned to Torvald. \\\"We should have an answer soon enough.\\\"\\n\\nTor struggled to find his voice. \\\"Why... why didn't you tell me...? '\\n\\n\\\"I could hardly announce it thereon that boat, could I?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well... I suppose not. But... why aren't you... \\\"Tor swallowed, realizing his indelicacy, and finished lamely,\\\"you know. '\\n\\n\\\"With them?\\\" the big man supplied, arching a bushy brow. \\\"I argued against any further war but I was outvoted. The young bloods want to prove themselves. And being the aggressive faction– they won the day.\\\" His hands knotted at his belt. \\\"At least that is how it had better have been. Otherwise...\\\" He shook the great mane about his head and gestured to the creek. \\\"In the meantime let's try and catch some fish. '\\n\\nIn the end, it was Tserig who caught them. Wading along the shore, robes pulled high up over his skinny shanks, he scared two whiskered bottom-feeders into the shallows and Torvald scooped them up. They skewered them over flames, and after the meal, the noise of hooves announced the approach of riders. Rising, Caladan pulled his hands through his thick beard then wiped them on his trousers. Torvald helped Tserig to his feet. \\\"My thanks,\\\" the man murmured. \\\"My joints are not what they used to be. Though I'll have you know my prick is just fine. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald clamped his teeth together against a choking laugh. \\\"That... is... encouraging news, Elder.\\\"\\n\\nThe old man gummed his mouth, nodding. \\\"It should be!\\\"\\n\\nThe riders were Rhivi warriors finely accoutred in mail and enamelled leather armour with skirtings that hung down the sides of their mounts. Torvald recognized these men and women as the cream of the Rhivi's leading clans. The foremost rider drew off his helmet to nod to Caladan. His thin beard was braided, as was his long black hair.\\n\\n\\\"Warlord. To what do we owe this honour... again?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Jiwan. I am hereto ask you one last time to put down the spear. No goodwill come of it, only suffering and tears. Think of your people– the lives that will be lost.\\\"\\n\\nThe young commander nodded thoughtfully, frowning. \\\"I hear your words, Warlord, and I honour you for your past leadership and wisdom. But these words are not those of a war leader. They are the words of an old man who has lost a great friend. A mourning elder who looks at life only to see death. Such a dark vision must not guide a people. We who see life, who look ahead to the future, we must lead. And so, Caladan... I ask that you stand aside.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pretty words, Jiwan,\\\" Brood answered, unruffled by the young man's dismissal.\\\"I see now how you turned the heads of the Circle of Elders. But I do not think I will stand aside. I think I will block this bridge to you and all those foolish enough to follow anyone hypocritical– or inexperienced– enough to speak of life while going to war. '\\n\\nTorvald's mood had fallen from uncomfortable to distinctly exposed hereon the open bridge as more and more of the Rhivi cavalry, mixed medium and light, came trotting down the shallow valley. He felt like an interloper among the negotiations of a war leader who had dominated the north for decades, and had led the resistance there against the invading Malazans. Now to be dismissed in such an ignoble and off-handed manner! It grated against his instincts. To so blindly dismiss the hard-learned wisdom of centuries!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The young war leader's gaze now found Torvald.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He raised his chin.\\\"You are this Darujhistani emissary, Torvald, Nom of Nom? '\\n\\nTorvald bowed from the waist. \\\"I am he.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What think you of this man's position here? '\\n\\n\\\"I think it... rather unassailable.\\\"\\n\\nA scornful smile drew back the youth's lips.\\\"Strange words from an emissary of Darujhistan when all the others are so eager for Malazan blood. '\\n\\n\\\"What's that? ' Caladan growled, his voice suddenly low and menacing.\\n\\nThe war leader seemed to believe he had scored a point and he nodded his assurances. \\\"Oh, yes. The city is with us. We have the fullest intelligence from them. For example, the remnant fleeing just before us numberless than twelve hundreds, while our numbers swell with every passing day. Soon we shall reach thirty thousands! And your Legate, Nom of Nom, promises aid during the engagement. Obviously he too recognizes the threat these Malazans pose.\\\" Jiwan sat up taller in his saddle. He raised his voice to be heard by the surrounding riders. \\\"Now is our chance to rid our lands of the invader! They are weak. Leaderless. Few in number. Now is our best chance and perhaps our only chance! We must strike now! While we are assembled! The gods have handed us this opportunity. We must not let it slip away out of fear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your words lack respect!\\\" Tserig called suddenly. \\\"They displease the ancestors.\\\" The Elder pointed to Caladan. \\\"This man sheltered Silverfox the Liberator! The gift of the Mhybe!\\\"\\n\\nThe war leader bowed his head in acknowledgement. \\\"True. But where is the miraculous Silverfox now?\\\" He turned in his saddle to shout: \\\"She has abandoned us!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Enough!\\\" Caladan bellowed. So strong was the yell that Torvald felt the bridge judder beneath his feet. \\\"Enough talk. Jiwan, this bridge is closed to you.\\\"\\n\\nExaggerated regret drew the war leader's mouth down. He shook his head.\\\"Caladan, it is sad to see you reduced to such petty gestures. \\\"He pointed to the shallow waterway.\\\"You accomplish nothing. We will merely ride through the creek. '\\n\\nCaladan crossed his arms. \\\"You are welcome to do so. You are much overdue, I think, forgetting muddy.\\\"\\n\\nJiwan merely clamped his lips shut. Yanking on his reins he waved for the cavalry to go round. Torvald watched while the columns passed to either side of the bridge. Some refused to acknowledge the Warlord or glance his way, while the lingering eyes of others held sadness, regret, and even guilt.\\n\\nIt was many hours before the last of the riders passed. Above, the mottled moon and the Scimitar cast bright competing shadows while threads of clouds passed between them. Caladan finally let out along breath. \\\"A large force,\\\" he admitted. \\\"Every clan represented.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They smell blood,\\\" Tserig agreed.\\n\\n\\\"Malazan blood.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What will you do now?\\\" Torvald asked.\\n\\nThe huge man uncrossed his arms and shifted his stance. The logs of the bridge creaked beneath their feet. \\\"I warned your Legate not to interfere in this. But he has defied me. Whipped the Rhivi onto the Malazans. All Jiwan sees is the glory of being the war leader who defeats the Malazans. He doesn't see that Rhivi blood is simply ridding this creature of his enemies for him. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'll go back, then, \\\"Torvald said, certain of what he should do.\\\"Speak against this. '\\n\\nThe man's tangled brows rose.\\\"Great Burn, no, lad. You'll be killed out of hand. No. I'm going. I intend to take this Legate by the neck and let him know of my displeasure. '\\n\\nSuddenly Torvald felt rather afraid for his city. There were stories of this man– this Ascendant– levelling mountains in the north. \\\"You won't... \\\"he began, only to pause as he realized he wasn't sure what he intended to say. Won't destroy the city?\\n\\nThe man smiled his reassurance. \\\"Only this Legate troubles me. I am sorry, Torvald Nom, but all is not as you think in your home. I suspect something is controlling Lim, or he has struck a bargain where he should not have.\\\"\\n\\nSomething strange going on? What is strange about Lim's having resurrected an ancient reviled title? Or started wearing a gold mask? There is nothing strange in that.\\n\\n\\\"Tserig,\\\" Caladan continued, \\\"would you re-join Jiwan's forces? If things go badly there will be a need for your voice. '\\n\\n\\\"I understand, Warlord.\\\"\\n\\nCaladan regarded Torvald, stroked his beard. \\\"Perhaps if you accompanied me you would be safe enough.\\\"\\n\\nTor thought about the offer but realized that there might be something else he could do. Something perhaps only he could do. \\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nCaladan stopped to turn, frowning. \\\"No?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. The Moranth withdrew when they sensed something was happening. And here we are in the shadows of their mountains. I'll... I'll go to them.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Torvald Nom, that is an extraordinary offer. But no one has ever succeeded in reaching them in their mountain strongholds. They speak to no one. I've heard that only the Emperor and Dancer ever managed to sneak into Cloud Forest. '\\n\\n\\\"They will speak tome.\\\"\\n\\nThe Ascendant eyed him while he pulled at his beard. He was obviously curious as to the source of Torvald's certainty, but refrained from challenging it. He grunted instead, nodding.\\\"Very well. I wish there was some help I could offer. '\\n\\n\\\"Well– I could use a horse.\\\"\\n\\nThe big man smiled behind his beard. His gaze shifted to the south where a galaxy of campfires now lit the plain. \\\"I think I might be able to produce one.\\\"\\n\\nLeoman sat with his arms draped over his folded knees. He watched the titanic shadow of Maker high against the horizon where the giant continued his labour while the stars wheeled and the waves of glimmering Vitr worked their eternal erosion.\\n\\nHe sighed and glanced over to where Kiska stood high on the strand, facing the Sea of Vitr. Day after day she stood in plain view of Tayschrenn, or Thenaj, and his cohort of helpers while they carried out their rescue mission of dragging unfortunates from the burning energies of creation and destruction. Her goal, he believed he understood, was that somehow, eventually, the sight of her would trigger some memory within the archmagus and the man would come to his senses.\\n\\nHe thought it a forlorn hope. He stretched then sat back, his elbows in the black sand. Was he losing weight? Wasting away? Would he fade to a haunt doomed to wander the shores of creation wringing his hands or searching fora black button he'd dropped?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kiska nudged his leg– he'd been wool-gathering. He'd been doing a lot of that lately. She peered down at him, then away, screwing up her eyes. \\\"You don't have to stay, ' she said.\\n\\nHe nodded. \\\"True.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should go. There's no need for you to be here. '\\n\\n\\\"One does not return empty-handed to the Queen of Dreams.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She's not vindictive. '\\n\\nHe snorted. \\\"This is all assuming we can return.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"She wouldn't have sent us to our deaths. '\\n\\n\\\"She said she couldn't see beyond Chaos. '\\n\\nKiska set her hands on her hips. \\\"Well... so, you're just going to lie around watching? '\\n\\nHe peered about as if searching for something else, then returned his gaze to her. \\\"Looks like it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well... you're making me uncomfortable. '\\n\\n\\\"Oh– I'm making you uncomfortable? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes! So go away.\\\"\\n\\nHe pointed one sandalled foot to the beach. \\\"I'm sure our friends feel the same way. '\\n\\n\\\"That's different. '\\n\\n\\\"It is? Shall we ask them?\\\"\\n\\nKiska's lips tightened to almost nothing.\\\"They won't talk tome.\\\"\\n\\nFine lips they are for kissing. Too bad there's been precious little of that. Now there's a reason to go back. He squinted up at her. \\\"That's because you're making them uncomfortable.\\\"\\n\\nShe waved curtly, dismissing him– \\\"Gods, I don't know why I bother'– and marched away.\\n\\nWell... that didn't work. What now? Bash heron the head and drag her back to the Enchantress? Here you are, Your Ladyship– one troublesome agent returned safe and sound. Are we even now?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He eased back into studying the horizon. Time for that yet. Best wait a touch longer. See if she works this out of her system all on her own. As he'd learned from experience– it's always easiest simply to set out the bait and wait for them to come to you.\\n\\nThe old witch who lived at the very western edge of the shantytown that itself clung to the western edge of Darujhistan seemed to spend all her time whittling. That and incessantly humming and chanting to herself. People whose errands happened to bring them wandering by sometimes considered telling the hag to shut up. But, after reconsidering, none ever did so. It was after all asking for trouble to insult a witch.\\n\\nThis afternoon, as the sun descended to the west, where just visible was the top of the great hump of the tomb of the Andii prince– uncharacteristically unlooted as yet, as, again, it would be asking for trouble to attempt to rob the tomb of the Son of Darkness– this afternoon the witch's head snapped up from her sticks and she stuffed them away into the folds of her layered shirts. She stood, peering narrowly to the south. Out came her pipe in one hand and in her other a pinch of mud or gum that she rolled between grimy thumb and forefinger.\\n\\nShe brought the lump up to her eyes, squinting. Brought it even closer, so close that her thumb touched the bridge of her nose and her eyes crossed. Then she grunted, satisfied, and jammed the lump into the pipe. This she lit, puffing, before returning to studying the south, an arm tucked under the one holding the pipe. Passers-by noted her attention and stopped to look as well. But, seeing nothing but the dusty hills of the Dwelling Plain, they shook their heads at the woman's craziness and moved on.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Almost,\\\" the woman muttered aloud as if conversing with someone. She blew twin plumes of smoke from her nostrils. \\\"Almost.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol was in the back, building a crib. Little Chaur, he'd noticed, was now as long as the basket he currently slept in. It was late afternoon and the work was going slowly; he kept forgetting where he was in the process– which piece to cut and how long to make it. He was, frankly, dead on his feet. His hands were clumsy crude gloves, his thoughts glacial.\\n\\nGlancing up he noticed Scillara at the backdoor, watching, arms crossed over her broad chest. \\\"Asleep then?\\\" he said.\\n\\n\\\"Aye. A feed and a nap– practising being a regular man, he is.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Our needs are simple.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bar...\\\" she began slowly.\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm... sorry. I was– I am– angry that you took that work. I'm scared that...\\\"\\n\\nHe set down his handsaw. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\nShe raised her eyes to the darkening sky as if not believing what she was about to confess. \\\"I'm scared. Scared that I'm going to lose you.\\\"\\n\\nHe sat back, resting his hands on his thighs, and gave her a crooked smile. \\\"You'll never lose me so long as you have Chaur, yes? '\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry, Bar. All I see is a lump of need that looks at me with hungry eyes. I don't like that look, Bar.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In time then, Scil. Ashe grows you'll see more and more of you and me in him. '\\n\\nShe was looking to the north, picking at the cracked wood of the jamb. \\\"I don't know. It's you I chose– not him. Maybe... maybe we should go. Leave tonight while we can.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"There's work for me here.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Enough for us to get by on. '\\n\\n\\\"And this other work? When will it finish?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Soon. Very soon. They're almost done now. '\\n\\nShe watched him carefully, as if studying him. \\\"What've they got you doing up there anyway? '\\n\\n\\\"Nothing important, Scil. Nothing important.\\\"\\n\\nGrisp Falaunt was lord of one row of turnips. That and a shack that really wasn't a shack being as it was more of a lean-to of broken lumber and canvas cobbled from the remains of what once was a shack. But from the shade of his wholly-owned domicile he could look south to the shimmering images of orchards, fields and groves covering the hills of the Dwelling Plain. All that had almost been– and rightfully ought to have been– his. For in the absence of all other claims was he not the lord and master of all the vast plain? Who could dispute that? Why, none, o\\\" course.\\n\\nAgain he reached down next to his chair, where his hand encountered nothing, and he growled and adjusted the cactus spine held between his teeth from one side to the other. Damned trespassing devil-dogs. Broke his fine cabin and burst the heart of his last loyal friend, fine Scamper, buried now among the turnips.\\n\\nOught to fence his property. That's what he ought to do. Then them fancy nobles in Darujhistan would come a callin\\\". Why, then-\\n\\nGrisp leaned forward, the front legs of his chair thumping in the dust. What in the name o' dried-up Burn was that? More trespassers?\\n\\nA file of men had emerged from a gulch, or draw, or gully, or whatever it was you called a damned depression out thereon the plain. A great cloud of dust was following them. In fact, they was running like the very devil-dogs was after them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And they was headed right for him.\\n\\nOr not. Maybe not quite right for him. More like... His slit gaze shifted aslant to his last remaining row of turnips. The spine clamped between his lips stood straight up. Oh no.\\n\\nHood's bones! They was headed for his turnip plantation!\\n\\nChair thrown aside numb bare feet tangling with staked rope ties of canvas roof much cursing and flailing to stand bony chest thrown out athwart limp brown leaves defiant!\\n\\nThe jogging twin files of men and women– masked, for all sakes! – parted to either side, their sandalled feet trampling the row into flattened dirt and bruised turnip flesh.\\n\\nUpraised fists fell. Screwed-up features twisted into puzzlement, then despair.\\n\\nGrisp landed on the tattered rear of his trousers while the yellow ochre dust of the Dwelling Plain blew about him. There, between his feet, brown leaves intact, lay his last undamaged turnip.\\n\\n\\\"Fair enough,\\\" he croaked, waving the dust from his face. \\\"This time, Scamper m'boy. This time I mean it. Time for action. Time for pullin'up stakes and movin\\\" on. Fer... \\\"He eyed the limp bug-gnawed specimen before him and slumped even further into the dry dirt.\\\"Aw, t'Hood with it.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nNot long after that, the guards of Cutter Road Gate, newly reconstructed, let goof the robes of the dealer in rare woods from the plains of Lamatath as the alarm from the watchtower sent up its strident warning. Both peered down the length of Cutter Lake Road over the heads of the crowd of farmers and petty traders held up behind the tottering wagon of the dealer in rare woods.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The elder guard noticed that the wagon was blocking the gate. \\\"Get moving, you damned fool!\\\" he bellowed at the man. The other guard, staring south, mouthed something like \\\"Ghak!\\\"\\n\\nGhak? the elder wondered, then an arm slammed him backwards into the wall of the gatehouse and he slid down the gritty stones, dazed and breathless, while a file of men and women jogged by, hands resting near the grips of sheathed swords as they passed without so much as a glance down.\\n\\nAfter the last of the file had gone the man pulled himself up, wincing and gasping and rubbing his chest. Masks, he wondered? Why in Beru's name were they wearin\\\" masks? He and his partner shared helpless stricken looks across the wagon. The dealer leaned to one side to spit a stream of thick brown fluid across the dusty road.\\n\\n\\\"You all are in big trouble now,\\\" he commented with great satisfaction, and flicked the reins.\\n\\nOn a street in the Gadrobi district a boy coming into adolescence ran up to a heavyset woman standing in the entranceway to the open hall of a school of swordsmanship. \\\"Masked men!\\\" he cried excitedly, his eyes shining. \\\"Masked men running through the streets!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What's that? ' the woman answered sharply.\\n\\n\\\"Some say Seguleh!\\\" He waved her out. \\\"Come.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Inside,\\\" she demanded.\\n\\n\\\"But...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Harllo...\\\"\\n\\nHis shoulders slumped and he brushed in past her. \\\"Yes, Mother.\\\"\\n\\nThe woman slowly closed the door on people running past, on yells sounding from the distance. Inside, she lowered a heavy bar across the door then pulled a crossbow from where it hung on the wall. She flexed its band, testing it, and nodded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Sulty handed out the plates of hot goat skewers on couscous then paused, tilting her head– marching feet, double-time.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Been along time since she'd heard that sound. Her gaze caught Scurve at the bar and he shrugged; evidently he knew nothing of it.\\n\\nMoments later a man ducked inside, breathless, red-faced. \\\"Seguleh!\\\" he shouted. \\\"On the Way!\\\"\\n\\nAs one the patrons surged to their feet to charge the door.\\n\\n\\\"You ain't paid! \\\"Jess bellowed. Then the two women were left alone in the room amid fallen chairs and steaming food. Sulty blew hair from her face. Jess motioned the others outside.\\\"Might as well have a look. '\\n\\nThey joined the crowd eyeing the distant Second Tier Way. But there was nothing to see. Whoever, or whatever, had passed, and only the witnesses remained. The patrons gathered round those who claimed to have seen. The women rubbed their aching chapped hands in their aprons, shrugged, and went back inside.\\n\\nIt had nothing to do with them.\\n\\nIn the common room, Sulty eyed the table with its steaming plates and skewers and wondered– hadn't there been five?\\n\\nThe clerk posted at the gate to the Way of Justice heard the marching echoing up the walls enclosing the Way. Puzzled, he picked up his scrolls and stepped outside. No notice of procession had been filed for this day. Who were these fools?\\n\\nA double file of men and women came jogging round a corner and the clerk stared, squinting. Great Fanderay... were they... Before he could complete his thought they sped past to either side, leather jerkins stained wet with sweat, limbs glistening, eyes hidden behind masks riveted straight ahead.\\n\\nOne by one the scrolls slid from the clerk's hands. Kicked and trampled, they flew, wind-caught, to flutter over the wall of the Second Tier, wafting towards the glimmering waters of Lake Azur.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"After the last had passed the clerk quickly finished his sums and came to an astounding number that kept him from discovering his empty hands.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Five hundred. Great Ancient Mother of the Hearth! Surely they cannot be real!\\n\\nHe crossed to one of the city Wardens who guarded the Way. The man was staring off up the rising cobbled path, a gourd of water half-raised to his mouth. \\\"Do something,\\\" the clerk demanded.\\n\\nThe man swallowed, his face as pale as the finest vellum. \\\"Do what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Warn them! Warn the Council!\\\"\\n\\nThe man slammed the wooden stopper home. \\\"I'll just trot along behind, shall I? '\\n\\nThe clerk raised his hands to shake a finger, then realized. He started, gaping. \\\"Great Mother of Pain!\\\" He threw himself to the stone lip of the wall to peer over and down. \\\"I'm ruined! '\\n\\n\\\"You're ruined? \\\"The guard flicked the truncheon at his side and snorted.\\\"I think we're all fucking ruined.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe journey had been a strange experience in double vision for Jan. All the landmarks, major features and place names remained as handed down through the ancient lays and stories of his people. And yet all was different. Gone were the orchards, groves and fields of the verdant Dwelling Plain. All was dust and desolation. The great network of irrigation canals and the artificial lakes sand-choked and buried; the many brick towers, the leagues of urban dwelling, all gnawed to the barest foundations and scatterings of eroded sun-dried brick. A population collapse– just as described in the catastrophe of their exile.\\n\\nAnd the city itself, fair white-walled Darujhistan. White-walled no more. Oh, it appeared large and wealthy enough. But gone were the soaring towers of translucent white stone so clear one could seethe sun through their walls. Gone the great Orb of the King, the Circle of Pure Justice. All destroyed in the Great Shattering and Fall.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Many of the inhabitants carried weapons, as well.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"There appeared to have been a proliferation of those willing to place themselves under the judgement of the sword. But that could wait. Ahead lay the Throne and the one who sent out the call. What would it be? The fulfilment of the long-held dream of his people? It seemed unreal that this should be achieved, now, in his lifetime. The last First had never spoken of it, had always deflected Jan's probes. It was this uncharacteristic reluctance that troubled him now as he jogged up the Way of Justice. Such guardedness had all been too much for one Second, the one whose name had been stricken. Slaves to tradition, he had denounced them, as he threw away his sword.\\n\\nAnd it was said the man had subsequently taken up a sword in the service of true slavery. But such were tales outside the testing circle and thus beneath attending.\\n\\nIn any case, they would soon know. Jan led the way. He hardly noticed the figures he brushed aside as he entered the Hall of Majesty. The body of their handed-down songs and stories contained many descriptions of the approach to the Throne, although it took a moment to sort through the subsequent alterations and additions to the rambling complex. That done, Jan directed those of the Fiftieth to guard the path, then walked up to the tall panelled doors– not even noting the two guards who stood ashen-faced to either side– and pushed them open.\\n\\nIt was dusk now, and the golden light of the sunset shone almost straight across the Great Hall, illuminating the gathered crowd inflames of argent. Jan paused, disconcerted to find a sea of plain golden masks directed his way. Though not all, he noted, wore them. And among those who did some now fell limp to crash to the floor.\\n\\nHe ignored them all as beneath his direct attention and strode for the Throne. His escort, the Twenty, followed him in. The crowd parted like torn cloth. Two of those insensate were dragged across the floor to clear the way.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The one on the throne rose to meet him.\\n\\nHe wore the template upon which all these others were obviously patterned. Jan recognized the power and authority radiating from it as if from the sun itself– but it was not the mask he had come all this way to meet. Halting, he met the man with his own masked head slightly inclined, eyes a shade downcast: the posture of uncertainty regarding rank.\\n\\nThe masked figure gestured, arms open, his thick burgundy robes wide.\\n\\n\\\"Greetings, loyal children.\\\" A voice spoke from one side, quavering and breathless, almost choking. \\\"You have answered the call of your master. Soon all shall be restored to what it was. The Circle of Perfect Rulership is near completion.\\\"\\n\\nThe golden Father? First guide me! Was this the source of your silence? Ancestors forgive me... which do I choose? The knee or the blade? Which will it be? All now are watching, waiting upon me, the Second, to show the way. And yet... there it is. For am I not Second? And did not the last First ever instruct– the Second has but one task.\\n\\nThe Second follows.\\n\\nAnd so he knelt before their ancient master reborn, his mask bent to the floor. And, leathers shifting and hissing, all the Twenty knelt in turn.\\n\\nIn the crowd yet another of those assembled crashed to the floor.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And the truth is not yet revealed\\n\\nWith the fall of the first gossamer veil\\n\\nNor does the second drifting shroud\\n\\nSent curling to the gold-dusted tiles\\n\\nBring the unthinking one step closer\\n\\nTo the necessary awareness of how\\n\\nClose wafts the third clinging cowl\\n\\nTroubling those fascinated as pure\\n\\nWhite flashes yet promise and allure\\n\\nDistracting the unwary from the\\n\\nFourth sheet unwound enlightening\\n\\nAll too late that only Death could\\n\\nDance so seductively\\n\\nSong of the White Throne\\n\\nMad Ira Nuer\\n\\nANTSY AWOKE TO a hammering on the wall of their room. \\\"Up and on your feet,\\\" someone growled. \\\"Let's go. ' The feeble yellow light of a lamp glowed through the burlap hanging. He sat up, stretched, and set to pulling on his gear. He and Corien stepped out first to give Orchid more privacy to squat over the chamber pot.\\n\\nThe motley crew in their mismatched armour, men mostly, all chuckled at the loud hiss of the liquid stream against metal that came echoing out from behind the hanging. In charge of this detachment was the fellow boasting the huge thick beard tied off in tails and the tattered dirty jupon over the banded iron hauberk, its heraldry rendered murky and indistinguishable. When Orchid stepped out he gestured impatiently. \\\"This way.\\\"\\n\\nThey were led through narrower and narrower private passages– what might have once been a large private dwelling– to a guarded room where tables stood crowded by scrolls and vellum sheets held down by countless statues of animals real and fantastic, some carved from semi-precious stone, others cast in silver and gold. Light was provided by a large candelabra so low it threatened to ignite the many sheets. A fat man sat with his boots upon one of the tables, leaning back, studying a document.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But what really caught Antsy's attention was the wonderful scent of fresh fruit and cooked meat. His stomach lurched and grumbled and his mouth, dry for days, now flooded.\\n\\n\\\"Prisoners, sir,\\\" their captor grunted.\\n\\nThe man did not lookup from the document. \\\"Very good, Lieutenant.\\\"\\n\\nThe lieutenant promptly slouched into a chair, one of slung cured leather over carved dark wood that itself looked like a work of art. He helped himself to a cut-crystal jug of red wine, pouring it into a cup that appeared to have been carved from jade. He waved away the guards.\\n\\nThe man tossed down the sheet. He was unshaven, his face glistening in the candlelight. His hair hung in a tangled mess around a bald dome. He rubbed his sunken red-ringed eyes with a pudgy hand thick with gem-studded rings. He blinked at them. \\\"A Darujhistan dandy, a Malazan deserter, and some rich merchant's plaything. How can any of you be of use tome? '\\n\\n\\\"Torbal Loat,\\\" Antsy blurted, the name suddenly coming to him.\\n\\nThe man cocked one bloodshot eye. \\\"Met before, have we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This fellow carved out quite the territory for himself up north during the wars,\\\" Antsy told Corien and Orchid.\\n\\n\\\"Before you Malazans drove me out.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy raised his hands. \\\"Hey, I chucked that in. No percentage there.\\\"\\n\\nThe man merely grunted. He raised his chin to Corien. \\\"You can use a blade, I assume?\\\"\\n\\nThe youth bowed. \\\"At your service.\\\"\\n\\nThe lieutenant laughed a harsh bray and raised his glass in salute.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And you?\\\" Torbal demanded of Orchid.\\n\\n\\\"She's a mage of Rashan, ' Antsy said before she could answer.\\n\\nTorbal's heavy mouth twisted his irritation.\\\"This true? If not, I'll kill you myself.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have some small gifts, yes,\\\" she stammered.\\n\\nHe grunted, unimpressed. \\\"Well... it's the usual deal. You swear to fight for me and you'll receive your fair share of food and shares in the profits. As you can see, we control the majority of the Spawn. Most of all that is worth anything is with us. Fight well and eventually your original gear will be returned. Though,\\\" and he glared at Antsy, \\\"not all of it. Desertion is of course punishable by immediate execution,\\\" he added, continuing to give Antsy a hard eye.\\n\\n\\\"For a share of the total profits I'm your man, ' Antsy said.\\n\\n\\\"As am I,\\\" Corien added.\\n\\n\\\"And I.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now,\\\" Torbal began, picking up a starfruit and examining it. \\\"Our lookouts report that there was someone else with you... What happened to him?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy could not take his eyes from the ripe yellow star-shaped fruit. \\\"He ran off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ran off? You won't mind then if we have a look for him? '\\n\\nAntsy kept his face dead straight as he said: \\\"No. We don't mind at all. '\\n\\n\\\"Where do you get all this food?\\\" Corien breathed, his voice thick with longing.\\n\\nTorbal's expression said that he was very pleased his little demonstration had had the desired effect. He sat back and took a bite of the fruit.\\\"I have contacts with the Confederation boys. Fora few trinkets I get regular shipments. My people eat well– remember that. \\\"He gestured to the lieutenant.\\\"Get them rooms. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The lieutenant pushed himself up. \\\"Let's go. '\\n\\nHe marched them back through the rambling living quarters. Antsy quickly became lost though he was doing his best to keep his bearings; he suspected the man was leading them in circles. Eventually he stopped before a portal covered by a hanging– a hacked portion of a tapestry that must once have been worth a fortune before such desecration. \\\"You have a name?\\\" Antsy asked him.\\n\\nThe man pulled off his helmet and shook out long thick hair around his scarred and pitted face. \\\"Otan.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Otan of Genalle?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The same.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You gave us– ah, the Malazans– a lot of trouble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I still do,\\\" the man said, eyeing Antsy with obvious distaste. \\\"Listen... Torbal says you live for now, but I don't like you. Spy or deserter, whichever you are, I'll be keeping an eye on you. Be sure of that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That'll keep me warm at night, friend. '\\n\\n\\\"We'll settle this. Don't worry. We'll settle up. ' He ambled off, his armour rattling and creaking.\\n\\nIt was a plain living chamber. Aside room allowed the option of privacy for Orchid. They remained together in the main room talking in low voices while Corien kept a watch at the hanging.\\n\\n\\\"What now?\\\" Orchid asked. \\\"We're captives. '\\n\\n\\\"Are we at the top?\\\" Antsy asked.\\n\\n\\\"No. According to all the descriptions I've heard there's still away to go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thought so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\"\\n\\nHe gestured back the way they'd come.\\\"I didn't think this lot would be in charge.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"They have a lot of swords,\\\" Corien pointed out.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. But they're fighting someone for control of the rock. '\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy rubbed his slick forehead; his fingers came away greasy and sticky. He sighed. \\\"I think maybe Malazans.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Malazans?\\\" Orchid echoed in disbelief.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah.\\\" Antsy sat on a stone sleeping ledge. \\\"I heard that awhile back a Malazan man-of-war bulled its way through to here. That would be maybe some two hundred fighting men. That's why old Otan there's accusing me of being a spy.\\\"\\n\\nCorien raised a hand for silence. Someone approached and he opened the hanging. It was a slave, a skinny crippled fellow with one hand and one bandaged eye. He was hugging a platter containing a hunk of cheese, dry hardtack, smoked meat, and a ceramic pot of water.\\n\\n\\\"What's your story, old man? ' Antsy asked him.\\n\\nThe man's answer was the sad wreckage of a smile. A stream of clear fluid ran down his cheek from under the bandage.\\\"Came out to make my fortune. Like a gold rush, everyone said. Jewels to be plucked from the streets of the Spawn. \\\"With his remaining hand he gestured to himself.\\\"But, as I found, riches don't come cheap.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I hear you, old man. What about weapons?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When there's an attack. '\\n\\nCorien swore, then apologized to Orchid.\\n\\n\\\"An attack?\\\" Antsy continued. \\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\nThe man shook his battered head. \\\"Can't say. Talk means punishment. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I understand. Thanks for the food.\\\"\\n\\nThe old fellow bowed and padded off into the darkness. Antsy used his short eating knife to cut slices from the lump of cheese. Chewing, he squinted into the dark side room. \\\"I think your night vision thing is still working, Orchid.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Me too,\\\" Corien affirmed.\\n\\n\\\"Good,\\\" she said bleakly.\\n\\nAntsy turned his squint on her. \\\"Could you give us darkness?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There's plenty of that. '\\n\\nHe cut and handed out slivers of the hard meat. Tasting it he wasn't sure what it was. Horse?\\\"No. Real darkness. The kind that light can't penetrate– would we still be able to see in that?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I think so, yes. I believe you should.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good. That might be enough to get us out of here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Darkness?\\\" Corien said. \\\"We have no weapons.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we'll bash people over the head and take theirs! ' Antsy answered, a touch irritated.\\n\\nCorien inclined his head. \\\"Of course. A sophisticated plan. When?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy scratched his own thickening beard. \\\"Yeah. When. Common wisdom says we should wait awhile– look like we're fitting in. But I can't shake the feeling that time's not on our side. This whole rock is unstable. Who knows what might happen to it? Everyday we're stuck here we're tempting Oponn and I don't like that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So... we don't wait? '\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" He wrapped the food to pack it away. \\\"We go now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But our supplies. Your munitions!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm happier keeping my head, thanks. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Corien smiled his rueful admiration. \\\"You've weathered more reversals than we have, Red. '\\n\\nAntsy shoved the food into a roll of the tattered blankets and tied it off. \\\"Aw, Hood. It ain't Red. It's Antsy.\\\"\\n\\nThe youth and Orchid shared a glance of suppressed humour. \\\"Well,\\\" Corien said, \\\"we knew it wasn't Red. '\\n\\n\\\"So,\\\" Orchid whispered, facing Antsy. \\\"What do we do?\\\"\\n\\nHe moved to the hanging and motioned to Corien. \\\"Snuff the light.\\\"\\n\\nCorien wet his fingers and pinched the wick of twisted hemp. In the bloom of utter dark Antsy waited for his vision to adjust. Eventually the faint blue glow returned and the walls and his companions slowly emerged from the gloom as if wavering into existence. He raised his hands to the Darujhistani aristocrat, who nodded his affirmation.\\n\\nOrchid came up. \\\"Now?\\\" she whispered.\\n\\nHe motioned a negative. \\\"Let's give it awhile. Maybe they'll think we're sleeping. '\\n\\nShe was standing so close her thick mane of black hair brushed his ear, sending a shiver down his frame. He suddenly became very aware of the warmth of her body so close. The smell of her sweat was a pleasure to him. It reminded him of some rare spice. He turned his face away, clearing his throat. Ye gods, man. Get a grip.\\n\\n\\\"So,\\\" he began, his voice thick and hoarse, \\\"Morn thought you part Andii. What do you think?\\\"\\n\\nHer dark eyes sought his but he resolutely kept them on the hall. \\\"It feels right. I guess I'd never thought about it until he said it. It explains a lot of things. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He leaned back against the side of the portal. \\\"Never thought about it? Who raised you, then?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I grew up in what I know now was some sort of temple, or religious community. The priests and priestesses were my parents and teachers. I never left it. As I grew older I explored a bit and found that the temple was on an island. Avery small island. After that I suppose I just contented myself with learning about the world through the stories and texts in the temple. That and my teachers.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who taught you the Andii tongue, and their letters.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And their literature and legends and mythology.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That didn't make you wonder? '\\n\\nShe cocked her head aside in the darkness, considering. \\\"No. Should it have? I just thought it was normal. I thought everyone learned these things. There was nothing to compare it to. Now, I know that must have been a temple to Elder Dark.\\\" She shook her head, a regretful smile at her lips. \\\"I'm not the first to discover that most of what I've been taught was either wrong, irrelevant, or insane.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy nodded at that. Yeah. Parents and family work their craziness too. Gods, just look at Spindle.\\n\\n\\\"There's more, of course, \\\"she continued, sounding puzzled.\\\"Other strange things that I still can't understand. I seem to remember...\\\" She shifted, uneasy.\\n\\n\\\"You don't have to goon, \\\"Antsy murmured, keeping his gaze fixed on the dark hall.\\\"I understand. But maybe I can help you sort through it. '\\n\\nShe let out a steadying breath, her lips clenched, then nodded. \\\"I had many teachers. They seemed to come and go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Uh-huh. And this is strange?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Antsy... They were young when they came and when they left... they were old.\\\"\\n\\nHe forced himself to swallow to wet his suddenly dry throat. \\\"Ah. That is strange. You sure...?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. And I seem to remember it happening many times.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy let out a sound as if thinking that through. Queen release me! When will I learn to keep my damned mouth shut? \\\"Well... Andii are long-lived, right? There you go.\\\" Hood! This \\\"child\\\" is probably more than twice my age! What's shebeen learning all that time?\\\"Listen. Maybe that's enough for-\\\"\\n\\nThe jarring clanging of metal on metal blasted through the Spawn's steady background noise of groans and clatterings. Corien leapt to his feet. Shouts sounded up the hall and quite a few screams as well. A figure stepped into the hall, shouted:\\\"C'mon, you lot! It's the alarm. Let's go!\\\"\\n\\nTheir watcher. Antsy nodded to Orchid. \\\"Put a darkness herein the hall.\\\"\\n\\nShe shut her eyes, murmuring, and all the faint glow of distant lights disappeared. The man peered about, panicked. \\\"What in the Abyss...\\\"\\n\\nAntsy made for him. The fellow heard his approach and went for his sword but he was obviously blind, so Antsy kicked him in the groin then kneed him in the face, shattering the cartilage of his nose and possibly killing him. He took the man's weapons while he lay stunned.\\n\\n\\\"Which way?\\\" he called to Orchid. She pointed up the other way. He gave the sword to Corien, kept a fighting dirk. \\\"I'll lead. Corien, watch the rear. '\\n\\nAs they traced halls and turned corners, it came to him that Orchid was attempting to lead them round the settlement. He was happy with that because occasional blasts and screams reached them from whatever was going on over atone side of the complex. But as Orchid took longer and longer to choose directions the noise steadily became louder with each length of empty hall or chamber traversed and the yellow glow of lanterns and lamps thickened. By the time she came to a full halt in a narrow chamber whose only other exit was an open portal, he could make out the thumping release of crossbows, the ringing of iron from stone, shouts, and, above all, an argument of some sort between a high strident harridan's voice and a much lower, deeper and fainter man's voice.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"This is not the way!\\\" the woman screeched.\\n\\n\\\"Let us hear what our guide has to say,\\\" the man murmured.\\n\\n\\\"Fire!\\\" a voice bellowed, Otan's, then a volley of crossbows released, the bolts clattering from stone.\\n\\n\\\"Aiya!\\\" the woman yelled. \\\"Who are these wretches?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indigenes? Perhaps?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indigenes? Are you brainless? These are not Andii!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yet strictly speaking... are they not the new residents here?\\\"\\n\\nWhat in the name of Oponn...? Antsy edged forward to peer round the lip of the opening. What was this? The portal gave access to a large hall, what seemed a main boulevard faced by many building fronts carved from the stone of the Spawn. Bodies lay scattered among wreckage across the floor. Lanterns lay fallen, spilled oil burning to send up clouds of black smoke that obscured the high ceiling.\\n\\nTwo figures faced each other in the centre of the hall. One, the old woman, wore an eye-watering costume of all shades of red, complete with a headdress of fluttering crimson ribbons, and what appeared to be carmine gloves on her hands. The other was a short round ball of a man, bland-faced, in layered dark robes, his hands clasped across his broad front as if to hold it in from bursting.\\n\\nSo amazed by these two was Antsy that he failed to notice a third figure scuttling up the hall. The fellow was staring at him, his eyes huge and his mouth open in his own incredulity. \\\"Kill that man!\\\" the skinny youth howled, pointing.\\n\\nAntsy flinched– and met the glaring eyes of the young thief from Hurly. Great Burn! What was that fool's name? Jallin! Yes, that's right.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The lad ran to the squabbling pair, still pointing. \\\"Kill him, mistress!\\\"\\n\\nThe woman took a swipe at him that he ducked. \\\"Shut up, fool. Does the way goon?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" the youth snarled.\\n\\nArmour clattering announced another file of crossbowmen led by Otan crossing the hall.\\n\\nGotta give the man credit for guts.\\n\\n\\\"Hesta...\\\" the fat man murmured.\\n\\nThe woman threw her hands in the air. \\\"Oh, cursed gods above! More of them?\\\"\\n\\nShe lowered her arms, palms out. Orchid yanked on the back of Antsy's armour.\\\"Down! ' she hissed. Like an upended forge, flames came billowing up the wide boulevard. Men and women screamed, reduced to dark shapes consumed by the churning yellow and orange.\\n\\nA furnace's searing heat crackled at Antsy's arms, which he had thrown up to protect his head, and then with a redoubled avalanche roar the radiance disappeared, leaving him blinking, momentarily blinded. The cackle of the youth sounded in the sudden silence, followed by a slap that cut it off. \\\"Show us!\\\" the woman commanded.\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps they merely wished to talk,\\\" the man's voice reached them, retreating.\\n\\n\\\"Oh, shut up!\\\"\\n\\nAntsy dared raise his head. Flames lit a scene out of Hood's own realm. Burning corpses and furnishings sent smoke curling up into the thickening miasma choking the air. He didn't like the way it just hung there. No outlet.\\n\\nOrchid was crushing the burnt ends of her frazzled hair. \\\"I'm sorry, Antsy, ' she said, sounding miserable.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Sorry for what?\\\"\\n\\nShe raised her soot-smeared chin to the boulevard. \\\"That's the way up. '\\n\\nSomehow I knew she was going to say that.\\n\\nBendan gave his name to everyone in the Malazan camp as \\\"Butcher\\\". His own squad didn't use it anymore now that they'd reached the main rendezvous south-west of Dhavran. They'd used it fora while after that last engagement and during the march, and it had been among the happiest times of his life. It even rivalled the feeling of belonging and safety he'd known among his peers in the mud ways and alleys of Maiten town. He'd revelled in it those few years alongside his brothers and sisters, jumping rival gangs and cleaning out anyone not a local and foolish enough to wander into their territory. He'd felt untouchable then, utterly secure. Wanted and appreciated. Valued, even, it seemed to him now, looking back. He'd gone from worthless to valued. When they'd all been together on the street they could stomp on anyone's face and no one dared say anything! He remembered how Biter and Short Legs had held one kid down and invited him to lay in. And he'd kicked and kicked on and on until the kid coughed up an explosion of blood and never moved anymore. How they'd all laughed! Good times then.\\n\\nNow when I say \\\"Butcher's the name'I just get funny looks. Even outright laughs. What's wrong with everyone? There's a guy in the 10th named'Rabbit. \\\"What kinda name's that fora soldier?\\n\\nHis squad spent the days digging a big-arse ditch to surround the new fort. Other squads were dragging logs from the nearest woods, raising a palisade. It was a damned crowded camp: all the remnants of the Second, Fifth and Sixth from Pale all jammed together on one round hilltop surrounded by a deep ditch that put the top of the palisade logs a good three man-heights above the head of any attacker. And on top of that Fist Steppen had them sharpening a forest of stakes to set leaning out like the quills on one of them mythical spiny lizards.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was gettin'so troops were starting to call her'Scaredy-Step\\\". Bendan just called her a dumb-arse granma hiding behind her walls when everyone knew the way to win was to go break heads. He had said as much to his squaddies and Corporal Little had comeback with some watery talk about how winning was control of ground, not battles. Ground? He understood that. In Maiten town he and his brothers and sisters had had theirs– and defending it meant fighting! You had to be out there everyday showing those rivals you were strong and so crazy-arse violent they'd better leave you alone. That he knew and understood.\\n\\nThen Corporal Little had said something really loopy. She said that the best way to win was not to have to fight at all! How the fuck was that possible? You had to fight to win. You had to tear the head off the other guy– otherwise it was you without ahead! He was starting to suspect that maybe Little was some kinda gutless woman hiding behind her fancy book-learned ideas.\\n\\nNot to mention how she slapped his hand away when he grabbed her tit. Imagine that? Turning him down? Back in Maiten town every girl he cornered went along with it in the end. All it took was a little playful arm-twisting– not like he was gonna really hurt them. This corporal must prefer women, not like a proper gal at all.\\n\\nThen orders came fora march west. Minimal gear. The squads formed up, including his, thank the gods! And they were off even though it was near dusk. Rumours flew up and down the column as they trotted along. Some of theirs under attack, apparently.\\n\\nThey jogged through half the night until they came over the rise of a gentle valley slope and there before them, under the bright starlight and emerald glare of the Scimitar, churned a horde of horsemen all circling a dark knot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sergeant Hektar slapped him on the back as they headed down without a pause. \\\"Now there's action, hey, Butcher? '\\n\\n\\\"But look how fucking many there are!\\\"\\n\\nThe big black fellow made a face. \\\"Naw– that's just an advance force. Just a few thousand. Enough for you to butcher, hey? '\\n\\n\\\"Well... yeah,\\\" he answered as they picked up their pace. I suppose so... but why? Just to rescue a few troopers stupid enough to get caught out in the open? What a dumb waste.\\n\\n\\\"Ready shields!\\\" came the order.\\n\\nBendan struggled with his big rectangular burden as he trotted along.\\n\\n\\\"Form square!\\\"\\n\\nThe column thickened and slowed to a steady march. And just in time, as elements of the cavalry swung off to encircle them.\\n\\n\\\"Halt!\\\"\\n\\nOnce the manoeuvring was done Bendan's squad was far back from the front rank. They would wait for their turn to cycle through to the shield wall. Dust blew up, obscuring his view beyond the square. Riders, men and women– Rhivi, he recognized– circled them, firing their short-bows and hurling javelins.\\n\\nWhat's gotten them all riled up?\\n\\nThen the frantic call came: \\\"Merge! Merge!\\\" and the square shuddered, shields scraping shields. Everyone shifted position as men and women came surging into the centre, many supporting others or even carrying them over their backs. All grimed and dirt-smeared, battered, and gulping down air.\\n\\nUseless bastards. Gonna get killed \\\"cause of you. Hope you're happy.\\n\\nBeing near the centre he saw the captain commanding the column salute some beat-up burly fellow and heads around him craned, gawking, and people whispered: \\\"K'ess. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"So who's this K'ess?\\\" he asked Bone next to him.\\n\\nThe man gave him one of those funny looks as he struggled to keep his shield overhead. \\\"Served on Onearm's staff. Putin charge of Pale when the Host headed south. Now he's in charge of this whole mess. Other than the Ambassador, o\\\" course. '\\n\\nShit! And we had to rescue him? Piss-poor start if you ask me.\\n\\nOrders to reverse sounded and they turned to face the way they'd come. Then started the inevitable grinding march back. Bendan's squad cycled through to a turn in the shield wall. The Rhivi circled past, whooping and shouting and throwing their slim javelins. He watched from over the lip of his shield, fuming. \\\"Why don't the order come to rush \\\"em?\\\" he demanded. \\\"We're just hidin'here behind our shields like cowards!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Be my guest!\\\" Bone laughed, and he hawked up a mouthful of all the dust they'd been swallowing.\\n\\n\\\"Hey, Tarat!\\\" Bendan shouted to their squad scout. \\\"Them's your people out there, ain't they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just bone-headed fools tiring their horses for no good reason,\\\" she commented, sour.\\n\\n\\\"Looks like they're havin'fun,\\\" Hektar said, a wide smile on his face.\\n\\n\\\"What're you smiling about? ' Bendan snapped.\\n\\nThe big man turned his bright teeth on him. \\\"I'm smilin\\\"\\\"cause I see we got nothin'to worry about from these Rhivi. Another day's soldierin'under the belt, lads!\\\" he added.\\n\\nLaughter all around answered that.\\n\\nWhat was with these fools? Why were they laughing? Couldn't they see that one of these arrows or javelins could easily take any of them?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The sun was just topping hills to the east when their slogging retreat brought them within sight of the fort. The shield on Bendan's arm seemed to weigh as much as a horse itself. His arm was screaming and numb all at the same time. Dust coated his mouth and he was stumbling on his feet. Horns sounded then, pealing from behind the palisade as if welcoming the sun, and from all around, amid the fields of tall grass, crossbow ranks rose as if sprouting from the ground. The circling Rhivi flinched aside, their cartwheeling attack broken as wings of the cavalry swung to either side. Orders were shouted and salvos of bolts shot to either side of their square. Men and women in the formation shouted and bashed their shields, sending the Rhivi on.\\n\\nBendan rested his bronze-faced shield on the ground. Gods almighty! It was about Burn-damned time. What a useless errand! They'd been safe in the fort– why should they have to stick their necks out for these fools? And all they did was hide behind their shields. They didn't kick anyone's head!\\n\\nNew clarion calls sounded from the fort. The men and women around Bendan searched the horizons. Sergeant Hektar, one of the tallest of them all, grunted as he peered to the west.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Bendan demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Company. They almost succeeded.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who succeeded? At what? What d'you mean? '\\n\\nA woman's voice bellowed astonishingly loud from within the square:\\\"To the fort! Double-time! Move out! '\\n\\nThe entire detachment immediately set off, jogging swiftly. Troopers ran carrying others on their backs, or supporting wounded between them.\\n\\nThen thunder reached Bendan. Thunder on a mostly clear dawn. He squinted back over his shoulder to see a dark tide flowing over the distant hills. A flood that seemed to extend from horizon to horizon. Dead god's bones! Thousands upon thousands of the bastards!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He heeled and toed it even faster for the cover of the fort.\\n\\nKrute heard first-hand from many in the guild the doubts raised by the arrival of these Seguleh. Their prowess was said to be unsurpassed. And perhaps it was. But he was now in agreement with Grand Master Seba. The guild in the recent past seemed to have lost its way. They were assassins. Their art was concealment and murder. To have to fight meant one had failed already. Rallick's unsanctioned storied feats of the past seemed to have convinced some that fighting ability actually had something to do with murdering people. The unromantic and ugly truth was that it really didn't.\\n\\nMuch as he admired Rallick– and was saddened by his betrayal– he thought the man had done this one disservice to the guild. In his opinion the best assassination was the one no one even suspected. And Rallick had succeeded in that requirement when he hid the act behind the façade of a duel. But most seemed to have misread that moment. Dazzled by the romanticism of the confrontation, they'd taken away the wrong lesson. The real lesson was not his prowess with his chosen weapons, but rather the stratagem of hitting upon one fatal weakness to reach the target, in that case the latter's overconfidence and bloated pride.\\n\\nAnd in this case he believed they'd found the correct weakness as well. Surrounded by these Seguleh the Legate seemed to consider himself invulnerable. He slept entirely unguarded in a small chamber behind the Great Hall, or the'throne room', as it was now officially known. Word from informants within the Wardens was that the Legate had even gone so far as to forbid anyone from entering the throne room at night, Seguleh or otherwise.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Squatting on his haunches on the roof of that selfsame hall, Krute looked to the three guild talents accompanying him as team leader. Hardly qualifying for the title mage, these two lads and one lass did have some small abilities in sensing the presence of Warren magics and powers. They nodded their approval and so Krute signed the all clear to the team assembled on the roof. These six tossed their hair-thin lines down the open windows and rappelled down. They would execute the target within and return in a matter of minutes– should all go as planned.\\n\\nHe glanced back to the three guild talents. The youths exchanged looks. One pressed a hand to the roof. The second raised her face to the gusting warm wind as if sniffing for scent. The third held his hands cupped close to one eye. Krute knew that in his hands the lad held four night bugs, the sort of flying insects that light up. What do they do when a haunt's around? Dance a jig?\\n\\nThe wind was high this night. Thin feathery clouds did nothing to diminish the combined light from the reborn moon and the Scimitar. Light that was both a blessing and a curse, depending upon when you wanted it, and when you didn't. He studied the ropes again and saw all still slack. The sight made him uneasy. Should be climbing by now. He signed that he would go to investigate.\\n\\nCloser, he saw that one of the ropes was now taut. In fact it fairly vibrated under some immense strain. Ashe watched, it narrowed even further to the thickness of a reed; then, instantly, it was gone. Snapped. He heard a muted thump from below.\\n\\nDamn the fates! What was it? A hidden guard? Yet no alarm.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":94,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 18"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Squatting on his haunches on the roof of that selfsame hall, Krute looked to the three guild talents accompanying him as team leader. Hardly qualifying for the title mage, these two lads and one lass did have some small abilities in sensing the presence of Warren magics and powers. They nodded their approval and so Krute signed the all clear to the team assembled on the roof. These six tossed their hair-thin lines down the open windows and rappelled down. They would execute the target within and return in a matter of minutes– should all go as planned.\n\nHe glanced back to the three guild talents. The youths exchanged looks. One pressed a hand to the roof. The second raised her face to the gusting warm wind as if sniffing for scent. The third held his hands cupped close to one eye. Krute knew that in his hands the lad held four night bugs, the sort of flying insects that light up. What do they do when a haunt's around? Dance a jig?\n\nThe wind was high this night. Thin feathery clouds did nothing to diminish the combined light from the reborn moon and the Scimitar. Light that was both a blessing and a curse, depending upon when you wanted it, and when you didn't. He studied the ropes again and saw all still slack. The sight made him uneasy. Should be climbing by now. He signed that he would go to investigate.\n\nCloser, he saw that one of the ropes was now taut. In fact it fairly vibrated under some immense strain. Ashe watched, it narrowed even further to the thickness of a reed; then, instantly, it was gone. Snapped. He heard a muted thump from below.\n\nDamn the fates! What was it? A hidden guard? Yet no alarm."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He clambered down to the window to peer in. The interior was as black as a cloudy night. But far below, in the shafting silver and jade light, he made out a figure climbing to its feet, cloaked. Ashe peered down, straining to see, the figure raised its face to him and revealed the bright pale oval of the mask of the Legate.\n\nKrute was a hard man in a hard calling but even he felt a preternatural dread at the sight of that graven half-smile– hinting at so many uncanny secrets– and a hand beckoning him down. He scuttled backup the rope, his flesh cold. Ye gods, spare him... what were they facing here?\n\nCrouched, the wind snapping his cloak, he ran along the centre line back to the jumbled tiled slopes of the Majesty Hall roof. Where not one sign remained of the three guild practitioners.\n\nTogg take it!\n\nThen the instinct of decades of stalking and striking screamed at him and he threw himself flat, rolling.\n\nTwin blades hissed through the air and he stared, astonished, at a young girl snarling down at him, her clothes no more than diaphanous wind-whipped scarves. She raised the blades again only to jerk aside, howling, grasping at a crossbow bolt now standing from her side. She staggered, then tumbled down the sloped tiled roof and disappeared from sight.\n\nA fist at his collar yanked Krute: Rallick. The man threw his crossbow aside, drew his twinned curved blades. \"She'll be back– or another. Go now. Run. ' He shouldered Krute back.\n\n\"That's not Vorcan... ' the assassin managed, still stunned."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No. Goon.\" The man pushed him onto the maze of canted roofs. \"Run.\"\n\nKrute needed no further urging.\n\nRallick slipped into the cover of a gable that offered a view of the throne-room roof and squatted, arms over his knees, curved knives pointed out, ready.\n\nA band of low clouds driven off the lake came wafting across the long scar in the night sky that was the Banner– what he'd once heard Vorcan call the Strangers. In the rippling light the rooftop was empty, then in the next instant a figure stood tall right before him, staff planted and leather shoes poking out from under thick layered robes.\n\nRallick slowly straightened to stand before the man who had employed him for years, who had healed his broken bones and brought him back from near death. High Alchemist Baruk. He struck a ready stance, blades raised, one foot back. \"Baruk.\"\n\n\"Barukanal, now,\" the man grated. \"Do not make the mistake of forgetting that.\" His hands were white fists upon the staff. The scars that traced his face like a tangled net darkened now as blood pounded behind the man's features. The wind snagged his long unbound iron-grey hair.\"I am sent to find assassins who have made an attempt upon the Legate, \"he said, his voice whip-tight.\"You haven't... by any chance... seen them. Have you?\"\n\nRallick edged his weapons down. He cleared his throat and straightened, almost believing himself dreaming. Ina voice full of wonder he managed, \"I saw some men running to the east. They looked suspicious.\"\n\n\"Thank you, citizen. Tell me... have you also seen the new construction encircling the hill?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"In fact I have.\" Rallick noted with alarm that the flesh upon the man's face and neck was cracking and smoking along the fault lines of the scars. Baruk's frame shuddered and he staggered aside as if yanked. He spoke, grinding out every word as if each were a droplet of agony: \"There is a man in the city, a Malazan... He may have a unique insight into its... peculiar... qualities...\"\n\n\"I will ask around,\" Rallick assured him. Then, sheathing his knives, he could not help reaching out to the tortured figure. \"Baruk... tell me... what can I-\"\n\n\"No!\" The staff snapped up and the man staggered backwards. \"Stay away!\" Turning, he flung himself from the roof, robes flapping, and disappeared.\n\nRallick leaned over the edge but saw no sign of him. Then, hunching, he ran as fast as he dared across the forest of mismatched tiled roofs.\n\nMoments after Rallick left the roof the wavering commingled olive and silver light of the night revealed another figure that uncurled itself from a window to stand, stretching. The man wore a cloak that shone almost emerald in the light. He tapped one gloved finger to his pursed lips and whispered aloud, \"Again, some go in... yet none come out. The lesson being...\" he held up his gloved hands and examined them as if the answer were written there, \"don't go in. '\n\nHe clasped his hands behind his back and set off, whistling soundlessly, tracing more or less the route taken by the ex-assassin.\n\nWhen Rallick judged it safe to return to the Phoenix Inn he walked straight to the old table and sat facing the door in the seat where Kruppe usually held court. Rather disconcertingly, the empty seat was already warm and he was thinking of shifting to another chair when Sulty thumped down a tankard of beer, gave him a wink, and moved onto serve the rest of the crowd. Rallick pushed back his seat, held the tankard in both hands before him, and studied that crowd."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Guarded optimism he judged the mood. People seemed to think that things would get better now that the Seguleh had arrived to guard the city. Rumours were that the Legate had somehow contracted to have them come. Never mind the utter impossibility of such a notion to anyone who knew the least shred about those people. And to guard the city against whom? The Malazans? They hadn't the troops to pacify the city in the first place. That left... who? No one he could think of. The city was without threats, as it had been for decades before the arrival of the Seguleh. And so the disconcerting thought: what were they here for?\n\nHis roving eye caught a man watching him from the bar. A tall, very dark foreigner, all in green. Ina gesture like a mockery of some conspirator, the fellow offered him an exaggerated wink and shifted his gaze to the rear. As usual Rallick chose to reveal no hint of his mood– which was one of extreme annoyance– and he got up to push out through the crowd to the backdoor.\n\nHe waited leaning against a wall, arms crossed, hands on the grips of his knives. The stranger ambled out after a moment, hands clasped behind his back. \"What do you want?\" Rallick said, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible.\n\nThe man held up his gloved hands, a smirk at his lips. \"Parley, as they say.\"\n\n\"Claw?\"\n\nThe fellow merely shrugged.\n\n\"Say your piece.\"\n\nThe man waved a hand in an airy manner and Rallick clamped down even harder on his irritation. \"Oh... a pooling of intelligence and a uniting of efforts.\"\n\n\"I'm not with the guild. You got the wrong man. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A smile from the man– the kind of crazy grin that Rallick had known from some as an affectation of unpredictable menace. But he now saw with a tensing of chilling certainty that from this fellow the pose was utterly genuine. Avery dangerous sort– the kind who truly just doesn't give a damn.\"The guild, such as it is, doesn't interest me. But you do.\"\n\n\"How so?\"\n\nThe man leaned up against the opposite alley wall, which put him in the light of the Scimitar. He grimaced and held up a hand in the light. \"You know, there are those around the world right now who go out at night carrying parasols so that the unnatural light of our Visitor doesn't reach them. They claim it corrupts all it touches. '\n\n\"Then everything's corrupted. '\n\n\"Indeed. We are all of us slowly rotting until we fall dead.\"\n\n\"Is that your message? Sounds like something from a street prophet of the Broken God.\"\n\nThe man let his hand fall, frowned his exaggerated thoughtfulness. \"Indeed? I suppose so. But no. That is not my message. My point is that we have intelligence mentioning'the Eel\". And in that intelligence this very inn features rather prominently. And here you are. What say you to that?\"\n\nGreat Burn! Does this man think I'm the Eel? No– he must be fishing. Ha! Fishing for the Eel. Have to remember that one. But then if I told him who I thought maybe was the Eel he'd have a good laugh. No– he's just trying to provoke a reaction.\n\nRallick turned his face away to study the empty street and the rats waddling down the centre gutter. \"That's not much of a point. ' His peripheral vision caught his reward in a first betrayal of temper from the man as his mouth tightened to a slit."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You are being deliberately difficult. Well, I blame myself. Ought to have expected it. We are both victims of our calling, yes? Neither of us willing to place our cards on the table. So be it– for now. If you should wish to exchange intelligence, then look to reach me through K'rul's bar.\"\n\nRallick eyed the man, puzzled. \"K'rul's bar? You mean the old temple to K'rul? '\n\n\"Yes. K'rul's Bar and Temple.\" The man tilted his head in farewell and ambled off up the street.\n\nThere he goes. Yet another rat on the street.\n\nThere's a bar at K'rul's temple? Since when?\n\nA knock brought Barathol to the door. Little Chaur was down for the night and Scillara was in bed, sent off by that one evening pipe she allowed herself to \"ease the nerves\". He'd taken the pipe from her hand as he did every night, and pulled up the blanket.\n\nHe was downstairs making a meal when the knock came. He opened the door to find one of the Majesty Hall clerks, now known as court officials, awaiting him with hands tucked into his robes and an oddly arrogant and impatient angle to his head.\n\n\"What?\" Barathol asked, his own mood not improved by the youth's superior airs.\n\n\"You are summoned to the installation. Immediately.\"\n\nHe half turned away. \"In a minute. I'm just making a meal. '\n\n\"Immediately,\" the young man repeated, emphasizing each syllable. Lifting his head he directed Barathol's attention to his companions. Barathol peered out to see two Seguleh standing on the road, masked, swords at their hips.\n\nAh. So that's how it is. The new cock of the roost. So be it. No business of mine."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He gave the clerk a slow nod. \"Very well. I'll get my gear. '\n\nBarathol watched the faces of the passers-by as the little party walked the streets. At first there'd been jubilation. The average citizen now thought himself unassailable. Now, as the Seguleh went abroad to enforce the Legate's will it seemed to him that a few people had finally– belatedly– begun to wonder. Just who did these swordsmen protect the city from? They limited themselves to guarding within the walls, atop Majesty Hill, and in the throne room itself. Protecting the ruler from... whom? Well, to his mind, from the ruled, of course. Perhaps this mounting suspicion was behind the worried, even pitying, glances that followed him. Could I be next? some seemed to wonder.\n\nThe worksite was guarded by four Seguleh. Ducking into the tent Barathol found the two mages already present, awaiting him impatiently. \"Begin at once,\" the tall one, Barukanal, commanded, motioning to the forge with his staff. Barathol rolled down his sleeves and donned his thick leather apron.\n\nAnd who were these two anyway? Advisers? Hirelings? Surely not servants, as some believed. Yet why should such obviously powerful mages advise a mere Darujhistani aristocrat, mask or not? Unless, as others hinted, dark pacts were sealed, deals struck, and powers granted. To Barathol's mind these more ominous speculations ran closer to whatever might be the truth of things.\n\nHe took over at the bellows from the worker who was prepping the coals. After pumping, he picked up a bar to stir the bed, testing the heat by holding his handover the glowing pile.\n\n\"This is your last pour,\" the hunched mage told him from the entrance."},{"from":"human","value":"Barathol eyed the man's warped puzzle-piece face."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A warning?\n\n\"I go now to deal with those fools at K'rul's,\" the hunched one told Barukanal.\n\n\"I will finish things here,\" Barukanal answered.\n\nBarathol straightened from the forge. K'rul's? The Malazans? How to warn them? And finish things here? What did he mean by that?\n\nBoth now watched him, their eyes glittering in the glow of the forge. \"Get back to work,\" the hunched one, Aman, told him and ducked from the tent.\n\nBarathol reluctantly turned to nurturing the bed. Well, if anyone could handle themselves, it was those Bridgeburners. They hardly needed his help. He thought of that chaotic night not so many months ago. Antsy guiding him and his friend, poor dying Chaur, to that eerie structure on Coll's estate. Do I not owe him more than I can ever repay?\n\nHe turned from the forge, wiping the sweat from his face. \"I'm going fora bite, \"he announced.\"The bed needs to heat yet. '\n\nThe mage did not move from the entrance. He leaned on his tall warped staff. \"You will remain until the pour is done. Such are my orders.\"\n\n\"There is nothing I can do here fora while.\"\n\nA grimace twisted the mage's face and he said, his voice tight and impatient with something that might have been pain,\"The blacksmith's sand awaits. I believe you have a mould to form?\"\n\nBarathol regarded the table, turned aside. \"If I must.\" Well, I tried. After that blast they must know what to expect anyway.\n\nAfter packing and setting the mould and checking the bed's heat again, he set the ceramic crucible into the coals and heaped them up around it. The bits and pieces of silver went in next. Barukanal crowded his elbow through the entire process."},{"from":"human","value":"As the silver melted Barathol skimmed the slag of impurities from the top."},{"from":"gpt","value":"It was hardly demanding work. The mould was uncomplicated, open-faced. Not like a lost-wax pour where so many little things could go wrong.\n\nOutside in the night the picks and shovels had gone silent. The stones were set and ready for their pins.\n\nOnce the liquid silver reached the mark scratched into the glowing wall of the crucible, Barathol readied the bars he would use to lift and tilt the vessel. At that moment the mage's hand shot out like a viper to grasp his wrist. He pulled against the grip but couldn't free himself. And Barathol was a strongman; among the strongest. Not even Kalam could beat him.\n\nThe mage's other hand came up with a short wicked blade.\"Blood from the forger of the links, \"he whispered, close.\"Such will strengthen the circle immeasurably. '\n\nBarathol raised the bars to smash the man across the head but the mage clenched his grip ferociously and he groaned from the agony of the grinding bones. Ye gods, this creature could pinch my hand off like a petal!\n\nThe mage slashed the blade across Barathol's numb wrist then held the wound over the crucible. Drops fell hissing and dancing.\n\n\"Do not be upset,\" the creature murmured. \"Aman would have taken the offering from your throat.\" He released him and moved to one side. \"Now pour. Quickly.\"\n\nWorking his hand, Barathol readied the bars. He pinched the crucible between their jaws. Grunting, he lifted the vessel and swung it to where the moulds waited. He poured until the level of the first swelled just above the lip of the mould, where surface tension kept it from spilling, then moved to the second."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Finished, Barathol set the crucible on its stand to cool and stood back to wipe the sweat from his face. Blood dripped freely from his wrist. He washed his hands in the quenching water.\n\nFrom where he was bent over the smoking moulds, the mage said, \"Go now. Do not return. Your work is done.\"\n\nBarathol merely grunted. He wrapped his wounded wrist in a rag then pushed his way from the tent. In the trench the final two white stones waited end to end. The tips of the installation coming together to form one perfect infinite circle. Briefly Barathol wondered what this structure might be meant to enclose or foreclose. Was it to keep inviolate what lay within? Or was it to keep ineffective that which lay without?\n\nNo matter. It was no longer his concern. If it came to it he could simply do as Scillara suggested and pack up the family to go. He turned away, flexing his wrist. He'd had enough of all this. His concern now was just the small circle of his family.\n\nThe uncomfortable echoes within that thought haunted him all the way down the hill.\n\n*\n\nLady Envy was with her maid and dressmaker when a servant announced, \"Someone at the door, m'lady. '\n\nArms held outstretched, the dressmaker measuring a length of cloth against one, her maid's hands in her freshly washed hair, Lady Envy stared at the man.\"Well– answer it, you great oaf! '\n\nThe servant bowed from the waist and shuffled backwards, head lowered.\n\nHe returned accompanied by three Seguleh.\n\nLady Envy beamed. She drew her dressing gown tighter about her and shooed away her servants. The three remained immobile, tensed, hands close to their weapons, their attention everywhere but on her. Envy crossed the room, a hand at her lips. \"How very thoughtful of Lim!\" she exclaimed. \"Three new ones! The old ones had become rather battered.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"One turned her– her! What a disappointment! – mask to give Envy a superior glance. Haughtiness? Was that haughtiness being turned upon me?\n\n\"We have been warned against you, Envy,\" the Seguleh woman said. \"Your enchantments hold no more power over us. The Second has knelt and we are bound by links far stronger than any you can forge.\"\n\nEnvy fiddled at the knot of her gown. \"What nonsense is this? Links?\"\n\n\"Where is he, sorceress?\"\n\nEnvy seemed to have just discovered her wet hair; she began twining the length. \"I'm sorry... where is who? '\n\n\"The renegade. We know he is with you. Where is he?\"\n\n\"Renegade? Whatever are you-\" But the three turned aside, dismissing her.\n\nOh really, this is too much!\n\nThurule had entered. The three fanned out, facing him. The one who had spoken made a small gesture with her left hand, turning it palm up as if in interrogation. Thurule's masked face seemed to drop ever so slightly. Perhaps it was the light, but it appeared as if his dark eyes behind the mask were blinking rapidly.\n\n\"Choose!\" the woman commanded.\n\nCarefully, Thurule raised a hand to his mask and peeled it away. The face revealed beneath appeared surprisingly youthful. He released the mask to let it fall before him then raised his sandalled foot and pressed down upon it. The mask shattered into powder and painted shards. His own face seemed to splinter in the act.\n\nCeramic, Envy marvelled. They are ceramic.\n\nThe three Seguleh relaxed, hands easing slightly from their weapons. Without a word they turned and left."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Envy crossed her arms and regarded Thurule. \"Well,\" she said. \"Whatever am Ito do with you now?\"\n\n\"Whatever you wish,\" the man said, speaking the first words she had heard from him in perhaps a year. He wouldn't raise his gaze from the fragments littering the polished floor.\n\nShe hugged her chilled shoulders. \"Well... you have rather lost that certain mysterious cachet I kept you for, I must say.\" She bit at a finger with perfect white teeth. \"I'm going to have to let you go, Thurule. '\n\nThe man's brows clenched as he bowed.\"I understand. I am unworthy. '\n\nOh, Dark Mother! Please! She turned away, snapping her fingers. \"Palley! Where are you? My hair is drying! The court awaits me!\"\n\nHer maid rushed back into the room. When Envy glanced back the man was gone. Thank the false gods! Really. How positively embarrassing.\n\n*\n\nMadrun and Lazan Door were tossing dice against the steps of Lady Varada's estate house when four masked Seguleh entered the compound. The two shared knowing looks as Lazan scooped up the dice.\n\n\"Our taciturn kin approach,\" Madrun rumbled. \"Perhaps we too should remain silent as well. We could stare atone another till the gods pack up the world and return from whence they came.\"\n\n\"And these would yet remain none the wiser,\" Lazan answered. \"No, reflections of themselves these understand all too well.\" They straightened to meet the arrivals, the giant Madrun in his clashing patchwork clothes looming overall. \"You are bold burglars, sirs,\" Lazan greeted them.\n\n\"You two are known to us,\" one said. \"Cause no trouble and you may remain.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"This is of no help,\" Madrun complained to Lazar. \"Trouble has so many facets.\"\n\n\"Stand aside. We are hereto search the premises.\"\n\n\"Does doing our job constitute trouble?\" Lazar enquired, smiling, revealing his silver-tipped gold teeth.\n\nThe four spread out. The spokesman stepped forward. Olive green dominated the swirls painted upon his mask. From the pattern Madrun and Lazan Door knew him to be of the Four Hundredth. \"I shall enter,\" he said calmly. \"If you interfere my companions will act. Is this clear enough even for you?\"\n\nMadrun raised his hand. \"A moment, please. If you would. Am Ito understand, then, that you mean to enter while your companions wait, poised, in case we should attempt to stop you? Is that what you are trying to explain?\"\n\nThe spokesman remained silent for sometime. From behind his mask his gaze stabbed between the two, blazing. He drew breath to speak again, reconsidered, and clamped his jaws against it. His hand went to his sword.\n\n\"Gentlemen and lady...\" a sibilant voice quavered from the doorway, \"may I direct your attention to what I have here?\"\n\nAll turned to face the doorway where Studious Lock floated amid his gauzy layers of tattered wrap. He held in one rag-covered hand a glass sphere containing a dark mist. \"Spores of the Even-tine fungus. Known as the Mind-gnawer among the clans of the northern Odhan. Inhaled, they germinate within, sending fibres stealing up into the brain and releasing pathogens that render the poor victim insane... before killing him... or her. My companions have of course been consuming an inoculating chemical regularly. I myself am immune for reasons I need not expound here.\""},{"from":"human","value":"Inoculating chemical?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Madrun mouthed to Lazan.\n\n\"So, gentlemen... and lady,\" Studlock added, nodding to the female Seguleh, \"will you enter?\"\n\nThe spokesman eased his hand from his sword. \"We shall not press the matter now, Studious. But we shall return.\"\n\n\"Please do so. I look forward to expounding on yet another of my preparations. Or, perhaps, remaining silent and exploring the results in dissection. Always most edifying, that.\"\n\nThe spokesman bowed, keeping his eyes upon Madrun and Lazan, then backed away.\n\nOnce the four had left, the gazes of the two guards swung to Studlock. The giant Madrun's carried a degree of alarm. Lazan's held grudging approval. \"Well played,\" he murmured. \"That orb, I presume, holds nothing of the kind.\"\n\nStudious, who had been admiring the object, now blinked at Lazan from behind his gauzy mask. \"What's that? Nothing of the kind? Not at all. It holds precisely that. ' And he threw it down to shatter on the steps.\n\nBoth guards leapt from the vicinity.\n\nA good five paces off Madrun straightened his waistcoat and the billowing frilled shirt beneath it and cleared his throat. \"This inoculating chemical you mentioned, Studious. Its efficacy is beyond reproach, yes?\"\n\nThe castellan was examining the stone steps. \"What's that? \"He waved a wrapped hand.\"Oh, that. There is no known antidote. '\n\n\"No known...\" The gazes of the two guards met across the thirty feet between them. Lazan slapped his handover his nose and capped teeth.\n\n\"Well, that should be the end of them,\" Studlock announced, satisfied."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"End of who?\" the giant Madrun fairly squeaked.\n\nThe castellan gazed at him, his masked head tilted. \"Why, the ants of course! What else? Even-tine spores affect only them.\" He floated back inside. \"Didn't I say that? '\n\nThe two regarded one another fora time in silence. Lazan eased out his long-held breath. He raised a hand and shook it, rattling the dice. \"The bones didn't see that, ' he commented.\n\nMadrun nodded in profound agreement. \"Yes. Spores. Much too small to be seen.\"\n\n*\n\nThey took turns keeping watch at the ruined door to the bar. A barrier of a table and heaped chairs blocked it. A few of the regulars had banged on the table to be let in and Picker nearly speared one fellow who refused to believe the bar was actually closed and tried to climb in over the chairs.\n\nTwo days after the Seguleh entered town Blend was watching the street from a front window when she called out, \"Trouble!\"\n\nSpindle snatched up his makeshift spear and ran for the front. He peered out between the slats they'd hammered across the window: the hunched mage, Aman, across the way. With him were several Seguleh. Spindle glanced back over his shoulder. The historian sat at his usual place. Picker had run for the rear. The bard was out.\"Hood. We are so dead, ' he groaned.\n\nHe set aside the spear to pickup one of the readied crossbows. Blend did the same. \"Raise your Warren,\" she told him.\n\n\"My Warren's no use here. '\n\nBlend sent a scornful look from her window. \"Your Warren's never of any damned use. What about your other help? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He was silent fora time, considering. Blend fired through the window. \"The next one won't miss! \"she bellowed.\"Stay away! '\n\nThe mage, or whatever he was, Aman, remained across the street, watching, while the Seguleh advanced. Duiker came to Spindle's side.\"I'm unarmed. Perhaps I could talk to them...\"\n\n\"You could try,\" Spindle told him; then, to Blend, \"My other help says we're not alone here. ' He was forced to fire on an advancing Seguleh. The woman knocked the bolt aside with her blade. Gods damn! From only twenty feet away, too.\n\n\"What are your terms?\" Duiker called from the scorched doorway.\n\n\"Your heads are my terms,\" the mage shouted back.\n\nA scream of surprise and terror sounded from the rear and Blend jumped. Picker? She threw down the crossbow and ran for the door to the pantry and kitchen. Duiker took her place, thrusting with a spear. He drew the haft back, surprised, to examine its cleanly severed end.\n\nAs Blend reached the door it was thrust open to reveal a Seguleh. She swung, her blade biting into the man's chest. He responded by grasping her arm and twisting. She buckled, hissing her pain and leaving the long-knife standing from the man's leather-armoured chest.\n\nSpindle stared, then sniffed the air. Vinegar? Blades hacked at the wooden slats behind him. \"Hey– it's them pickled fellows from downstairs! '\n\nPicker rushed out from behind the preserved Seguleh. She twisted its grip from Blend's wrist and it moved on, ignoring them. Spindle and Duiker retreated from the front where the living Seguleh were pushing back the barrier. They watched in disbelief as three more of the slow-walking, deliberate creatures emerged from the rear and took up defensive positions with the one Blend had stabbed: two at the front and two others holding the windows. The rest, Spindle assumed, were covering the back. At the entrance the two attacking Seguleh thrust and cut so beautifully he could only watch, awed. But their preserved– undead? – brethren, while slower, possessed the insurmountable advantage of already being dead. And so blades sliced into leathery hardened flesh to no visible effect and the attackers could make no headway."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As the assault wore on it looked to Spindle as if their protectors would be literally hacked to pieces, so he went behind the bar to collect his kitbag. Then he jumped upon to a table in full view of the entrance, pulled out a wrapped object, shook off the layer of insulating cloth and held over his head his last remaining cusser. \"See this?\" he shouted.\n\nThe attacking Seguleh flinched back a step– they indeed recognized what he had.\n\n\"Don't press me! You come inhere, we all go together! Understand? '\n\n\"We won't just lay down our swords, y'damned fool,\" Picker yelled out of a window.\n\nDragging uneven steps sounded outside and the bent figure of the mage, Aman, appeared at the doorway. He pushed aside the two attacking Seguleh to study the frozen tableau first through one eye then through the other, much lower one; the Seguleh ready, weapons poised; their preserved undead fellows; Blend and Picker taking advantage of the lull to wind crossbows; Duiker already holding a loaded one; and Spindle, arms upraised.\n\n\"You wouldn't dare wreck this temple, ' Aman said.\n\n\"Temple?\" Spindle said in disbelief. \"This is a bar.\"\n\n\"A bar. You think this is a bar?\"\n\n\"It's our bar, \"Picker said.\"So we can blow it up if we want to. '\n\n\"Privilege of ownership,\" Blend added, spitting to one side.\n\nThe mage turned to Duiker. \"And what of you, historian? Are you prepared to die?\"\n\nDuiker levelled the crossbow on him. \"I've already died. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"One of the mage's mismatched eyes twitched and he frowned his acceptance of the point.\"I see. Well argued. For now, then. ' He waved the Seguleh back.\n\nOnce they were up the street Spindle couldn't help himself and he leaned out of the door to yell:\"Hey, you Seguleh boys. You heel real well. Do you rollover too? '\n\nIt seemed to him that the four with Aman all missed a step with that comment, and their backs straightened. But he couldn't be sure. He turned to the bar to find their preserved Seguleh guardians shuffling back downstairs. Everyone watched them go then lifted their heads to stare at him.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You're not a proper saboteur, Spin, \"Picker said, and nodded to his hand.\"Could you put that away now? '\n\nHe saw that he was still cradling the cusser in one hand. \"This?\" He threw it up and caught it again to a collective gust of breaths from the other three. \"Aw, don't worry. It's a dud. Hollow.\"\n\nBlend reached up as if to throttle him. \"Well, you ought to let us know, dammit all to the Abyss!\"\n\n\"No. You shouldn't know. Don't you see? That would ruin the effect. They have to seethe fear in your eyes to know it's real, right? '\n\nPicker waved him away. \"Aw, shove it.\"\n\n\"Now is the time to gird one's loins for the labour ahead, \"the diminutive fat man murmured as he walked the mud lane between leaning shacks of waste-wood, felt and cloth. He wiped his gleaming mournful face with a sodden handkerchief.\"Yes indeed... the time has come to hitch up one's trousers and be a man! Or is it to pull them down and be a man? I never could get that straight... Oh dear, I really should stop right there!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He paused at an intersection of two lanes where a dog eyed him, growling. No hordes of unreasonably angry washerwomen armed with dirty laundry! Excellent. And the Maiten insight where come curling currents from the plain where fates move as they do– forward, misplacing things as they go.\n\nSeven dogs now surrounded him, muzzles down between forelimbs, lips pulled back from broken teeth.\n\nHoary old ones! Washerwomen preferable to this.\n\nHe drew a bone from one loose sleeve. \"Good doggies!\" He threw. Though not nearly so far as he would have wished. He turned and ran, or jogged, puffing, in the opposite direction.\n\nThe next two corners brought him to the hut on the extreme western edge of the shantytown where he stopped, short of breath, and wiped his face.\n\n\"And here he is panting in anticipation,\" the old woman sitting on the threshold observed around the pipe in her mouth.\n\n\"Indeed. Here I am yet again. Your ever hopeful suitor. Slave to your whim. Prostrate in inspiration.\"\n\n\"I can smell your inspiration from here,\" she observed, grimacing. \"You brought offering?\"\n\n\"But of course!\" From a sleeve he produced a cloth-wrapped wedge the size of a quarter brick.\n\nThe old woman raised her tangled brows, impressed, as she took it. \"Things are progressing nicely, aren't they, love? \"She tore apiece and moulded it in one grimed fist, warming and softening it.\"The circle complete, yes? ' and she eyed him, smirking.\n\nHe ducked his head. \"Ah– yes. Spoke too quickly, Kruppe did. Yet, is it not so? Was Kruppe not quite correct? There! Yes, god-like perspicacity, that.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Back to anticipation, are we?\" the old woman murmured, and she drew long and hard on the pipe. \"Suggesting... perspiration.\"\n\n\"Yes. Well. I am dancing as fast as I can, dearest.\"\n\n\"Hmm, dancing,\" she purred, exhaling a great stream of smoke. \"That's what I want to see. Won't you come in?\"\n\n\"Gladly. Dogs and washerwomen and whatnot. But before... you have them, yes? Ready?\"\n\nShe pressed her hands to her wide chest. \"All hot and ready for you, love.\"\n\nThe man passed a handover his eyes. \"Kruppe is speechless.\"\n\n\"For once. Now, come in– and think of Darujhistan.\" And she disappeared within.\n\nKruppe wiped his slick forehead. \"Oh, fair city. Dreaming city. The things I do for you!\"\n\nShall we draw a curtain across such a commonplace domestic scene? Modesty would insist. Yet Kruppe found the witch athwart her tattered blankets snoring to beat a storm. Well. Shall vanity be stung to no end? Shall the Eel skulk away, tail between its... whatever? Never! The prize awaits! And he knelt over the insensate woman, reaching for her layered shirts.\n\nTo feel eyes upon him. Beady eyes, low to the ground.\n\nHe turned to find the dogs watching from the doorway, eager, tongues lolling.\n\nAiya! Kruppe cannot perform like this! He flapped his hands. \"Begone! Have you no decency?\"\n\nLiquid eyes begged, muzzles nudged forepaws."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Defeated, Kruppe drew yet another bone from within his voluminous sleeve and threw. The dogs spun away, claws kicking up dirt.\n\n\"Now, where were we, my love?\" He wriggled his fingers above her and therefrom a fold of the shirts peeped the weave of a dirty linen sack.\n\nAha! And now to pluck this blushing blossom...\n\nKruppe walked the trash-strewn mud ways of Maiten town, and all was well. He inhaled the scent of the open sewer, the steaming waste, and sighed. He patted his chest where a bag rested still warm from another, far greater and more bountiful nook. All was music to his ears: the fighting dogs, the laundry slapped with alarming force upon the rocks, the fond taunting and rock-throwing of the playful local urchins.\n\nAnd now for the city! Fair Darujhistan. Ringed round and enclosed. Yet are there not ways around all walls and gates for such as the slippery perspiry Eel!"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It is said that once a ruler in far off Tulips hosted a great and rich banquet (Tulips then being a prosperous city, unlike now) at the end of which he invited the guests to stand and give their definition of a full and happy life– the best version of which he would reward with a heavy torc of gold. One after another the guests stood to assure the ruler that his was in fact that best exemplar of a full and happy life. A Seguleh traveller chanced to be attending the celebration and she did not rise to participate in the competition. Irked, the king bade the woman stand and deliver her, all too secretive, version of a full and happy life.\n\nThe woman dipped her mask in compliance and stood. \"Of a full and happy life I can give no accounting,\" she replied. \"But we Seguleh believe that the gods give men and women glimpses of happiness only to reach again to take them away. Therefore, it seems to us that it is only at the very end, at one's death, that any such measure can be made. '\n\nAnd the king bade the woman depart without any largesse or honour, for he thought it utter foolishness to withhold measure until the end. Yet it is said that afterwards all peace of mind fled the ruler as he fretted without cease over when his many advantages might slip from him and in the end he died tormented and mad."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sulerem of Mengal\n\nJAN HAD GROWN up knowing an old saying among the seguleh: certainty is the spine of the blade. And he accepted this, making it part of his own bones. For were they not the sword of truth? The anvil of its testing? Yet nothing since the Call was as he thought it would be. Nothing in the shining glory of service to the First in their songs and stories had prepared him for the truth to be found here, in their original home, Darujhistan.\n\nDoubts assailed the others. That much was obvious. Therefore the duty was upon him to shoulder the weight of those doubts. To take them all upon himself and show there need be no concern. For was he not the Second? Did not all their eyes turn to him for guidance, for assurance? Let the purity of the cut lie in the steadiness of the blade.\n\nSo shall it be. Let it not be said that the Second bent from his responsibilities.\n\nOnly the First can call. And they answered. What need be complicated in that? And what do they find but the ancient mask that is a circle of gold? As storied and as fearsome as in their legends of old. What can he do but obey?\n\nWhy, then, this need to dwell upon any of this at all?\n\nPerhaps because they were warriors. Not guards. Not warders of people or of the peace. The transition was easily accomplished; these local authorities, these Wardens, acquiesced immediately. Challenges were minimal. Only two deaths. One, a local simpleton, the other far too stubborn to pass by unanswered.\n\nNow, perhaps now, began the truly difficult part as mundane daily trivia intruded upon their purpose.\n\nSuch as now, confronted by these two shabby would-be guards in the hands of Palla, Sixth, herein the court. Jan signed to Ira, Twentieth, who demanded: \"Why have you returned? The hired guards have all been dismissed.\""},{"from":"human","value":"One knuckled his dirty sweaty brow."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Your pardons, sirs and madams. We've not been let go that we know of. '\n\nJan tilted his head and Ira continued, \"The orders were given. All have been notified.\"\n\nThe man saluted once more. \"That's all as you say for sure, sirs and madams. Me \"n\" Leff here, we don't dispute any of that.\"\n\n\"Then what is your claim?\" Ira demanded.\n\nJan gave Palla a sign and she released them. They straightened their armour.\n\n\"Well, ma'am, \"began the spokesman– though not necessarily the lower of the pair. Frankly, between these two, any gradation at all was difficult to tell.\"It's just that we're not your usual run o'the mill Majesty Hall guards. No, sir...\"\n\n\"They work for me,\" breathed a weak voice.\n\nJan peered at the bedraggled figure of the Mouthpiece of the Legate. He inclined his head in respect. \"This is so?\" he asked. \"They answer to you?\"\n\nThe man's eyes darted, haunted and bloodshot; his features had sunk to a sweaty pasty pallor. Clearly this fellow found his duties far outmatched the strength of his nerves. Jan's gaze shifted to the masked Legate, motionless on his throne. He appeared unaware. Yet always he demonstrated preternatural knowledge of all that went on around him. And this man spoke his will. Jan wondered at such an unlikely choice. However, again, it was not for him to wonder.\n\n\"Yes,\" the man affirmed, anew certainty entering his quavering voice. \"I remember them. I hired them.\"\n\nJan signed his assent. \"Very well. It shall be as you say.\" He turned away, dismissing them from his thoughts. He scanned the court, searching for potential dangers or threats and found only one. The sorceress, Envy, with her flowing green dress and curled oiled hair. How he longed to part her head from her body for the debasement she brought to his brother and two followers. But she was an honoured guest of the Legate and so must he swallow her presence."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oh, certainly some members hereof the court obviously longed to challenge the Legate. Their posture, breaths and sweat shouted it– especially one older ex-soldier councillor who looked as though he might have been a potential threat, a decade ago. And hints had come to him of assassination attempts, which the Legate and his pet mages handled.\n\nAll very well. So why then this unease? This discomfort? Perhaps it is the loss of Cant. I miss its green mountain slopes. Peace of mind slipped away with it beyond the horizon. Soon Gall will sense this and he will challenge. Then there will be anew Second and all of this will no longer be my concern. I almost welcome it. Is this what cowardice feels like?\n\nThe Legate stood then and descended the throne of pale white stone. He gestured and Jan moved to join him. The members of the court, masked councillors, their wives and masked mistresses, aristocrats and wealthy merchants, all parted at his approach. He stopped before the Legate and inclined his masked head in obeisance.\n\n\"Second.\" The Mouthpiece had come to his side. \"Our enemies await to the west. You Seguleh are my blade and anvil. Crush them and Darujhistan shall rule all these lands unrivalled, as before.\"\n\n\"I understand, Legate. These invading Malazans shall be removed from our shores.\"\n\nThe Legate gestured impatiently. Though the beaten gold features could not change, cast forever into their secretive half-smile, the shifting light and shadow enlivened the lips and empty eyes with expression. Now they appeared angered.\n\n\"The invaders are but a nuisance. They mean nothing. No. I speak of the true threat. This city's eternal enemy... the Moranth. ' The Mouthpiece let out a strangled gasp as he spoke these words and clamped a hand to his mouth as if he were about to be sick."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jan dared glance up more fully, as if he could discern some intent from the golden oval before him. \"The Moranth, Legate? I do not understand.\"\n\n\"Always they forestalled us,\" the Mouthpiece began again, his voice ghostly faint. \"They alone defied us when all others fell. Now we shall finish them.\"\n\n\"The Moranth wars ended a millennium ago.\"\n\n\"With the fall of the last of the Tyrants and the breaking of the Circle, yes.\" The oval turned to address Jan more directly. \"Now that Darujhistan arises renewed we must answer that crime against us, yes?\"\n\nAnd what could Jan do but bow when commanded by his First? For the gold mask was the legendary progenitor, the Father of them all. Attack the Moranth? Bring them low? An entire people? Was this what we were forged to accomplish? Our noble purpose?\n\nAnd you in your cracked wooden mask who told me so little. Was this the burden you sought to spare me? Well do I understand it now. No wonder we hide our faces.\n\nThat burden is shame.\n\nCaptain Dreshen found Ambassador Aragan in the stables, currying the two remaining horses. Catching his breath he reported: \"Sir! The majority of the Seguleh have marched from the city.\"\n\nAragan straightened to peer over the back of the black bay, Doan, his favourite. He rested his hands there, a brush in each. \"Out of the city?\" His gaze slitted. \"Which way?\"\n\nDreshen nodded their shared understanding. \"West.\"\n\n\"Dead Hood's own grin. We have to warn them. '\n\n\"The mounts won't make it all the way. '\n\n\"No.\" Aragan wiped his sleeve across his face. \"A boat. Fastest one we can find. Then we'll ride. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes. And... can we count on reinforcements?\"\n\n\"No. No reinforcements. No recruits. Nothing. Everything's been committed to another theatre. '\n\nDreshen could not believe it. \"But what of our gains here?\"\n\nAragan threw a blanket over Doan's back.\"Seems Unta considers us overextended. And I have to say I'm inclined to agree.\" He eyed Dreshen up and down. \"Now get the Sceptre and our armour, Captain. In that order.\"\n\nThe Untan nobleman drew himself up straight, grinning and saluting. \"Aye, sir. With pleasure.\"\n\nThe two horsemen rode to the waterfront. Large bundles lay tied behind the cantles of their saddles. They led their mounts down to the private wharves. Here a grossly exaggerated price was paid in rare silver councils for immediate passage west. A gangway was readied and the mounts were guided down onto the deck of the low, sleek vessel. Hands threw off lines and picked up oars. The vessel made its slow way out of the harbour to the larger bay, where the freshening wind caught the sails. The pilot threw the side rudder over and they churned a course along the coast to the west.\n\n*\n\nThe Great Barrow of the Son of Darkness, Lord of Moon's Spawn, Anomander Rake, now rose almost within sight of the ever-creeping edge of the Maiten shantytown. Here a bear of a man satin the grass and eyed the late afternoon glow of distant Darujhistan.\n\nThe lake air had cooled his temper, and now he recognized his vow to squeeze some sense into this creature who paraded as the Legate as foolish and unrealistic in the extreme. What was he to do? Use the hammer there? In the city? Kill tens of thousands? No. And this Legate knew it. So what was he to do?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"For the first time in many years no responsibilities weighed upon his shoulders. No cause to champion. He turned back to the barrow. Nearby, the pilgrims and worshippers who congregated here were erecting a tent for him. He hadn't asked. But they knew him as the one who had raised the barrow and so he shared in their worship and regard.\n\nHe was not unaccustomed to it. All who worshipped Burn knew him as her champion. Caladan Brood, Warlord of the north. Yet war was far from his chosen vocation. Oh, he revelled in the individual challenge. Wrestling and trials of strength and skill. But war? Organized slaughter? No. That was the field of cold-hearted weighers of options such as Kallor. Or the opposite, those who inspired from all-embracing hearts, such as Dujek.\n\nAnd what of him? Did he have this quality? He supposed he did, but in another way. Like Anomander, he inspired by example.\n\nSo he would wait. As before, eventually someone would be needed to settle things one way or the other. That was what he did best. Have the last word. The final say. The finishing blow.\n\nThe merest nudge of Sall's hand sent Yusek sprawling to the beaten dirt of the practice yard.\n\n\"You were off-balance again.\"\n\nShe looked up at the kaleidoscope pattern of his mask, the amused brown eyes behind, and knocked aside his proffered hand. \"So I noticed. I was leaning forward because I was trying to hit you. That's the whole point, isn't it?\" She jumped up to face him.\n\n\"Do not sacrifice form fora possible hit. When you lean forward you bring your head closer. Not a good idea.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"But what if I hit?\"\n\nA wave in the Seguleh hand-talk dismissed the idea. \"What if you miss?\"\n\nFine. Be that way. Yusek struck a ready pose, sword before her in both hands, tip held steady angled outwards at a height about level with her nose. At first she'd resisted his insistence that she use a two-handed sword grip, arguing that daggers were quicker. But Sall had been unmoved. He pointed out that most of her opponents would be larger than her and so she would need the added leverage.\n\nWhen she'd grudgingly agreed, saying it would help'muscle them back\", he'd shaken his head yet again.\n\n\"No muscles.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, no muscles? Everyone knows that's what you do in a fight– you smash the other guy down. '\n\n\"No. Do not strain. Do not tense until the last instant. Let the blade fall on its own. Let its weight do the work.\"\n\nIt all sounded crazy to her. But she'd seen the lad cut through all the most fearsome, and big, hulking swordsmen she'd known, so fair enough.\n\nNow, he circled her yet again, studying her stance. He crouched before her, tilting his masked head. \"You have the same problem I used to have. Your stance is too long– always too eager to rush in, yes?\"\n\n\"That's how you finish it. Bring it to them. '\n\nSall gave a sad shake of his head. He unwound a leather strip from his sash and knotted it round one of her ankles. \"What's this? Tying me up? ' He paused, but only for an instant, then waved her other foot closer. She edged it inwards."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Closer yet.\"\n\nShe gritted her teeth but complied. He tied the length tight, straightened. \"Very good. This distance will allow you to recover more quickly in either direction. I want you to pace the length of the field in the high angle cut with each step, yes?\"\n\n\"Fine.\"\n\n\"Begin.\"\n\nShe stepped, swinging, and almost fellas her extended foot was yanked short. She turned to stare at him, appalled. Was I that unbalanced? He urged her onward.\n\nFine. Just dandy. She concentrated on her stride and started again. The shorter stance felt uncomfortable and awkward. But then, she'd been standing however she damned well pleased all this time. No one had ever shown her any technique. She must have all kinds of bad habits.\n\nThe wind was cold but she was sweating now as she paced up and down the length of the sand and gravel practice yard. On the far side of the field the priests were outdoing their forms, which Sall explained were some sort of moving meditations. It made no sense to her. She found a rhythm, cutting side to side as she stepped, turning, and cutting again. Her arms burned. Holding an iron bar out from your body all day built up endurance and strength. Now, when she picked up her old fighting dirks, the heaviest she could find, they were like hollow sticks in her hands. And it seemed to her that with the slightest shift of her two-handed grip she could move the tip of the sword even faster than she could weave her daggers.\n\nLeverage, Sall called that. The sword was a lever, he'd said. A lever for the application or redirection of force. Nothing more mystical than that."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"When the sunset behind the western coastal peaks the air chilled quickly. Yusek dropped down next to Sall, exhausted, her shirt wet with sweat.\n\n\"Your determination is commendable.\"\n\n\"Well, I have a lot of catching up to do, don't I? \"She nudged him with a shoulder.\"I could really use aback rub too... '\n\nBut Sall's attention was on his father Lo, who had spent these last days doing nothing more than watching the various priests at their practice and exercises. Now he had climbed to his feet, his gaze fixed. Sall stood as well.\n\nLo began making his way through the kneeling ranks of priests, none of whom moved. Sall edged forward also.\n\nOf all the lousy timing. \"What is it?\" Yusek asked, now a touch worried. Gods, not like at Dernan's! Please no. Sall signed for silence. Silence! It's always silence with these two. That's their answer for everything. Don't they see that silence answers nothing?\n\nLo stopped near the middle of the assembled priests. He stood before one fellow, salt-and-pepper haircut short, features very dark, but calm, eyes downcast. Sall, Yusek noticed, was fairly quivering so tense was he. She also climbed to her feet.\n\nThen Lo's blade was out, the tip extending close to the forehead of the kneeling man. The surrounding priests coolly shifted aside, not one saying a word. Great Burn! What was this? What was going on?\"Sall... ' He signed again for silence, gesturing her aside.\n\nLo adjusted his grip on the sword, struck a ready stance, and for the first time Yusek heard words pass through his mask. \"I challenge you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The kneeling man said nothing."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He did not move. He did not even lookup.\n\nYusek's breath caught as Lo's blade flew up and he let go a heart-stopping yell, swinging for the man's neck. She jerked her head aside; she could not help it. When she opened her eyes Lo stood frozen, his blade pressed against the man's neck. The man himself appeared to have not flinched one hair's breadth.\n\nShe and Sall ran up through the motionless priests. The man slowly raised his eyes. In the darkening afternoon light they appeared to carry the depths of the ocean within them. He mouthed one word: No.\n\nLo stepped back, sheathing his blade. Then he turned and walked away. Sall stood fora time staring down at the kneeling man, then he followed his father. Yusek remained. The priests merely returned to their duties, sweeping the compound, chopping wood, readying the evening meal. While Yusek watched, a bead of blood ran from the cut across the side of the man's neck.\n\nShaken, she retreated to her hut. So that was him? The slayer of the Son of Darkness? How could that be? He looked like nothing to her. No bluster, no show. It was contrary to everything she'd seen among Orbern's gang, or Dernan's. Just a man past middle age. Impossible to pick out of a crowd. Yet Lo had somehow managed. Just by watching. Obviously there was much more here than she could see.\n\nShe filled a bowl at the kitchens then sought out Sall. She found him sitting before his room. She sat next to him, tore off a pinch from her flatbread and dipped it into the stew. \"Now what?\" she asked, chewing.\n\nHe seemed to have been studying his open empty hands on his lap. \"We leave. No one can be compelled to accept a challenge. My father could now claim Seventh should he choose to do so. I don't believe he will, however. Not like this. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Going to talk to him?\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Who? Him of course. Ask him why he's here. What he's doing. Maybe you'd learn something. '\n\nSall made a gesture of helplessness. \"There is no need. He has made his position clear.\"\n\nYusek studied Sall fora time as if attempting to peer past his mask. Then she gave a disgusted grunt. \"Gods... how you fellows manage is a mystery tome. How do you fucking accomplish anything? Aren't you the least bit curious? '\n\nHe gave a cutting sign with his hand. \"If he wanted to speak, he would do so.\"\n\n\"Oh? He'd just goon like you blabbermouths? \"She stood.\"Well, I'm going to talk to him. Even if you won't. '\n\n\"Yusek...\"\n\nShe paused, looking down. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nGrunting again, she left. Can't fucking believe this crap. Should I tuck them in, too? Maybe this wasn't all so different from the bluster and chest-thumping she'd seen at Orbern's. Posturing. Maybe it was all just posturing taken so far no one could back down anymore– even if they wanted to.\n\nShe wondered. She really wondered.\n\nThe fellow was still kneeling in the same place. Looking west into the darkening mauve and deep blood-red of the fading sunset. Above, blotting out any stars that might've been visible, arced the jade curve of the Scimitar.\n\nShe sat next to him, dipped her bread, and tore off a bite with her teeth. \"So...\" She chewed and swallowed. \"As good as anyplace to hide, I suppose.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"His gaze slid round to her. He let out along breath. Like I'm the pebble in the shoe, she thought.\n\n\"They send you?\"\n\n\"No, they fucking well didn't send me. You're the man of the world, right? You should know they wouldn't do something like that. '\n\nHis mouth quirked up and he let go something that might've been a rueful snort. His gaze slid back to the west.\"Lectured by a child. Serves me right. Well, yes. That was unfair of me. They wouldn't do something like that. I'm just tired. Tired of it all. '\n\n\"Tired of what?\"\n\nHe raised his chin to the west, to the sunset and the Scimitar. \"Choices are being made even as we speak. Important choices that will affect all of us. I refuse to be part of it. I'm tired of being used. \"His voice fell and it seemed to Yusek that he wasn't talking to her any longer. Perhaps he'd never really been talking to her at all.\"I did what I thought was right. Damn them all, I don't even know what the right choice is anymore. I don't even know if one exists. Everything I do is used. '\n\n\"If everything you do is used one way or the other then why worry about it? There's nothing you can do about all that. That's beyond your control, right?\" The man's gaze slowly edged back to her.\"I mean, who cares about them? They can all take a flying leap into the Abyss, right? You can only do what you think is right, yes? '\n\nOne dark brow arched up. \"That's one way of looking at things. Maybe you should get some sleep. You've got along day ahead of you tomorrow.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Now who's tucking who in?\n\n\"Right.\" She stood. \"I heard them say you killed the Lord of Moon's Spawn. But I don't think that's right. I mean, he's an Ascendant, right? Immortal. You can't just kill someone like that. \"She shrugged.\"Well, that's just what I think.\"\n\nThe man's gaze followed her as she crossed the moonlit central field and remained fixed for sometime where she disappeared amid the stone huts. Then his eyes slowly swung back to the west, the night sky, and the Scimitar above. He felt it there, in the west. Tugging at him. It was happening again. Another gathering.\n\nHe felt its call because he was close himself. Close, if not already there. But fighting. Refusing. Ashe told the girl: it was a choice awaiting him. It seemed that no matter which way he turned, there it was, inevitable.\n\nIf only he knew which would be for the best. Yet perhaps it wasn't a question of choice. Perhaps it had always been merely about doing. Perhaps that was the better way of thinking of things.\n\nHe could not be sure and that doubt was a torment. Because he didn't think much of his choices so far.\n\nIn the morning Yusek stepped out chilled and wrapped in her blanket to seethe man still there, still kneeling, the pink and amber sun's rays painting his back.\n\nNow that just ain't human.\n\nShe shuffled to the kitchens for hot tea and around of fresh bread. She had to jostle elbows and push herself forward just to swipe that much. These boys and girls might be priests and such, she reflected, but they sure weren't shy when mealtime came around."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At her hut she packed what few bits and pieces she owned into a roll that she tied off and threw onto her back. Her new sword she belted at her left hip. On the grounds she found Sall and Lo ready to go. The fellow Lo had challenged was there as well.\n\nSall greeted her. \"We are leaving.\"\n\nShe couldn't help looking to the sky.\"Yeah. I guessed. '\n\n\"Where will you head?\" he asked.\n\nShe shrugged, indifferent. \"I dunno. Mengal, I guess. Thanks for the lessons.\"\n\nHe gave a sign she recognized as meant to dismiss the subject. \"It was nothing. You were a conscientious student. That is all a teacher can ask for.\"\n\nShe knew Sall to be her age but sometimes he talked so stiffly, like he was some old guy of thirty or something.\n\nThe fellow Lo had challenged stepped forward. Sall inclined his head to the man and, incredibly, so did Lo.\n\nSo... Lo just indicated that he considers the man higher ranked. Even though the man refused his challenge. He doesn't want to take the rank that way. Just as Sall said. Hey! I'm starting to understand these crazy people!\n\nBut abbreviated bows only seemed to make the man's already pained face tighten even more.\"I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing,\" he growled, his voice hoarse. \"But when you get to Cant, give my regards to your Second. I've heard good things of him. '\n\nSall turned his masked face to Lo. Something passed between them. Sall turned back to the man. \"Slayer of Blacksword, we are not returning to Cant.\"\n\nSomething almost like panic seemed to claw at the man's face.\"You're not?\" The lines bracketing his eyes and mouth tightened into an angry suspicion. \"Tell me where you are headed.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We travel to Darujhistan to join our brothers and sisters. The First has called and we have answered.\"\n\nYusek stared. Darujhistan? They're going to Darujhistan!\n\nThe man was shaking his head, appalled. \"All the scheming gods– you mustn't go there. Don't you see?\"\n\n\"See... what?\"\n\n\"Don't make yourself a weapon, \"he said, his voice thick with emotion.\"Take it from me. Weapons get used. '\n\nSall tilted his head a fraction. His eyes behind the mask appeared troubled, but he answered, \"It is our duty. Our defining purpose. It makes us Seguleh.\"\n\nThe man blinked as if fighting back tears. Every word Sall spoke seemed to strike him like a blow. \"Gods, you people have backed yourselves up to the very Abyss...\"\n\nLo moved slightly– a motion Yusek would never have caught before, but she understood it now as a gesture of impatience.\n\nSall said: \"Thank you for your words, Slayer of Blacksword. But we must go.\"\n\n\"I'm going with you, ' the man said.\n\nEven masked, Sall's shock was obvious. He glanced at Lo, who answered with a gesture Yusek had seen him use in regard to her very often: the It's her life sign.\n\n\"If you wish,\" Sall said. \"You are free to travel where you will.\"\n\n\"Fine.\" He motioned to the hut dwellings. \"Just let me pack a few things.\"\n\nAfter the man had gone, Yusek faced Sall. \"You didn't tell me you were going to Darujhistan! \"And she couldn't believe it when the answering shift of his shoulders said, How is this is relevant?"}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 18\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Squatting on his haunches on the roof of that selfsame hall, Krute looked to the three guild talents accompanying him as team leader. Hardly qualifying for the title mage, these two lads and one lass did have some small abilities in sensing the presence of Warren magics and powers. They nodded their approval and so Krute signed the all clear to the team assembled on the roof. These six tossed their hair-thin lines down the open windows and rappelled down. They would execute the target within and return in a matter of minutes– should all go as planned.\\n\\nHe glanced back to the three guild talents. The youths exchanged looks. One pressed a hand to the roof. The second raised her face to the gusting warm wind as if sniffing for scent. The third held his hands cupped close to one eye. Krute knew that in his hands the lad held four night bugs, the sort of flying insects that light up. What do they do when a haunt's around? Dance a jig?\\n\\nThe wind was high this night. Thin feathery clouds did nothing to diminish the combined light from the reborn moon and the Scimitar. Light that was both a blessing and a curse, depending upon when you wanted it, and when you didn't. He studied the ropes again and saw all still slack. The sight made him uneasy. Should be climbing by now. He signed that he would go to investigate.\\n\\nCloser, he saw that one of the ropes was now taut. In fact it fairly vibrated under some immense strain. Ashe watched, it narrowed even further to the thickness of a reed; then, instantly, it was gone. Snapped. He heard a muted thump from below.\\n\\nDamn the fates! What was it? A hidden guard? Yet no alarm.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He clambered down to the window to peer in. The interior was as black as a cloudy night. But far below, in the shafting silver and jade light, he made out a figure climbing to its feet, cloaked. Ashe peered down, straining to see, the figure raised its face to him and revealed the bright pale oval of the mask of the Legate.\\n\\nKrute was a hard man in a hard calling but even he felt a preternatural dread at the sight of that graven half-smile– hinting at so many uncanny secrets– and a hand beckoning him down. He scuttled backup the rope, his flesh cold. Ye gods, spare him... what were they facing here?\\n\\nCrouched, the wind snapping his cloak, he ran along the centre line back to the jumbled tiled slopes of the Majesty Hall roof. Where not one sign remained of the three guild practitioners.\\n\\nTogg take it!\\n\\nThen the instinct of decades of stalking and striking screamed at him and he threw himself flat, rolling.\\n\\nTwin blades hissed through the air and he stared, astonished, at a young girl snarling down at him, her clothes no more than diaphanous wind-whipped scarves. She raised the blades again only to jerk aside, howling, grasping at a crossbow bolt now standing from her side. She staggered, then tumbled down the sloped tiled roof and disappeared from sight.\\n\\nA fist at his collar yanked Krute: Rallick. The man threw his crossbow aside, drew his twinned curved blades. \\\"She'll be back– or another. Go now. Run. ' He shouldered Krute back.\\n\\n\\\"That's not Vorcan... ' the assassin managed, still stunned.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No. Goon.\\\" The man pushed him onto the maze of canted roofs. \\\"Run.\\\"\\n\\nKrute needed no further urging.\\n\\nRallick slipped into the cover of a gable that offered a view of the throne-room roof and squatted, arms over his knees, curved knives pointed out, ready.\\n\\nA band of low clouds driven off the lake came wafting across the long scar in the night sky that was the Banner– what he'd once heard Vorcan call the Strangers. In the rippling light the rooftop was empty, then in the next instant a figure stood tall right before him, staff planted and leather shoes poking out from under thick layered robes.\\n\\nRallick slowly straightened to stand before the man who had employed him for years, who had healed his broken bones and brought him back from near death. High Alchemist Baruk. He struck a ready stance, blades raised, one foot back. \\\"Baruk.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Barukanal, now,\\\" the man grated. \\\"Do not make the mistake of forgetting that.\\\" His hands were white fists upon the staff. The scars that traced his face like a tangled net darkened now as blood pounded behind the man's features. The wind snagged his long unbound iron-grey hair.\\\"I am sent to find assassins who have made an attempt upon the Legate, \\\"he said, his voice whip-tight.\\\"You haven't... by any chance... seen them. Have you?\\\"\\n\\nRallick edged his weapons down. He cleared his throat and straightened, almost believing himself dreaming. Ina voice full of wonder he managed, \\\"I saw some men running to the east. They looked suspicious.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you, citizen. Tell me... have you also seen the new construction encircling the hill?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"In fact I have.\\\" Rallick noted with alarm that the flesh upon the man's face and neck was cracking and smoking along the fault lines of the scars. Baruk's frame shuddered and he staggered aside as if yanked. He spoke, grinding out every word as if each were a droplet of agony: \\\"There is a man in the city, a Malazan... He may have a unique insight into its... peculiar... qualities...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will ask around,\\\" Rallick assured him. Then, sheathing his knives, he could not help reaching out to the tortured figure. \\\"Baruk... tell me... what can I-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" The staff snapped up and the man staggered backwards. \\\"Stay away!\\\" Turning, he flung himself from the roof, robes flapping, and disappeared.\\n\\nRallick leaned over the edge but saw no sign of him. Then, hunching, he ran as fast as he dared across the forest of mismatched tiled roofs.\\n\\nMoments after Rallick left the roof the wavering commingled olive and silver light of the night revealed another figure that uncurled itself from a window to stand, stretching. The man wore a cloak that shone almost emerald in the light. He tapped one gloved finger to his pursed lips and whispered aloud, \\\"Again, some go in... yet none come out. The lesson being...\\\" he held up his gloved hands and examined them as if the answer were written there, \\\"don't go in. '\\n\\nHe clasped his hands behind his back and set off, whistling soundlessly, tracing more or less the route taken by the ex-assassin.\\n\\nWhen Rallick judged it safe to return to the Phoenix Inn he walked straight to the old table and sat facing the door in the seat where Kruppe usually held court. Rather disconcertingly, the empty seat was already warm and he was thinking of shifting to another chair when Sulty thumped down a tankard of beer, gave him a wink, and moved onto serve the rest of the crowd. Rallick pushed back his seat, held the tankard in both hands before him, and studied that crowd.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Guarded optimism he judged the mood. People seemed to think that things would get better now that the Seguleh had arrived to guard the city. Rumours were that the Legate had somehow contracted to have them come. Never mind the utter impossibility of such a notion to anyone who knew the least shred about those people. And to guard the city against whom? The Malazans? They hadn't the troops to pacify the city in the first place. That left... who? No one he could think of. The city was without threats, as it had been for decades before the arrival of the Seguleh. And so the disconcerting thought: what were they here for?\\n\\nHis roving eye caught a man watching him from the bar. A tall, very dark foreigner, all in green. Ina gesture like a mockery of some conspirator, the fellow offered him an exaggerated wink and shifted his gaze to the rear. As usual Rallick chose to reveal no hint of his mood– which was one of extreme annoyance– and he got up to push out through the crowd to the backdoor.\\n\\nHe waited leaning against a wall, arms crossed, hands on the grips of his knives. The stranger ambled out after a moment, hands clasped behind his back. \\\"What do you want?\\\" Rallick said, trying to keep his voice as flat as possible.\\n\\nThe man held up his gloved hands, a smirk at his lips. \\\"Parley, as they say.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Claw?\\\"\\n\\nThe fellow merely shrugged.\\n\\n\\\"Say your piece.\\\"\\n\\nThe man waved a hand in an airy manner and Rallick clamped down even harder on his irritation. \\\"Oh... a pooling of intelligence and a uniting of efforts.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm not with the guild. You got the wrong man. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A smile from the man– the kind of crazy grin that Rallick had known from some as an affectation of unpredictable menace. But he now saw with a tensing of chilling certainty that from this fellow the pose was utterly genuine. Avery dangerous sort– the kind who truly just doesn't give a damn.\\\"The guild, such as it is, doesn't interest me. But you do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How so?\\\"\\n\\nThe man leaned up against the opposite alley wall, which put him in the light of the Scimitar. He grimaced and held up a hand in the light. \\\"You know, there are those around the world right now who go out at night carrying parasols so that the unnatural light of our Visitor doesn't reach them. They claim it corrupts all it touches. '\\n\\n\\\"Then everything's corrupted. '\\n\\n\\\"Indeed. We are all of us slowly rotting until we fall dead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Is that your message? Sounds like something from a street prophet of the Broken God.\\\"\\n\\nThe man let his hand fall, frowned his exaggerated thoughtfulness. \\\"Indeed? I suppose so. But no. That is not my message. My point is that we have intelligence mentioning'the Eel\\\". And in that intelligence this very inn features rather prominently. And here you are. What say you to that?\\\"\\n\\nGreat Burn! Does this man think I'm the Eel? No– he must be fishing. Ha! Fishing for the Eel. Have to remember that one. But then if I told him who I thought maybe was the Eel he'd have a good laugh. No– he's just trying to provoke a reaction.\\n\\nRallick turned his face away to study the empty street and the rats waddling down the centre gutter. \\\"That's not much of a point. ' His peripheral vision caught his reward in a first betrayal of temper from the man as his mouth tightened to a slit.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You are being deliberately difficult. Well, I blame myself. Ought to have expected it. We are both victims of our calling, yes? Neither of us willing to place our cards on the table. So be it– for now. If you should wish to exchange intelligence, then look to reach me through K'rul's bar.\\\"\\n\\nRallick eyed the man, puzzled. \\\"K'rul's bar? You mean the old temple to K'rul? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes. K'rul's Bar and Temple.\\\" The man tilted his head in farewell and ambled off up the street.\\n\\nThere he goes. Yet another rat on the street.\\n\\nThere's a bar at K'rul's temple? Since when?\\n\\nA knock brought Barathol to the door. Little Chaur was down for the night and Scillara was in bed, sent off by that one evening pipe she allowed herself to \\\"ease the nerves\\\". He'd taken the pipe from her hand as he did every night, and pulled up the blanket.\\n\\nHe was downstairs making a meal when the knock came. He opened the door to find one of the Majesty Hall clerks, now known as court officials, awaiting him with hands tucked into his robes and an oddly arrogant and impatient angle to his head.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Barathol asked, his own mood not improved by the youth's superior airs.\\n\\n\\\"You are summoned to the installation. Immediately.\\\"\\n\\nHe half turned away. \\\"In a minute. I'm just making a meal. '\\n\\n\\\"Immediately,\\\" the young man repeated, emphasizing each syllable. Lifting his head he directed Barathol's attention to his companions. Barathol peered out to see two Seguleh standing on the road, masked, swords at their hips.\\n\\nAh. So that's how it is. The new cock of the roost. So be it. No business of mine.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He gave the clerk a slow nod. \\\"Very well. I'll get my gear. '\\n\\nBarathol watched the faces of the passers-by as the little party walked the streets. At first there'd been jubilation. The average citizen now thought himself unassailable. Now, as the Seguleh went abroad to enforce the Legate's will it seemed to him that a few people had finally– belatedly– begun to wonder. Just who did these swordsmen protect the city from? They limited themselves to guarding within the walls, atop Majesty Hill, and in the throne room itself. Protecting the ruler from... whom? Well, to his mind, from the ruled, of course. Perhaps this mounting suspicion was behind the worried, even pitying, glances that followed him. Could I be next? some seemed to wonder.\\n\\nThe worksite was guarded by four Seguleh. Ducking into the tent Barathol found the two mages already present, awaiting him impatiently. \\\"Begin at once,\\\" the tall one, Barukanal, commanded, motioning to the forge with his staff. Barathol rolled down his sleeves and donned his thick leather apron.\\n\\nAnd who were these two anyway? Advisers? Hirelings? Surely not servants, as some believed. Yet why should such obviously powerful mages advise a mere Darujhistani aristocrat, mask or not? Unless, as others hinted, dark pacts were sealed, deals struck, and powers granted. To Barathol's mind these more ominous speculations ran closer to whatever might be the truth of things.\\n\\nHe took over at the bellows from the worker who was prepping the coals. After pumping, he picked up a bar to stir the bed, testing the heat by holding his handover the glowing pile.\\n\\n\\\"This is your last pour,\\\" the hunched mage told him from the entrance.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Barathol eyed the man's warped puzzle-piece face.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A warning?\\n\\n\\\"I go now to deal with those fools at K'rul's,\\\" the hunched one told Barukanal.\\n\\n\\\"I will finish things here,\\\" Barukanal answered.\\n\\nBarathol straightened from the forge. K'rul's? The Malazans? How to warn them? And finish things here? What did he mean by that?\\n\\nBoth now watched him, their eyes glittering in the glow of the forge. \\\"Get back to work,\\\" the hunched one, Aman, told him and ducked from the tent.\\n\\nBarathol reluctantly turned to nurturing the bed. Well, if anyone could handle themselves, it was those Bridgeburners. They hardly needed his help. He thought of that chaotic night not so many months ago. Antsy guiding him and his friend, poor dying Chaur, to that eerie structure on Coll's estate. Do I not owe him more than I can ever repay?\\n\\nHe turned from the forge, wiping the sweat from his face. \\\"I'm going fora bite, \\\"he announced.\\\"The bed needs to heat yet. '\\n\\nThe mage did not move from the entrance. He leaned on his tall warped staff. \\\"You will remain until the pour is done. Such are my orders.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There is nothing I can do here fora while.\\\"\\n\\nA grimace twisted the mage's face and he said, his voice tight and impatient with something that might have been pain,\\\"The blacksmith's sand awaits. I believe you have a mould to form?\\\"\\n\\nBarathol regarded the table, turned aside. \\\"If I must.\\\" Well, I tried. After that blast they must know what to expect anyway.\\n\\nAfter packing and setting the mould and checking the bed's heat again, he set the ceramic crucible into the coals and heaped them up around it. The bits and pieces of silver went in next. Barukanal crowded his elbow through the entire process.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"As the silver melted Barathol skimmed the slag of impurities from the top.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It was hardly demanding work. The mould was uncomplicated, open-faced. Not like a lost-wax pour where so many little things could go wrong.\\n\\nOutside in the night the picks and shovels had gone silent. The stones were set and ready for their pins.\\n\\nOnce the liquid silver reached the mark scratched into the glowing wall of the crucible, Barathol readied the bars he would use to lift and tilt the vessel. At that moment the mage's hand shot out like a viper to grasp his wrist. He pulled against the grip but couldn't free himself. And Barathol was a strongman; among the strongest. Not even Kalam could beat him.\\n\\nThe mage's other hand came up with a short wicked blade.\\\"Blood from the forger of the links, \\\"he whispered, close.\\\"Such will strengthen the circle immeasurably. '\\n\\nBarathol raised the bars to smash the man across the head but the mage clenched his grip ferociously and he groaned from the agony of the grinding bones. Ye gods, this creature could pinch my hand off like a petal!\\n\\nThe mage slashed the blade across Barathol's numb wrist then held the wound over the crucible. Drops fell hissing and dancing.\\n\\n\\\"Do not be upset,\\\" the creature murmured. \\\"Aman would have taken the offering from your throat.\\\" He released him and moved to one side. \\\"Now pour. Quickly.\\\"\\n\\nWorking his hand, Barathol readied the bars. He pinched the crucible between their jaws. Grunting, he lifted the vessel and swung it to where the moulds waited. He poured until the level of the first swelled just above the lip of the mould, where surface tension kept it from spilling, then moved to the second.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Finished, Barathol set the crucible on its stand to cool and stood back to wipe the sweat from his face. Blood dripped freely from his wrist. He washed his hands in the quenching water.\\n\\nFrom where he was bent over the smoking moulds, the mage said, \\\"Go now. Do not return. Your work is done.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol merely grunted. He wrapped his wounded wrist in a rag then pushed his way from the tent. In the trench the final two white stones waited end to end. The tips of the installation coming together to form one perfect infinite circle. Briefly Barathol wondered what this structure might be meant to enclose or foreclose. Was it to keep inviolate what lay within? Or was it to keep ineffective that which lay without?\\n\\nNo matter. It was no longer his concern. If it came to it he could simply do as Scillara suggested and pack up the family to go. He turned away, flexing his wrist. He'd had enough of all this. His concern now was just the small circle of his family.\\n\\nThe uncomfortable echoes within that thought haunted him all the way down the hill.\\n\\n*\\n\\nLady Envy was with her maid and dressmaker when a servant announced, \\\"Someone at the door, m'lady. '\\n\\nArms held outstretched, the dressmaker measuring a length of cloth against one, her maid's hands in her freshly washed hair, Lady Envy stared at the man.\\\"Well– answer it, you great oaf! '\\n\\nThe servant bowed from the waist and shuffled backwards, head lowered.\\n\\nHe returned accompanied by three Seguleh.\\n\\nLady Envy beamed. She drew her dressing gown tighter about her and shooed away her servants. The three remained immobile, tensed, hands close to their weapons, their attention everywhere but on her. Envy crossed the room, a hand at her lips. \\\"How very thoughtful of Lim!\\\" she exclaimed. \\\"Three new ones! The old ones had become rather battered.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"One turned her– her! What a disappointment! – mask to give Envy a superior glance. Haughtiness? Was that haughtiness being turned upon me?\\n\\n\\\"We have been warned against you, Envy,\\\" the Seguleh woman said. \\\"Your enchantments hold no more power over us. The Second has knelt and we are bound by links far stronger than any you can forge.\\\"\\n\\nEnvy fiddled at the knot of her gown. \\\"What nonsense is this? Links?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Where is he, sorceress?\\\"\\n\\nEnvy seemed to have just discovered her wet hair; she began twining the length. \\\"I'm sorry... where is who? '\\n\\n\\\"The renegade. We know he is with you. Where is he?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Renegade? Whatever are you-\\\" But the three turned aside, dismissing her.\\n\\nOh really, this is too much!\\n\\nThurule had entered. The three fanned out, facing him. The one who had spoken made a small gesture with her left hand, turning it palm up as if in interrogation. Thurule's masked face seemed to drop ever so slightly. Perhaps it was the light, but it appeared as if his dark eyes behind the mask were blinking rapidly.\\n\\n\\\"Choose!\\\" the woman commanded.\\n\\nCarefully, Thurule raised a hand to his mask and peeled it away. The face revealed beneath appeared surprisingly youthful. He released the mask to let it fall before him then raised his sandalled foot and pressed down upon it. The mask shattered into powder and painted shards. His own face seemed to splinter in the act.\\n\\nCeramic, Envy marvelled. They are ceramic.\\n\\nThe three Seguleh relaxed, hands easing slightly from their weapons. Without a word they turned and left.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Envy crossed her arms and regarded Thurule. \\\"Well,\\\" she said. \\\"Whatever am Ito do with you now?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Whatever you wish,\\\" the man said, speaking the first words she had heard from him in perhaps a year. He wouldn't raise his gaze from the fragments littering the polished floor.\\n\\nShe hugged her chilled shoulders. \\\"Well... you have rather lost that certain mysterious cachet I kept you for, I must say.\\\" She bit at a finger with perfect white teeth. \\\"I'm going to have to let you go, Thurule. '\\n\\nThe man's brows clenched as he bowed.\\\"I understand. I am unworthy. '\\n\\nOh, Dark Mother! Please! She turned away, snapping her fingers. \\\"Palley! Where are you? My hair is drying! The court awaits me!\\\"\\n\\nHer maid rushed back into the room. When Envy glanced back the man was gone. Thank the false gods! Really. How positively embarrassing.\\n\\n*\\n\\nMadrun and Lazan Door were tossing dice against the steps of Lady Varada's estate house when four masked Seguleh entered the compound. The two shared knowing looks as Lazan scooped up the dice.\\n\\n\\\"Our taciturn kin approach,\\\" Madrun rumbled. \\\"Perhaps we too should remain silent as well. We could stare atone another till the gods pack up the world and return from whence they came.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And these would yet remain none the wiser,\\\" Lazan answered. \\\"No, reflections of themselves these understand all too well.\\\" They straightened to meet the arrivals, the giant Madrun in his clashing patchwork clothes looming overall. \\\"You are bold burglars, sirs,\\\" Lazan greeted them.\\n\\n\\\"You two are known to us,\\\" one said. \\\"Cause no trouble and you may remain.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"This is of no help,\\\" Madrun complained to Lazar. \\\"Trouble has so many facets.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Stand aside. We are hereto search the premises.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Does doing our job constitute trouble?\\\" Lazar enquired, smiling, revealing his silver-tipped gold teeth.\\n\\nThe four spread out. The spokesman stepped forward. Olive green dominated the swirls painted upon his mask. From the pattern Madrun and Lazan Door knew him to be of the Four Hundredth. \\\"I shall enter,\\\" he said calmly. \\\"If you interfere my companions will act. Is this clear enough even for you?\\\"\\n\\nMadrun raised his hand. \\\"A moment, please. If you would. Am Ito understand, then, that you mean to enter while your companions wait, poised, in case we should attempt to stop you? Is that what you are trying to explain?\\\"\\n\\nThe spokesman remained silent for sometime. From behind his mask his gaze stabbed between the two, blazing. He drew breath to speak again, reconsidered, and clamped his jaws against it. His hand went to his sword.\\n\\n\\\"Gentlemen and lady...\\\" a sibilant voice quavered from the doorway, \\\"may I direct your attention to what I have here?\\\"\\n\\nAll turned to face the doorway where Studious Lock floated amid his gauzy layers of tattered wrap. He held in one rag-covered hand a glass sphere containing a dark mist. \\\"Spores of the Even-tine fungus. Known as the Mind-gnawer among the clans of the northern Odhan. Inhaled, they germinate within, sending fibres stealing up into the brain and releasing pathogens that render the poor victim insane... before killing him... or her. My companions have of course been consuming an inoculating chemical regularly. I myself am immune for reasons I need not expound here.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Inoculating chemical?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Madrun mouthed to Lazan.\\n\\n\\\"So, gentlemen... and lady,\\\" Studlock added, nodding to the female Seguleh, \\\"will you enter?\\\"\\n\\nThe spokesman eased his hand from his sword. \\\"We shall not press the matter now, Studious. But we shall return.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Please do so. I look forward to expounding on yet another of my preparations. Or, perhaps, remaining silent and exploring the results in dissection. Always most edifying, that.\\\"\\n\\nThe spokesman bowed, keeping his eyes upon Madrun and Lazan, then backed away.\\n\\nOnce the four had left, the gazes of the two guards swung to Studlock. The giant Madrun's carried a degree of alarm. Lazan's held grudging approval. \\\"Well played,\\\" he murmured. \\\"That orb, I presume, holds nothing of the kind.\\\"\\n\\nStudious, who had been admiring the object, now blinked at Lazan from behind his gauzy mask. \\\"What's that? Nothing of the kind? Not at all. It holds precisely that. ' And he threw it down to shatter on the steps.\\n\\nBoth guards leapt from the vicinity.\\n\\nA good five paces off Madrun straightened his waistcoat and the billowing frilled shirt beneath it and cleared his throat. \\\"This inoculating chemical you mentioned, Studious. Its efficacy is beyond reproach, yes?\\\"\\n\\nThe castellan was examining the stone steps. \\\"What's that? \\\"He waved a wrapped hand.\\\"Oh, that. There is no known antidote. '\\n\\n\\\"No known...\\\" The gazes of the two guards met across the thirty feet between them. Lazan slapped his handover his nose and capped teeth.\\n\\n\\\"Well, that should be the end of them,\\\" Studlock announced, satisfied.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"End of who?\\\" the giant Madrun fairly squeaked.\\n\\nThe castellan gazed at him, his masked head tilted. \\\"Why, the ants of course! What else? Even-tine spores affect only them.\\\" He floated back inside. \\\"Didn't I say that? '\\n\\nThe two regarded one another fora time in silence. Lazan eased out his long-held breath. He raised a hand and shook it, rattling the dice. \\\"The bones didn't see that, ' he commented.\\n\\nMadrun nodded in profound agreement. \\\"Yes. Spores. Much too small to be seen.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nThey took turns keeping watch at the ruined door to the bar. A barrier of a table and heaped chairs blocked it. A few of the regulars had banged on the table to be let in and Picker nearly speared one fellow who refused to believe the bar was actually closed and tried to climb in over the chairs.\\n\\nTwo days after the Seguleh entered town Blend was watching the street from a front window when she called out, \\\"Trouble!\\\"\\n\\nSpindle snatched up his makeshift spear and ran for the front. He peered out between the slats they'd hammered across the window: the hunched mage, Aman, across the way. With him were several Seguleh. Spindle glanced back over his shoulder. The historian sat at his usual place. Picker had run for the rear. The bard was out.\\\"Hood. We are so dead, ' he groaned.\\n\\nHe set aside the spear to pickup one of the readied crossbows. Blend did the same. \\\"Raise your Warren,\\\" she told him.\\n\\n\\\"My Warren's no use here. '\\n\\nBlend sent a scornful look from her window. \\\"Your Warren's never of any damned use. What about your other help? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He was silent fora time, considering. Blend fired through the window. \\\"The next one won't miss! \\\"she bellowed.\\\"Stay away! '\\n\\nThe mage, or whatever he was, Aman, remained across the street, watching, while the Seguleh advanced. Duiker came to Spindle's side.\\\"I'm unarmed. Perhaps I could talk to them...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You could try,\\\" Spindle told him; then, to Blend, \\\"My other help says we're not alone here. ' He was forced to fire on an advancing Seguleh. The woman knocked the bolt aside with her blade. Gods damn! From only twenty feet away, too.\\n\\n\\\"What are your terms?\\\" Duiker called from the scorched doorway.\\n\\n\\\"Your heads are my terms,\\\" the mage shouted back.\\n\\nA scream of surprise and terror sounded from the rear and Blend jumped. Picker? She threw down the crossbow and ran for the door to the pantry and kitchen. Duiker took her place, thrusting with a spear. He drew the haft back, surprised, to examine its cleanly severed end.\\n\\nAs Blend reached the door it was thrust open to reveal a Seguleh. She swung, her blade biting into the man's chest. He responded by grasping her arm and twisting. She buckled, hissing her pain and leaving the long-knife standing from the man's leather-armoured chest.\\n\\nSpindle stared, then sniffed the air. Vinegar? Blades hacked at the wooden slats behind him. \\\"Hey– it's them pickled fellows from downstairs! '\\n\\nPicker rushed out from behind the preserved Seguleh. She twisted its grip from Blend's wrist and it moved on, ignoring them. Spindle and Duiker retreated from the front where the living Seguleh were pushing back the barrier. They watched in disbelief as three more of the slow-walking, deliberate creatures emerged from the rear and took up defensive positions with the one Blend had stabbed: two at the front and two others holding the windows. The rest, Spindle assumed, were covering the back. At the entrance the two attacking Seguleh thrust and cut so beautifully he could only watch, awed. But their preserved– undead? – brethren, while slower, possessed the insurmountable advantage of already being dead. And so blades sliced into leathery hardened flesh to no visible effect and the attackers could make no headway.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As the assault wore on it looked to Spindle as if their protectors would be literally hacked to pieces, so he went behind the bar to collect his kitbag. Then he jumped upon to a table in full view of the entrance, pulled out a wrapped object, shook off the layer of insulating cloth and held over his head his last remaining cusser. \\\"See this?\\\" he shouted.\\n\\nThe attacking Seguleh flinched back a step– they indeed recognized what he had.\\n\\n\\\"Don't press me! You come inhere, we all go together! Understand? '\\n\\n\\\"We won't just lay down our swords, y'damned fool,\\\" Picker yelled out of a window.\\n\\nDragging uneven steps sounded outside and the bent figure of the mage, Aman, appeared at the doorway. He pushed aside the two attacking Seguleh to study the frozen tableau first through one eye then through the other, much lower one; the Seguleh ready, weapons poised; their preserved undead fellows; Blend and Picker taking advantage of the lull to wind crossbows; Duiker already holding a loaded one; and Spindle, arms upraised.\\n\\n\\\"You wouldn't dare wreck this temple, ' Aman said.\\n\\n\\\"Temple?\\\" Spindle said in disbelief. \\\"This is a bar.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A bar. You think this is a bar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's our bar, \\\"Picker said.\\\"So we can blow it up if we want to. '\\n\\n\\\"Privilege of ownership,\\\" Blend added, spitting to one side.\\n\\nThe mage turned to Duiker. \\\"And what of you, historian? Are you prepared to die?\\\"\\n\\nDuiker levelled the crossbow on him. \\\"I've already died. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"One of the mage's mismatched eyes twitched and he frowned his acceptance of the point.\\\"I see. Well argued. For now, then. ' He waved the Seguleh back.\\n\\nOnce they were up the street Spindle couldn't help himself and he leaned out of the door to yell:\\\"Hey, you Seguleh boys. You heel real well. Do you rollover too? '\\n\\nIt seemed to him that the four with Aman all missed a step with that comment, and their backs straightened. But he couldn't be sure. He turned to the bar to find their preserved Seguleh guardians shuffling back downstairs. Everyone watched them go then lifted their heads to stare at him.\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're not a proper saboteur, Spin, \\\"Picker said, and nodded to his hand.\\\"Could you put that away now? '\\n\\nHe saw that he was still cradling the cusser in one hand. \\\"This?\\\" He threw it up and caught it again to a collective gust of breaths from the other three. \\\"Aw, don't worry. It's a dud. Hollow.\\\"\\n\\nBlend reached up as if to throttle him. \\\"Well, you ought to let us know, dammit all to the Abyss!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. You shouldn't know. Don't you see? That would ruin the effect. They have to seethe fear in your eyes to know it's real, right? '\\n\\nPicker waved him away. \\\"Aw, shove it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now is the time to gird one's loins for the labour ahead, \\\"the diminutive fat man murmured as he walked the mud lane between leaning shacks of waste-wood, felt and cloth. He wiped his gleaming mournful face with a sodden handkerchief.\\\"Yes indeed... the time has come to hitch up one's trousers and be a man! Or is it to pull them down and be a man? I never could get that straight... Oh dear, I really should stop right there!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He paused at an intersection of two lanes where a dog eyed him, growling. No hordes of unreasonably angry washerwomen armed with dirty laundry! Excellent. And the Maiten insight where come curling currents from the plain where fates move as they do– forward, misplacing things as they go.\\n\\nSeven dogs now surrounded him, muzzles down between forelimbs, lips pulled back from broken teeth.\\n\\nHoary old ones! Washerwomen preferable to this.\\n\\nHe drew a bone from one loose sleeve. \\\"Good doggies!\\\" He threw. Though not nearly so far as he would have wished. He turned and ran, or jogged, puffing, in the opposite direction.\\n\\nThe next two corners brought him to the hut on the extreme western edge of the shantytown where he stopped, short of breath, and wiped his face.\\n\\n\\\"And here he is panting in anticipation,\\\" the old woman sitting on the threshold observed around the pipe in her mouth.\\n\\n\\\"Indeed. Here I am yet again. Your ever hopeful suitor. Slave to your whim. Prostrate in inspiration.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I can smell your inspiration from here,\\\" she observed, grimacing. \\\"You brought offering?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But of course!\\\" From a sleeve he produced a cloth-wrapped wedge the size of a quarter brick.\\n\\nThe old woman raised her tangled brows, impressed, as she took it. \\\"Things are progressing nicely, aren't they, love? \\\"She tore apiece and moulded it in one grimed fist, warming and softening it.\\\"The circle complete, yes? ' and she eyed him, smirking.\\n\\nHe ducked his head. \\\"Ah– yes. Spoke too quickly, Kruppe did. Yet, is it not so? Was Kruppe not quite correct? There! Yes, god-like perspicacity, that.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Back to anticipation, are we?\\\" the old woman murmured, and she drew long and hard on the pipe. \\\"Suggesting... perspiration.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Well. I am dancing as fast as I can, dearest.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Hmm, dancing,\\\" she purred, exhaling a great stream of smoke. \\\"That's what I want to see. Won't you come in?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gladly. Dogs and washerwomen and whatnot. But before... you have them, yes? Ready?\\\"\\n\\nShe pressed her hands to her wide chest. \\\"All hot and ready for you, love.\\\"\\n\\nThe man passed a handover his eyes. \\\"Kruppe is speechless.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For once. Now, come in– and think of Darujhistan.\\\" And she disappeared within.\\n\\nKruppe wiped his slick forehead. \\\"Oh, fair city. Dreaming city. The things I do for you!\\\"\\n\\nShall we draw a curtain across such a commonplace domestic scene? Modesty would insist. Yet Kruppe found the witch athwart her tattered blankets snoring to beat a storm. Well. Shall vanity be stung to no end? Shall the Eel skulk away, tail between its... whatever? Never! The prize awaits! And he knelt over the insensate woman, reaching for her layered shirts.\\n\\nTo feel eyes upon him. Beady eyes, low to the ground.\\n\\nHe turned to find the dogs watching from the doorway, eager, tongues lolling.\\n\\nAiya! Kruppe cannot perform like this! He flapped his hands. \\\"Begone! Have you no decency?\\\"\\n\\nLiquid eyes begged, muzzles nudged forepaws.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Defeated, Kruppe drew yet another bone from within his voluminous sleeve and threw. The dogs spun away, claws kicking up dirt.\\n\\n\\\"Now, where were we, my love?\\\" He wriggled his fingers above her and therefrom a fold of the shirts peeped the weave of a dirty linen sack.\\n\\nAha! And now to pluck this blushing blossom...\\n\\nKruppe walked the trash-strewn mud ways of Maiten town, and all was well. He inhaled the scent of the open sewer, the steaming waste, and sighed. He patted his chest where a bag rested still warm from another, far greater and more bountiful nook. All was music to his ears: the fighting dogs, the laundry slapped with alarming force upon the rocks, the fond taunting and rock-throwing of the playful local urchins.\\n\\nAnd now for the city! Fair Darujhistan. Ringed round and enclosed. Yet are there not ways around all walls and gates for such as the slippery perspiry Eel!\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It is said that once a ruler in far off Tulips hosted a great and rich banquet (Tulips then being a prosperous city, unlike now) at the end of which he invited the guests to stand and give their definition of a full and happy life– the best version of which he would reward with a heavy torc of gold. One after another the guests stood to assure the ruler that his was in fact that best exemplar of a full and happy life. A Seguleh traveller chanced to be attending the celebration and she did not rise to participate in the competition. Irked, the king bade the woman stand and deliver her, all too secretive, version of a full and happy life.\\n\\nThe woman dipped her mask in compliance and stood. \\\"Of a full and happy life I can give no accounting,\\\" she replied. \\\"But we Seguleh believe that the gods give men and women glimpses of happiness only to reach again to take them away. Therefore, it seems to us that it is only at the very end, at one's death, that any such measure can be made. '\\n\\nAnd the king bade the woman depart without any largesse or honour, for he thought it utter foolishness to withhold measure until the end. Yet it is said that afterwards all peace of mind fled the ruler as he fretted without cease over when his many advantages might slip from him and in the end he died tormented and mad.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sulerem of Mengal\\n\\nJAN HAD GROWN up knowing an old saying among the seguleh: certainty is the spine of the blade. And he accepted this, making it part of his own bones. For were they not the sword of truth? The anvil of its testing? Yet nothing since the Call was as he thought it would be. Nothing in the shining glory of service to the First in their songs and stories had prepared him for the truth to be found here, in their original home, Darujhistan.\\n\\nDoubts assailed the others. That much was obvious. Therefore the duty was upon him to shoulder the weight of those doubts. To take them all upon himself and show there need be no concern. For was he not the Second? Did not all their eyes turn to him for guidance, for assurance? Let the purity of the cut lie in the steadiness of the blade.\\n\\nSo shall it be. Let it not be said that the Second bent from his responsibilities.\\n\\nOnly the First can call. And they answered. What need be complicated in that? And what do they find but the ancient mask that is a circle of gold? As storied and as fearsome as in their legends of old. What can he do but obey?\\n\\nWhy, then, this need to dwell upon any of this at all?\\n\\nPerhaps because they were warriors. Not guards. Not warders of people or of the peace. The transition was easily accomplished; these local authorities, these Wardens, acquiesced immediately. Challenges were minimal. Only two deaths. One, a local simpleton, the other far too stubborn to pass by unanswered.\\n\\nNow, perhaps now, began the truly difficult part as mundane daily trivia intruded upon their purpose.\\n\\nSuch as now, confronted by these two shabby would-be guards in the hands of Palla, Sixth, herein the court. Jan signed to Ira, Twentieth, who demanded: \\\"Why have you returned? The hired guards have all been dismissed.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"One knuckled his dirty sweaty brow.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Your pardons, sirs and madams. We've not been let go that we know of. '\\n\\nJan tilted his head and Ira continued, \\\"The orders were given. All have been notified.\\\"\\n\\nThe man saluted once more. \\\"That's all as you say for sure, sirs and madams. Me \\\"n\\\" Leff here, we don't dispute any of that.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then what is your claim?\\\" Ira demanded.\\n\\nJan gave Palla a sign and she released them. They straightened their armour.\\n\\n\\\"Well, ma'am, \\\"began the spokesman– though not necessarily the lower of the pair. Frankly, between these two, any gradation at all was difficult to tell.\\\"It's just that we're not your usual run o'the mill Majesty Hall guards. No, sir...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They work for me,\\\" breathed a weak voice.\\n\\nJan peered at the bedraggled figure of the Mouthpiece of the Legate. He inclined his head in respect. \\\"This is so?\\\" he asked. \\\"They answer to you?\\\"\\n\\nThe man's eyes darted, haunted and bloodshot; his features had sunk to a sweaty pasty pallor. Clearly this fellow found his duties far outmatched the strength of his nerves. Jan's gaze shifted to the masked Legate, motionless on his throne. He appeared unaware. Yet always he demonstrated preternatural knowledge of all that went on around him. And this man spoke his will. Jan wondered at such an unlikely choice. However, again, it was not for him to wonder.\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" the man affirmed, anew certainty entering his quavering voice. \\\"I remember them. I hired them.\\\"\\n\\nJan signed his assent. \\\"Very well. It shall be as you say.\\\" He turned away, dismissing them from his thoughts. He scanned the court, searching for potential dangers or threats and found only one. The sorceress, Envy, with her flowing green dress and curled oiled hair. How he longed to part her head from her body for the debasement she brought to his brother and two followers. But she was an honoured guest of the Legate and so must he swallow her presence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oh, certainly some members hereof the court obviously longed to challenge the Legate. Their posture, breaths and sweat shouted it– especially one older ex-soldier councillor who looked as though he might have been a potential threat, a decade ago. And hints had come to him of assassination attempts, which the Legate and his pet mages handled.\\n\\nAll very well. So why then this unease? This discomfort? Perhaps it is the loss of Cant. I miss its green mountain slopes. Peace of mind slipped away with it beyond the horizon. Soon Gall will sense this and he will challenge. Then there will be anew Second and all of this will no longer be my concern. I almost welcome it. Is this what cowardice feels like?\\n\\nThe Legate stood then and descended the throne of pale white stone. He gestured and Jan moved to join him. The members of the court, masked councillors, their wives and masked mistresses, aristocrats and wealthy merchants, all parted at his approach. He stopped before the Legate and inclined his masked head in obeisance.\\n\\n\\\"Second.\\\" The Mouthpiece had come to his side. \\\"Our enemies await to the west. You Seguleh are my blade and anvil. Crush them and Darujhistan shall rule all these lands unrivalled, as before.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I understand, Legate. These invading Malazans shall be removed from our shores.\\\"\\n\\nThe Legate gestured impatiently. Though the beaten gold features could not change, cast forever into their secretive half-smile, the shifting light and shadow enlivened the lips and empty eyes with expression. Now they appeared angered.\\n\\n\\\"The invaders are but a nuisance. They mean nothing. No. I speak of the true threat. This city's eternal enemy... the Moranth. ' The Mouthpiece let out a strangled gasp as he spoke these words and clamped a hand to his mouth as if he were about to be sick.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jan dared glance up more fully, as if he could discern some intent from the golden oval before him. \\\"The Moranth, Legate? I do not understand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Always they forestalled us,\\\" the Mouthpiece began again, his voice ghostly faint. \\\"They alone defied us when all others fell. Now we shall finish them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The Moranth wars ended a millennium ago.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"With the fall of the last of the Tyrants and the breaking of the Circle, yes.\\\" The oval turned to address Jan more directly. \\\"Now that Darujhistan arises renewed we must answer that crime against us, yes?\\\"\\n\\nAnd what could Jan do but bow when commanded by his First? For the gold mask was the legendary progenitor, the Father of them all. Attack the Moranth? Bring them low? An entire people? Was this what we were forged to accomplish? Our noble purpose?\\n\\nAnd you in your cracked wooden mask who told me so little. Was this the burden you sought to spare me? Well do I understand it now. No wonder we hide our faces.\\n\\nThat burden is shame.\\n\\nCaptain Dreshen found Ambassador Aragan in the stables, currying the two remaining horses. Catching his breath he reported: \\\"Sir! The majority of the Seguleh have marched from the city.\\\"\\n\\nAragan straightened to peer over the back of the black bay, Doan, his favourite. He rested his hands there, a brush in each. \\\"Out of the city?\\\" His gaze slitted. \\\"Which way?\\\"\\n\\nDreshen nodded their shared understanding. \\\"West.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dead Hood's own grin. We have to warn them. '\\n\\n\\\"The mounts won't make it all the way. '\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" Aragan wiped his sleeve across his face. \\\"A boat. Fastest one we can find. Then we'll ride. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes. And... can we count on reinforcements?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. No reinforcements. No recruits. Nothing. Everything's been committed to another theatre. '\\n\\nDreshen could not believe it. \\\"But what of our gains here?\\\"\\n\\nAragan threw a blanket over Doan's back.\\\"Seems Unta considers us overextended. And I have to say I'm inclined to agree.\\\" He eyed Dreshen up and down. \\\"Now get the Sceptre and our armour, Captain. In that order.\\\"\\n\\nThe Untan nobleman drew himself up straight, grinning and saluting. \\\"Aye, sir. With pleasure.\\\"\\n\\nThe two horsemen rode to the waterfront. Large bundles lay tied behind the cantles of their saddles. They led their mounts down to the private wharves. Here a grossly exaggerated price was paid in rare silver councils for immediate passage west. A gangway was readied and the mounts were guided down onto the deck of the low, sleek vessel. Hands threw off lines and picked up oars. The vessel made its slow way out of the harbour to the larger bay, where the freshening wind caught the sails. The pilot threw the side rudder over and they churned a course along the coast to the west.\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe Great Barrow of the Son of Darkness, Lord of Moon's Spawn, Anomander Rake, now rose almost within sight of the ever-creeping edge of the Maiten shantytown. Here a bear of a man satin the grass and eyed the late afternoon glow of distant Darujhistan.\\n\\nThe lake air had cooled his temper, and now he recognized his vow to squeeze some sense into this creature who paraded as the Legate as foolish and unrealistic in the extreme. What was he to do? Use the hammer there? In the city? Kill tens of thousands? No. And this Legate knew it. So what was he to do?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"For the first time in many years no responsibilities weighed upon his shoulders. No cause to champion. He turned back to the barrow. Nearby, the pilgrims and worshippers who congregated here were erecting a tent for him. He hadn't asked. But they knew him as the one who had raised the barrow and so he shared in their worship and regard.\\n\\nHe was not unaccustomed to it. All who worshipped Burn knew him as her champion. Caladan Brood, Warlord of the north. Yet war was far from his chosen vocation. Oh, he revelled in the individual challenge. Wrestling and trials of strength and skill. But war? Organized slaughter? No. That was the field of cold-hearted weighers of options such as Kallor. Or the opposite, those who inspired from all-embracing hearts, such as Dujek.\\n\\nAnd what of him? Did he have this quality? He supposed he did, but in another way. Like Anomander, he inspired by example.\\n\\nSo he would wait. As before, eventually someone would be needed to settle things one way or the other. That was what he did best. Have the last word. The final say. The finishing blow.\\n\\nThe merest nudge of Sall's hand sent Yusek sprawling to the beaten dirt of the practice yard.\\n\\n\\\"You were off-balance again.\\\"\\n\\nShe looked up at the kaleidoscope pattern of his mask, the amused brown eyes behind, and knocked aside his proffered hand. \\\"So I noticed. I was leaning forward because I was trying to hit you. That's the whole point, isn't it?\\\" She jumped up to face him.\\n\\n\\\"Do not sacrifice form fora possible hit. When you lean forward you bring your head closer. Not a good idea.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But what if I hit?\\\"\\n\\nA wave in the Seguleh hand-talk dismissed the idea. \\\"What if you miss?\\\"\\n\\nFine. Be that way. Yusek struck a ready pose, sword before her in both hands, tip held steady angled outwards at a height about level with her nose. At first she'd resisted his insistence that she use a two-handed sword grip, arguing that daggers were quicker. But Sall had been unmoved. He pointed out that most of her opponents would be larger than her and so she would need the added leverage.\\n\\nWhen she'd grudgingly agreed, saying it would help'muscle them back\\\", he'd shaken his head yet again.\\n\\n\\\"No muscles.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean, no muscles? Everyone knows that's what you do in a fight– you smash the other guy down. '\\n\\n\\\"No. Do not strain. Do not tense until the last instant. Let the blade fall on its own. Let its weight do the work.\\\"\\n\\nIt all sounded crazy to her. But she'd seen the lad cut through all the most fearsome, and big, hulking swordsmen she'd known, so fair enough.\\n\\nNow, he circled her yet again, studying her stance. He crouched before her, tilting his masked head. \\\"You have the same problem I used to have. Your stance is too long– always too eager to rush in, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's how you finish it. Bring it to them. '\\n\\nSall gave a sad shake of his head. He unwound a leather strip from his sash and knotted it round one of her ankles. \\\"What's this? Tying me up? ' He paused, but only for an instant, then waved her other foot closer. She edged it inwards.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Closer yet.\\\"\\n\\nShe gritted her teeth but complied. He tied the length tight, straightened. \\\"Very good. This distance will allow you to recover more quickly in either direction. I want you to pace the length of the field in the high angle cut with each step, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Begin.\\\"\\n\\nShe stepped, swinging, and almost fellas her extended foot was yanked short. She turned to stare at him, appalled. Was I that unbalanced? He urged her onward.\\n\\nFine. Just dandy. She concentrated on her stride and started again. The shorter stance felt uncomfortable and awkward. But then, she'd been standing however she damned well pleased all this time. No one had ever shown her any technique. She must have all kinds of bad habits.\\n\\nThe wind was cold but she was sweating now as she paced up and down the length of the sand and gravel practice yard. On the far side of the field the priests were outdoing their forms, which Sall explained were some sort of moving meditations. It made no sense to her. She found a rhythm, cutting side to side as she stepped, turning, and cutting again. Her arms burned. Holding an iron bar out from your body all day built up endurance and strength. Now, when she picked up her old fighting dirks, the heaviest she could find, they were like hollow sticks in her hands. And it seemed to her that with the slightest shift of her two-handed grip she could move the tip of the sword even faster than she could weave her daggers.\\n\\nLeverage, Sall called that. The sword was a lever, he'd said. A lever for the application or redirection of force. Nothing more mystical than that.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"When the sunset behind the western coastal peaks the air chilled quickly. Yusek dropped down next to Sall, exhausted, her shirt wet with sweat.\\n\\n\\\"Your determination is commendable.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, I have a lot of catching up to do, don't I? \\\"She nudged him with a shoulder.\\\"I could really use aback rub too... '\\n\\nBut Sall's attention was on his father Lo, who had spent these last days doing nothing more than watching the various priests at their practice and exercises. Now he had climbed to his feet, his gaze fixed. Sall stood as well.\\n\\nLo began making his way through the kneeling ranks of priests, none of whom moved. Sall edged forward also.\\n\\nOf all the lousy timing. \\\"What is it?\\\" Yusek asked, now a touch worried. Gods, not like at Dernan's! Please no. Sall signed for silence. Silence! It's always silence with these two. That's their answer for everything. Don't they see that silence answers nothing?\\n\\nLo stopped near the middle of the assembled priests. He stood before one fellow, salt-and-pepper haircut short, features very dark, but calm, eyes downcast. Sall, Yusek noticed, was fairly quivering so tense was he. She also climbed to her feet.\\n\\nThen Lo's blade was out, the tip extending close to the forehead of the kneeling man. The surrounding priests coolly shifted aside, not one saying a word. Great Burn! What was this? What was going on?\\\"Sall... ' He signed again for silence, gesturing her aside.\\n\\nLo adjusted his grip on the sword, struck a ready stance, and for the first time Yusek heard words pass through his mask. \\\"I challenge you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The kneeling man said nothing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He did not move. He did not even lookup.\\n\\nYusek's breath caught as Lo's blade flew up and he let go a heart-stopping yell, swinging for the man's neck. She jerked her head aside; she could not help it. When she opened her eyes Lo stood frozen, his blade pressed against the man's neck. The man himself appeared to have not flinched one hair's breadth.\\n\\nShe and Sall ran up through the motionless priests. The man slowly raised his eyes. In the darkening afternoon light they appeared to carry the depths of the ocean within them. He mouthed one word: No.\\n\\nLo stepped back, sheathing his blade. Then he turned and walked away. Sall stood fora time staring down at the kneeling man, then he followed his father. Yusek remained. The priests merely returned to their duties, sweeping the compound, chopping wood, readying the evening meal. While Yusek watched, a bead of blood ran from the cut across the side of the man's neck.\\n\\nShaken, she retreated to her hut. So that was him? The slayer of the Son of Darkness? How could that be? He looked like nothing to her. No bluster, no show. It was contrary to everything she'd seen among Orbern's gang, or Dernan's. Just a man past middle age. Impossible to pick out of a crowd. Yet Lo had somehow managed. Just by watching. Obviously there was much more here than she could see.\\n\\nShe filled a bowl at the kitchens then sought out Sall. She found him sitting before his room. She sat next to him, tore off a pinch from her flatbread and dipped it into the stew. \\\"Now what?\\\" she asked, chewing.\\n\\nHe seemed to have been studying his open empty hands on his lap. \\\"We leave. No one can be compelled to accept a challenge. My father could now claim Seventh should he choose to do so. I don't believe he will, however. Not like this. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Going to talk to him?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who? Him of course. Ask him why he's here. What he's doing. Maybe you'd learn something. '\\n\\nSall made a gesture of helplessness. \\\"There is no need. He has made his position clear.\\\"\\n\\nYusek studied Sall fora time as if attempting to peer past his mask. Then she gave a disgusted grunt. \\\"Gods... how you fellows manage is a mystery tome. How do you fucking accomplish anything? Aren't you the least bit curious? '\\n\\nHe gave a cutting sign with his hand. \\\"If he wanted to speak, he would do so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh? He'd just goon like you blabbermouths? \\\"She stood.\\\"Well, I'm going to talk to him. Even if you won't. '\\n\\n\\\"Yusek...\\\"\\n\\nShe paused, looking down. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you.\\\"\\n\\nGrunting again, she left. Can't fucking believe this crap. Should I tuck them in, too? Maybe this wasn't all so different from the bluster and chest-thumping she'd seen at Orbern's. Posturing. Maybe it was all just posturing taken so far no one could back down anymore– even if they wanted to.\\n\\nShe wondered. She really wondered.\\n\\nThe fellow was still kneeling in the same place. Looking west into the darkening mauve and deep blood-red of the fading sunset. Above, blotting out any stars that might've been visible, arced the jade curve of the Scimitar.\\n\\nShe sat next to him, dipped her bread, and tore off a bite with her teeth. \\\"So...\\\" She chewed and swallowed. \\\"As good as anyplace to hide, I suppose.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"His gaze slid round to her. He let out along breath. Like I'm the pebble in the shoe, she thought.\\n\\n\\\"They send you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, they fucking well didn't send me. You're the man of the world, right? You should know they wouldn't do something like that. '\\n\\nHis mouth quirked up and he let go something that might've been a rueful snort. His gaze slid back to the west.\\\"Lectured by a child. Serves me right. Well, yes. That was unfair of me. They wouldn't do something like that. I'm just tired. Tired of it all. '\\n\\n\\\"Tired of what?\\\"\\n\\nHe raised his chin to the west, to the sunset and the Scimitar. \\\"Choices are being made even as we speak. Important choices that will affect all of us. I refuse to be part of it. I'm tired of being used. \\\"His voice fell and it seemed to Yusek that he wasn't talking to her any longer. Perhaps he'd never really been talking to her at all.\\\"I did what I thought was right. Damn them all, I don't even know what the right choice is anymore. I don't even know if one exists. Everything I do is used. '\\n\\n\\\"If everything you do is used one way or the other then why worry about it? There's nothing you can do about all that. That's beyond your control, right?\\\" The man's gaze slowly edged back to her.\\\"I mean, who cares about them? They can all take a flying leap into the Abyss, right? You can only do what you think is right, yes? '\\n\\nOne dark brow arched up. \\\"That's one way of looking at things. Maybe you should get some sleep. You've got along day ahead of you tomorrow.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Now who's tucking who in?\\n\\n\\\"Right.\\\" She stood. \\\"I heard them say you killed the Lord of Moon's Spawn. But I don't think that's right. I mean, he's an Ascendant, right? Immortal. You can't just kill someone like that. \\\"She shrugged.\\\"Well, that's just what I think.\\\"\\n\\nThe man's gaze followed her as she crossed the moonlit central field and remained fixed for sometime where she disappeared amid the stone huts. Then his eyes slowly swung back to the west, the night sky, and the Scimitar above. He felt it there, in the west. Tugging at him. It was happening again. Another gathering.\\n\\nHe felt its call because he was close himself. Close, if not already there. But fighting. Refusing. Ashe told the girl: it was a choice awaiting him. It seemed that no matter which way he turned, there it was, inevitable.\\n\\nIf only he knew which would be for the best. Yet perhaps it wasn't a question of choice. Perhaps it had always been merely about doing. Perhaps that was the better way of thinking of things.\\n\\nHe could not be sure and that doubt was a torment. Because he didn't think much of his choices so far.\\n\\nIn the morning Yusek stepped out chilled and wrapped in her blanket to seethe man still there, still kneeling, the pink and amber sun's rays painting his back.\\n\\nNow that just ain't human.\\n\\nShe shuffled to the kitchens for hot tea and around of fresh bread. She had to jostle elbows and push herself forward just to swipe that much. These boys and girls might be priests and such, she reflected, but they sure weren't shy when mealtime came around.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At her hut she packed what few bits and pieces she owned into a roll that she tied off and threw onto her back. Her new sword she belted at her left hip. On the grounds she found Sall and Lo ready to go. The fellow Lo had challenged was there as well.\\n\\nSall greeted her. \\\"We are leaving.\\\"\\n\\nShe couldn't help looking to the sky.\\\"Yeah. I guessed. '\\n\\n\\\"Where will you head?\\\" he asked.\\n\\nShe shrugged, indifferent. \\\"I dunno. Mengal, I guess. Thanks for the lessons.\\\"\\n\\nHe gave a sign she recognized as meant to dismiss the subject. \\\"It was nothing. You were a conscientious student. That is all a teacher can ask for.\\\"\\n\\nShe knew Sall to be her age but sometimes he talked so stiffly, like he was some old guy of thirty or something.\\n\\nThe fellow Lo had challenged stepped forward. Sall inclined his head to the man and, incredibly, so did Lo.\\n\\nSo... Lo just indicated that he considers the man higher ranked. Even though the man refused his challenge. He doesn't want to take the rank that way. Just as Sall said. Hey! I'm starting to understand these crazy people!\\n\\nBut abbreviated bows only seemed to make the man's already pained face tighten even more.\\\"I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing,\\\" he growled, his voice hoarse. \\\"But when you get to Cant, give my regards to your Second. I've heard good things of him. '\\n\\nSall turned his masked face to Lo. Something passed between them. Sall turned back to the man. \\\"Slayer of Blacksword, we are not returning to Cant.\\\"\\n\\nSomething almost like panic seemed to claw at the man's face.\\\"You're not?\\\" The lines bracketing his eyes and mouth tightened into an angry suspicion. \\\"Tell me where you are headed.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We travel to Darujhistan to join our brothers and sisters. The First has called and we have answered.\\\"\\n\\nYusek stared. Darujhistan? They're going to Darujhistan!\\n\\nThe man was shaking his head, appalled. \\\"All the scheming gods– you mustn't go there. Don't you see?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"See... what?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't make yourself a weapon, \\\"he said, his voice thick with emotion.\\\"Take it from me. Weapons get used. '\\n\\nSall tilted his head a fraction. His eyes behind the mask appeared troubled, but he answered, \\\"It is our duty. Our defining purpose. It makes us Seguleh.\\\"\\n\\nThe man blinked as if fighting back tears. Every word Sall spoke seemed to strike him like a blow. \\\"Gods, you people have backed yourselves up to the very Abyss...\\\"\\n\\nLo moved slightly– a motion Yusek would never have caught before, but she understood it now as a gesture of impatience.\\n\\nSall said: \\\"Thank you for your words, Slayer of Blacksword. But we must go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm going with you, ' the man said.\\n\\nEven masked, Sall's shock was obvious. He glanced at Lo, who answered with a gesture Yusek had seen him use in regard to her very often: the It's her life sign.\\n\\n\\\"If you wish,\\\" Sall said. \\\"You are free to travel where you will.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine.\\\" He motioned to the hut dwellings. \\\"Just let me pack a few things.\\\"\\n\\nAfter the man had gone, Yusek faced Sall. \\\"You didn't tell me you were going to Darujhistan! \\\"And she couldn't believe it when the answering shift of his shoulders said, How is this is relevant?\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":95,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 21"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The Fists met each other's gaze. K'ess cocked a brow. Steppen gave one quick nod that bulged her double chin. K'ess leaned over the catwalk.\"Captain Fal-ej! '\n\n\"Aye?\"\n\n\"An immediate withdrawal west! Over the wall! Lightest pack. Three days\" water. '\n\n\"Aye, sir!\"\n\nBoth Fists returned to gauging the fighting. Rhivi riders, alone and in packs, thundered off through the encirclement, riding north for the lake. Many fell, but the majority bulled through. Presumably those survivors wouldn't stop for anything.\n\n\"Four squads should remain on the walls till everyone's gone, \"K'ess said. \"I'll stay with them. '\n\n\"I believe you held the rear-guard last,\" Steppen pointed out. \"It's my turn. '\n\nK'ess looked the rather dumpy woman up and down.\"You sure you're up to it?\"\n\nSteppen merely looked to the sky. \"These recruits don't know what a hard march is. Not like the run to Evinor. Time they learned. '\n\nK'ess cast an eye over the fort.\"A shame, really. Well built. '\n\n\"Have to have a word with the engineers. I was really looking for something roomier.\"\n\nThe distant scream of a dying horse pierced the din of battle, making Steppen wince. She faced the east. \"Run, you poor bastards,\" she murmured. \"Flee. Just mount up and ride.\"\n\nK'ess squeezed her shoulder.\"Oponn's favour.\" He turned and left her.\n\n\"Toren,\" she called, using his first name, and he paused on his way down."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Give them something to remember,\" she said, smiling. \"Show them what they've taken on, yes?\n\nFist K'ess inclined his head in agreement.\"Somewhere narrow, Argell. I will see you there. \"He offered a brief salute and bounded down the stairs. Steppen turned to the east again and the screams drifting across with the wind. Gods. So it's true. All that she'd heard. These Seguleh. A few hundreds against some thirty thousand and it's a rout.\n\nFacing the gathering twilight she whispered: \"Yes, Toren. We'll meet again there. '\n\nCrouched in the tall grass, Captain Fal-ej scanned a landscape painted an unnatural watery green. Like the bottom of the sea, she thought to herself. Almost beautiful. To either side sergeants awaited her command to fire. Damn the man. Where was he? This bravado could cost them an experienced commander. Not to mention she hadn't yet told him all that she wanted to.\n\nThen movement among the grass and the Fist came running up the slope. Fal-ej signed fora stand-down. She rose to meet him. \"We're on the move, \"she called rather angrily.\"Where's Fist Steppen?\"\n\n\"Holding the fort.\"\n\nShe stared past K'ess to the distant structure.\"That's-\"\n\n\"Yes,\" K'ess cut in.\"She's buying us time. Now let's go. Double-time. '\n\nFal-ej backed away, signing a withdrawal to the sergeants. K'ess kept going.\"No rearguard or outliers, Captain, \"he called.\"Just a rear watch. '\n\n\"Aye,\" she answered. She raised her arm in the air to inscribe the circular pullout sign."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"*\n\nWhen dawn came Fist Steppen found herself looking out at an encirclement of Seguleh. Crows and other scavenging birds wheeled in the brightening eastern sky, or hopped obscenely among the distant trampled grass. The Seguleh facing her showed no wounds, though blood splashed some. One stepped forward insolently close given the fifteen crossbows covering him. His mask was a dizzying swirled design.\n\n\"You are surrounded,\" he called. \"You do not possess sufficient forces to defend your walls. Throw down your weapons and you will be allowed to live.\"\n\n\"Let us discuss terms,\" Steppen answered, a hand tight on the adzed log before her. \"What assurances can you provide of our fair treatment? I request a third-party negotiator.\"\n\nThe Seguleh gave an odd cutting motion with his hand. \"We will not allow you to delay. You are not important.\"\n\n\"Not important? You mean you would just pass us by?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Ah. Well. In that case.\" She pointed. \"Kill that man.\"\n\nFifteen crossbows fired. The Seguleh twisted and ducked. Only two bolts struck him: one high in the leg, the other slashing the flesh of his left arm. The Seguleh charged the walls. Using their hands and feet they climbed the log palisade. Troopers backed away, dropping their crossbows as there was no time to reload. Steppen drew her slim blade. At least we wounded one of them, she told herself as the first appeared atop the walls. She swung but he dropped below the blade. Another jumped cat-like over the top to land with her sword already drawn. Steppen swung and the woman seemed to parry and counter all in the same fluid motion. Her blade slid easily through Steppen's leather armour to slash across her front, eviscerating her. The Fist tried one last attack but was off balance from the severing of so many muscle groups and she could not regain her footing. She fell off the catwalk to land in a wet tangled heap. As she lay in the dirt staring at the bark of the palisade logs her last thought was: Not that much of a damned delay..."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Torvald Nom did not spend too long in his cell. Just two meal periods later the door ratcheted and opened to reveal a Silver flanked by two Black. Torvald's first thought was that this was the same Silver. Then he realized that he really couldn't tell at all. He wished he'd spent more time memorizing the engraving on his driver's armour. But he'd been rather busy trying not to throw up at the time. He slowly climbed to his feet and gave a shallow bow.\"Welcome. If I'd known you were coming I would have saved some of my food.\"\n\n\"Torvald Nom of Nom,\" the Silver said, and he recognized her voice, \"word has come from our Blue cousins affirming your story. Your credentials from the Darujhistan Council have also been deemed adequate. Our apologies.\"\n\nTorvald gave another brief bow. He suspected that this was all the contrition he was going to see. \"I am glad.\" Gods! \"I am glad.\" How banal! Shouldn't I say something profound like:\"Let this meeting usher in anew age of accord between our two peoples. ' Something puffed up and self-important like that?\n\nThe Silver motioned him out. \"This way, please.\"\n\nAs they walked the stone passages Torvald glanced sideways at his guide. He drew along breath and straightened his shirts and cloak. \"So... what is your name? If I may enquire.\"\n\n\"Galene.\"\n\n\"Galene? Galene. Well, where are we going? What's happening? '\n\n\"There are disturbing movements of forces in the foothills.\" She paused fora time as if sorting through her words. \"I have been chosen to act as your guide.\"\n\nAnd you're thrilled no end. Well, we all have our rows to hoe.\"Disturbing movements? You mean the Rhivi? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No. I do not mean the northern tribals.\"\n\n\"No? Then... the Malazans?\"\n\n\"No. Not the Malazans.\"\n\nTor frowned at the maddening woman. \"Well... then who?\" She ushered him into a stone circular staircase that they climbed single-file, he second. \"Well?\"\n\n\"Your Darujhistani army has been summoned, Nom of Nom.\"\n\n\"Army? Darujhistan has never had an army.\"\n\nThey emerged onto another of the tower roofs. Here rank after rank of quorl awaited, wings setting up a roar of commingled thrumming. The wind buffeted him. Most, he saw, carried two Moranth: a driver and a passenger. Ashe watched, stunned, waves of the quorl took off in file after file, peeling away in flights. From other towers more arose until the sky was darkened by their fragile silhouettes sweeping overhead like a tide rushing down a valley. An army– so swift!\n\n\"Who?\" he shouted to Galene. \"Who is it?\"\n\n\"Our old enemy,\" she answered, icy fury in her voice. \"The ones who drove us from the plains. Who exiled us to these mountaintops ages ago.\" She thrust a finger at him. \"Your murdering Seguleh.\"\n\nJust inside the unlocked gate of the Eldra Iron Mongers, Barathol cast about for someone, anyone, to greet him. It was illegal to be out this late; the Legate had lowered a curfew that was enforced by the Seguleh. And never had Barathol heard of a curfew so scrupulously respected.\n\nThe works were silent. For months now no black choking smoke had swirled about this end of the city and the waters of the bay lapped almost clear. He was of a mind to turn round– curfew breaking compounded by trespassing– when he spotted the odd little fellow himself, arms clasped behind his back, closely studying a workbench of abandoned tools. He came up behind and was about to speak when Kruppe asked: \"Was the carriage ride diverting?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Kruppe– I don't know what you calla carriage, but I don't calla cart pulled by an ass a carriage. I could have walked faster.\"\n\nThe little man's chin pulled in, aghast.\"What! Why, the lad assured me it was a carriage. Most replete. '\n\n\"Would that be the same lad who was hitting the ass to keep it going?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't know, was it? And you do mean the ass pulling the cart, yes? '\n\nBarathol pulled a hand down his jowls and chin while he studied the bland-faced fellow. He appeared completely forthright. \"I'm going now. ' He turned to leave.\n\n\"No, no, no!\" Kruppe dodged around him. \"It must be you. Please. A simple job. Delicate and... ah, tricky, yes. But perfect for you.\"\n\n\"Kruppe– I'm no master craftsman. I'm just an average smith. You don't want me. And I have to say I'm starting to wonder about this villa of yours.\"\n\n\"Why, I am assured it is most exquisite! Airy. Charming. With enormous... character.\"\n\n\"Sounds like an old shack missing a wall.\"\n\nKruppe froze, surprised. \"You've seen it? '\n\nBarathol started off again. \"Like I said, I'm heading home. ' Rattling at the gate stopped him. The tall iron-barred doors had been closed and someone was approaching. It was hard to see in the eerie jade-hued light but the man appeared to be a tramp or a beggar. His clothes hung tattered and blackened. His hair was a wild nest and his face and hands glistened, soot-smeared and sweaty. He was rubbing his hands in a rag that was even dirtier."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The derelict stopped before them. He eyed Barathol up and down, said to Kruppe, \"Is this your smith?\"\n\n\"\"Tis he. '\n\n\"I know all the smiths in the city. This one's new tome. '\n\n\"He's a smith of foreign extraction. '\n\nA smile shone bright against the man's grimed face.\"Just as I am. \"He pointed.\"This way. '\n\nAs they walked Barathol peered about the quiet ghostly yard and open silent sheds. \"There maybe guards...\"\n\n\"No guards,\" said the tramp. \"Just me– the owner.\"\n\nBarathol stopped dead. \"You are Humble Measure?\"\n\n\"In the flesh.\"\n\nBarathol turned to Kruppe, his gaze narrowing. \"What's going on here? '\n\nHumble waved the rag at Kruppe. \"This man has contracted for some work. Welcome income.\" He opened his arms wide to encompass his yards. \"There has been a temporary slowdown in production.\"\n\n\"Fabrication,\" Kruppe said. \"A delicate job.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" Humble Measure agreed. He motioned Barathol onward. \"Let me tell you a story– if I may. There once was a man who was frightened. He was afraid of the rule of oppressive overlords, of marauding armies, of murderers, of bloody-handed thieves. In short, of almost everything. To defend against them and to be strong he decided to build thick walls of stone all about him. He shackled himself to these walls so that he could not be dragged off. He barred the window with thick iron rods. He secured the door with locks and crossbars and swallowed the keys. Then, one day, peering terrified from between the bars he realized that in his extraordinary efforts to be protected and unassailable he had built for himself something else entirely.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A prison.\"\n\n\"Exactly so. In his efforts to be free of oppression he had enslaved himself.\"\n\nThey had entered one of the larger worksheds. Humble led him to a metal bench cluttered with metal forging tools, tongs, hammers, and pinchers. Nearby, one of the immense furnaces glowed, crackling and hissing. A wide stone box sat upon the bench.\n\n\"Never touch with your naked hand what lies within,\" Kruppe warned.\n\nHumble Measure raised a pair of fine pinchers. \"I will assist.\"\n\nBarathol waved to him. \"You do it. You're the master smith. '\n\n\"It requires your, ah, intent,\" Kruppe said.\n\n\"Mine? What for?\"\n\nThe little man peered to the vaulted roof as if searching for the right words. \"For a certain quality of circularity.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Just that.\"\n\nBarathol eyed the two as if judging their sanity– which seemed utterly lacking. \"Just what is the job?\"\n\n\"Inlay,\" Humble said.\n\n\"We do not possess the, ah, resources to unmake what lies within that box,\" Kruppe explained. \"But perhaps you can soften it enough fora fine bit of inlay.\"\n\nBarathol grunted. Inlay. Well... that didn't seem so unreasonable.\n\nKruppe entwined his pudgy fingers over his stomach. \"Very good. I'll leave you two to your trade secrets. \"He suddenly thrust a finger into the air.\"But remember! The finished product must be dipped in bee's wax! That is most imperative.\"\n\nHumble waved him off. \"Yes, yes. We know our trade. Now begone.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Be gone?"},{"from":"gpt","value":"I'll have you know, sir, that Kruppe was about to go! Kruppe will not be hurried or rushed off. No unseemly haste for the timely Kruppe. '\n\n\"Shall we open the box now?\" Humble asked Barathol.\n\n\"Kruppe is leaving– farewell!\"\n\nAs they descended the foothills, the Dwelling Plain lay before them, dun and ochre, shimmering in the day's heat, and Yusek cursed the sight of it. She could not believe that here she was yet again setting out across its damned dust-choked hills and draws. How many times had she sworn, and to how many gods and demons, that once she escaped she would never set foot upon it again?\n\nThe master of the monastery led the way. Sall followed, then she, and Lo came last. The master carried a sword on his back, wrapped and tightly tied in cloth. Other than this he was unarmed. Yusek still did not know what to call him. When Sall had asked what name they should use in addressing him he'd been silent fora very longtime before drawing a ragged breath and saying in a hoarse voice,\"Grief. '\n\nYet neither Seguleh chose to call him that. When they needed to gain his attention they simply said, \"Seventh.\"\n\nOne day as they descended towards the plain the Seventh halted, peering to the north. Everyone stopped as well and Yusek squinted, but she saw nothing. \"Large numbers on the move,\" the Seventh said. \"Possibly armies.\" He started off again but Sall remained still.\n\n\"Our brothers and sisters maybe involved,\" the youth said.\n\n\"That does not concern us,\" the Seventh replied harshly. \"Our purpose lies in Darujhistan. And we must hurry. Things move apace.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We should not turn from them.\"\n\nThe Seventh faced him squarely now. He drew a hard breath. \"Tell me, do you think I want to go to this cursed city? It's the last place I would ever want to go. But I am going– because you came tome. So the least you can damned well do is accompany me. '\n\nThe ferocity of the man's words almost drove Yusek back a step. Sall merely inclined his head in acquiescence. Though he did murmur,\"My apologies, Seventh. '\n\nThe man looked away, blinking. He threw himself further down the trail. \"Let's move. '\n\nFor her part Yusek couldn't believe she was actually going to Darujhistan. Never did she dream she would seethe great city. City of Blue Flames. Wealthiest city on all the continent, from Evinor in the north to Elingarth in the south. It was said you could find for sale there cloth so sheer it was like the kiss of water. And rare fruits and birds to eat. Like duck. She'd never had roasted duck. She'd heard it called succulent. Now there was a word for food. Succulent. She'd like all her food to be succulent. And she'd bathe in hot water in a tub with scented soap. She'd heard of that too. Now that, as far as she could imagine, must be the height of luxury.\n\nEating duck in a tub. Now there's luxury for you.\n\nAnd Sall here. Well, she'll talk him out of wearing that stupid mask. And with him at her back there'll be no stopping them. They'll waylay all those rich fat merchants. She'll become so famous even bearded Orbern squatting in his fort in the woods will hear of her. Yes, that sounded like a plan to her. And you had to have a plan– that much she knew. You don't get anywhere without a plan."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The two figures walking down the street of the bakers in the Gadrobi district cut a colourful, if jarring, picture. One was unusually tall and dressed as if he had rolled in the cast-off scraps behind a tailor's shop. The other wore drab threadbare rags, was bald, and had a face that glimmered as if speckled in metal paint. And when this one smiled at those passing in the streets, they flinched away.\n\nThey strode nonchalantly, apparently pointing out the sights to one another. They might have been on a stroll to find an inn to pass the evening. They came abreast of a sad figure crouched down on his haunches against a wall, head bowed, and the shorter of the figures nudged his companion and they swung to stand either side of the hunched beggar. There they slid down the wall to sit as bookends.\n\n\"All is not as desolate as it seems,\" the larger, bushy-haired one sighed, his gaze scanning the street.\n\n\"The sting fades and new horizons show themselves,\" the other confirmed.\n\nThe larger cocked his head. \"Think of it as rigidity sacrificed for an infinity of possibility...\"\n\n\"Well said,\" his companion agreed. \"You are your own man now. You may do as you choose.\"\n\nThe one between them tentatively raised his head. His long untrimmed hair hung down over his eyes. \"Actions not dedicated to a higher purpose are meaningless,\" he countered as if reciting a text.\n\nThe two exchanged glances over his head.\n\n\"Then select a purpose,\" the thin bald one suggested, smiling and flashing gold-capped teeth.\n\n\"Such as?\"\n\nThe big one waved expansively. \"Well... such as ours, perhaps.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"And that is?\"\n\nSmiling, the thin one clasped the fellow's shoulder.\"That our every action, our very appearance, be a constant denunciation and thumb in the eye to our brethren. Now... \"he and his companion hooked arms through the young man's, \"let us continue this discussion in more convivial surroundings.\"\n\n\"I suggest Magajal's place, ' the big one rumbled as they set off.\n\nThe bright metal glimmering on the bald one's face was in fact gold thread stitching. It wrinkled as he frowned.\"She waters her wine to excess. No. Dinner first at the Terrace overlooking the lake. We will consider later diversions over the meal. '\n\n\"Excellent.\"\n\n\"Come, friend,\" the bald one encouraged. \"Let this day be the first in an open-ended garden of companionship, adventure and extravagance.\"\n\nSpindle watched the street through the slats nailed over the window of K'rul's bar then sat back in his chair, crossbow on his lap. \"Looks quiet,\" he called back over his shoulder. \"Maybe they've given upon us as not worth the candle. '\n\n\"Whistling in the dark,\" Picker grumbled from the bar. She cocked an eye to the bard Fisher at the end of the counter, where he was scratching on a sheet of vellum. She drew two tankards of beer and slid down to him, peered uncomprehending at the marks squiggled on the sheet. \"Whatcha writin\"? '\n\n\"An epic poem.\" He lifted one of the tankards, saluted her, and drank.\n\nLeaning forward on her elbows, she narrowed her gaze as if struck by a sudden new thought. \"Why're you here anyway? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I like a quiet place to compose.\"\n\nShe chuckled. \"That's a good one. \"Then she frowned.\"Wait a minute... ' She had opened her mouth to say more when aloud groaning stilled everyone. It seemed to becoming from the walls themselves, as if the building were twisting, or being squeezed.\n\nSpindle jumped to his feet, clutching his crossbow. \"What's that? '\n\n\"Don't fucking know, \"Picker growled as she eased her way from behind the bar, long-knives out.\"Blend! '\n\n\"Clear,\" came the answer from the rear.\n\n\"Sounded like it came from below,\" Fisher said.\n\nPicker nodded her agreement. \"Let's have a look. Spin, check the cellar. '\n\n\"What? Why do I have to check the cellar?\"\n\n\"\"Cause I say so, that's why! Now go.\"\n\nGrumbling, Spindle tramped for the stairs.\n\nAfter Spindle disappeared a sudden explosive crack of wood made everyone flinch. \"Upstairs,\" Picker grunted and headed up. Fisher's hand strayed to his longsword.\n\n\"This epic poem of yours,\" Duiker whispered into the heavy silence, \"what's it about? '\n\n\"The Elder Gods.\"\n\nPicker came back down, wonder on her face. She motioned upstairs. \"Timbers split in the roof and walls. Main load-bearing ones too.\"\n\nSpindle emerged looking pale and ill. Speechless, he indicated his boots. Black fluid, crusted and gummy like old blood, caked them. His feet had left a bloody smeared trail on the dirty stone floor. \"The cellar,\" he managed, his voice choked. \"Awash. Somethin's goin'on, Pick. Somethin\" terrible. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Duiker turned his head to study the foreign bard straight on. \"This poem... How's it going? '\n\nFisher let out a taut breath. \"I think I'm nearing the end. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Paradise would be a city where pearls cobble roads and gems serve as playthings for children. And why? Not because all will be so wealthy, but because its citizens will have recognized that such things truly are toys.\n\nWords of the Street Prophets\n\nCompiler's name withheld\n\nTHERE WERE TIMES when Kiska was dozing in the cave half asleep in the dim phantom light of night when she thought she heard weeping. The sound came drifting in over the surf, faint, wavering, and she would have dismissed it as a scrap of dream had she not heard it more than once.\n\nThe sound grated like a blade down her spine, for she knew who it was. If Tayschrenn was not dead as Leoman insisted, then it could be none other. His mind was gone– or, more accurately, she had destroyed his mind by playing into the hand of the Queen of Dreams.\n\nThe scheming bitch. She saw it all now. The elegance. All the hallmarks of her plotting. She, Kiska, naïve agent, would find the archmagus and deliver to him the poison supplied by her. And once that happened whatever reaction it was would be unleashed and he would be stricken.\n\nAnd she the brainless dupe. Gods! Every time her thoughts returned to that she bashed the heels of her hands to her forehead. She would escape from here if only to track the damned Enchantress down.\n\nAnd Agayla? No– she too must have been ignorant of the Queen's intent. Must have.\n\nGods above and below, forgotten and forsworn! When would she ever learn? Never trust anyone. Never. That had been her mistake. She'd trusted and been used. As it is for everyone everywhere. You are no different, woman."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She groaned again and wrapped her head in her arms, pulling it down between her knees.\n\nFurther into the cave Leoman stirred. \"Don't beat yourself up, child, \"he said.\"You... we... had noway of knowing. '\n\n\"Shut the Abyss up.\"\n\nShe heard pebbles striking the wall as he tossed them one by one. \"It stings now but that will pass. I should know. And it wasn't even on purpose. So never mind. What's done is done. There's no sense worrying about it. '\n\nShe raised her head to stare at him, incredulous. \"Says the man who murdered thousands in a firestorm he deliberately set!\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"It was war. I was fighting for my life.\"\n\n\"Why should your life be worth more than anyone else's in that city? '\n\nThe man tossed another pebble. \"It is tome.\"\n\nShe turned away. \"Gods. You're beyond hope. '\n\n\"Just honest.\"\n\nFrom the cave mouth came the dragging uneven footsteps of the rescued creatures. Kiska and Leoman shared a glance. He rose, brushed dirt from the tattered Seven Cities robes he still wore over his mail. Kiska pushed herself to her feet.\n\n\"You may exit,\" came a weak quavering voice. \"Follow us.\"\n\nShe ducked from the cave, followed by Leoman. The creatures had hobbled off towards the shore. \"Come,\" one called.\n\nThey descended the strand of black sand. Kiska glanced about, searching for the giant, Korus. He seemed nowhere about. The enormous faint silhouette of Maker was visible, larger than any mountain, labouring somewhere on the distant shoreline."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then she saw someone at the shore and she froze. Her heart lurched as if it had been hammered. She clamped a hand to her mouth. Him. Standing. Standing. Staring out at the bright Vitr sea. Oh, my Queen– I have wronged you so.\n\nShe ran all the way down to him only to stop just short. She reached out as if to touch him but yanked her hand back, afraid she shouldn't. Or that he might not be there. He turned to her and she flinched, catching her breath. For he was Tayschrenn yet he wasn't. Gone was the sharp questing gaze that could flense flesh from bone. And gone also was the guarded mien– immobile, almost mask-like. He smiled now, studying her in turn. Yet the sight made her heartache even more so sad was it, so melancholy.\n\n\"You are... healed?\" she asked, her voice catching.\n\n\"Healed? Yes, Kiska. I am healed.\" He reached out to brush her hair from her face. \"And harrowed. Cut through to the core.\"\n\n\"I don't understand. '\n\nHe invited her to walk with him along the shore. \"You restored me, Kiska. Though I wonder whether I should thank you for it.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean I was– am– Thenaj still. Just as I am also Tayschrenn. And I find that I was everything Thenaj loathed. Yet I am both still. And now I must choose who to be.\"\n\n\"You are both? Be both then. Who you are.\"\n\nAgain the wintry smile as he walked, his long thin hair loose. \"Always the hard choice with you, hey, Kiska? Easier just to deny the one or the other. Blot it out. Pretend it never was... but instead you counsel conciliation. The difficult third path of adaptation and growth.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He held his long-fingered hands out in front of him, turned them over as if studying them for the first time. \"So be it. I shall be both– and neither.\"\n\n\"And,\" Kiska asked warily, \"what will you do?\"\n\n\"Yes. What to do. I cannot return to the old now that I am not who I was... Yet one possibility does beckon. A possible place for me. One perhaps only I can fill...\"\n\n\"And that is?\"\n\nHe turned to face her, square on. Shook his head. \"We shall see. I may not be strong enough to take it on. For now it is enough that we will be going. I am finished here.\"\n\n\"So– we are leaving? You are coming with me?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nKiska felt as if she had shed ten stone. \"Thank the gods!\"\n\n\"Do not thank them,\" Tayschrenn snapped in a manner something like his old self. \"Terrible, unforgivable things are stirring and it could be argued that they are to blame. They've stuck their hands into the furnace once too many times and now they find they cannot pull them out. So do not thank them. But perhaps we can find it within us to pity them. '\n\nKiska did not know what to make of that– most of which seemed directed more at himself, in any case. But it wasn't important. She'd heard the words she'd wanted to hear. He was returning. She had succeeded. Sent on a mission across creation to find someone cast into Chaos– and she had succeeded!\n\nAnd now she wondered: was that in truth what mattered to her? Was it that which had been gnawing at her all this time? Not concern for Tayschrenn; not fear of her own fate. Was it just that she couldn't stomach failure? Not a flattering piece of self-revelation."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Perhaps, as Tayschrenn suggested, she should just blot that one out.\n\nHe led her back to where Leoman stood waiting, hands on his belt, next to the gathered creatures.\n\nTayschrenn stopped in front of the man and frowned. \"Leoman of the Flails. You have some nerve standing here before me.\"\n\nThe man gave an insouciant shrug. \"All that is the past.\"\n\nThe mage's gaze narrowed, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepening. \"Funny you should say that...\"\n\n\"Thenaj...\" one of the unformed asked, its thin voice trembling. \"What is happening?\"\n\n\"I am sorry. But– I am leaving.\"\n\n\"Leaving? Going?\" The creatures setup a clamour of murmuring and crying.\n\nThen Korus appeared, bounding towards them from among the dunes. \"What is this!\" it bellowed. \"You are going?\" Coming close, it dug in its odd clawed feet to halt, kicking up sand. \"I knew you would betray us! Look at you. I sense it in you– mage. Torturer! Murderer!\"\n\n\"That's not fair! ' Kiska shouted.\n\n\"Look at you... abandoning us. Does your word mean nothing? No– of course it does not, for you have been forsworn all your life!\"\n\nUndisguised hurt twisted Tayschrenn's features. He raised a hand to speak.\"Please, Korus... my friend... '\n\n\"And what are we to do?\" the giant demon raged on. It thrust a taloned hand to the Vitr. \"Every day I hear them calling. Our brothers and sisters, dying! Burning into dissolution! What are we to do?\" Kiska was astounded to hear true torment in the demon's cracking trembling voice."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Korus... Korus. Please. Listen tome. Give me your hands.\"\n\nThe huge beast flinched away. \"What?\"\n\n\"Korus, trust me. I am still the man you knew as Thenaj. Truly. I am. Now give me your hands.\"\n\nThe high-born demon edged its wide taloned hands closer. Its knife-like fangs ground and scraped at the strain of the gesture. Tayschrenn took the mangled fingers in his. Scar tissue that twisted up Korus's forearms marked the extent of its past suffering. After a moment Tayschrenn released them.\"There. '\n\n\"There? What trick is this?\"\n\n\"You are now inured to the Vitr, friend. You may enter it as I did. Without fear or effect. You will take my place.\"\n\nThe demon backed away. It cocked its wide mangy head as if it could not, or would not, believe. \"How can I...\"\n\nTayschrenn gestured to the Vitr sea. \"Go ahead. Test it.\"\n\nKorus stepped back, still wary. Then it padded down to the waves. It dipped a hand into a glimmering wash of the liquid light and raised it, letting the fluid run from its taloned fingers. Then, peering back at them, it laughed. It threw back its maned head and let go a great shaking roar of laughter. It fell to its knees splashing both hands in the Vitr as if it were no more than a tidal pool. The malformed creatures gathered nearby on the shore. They murmured their amazement while Korus chuckled on and on.\n\n\"That was a great thing,\" Kiska said.\n\nThe mage shook his head. \"Was it? Few who call survive. He will suffer much failure. That will be a torment.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No. His helplessness was his torment.\"\n\n\"Helplessness?\" The mage examined his own hands once more. \"Ah. Helplessness.\"\n\n\"And now?\" she asked.\n\n\"Now we will go.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Leoman said. \"Now you will go.\"\n\n\"You?\" Kiska repeated sharply. \"What do you mean? You said that earlier too.\"\n\nThe man brushed his moustache, shrugging again. \"I mean I will be staying, I think.\"\n\n\"You? Stay?\" Kiska laughed. \"That's absurd. \"She gestured to the desolate shore.\"There's nothing here for you.\"\n\n\"It's peaceful, Kiska, \"he answered calmly, completely unruffled by her disparagement.\"I can sleep here. And tome that means a lot. '\n\n\"I understand,\" Tayschrenn said.\n\nKiska set her hands on her hips. \"This is ridiculous.\" She gestured towards Tayschrenn. \"I just got-You're coming with us. That's all there is to it.\"\n\n\"No. And who knows... if this place can help our friend here, perhaps it can help me.\"\n\nKiska waved, entreating Tayschrenn to speak. \"Say something. He can't stay here all alone! '\n\nThe mage cleared his throat, nodding. \"Maker likes stories. I was always sorry I didn't have any for him. '\n\nLeoman groomed his moustache again. \"Oh-ho!\" He smiled behind his hand. \"Have I got stories for him.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nTayschrenn took her hand. \"Come.\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\nHe pulled her along behind like a reluctant child."},{"from":"human","value":"\"No– we can't just leave him here all alone..."},{"from":"gpt","value":"'\n\n\"He is not alone.\"\n\n\"Well, yes, but...\"\n\n\"He knows what is best for him. Now come. We have far to go.\"\n\n\"Fine!\" She twisted her hand free and straightened her shirt. \"Fine. Leave him exiled, then! Forever!\"\n\nTayschrenn walked on, hands clasped behind his back. \"He is not exiled. He can leave whenever he wishes. Maker can send him anywhere he chooses.\"\n\n\"Oh... well. Why didn't you say so? \"Kiska ran to catch up. She glanced back, caught Leoman's eye, and waved farewell.\n\nLeoman answered the wave then turned away, arms crossed, to watch Korus play in the sea. And, to Kiska's eyes, he did possess the look of a man at peace.\n\nNoise from downstairs woke Scillara. She tensed, listening in the dark. The city had been quiet these last weeks now that the Legate had imposed his curfew. Every sound carried a sudden insistence and stood out as rare and unexpected as... well, as an honest man.\n\nShe reached down for the long-knife Barathol kept on the floor under the bed. She'd laughed, of course, as washer way with him– anything to dance away from the grim– for she'd spotted him long ago as one of those who could slide too easily into gloomy brooding.\n\nUp to her to chivvy him along.\n\nStrangely enough, her first thought had been for the babe. Now there's a shocker. Gettin\" tome after all. Just as Barathol said.\n\nShe listened once more: now all she could hear were the babe's quick wet breaths."},{"from":"human","value":"Then it came again."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Someone moving about downstairs. As if they had two sticks to steal! As disappointing a break-in as they come. She went quickly to the stairs and edged her way down, blade out in front. Let them chuckle at the fat woman with a knife; she'd had to cut her fair share of men turned ugly with drink and sour tempers.\n\nAlight was visible on the main floor. Halfway down the stone stairs she saw Barathol at the rear seeing to the banked fire. She reached up through the trapdoor to slip the blade onto the bedroom floor and went down.\n\n\"Back already?\"\n\nHe grunted and turned from coaxing the fire going. She was shocked to see that he was sodden through. \"You're soaked. Was it raining? '\n\n\"No,\" he croaked, his voice ragged.\n\nShe took the sticks and tinder from his shaking hands. \"I'll see to it. What happened, then? ' She blew on the embers.\n\nHe slumped into a chair. \"I washed. Washed everything. Dumped water over myself from a cistern.\"\n\n\"To hide the smell of the drink?\"\n\nNot a glimmer answered that. \"No. To wash away... something else.\" He held out his hands and turned them over. They shook like leaves. Kneeling, she reached for them but he yanked them away. Even so, she felt their chill. Frozen!\n\n\"A lad came yesterday with a cooked meal for us and a note sayin\" you were working still. \"He looked confused, blinking heavily. Exhausted– what was this job? I'll have that fat man's head!\n\n\"Message? I sent no message.\"\n\n\"Well. You're back now. Want to seethe little one? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He straightened, lurching. \"No! Have to... have to wash first.\"\n\n\"Wash?\" She laughed lightly. \"You're cleaner than I've ever seen you!\"\n\nHe merely stared at the fire. \"Heat water. Bring that cake of soap. And our smallest knife. Have to cut my nails. Scour my hands. Before– before I touch anything.\"\n\n\"Barathol... you're clean enough-'\n\n\"No!\" He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. \"Dammit, woman, just do as I ask for once.\"\n\nScillara backed away. Fine. Just this once then! She went to fill the pot.\n\n*\n\nChal Grilol had been a woodwright turning out spoked wheels for wagons and chests, benches, just about anything anyone required in the neighbourhood. Then the joint-ache took his hands and he couldn't hold a tool no more. He couldn't work so he lost his home; his boys were long gone and the wife was dead so he was out on the street sleeping under a wharf on the waterfront. Tonight he was out fishing off the end of the dock, using a lantern to lure fingerlings.\n\nThen along came this two-wheeled cart pushed backwards up the dock by a shaggy man all dirty and wild-haired and muttering to himself. And while Chal watched, amazed, this burly fellow proceeded to toss tools and bits and pieces from the cart into the lake. He threw hammers as far as he could out into the waves. Wearing thick leather gloves he tossed handfuls of smaller tools like scatterings of stones off the dock. Then he got upon to the cart and kicked over a big anvil that fell with a resounding bang that shook the entire dock from end to end. This he pushed over and over until he tipped it off the end with a huge splash. Last, the gloves themselves followed into the drink."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Dusting his hands, the fellow turned to Chal, still sitting, pole in his hands. He took out a soot-smeared rag and wiped his face and hands then peered down, frowning. \"You might bethinking to yourself, friend: \"That lot could be worth a copper or two.\" But don't consider it. \"He leaned even closer and there was something in his eyes, something wild and terrible.\"They're cursed, friend. Touched with a fearsome curse.\" He glanced about as if listening to the night, the water lapping, the boats groaning against their berths. \"Even now it might not be safe.\" And he patted Chal's shoulder and started up the dock with his cart.\"G'night!\"\n\nAs the creaking of the cartwheels diminished up the waterfront Chal sat listening and it seemed to him that the murmur of the water had taken on a more ominous hollow moaning and that the wheels' groaning had returned to his ears– this time accompanied by the jangling of metal chain, perhaps from the nearby ships. Pole in one hand and lantern in the other, he ran. His naked feet slapped the grey boards as he went and a cold chill seemed to nip at them with each step.\n\n*\n\nSpindle was half awake in the bar common room, chin in hands, dredging his brain trying to figure out what that damned alchemist-mage, Baruk, had been trying to tell him. There must be something there. He was sure of it. Why else let him go? Why else hint at... whatever it was he meant? Something was there just beyond his reach; it was driving him crazy.\n\nAt the barrier they'd thrown across the door, watching the night-time street, Blend recrossed her legs and tilted back in her chair, her crossbow on her lap. Then the long stone counter of the bar exploded. There was no other word for it. It just burst with an eruption that sent Blend cartwheeling backwards, the crossbow firing, to fall on her back. Spindle fell from his chair and scooted under the table."},{"from":"human","value":"Feet thumped and in came Duiker wearing a shirt and trousers, sheathed sword in hand, followed by Picker in along nightshirt."},{"from":"gpt","value":"The bard, Fisher, was out: taking the mood of the city, or some damned thing like that.\n\n\"What happened?\" Picker demanded. Peering up, Spindle thought the woman's heavy unbound breasts pushed out the nightshirt in a very appealing way.\n\n\"Damned bar cracked,\" Blend said. \"Spin... Get outta there, Spin. Take a look.\"\n\n\"Fell out of my chair, that's all. ' He straightened, adjusted his shirt. She waved him to the bar.\n\nThe stone was cracked clean across. Dust still lingered in the air. \"More of the same,\" he said. \"This place is under some kinda pressure. Like it's bein'twisted and squeezed. Just like K'rul himself. '\n\n\"Herself,\" Blend corrected. \"You saw her.\"\n\n\"Yeah. But I always thought o\" K'rul as a he.\"\n\n\"Always been a she– everyone knows that!\"\n\n\"Not as I'd heard. '\n\n\"Doesn't fucking matter! \"Picker cut in.\"Get your priorities straight, would you? Spin, we in worse trouble now? Should we cutout? '\n\nHe laid a hand on the stone counter and tried to sort through the jangling messages blaring from his Warren. Gods! Like an overturned anthill. Everything's running allover, frantic, hunting for cover from what they don't even know. Got the feeling it won't matter where we go...\n\n\"We should stay,\" Duiker suddenly announced. Everyone looked at the old man.\n\n\"Why?\" Blend demanded.\n\n\"I think it helps. Us, people, being here. I think it helps.\"\n\nBlend turned to Spindle. \"Well?\""},{"from":"human","value":"He gave a quick jerk of his head."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yeah. Not sure we'd be any safer anywhere else. '\n\n\"Good.\" Blend peered about the place, almost possessive. \"Don't want to be run out. Got too much invested here. \"She glared at them.\"Well, get back to sleep. Excitement's over.\"\n\nSpindle watched Picker head back to the old priest cells. Man, haven't had a woman in along time if Picker's lookin' good. He rubbed his hand on the smooth cold stone. Stone. The stones. Maybe that was it. Something about the stones. Yes! Had to be it. But what? What about the stones?\n\nHe slapped the counter. Queen take it! It was infuriating! He knew there was something there. He just couldn't reach it. Had to be important. It just had to be.\n\nJan lay in the quarters that had been setup for the Seguleh among the rambling rooms of Majesty Hall. One of the Hundredth came to let him know that the Legate required him in the Great Hall. He nodded and rose.\n\nRequired. Their new status here. Servants. Servants to the Throne. Yet it was not as if this were new. They were merely returning to their original place. Their original role. Was this not all they had yearned for during the long exile? Why then his disquiet, his unease?\n\nToo proud for service? Too arrogant to bend the knee? Was that his trouble?\n\nPerhaps. Yet he could not help suspecting that the cause lay deeper than that. Something more integral, more essential.\n\nHe found the Great Hall crowded with councillors, city aristocrats, court functionaries, and general hangers-on such as Lady Envy– many of whom had no actual purpose but who seemed able to behave as if they did. He ignored them all, of course, not being of the sword. Even those who did wear weapons on their hips, such as some of the councillors. He and his brothers and sisters had had to come up with anew category for those individuals: eunuchs who still retained their weapons."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Talk was a low murmur– perhaps so that everyone could eavesdrop on everyone else. Jan walked straight for the throne. Four of the Twenty guarded it. Also present were those two shabby guards. They stood off to one side among the pillars of the colonnade. Right now their crossbows hung at their sides as they ate some sort of steamed buns. It occurred to Jan that they always seemed to be eating.\n\nThe Mouthpiece approached, looking as pale and haggard as always. He appeared sick, fevered perhaps, sweaty, a hand constantly at his throat. \"Second,\" he greeted him. Jan bowed. \"We have a prisoner. A spy who worked against us. He must be executed.\"\n\nJan gave the slightest of shrugs. \"Executed? Very well. Let it be done.\"\n\nThe Mouthpiece wiped his brow, swallowed, and held his stomach, pained. \"You do not seem to understand. The execution is for you Seguleh to perform. You must see to it.\"\n\nJan faced the gold-masked figure on the throne. \"There must be some misunderstanding. We are warriors, not headsmen. We do not kill prisoners.\"\n\nThe gold oval edged his way. It seemed to Jan that the graven half-smile on the lips took on a cold aloofness. \"You Seguleh have always been my executioners,\" said the Mouthpiece. \"That is the purpose for which I moulded you. The perfect executioners who slew any and all who opposed me. Now... fulfil your role.\"\n\nIt was not only the speed of Jan's reflexes that had raised him to the rank of Second; it was also the quickness of his mind. And so in answer he merely inclined his mask slightly and turned to leave."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Now is not the time, nor the place. Leaping into opposition now would mean confrontation and escalation. Before entering into battle one must consider all the potential outcomes, select the most desirable, then guide the engagement to the achievement of that end.\n\nAnd what is that end? At this time I have no idea what it might be...\n\nWhen the city Warden opened the cell door for Jan and two of the Hundredth, the prisoner stood to meet them. He held his head level. His hands were bound behind his back. He was an older, rather overweight, retired city guardsman, now dishevelled from having been searched and mildly beaten.\n\n\"You are charged with conspiring to bring down the rule of the Legate,\" Jan said.\n\nThe two of the Hundredth exchanged wondering glances; the prisoner seemed unaware of the extraordinary honour Jan had just accorded him.\n\nThe man shrugged as best he could with his hands tightly bound. \"I am not ashamed. Nor do I deny it. I would do it again. Darujhistan can govern itself without coercion or command.\"\n\n\"That would be chaos.\"\n\nThe ex-guardsman appeared amused. \"Only to those who do not understand it.\"\n\nJan gave a quick cut of his hand. \"Hierarchy must be clear.\"\n\n\"You of all people I do not expect to understand such things.\"\n\n\"Perhaps that is so,\" Jan agreed. \"I do not pretend to be conversant with all forms of rulership.\"\n\nThe former guardsman nodded. \"Ah... I see it now. You speak of rulership. I speak of governance.\"\n\n\"I do not seethe distinction.\"\n\nThe ex-guardsman studied Jan closely, as if attempting to peer in behind the mask. What he saw there, or failed to see, appeared to disappoint him. \"Then that is the gulf between us.\" He tilted his head as if struck by anew thought. \"Yet you are speaking tome– why?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I am trying to understand.\"\n\nThis admission rocked the ex-guardsman and his eyes widened as he seemed to appreciate the depth of it. Then his gaze slid to the floor and he let out a heavy breath. \"If that is so, then I am saddened for you.\"\n\nNow Jan was shaken as if struck. I am hereto execute this man yet he pities me?\n\nPerhaps alarmed by Jan's reaction one of the Hundredth stepped forward, gripping her sword.\"Kneel, \"she commanded.\"You have been condemned to die. '\n\nJan snapped out a hand-command. No. \"This is for me.\"\n\n\"You are Second,\" the woman dared breathe, mask held aside.\n\n\"All the more reason it must be me.\" Yes, I am Second. Tome must fall this burden. Tome must fall the guilt. He slipped a hand to his sword-grip, addressed the ex-guardsman. \"It will be quick.\"\n\n\"For me it will be,\" the man whispered before Jan's blade flashed one-handed beneath his chin. The knees gave first, seeming to drag the body down. It fell straight, limp, sagging.\n\nJan regarded the corpse and its last pumping jets of arterial blood as the heart stubbornly laboured on, refusing to admit to the end. He carefully cleaned his blade before resheathing it. The two of the Hundredth stared on, fascinated by the graphic demonstration. Jan motioned them out, rather impatiently, and remained behind. The man was right. For him this had been quick. But I fear I will never put this behind me. I have murdered. Tome now falls the guilt for this... and so much more. Oh, First, why did you not speak of this? Was it because your guilt was too great? And yet all that was so long ago. Can't a people change? Perhaps they can– if those around them will allow it."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Leaving the hall of cells Jan motioned to the prison guards. They passed him, eyes downcast, sliding along the far wall. And where Jan might have once read respect, or due esteem, he now saw only fear. Perhaps even a touch of distaste.\n\nOr was that just himself?\n\nAntsy could no longer hear the muted groaning and crack of rock echoing through the Spawn now that he was chiselling out the stone threshold under the great stone doors concealing what this crazy-eyed gang of witches, priests, mages and mercenaries were convinced was the Throne of Night.\n\nHe didn't think they led to anything remotely like that at all. Maybe the Broom Closet of Dust. Or more likely the Toilet of Crap. But that wasn't his worry. His job was to open these doors, or no one was going anywhere. Even when he rested, the sharp ringing of iron on iron twanged in his ears, and so it was a shock to glance over and see a set of fine polished leather boots right next to him. He glanced up and saw the armoured and richly attired fellow who he assumed to be a mage, who had given his name as Bauchelain.\n\n\"What do you want?\" Antsy said, rather loudly because of all the ringing.\n\nThe man bent down to study him with unsettling intensity. \"You are close to death,\" he said.\n\nAntsy looked the fellow up and down very pointedly. \"I sure am.\"\n\nHe shook his head, chuckling. \"No, no, no. Not me. Not at the moment, in any case. No, I mean death is watching you. You are of interest to... ah... it.\"\n\n\"You mean Hood?\"\n\n\"Certainly not. Hood has gone to his oh-so-poetic and appropriate end, has he not? Dying, as he did. Which itself raises all sorts of disturbing chicken-and-egg questions and other philosophical conundrums. No, what I mean is the new manifestation it has fixed on while it flails about trying to find a permanent one– if any. Which brings us back to you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Me?\"\n\n\"Yes. The current manifestation of death is, again appropriately enough, soldiers. A certain band of soldiers, whose remains, so rumours have it, can be found on this very rock. My companion, Korbal Broach, is very eager to make their acquaintance. Quite keen he is to study them. You wouldn't happen to know their whereabouts, would you? '\n\nAntsy swallowed hard and said, dead level, \"I have no idea what yer talking about.\"\n\n\"Ah. A shame, that. Well, let's hope something turns up, yes? '\n\nAntsy said nothing.\n\nA reedy old man's voice called from the darkness:\"Master Bauchelain! Our, ah, friend is getting into trouble again! '\n\nThe fellow stroked his goatee, looking at the ceiling and sighing. \"Must go. Korbal's wandered off. Till later then, yes? Take care. '\n\nShaken, Antsy returned to his chiselling. Burn's own blood! Truth be told, he'd come here precisely to make sure nothing like what that creature was hinting at would happen, or had happened. In the back of his mind he'd known the danger existed, what with the Spawn crashing and all. Sure, a bucketful of gems and coin would go along way. But that was just cream. All along he'd wanted to make sure things were still all squared away and proper. The thought of a broken sealed pit or whatever it was, and people messin' about with the bones of his brothers and sisters, made him too furious to even think straight-\n\nHe left off his chiselling, panting, hands fisted on his thighs. Almost busted a thumb there.\n\nSomeone else was standing behind him now: cracked sandals, tattered trouser legs over bony bruised shanks. The lad, Jallin. He leaned down. \"You're gonna die, soldier, \"he said, matter of fact.\"My mistress. The things I seen her do. She's gonna do for you...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Shut the Abyss up,\" Antsy growled. \"I'm busy. '\n\nThe lad flinched, almost hurt. Then he recovered, grinning toothily. \"Gonna die,\" he mouthed, backing away.\n\nShaking his head Antsy returned to his work. Sometime later someone banged on the stone flag of the threshold and Antsy whipped round, a curse on his lips. It was the blond-haired mercenary in his plain cloth tabard over mail armour, and canvas-covered round shield. With him were two of his guards. The other two, it seemed, hadn't made it.\"What is it? ' Antsy asked, wary.\n\nThe man peered at his work from under his tangled brows. \"You are making a hole, yes? A nest?\"\n\nThe accent was completely unfamiliar but Antsy nodded. \"Yeah. Sorta...\"\n\n\"How deep?\"\n\n\"About the span of a hand. Why?\"\n\n\"We will help dig. You go rest. Yes?\"\n\n\"You're not from Elingarth, are you? '\n\n\"No. We are from another land. Faraway.\" He motioned to his guards and they held out their hands for the hammer and chisel. Antsy passed them over. The two laid aside their shields and set to work with a vengeance, bashing away. Antsy backed off. He drew out a cloth and wiped his face. \"Why're you here? '\n\n\"Same as you, hey? The stories of riches we heard. We were in the south. We had a ship. We were... how you say... taxing shipping, yes? Then we came here.\" He shook his head. \"Very large mistake. You get us out, we owe you much.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Antsy.\"\n\n\"Cull. Cull Heel. Now you go sleep. We dig.\"\n\nAntsy kneaded the cloth in his numb aching hands. \"Well, all right. You come get me in a little while, hey?\"\n\nThe man waved him off. \"Yes, yes.\"\n\nAntsy walked towards the room off the main chamber that Orchid and Corien had taken. He caught the two mages, the old woman and the fat man, eyeing him all the way across the chamber. He tried his best to ignore them.\n\nWithin, Orchid turned quickly on him, asking, \"How is it going?\"\n\nAntsy lay down on a pile of gathered cloaks and odd clothing and threw an arm over his eyes. \"Damned slow.\"\n\n\"They keep coming round– peering at us. Like they're sizing us up fora meal. Gives me the shivers. '\n\n\"Who does?\"\n\n\"All of them.\"\n\n\"Orchid,\" Corien warned gently from across the room.\n\n\"What? Oh.\"\n\nAlight kick woke Antsy and he blinked, squinting in the bluish magelight. It was Corien. The lad waved him up. One of the mercenaries was there; the man gestured him out. After pulling together his gear Antsy followed. Something about the mercenaries struck him then as he walked: they were all damned big fellows, wide and tall, unusually so. And they all had the same broad heavy faces, as if they were related by blood.\n\nThe blond man, Cull, motioned to the chiselled-out gap. \"Good, yes?\"\n\n\"Let's have a look. \"Antsy lay on his stomach to measure the space. Still too tight for his cusser. He pushed himself up to his knees.\"A touch more yet. ' He reached for the hammer."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No, no. We do more. You watch.\"\n\n\"It's all right. I should... '\n\nCull held up a bloodied hand. \"No. You need your fingers to get us out, yes? We do this.\"\n\nHunh. How do you like that? He peered around at all the sweaty glistening faces watching from the dark walkways and portals: the tall woman, Seris; the old mage, Hemper; Hesta and Ogule. Typical. They want out but don't even consider lending a hand. Privileged shits. And as for the Malazans, well, at least they were standing guard down the hall.\n\nWhile Antsy was crouched, watching the chiselling, Orchid emerged from the dark to come to his side. \"You should see this,\" she said, sounding unusually subdued.\n\n\"We're close here, Orchid. '\n\n\"It'll only take a moment. '\n\nHe saw the wonder on her face and grunted. \"All right. But quick.\"\n\n\"This way.\"\n\nShe led him up an unlit side passage; his mage-sight allowed him to see here away from the lanterns in the main chamber. Through doorways and a short set of stairs down she brought him into another large cavern, this one low-ceilinged and filled with undecorated stone pillars. Crystals glistened on the uneven black rock walls and from where he stood he could see a sort of natural set of terraces descending into the distance. Dirt lay under his feet along with brown withered plant stalks. \"What's this? \"he breathed, sharing Orchid's wonder.\n\nA figure emerged from the gloom: Malakai. He carried a bunch of stalks gathered up in one hand like a bouquet. He sat on the ledge of one of the low terraces, which Antsy now recognized as a kind of planting bed. \"A garden,\" the man said, inspecting the dead stalks."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Antsy stared, amazed. \"Not...\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Orchid whispered, awed. \"The legends were true. A garden.\"\n\n\"There were flowers here that scholars tell had never seen the sun,\" Malakai said, and he shook his head. \"Imagine what a single such blossom would have bought. All dead now. This is what Apsalar sought when she came to the Spawn so long ago. The Lady of Thieves came to steal arose. A black rose. One that poets claimed had been touched by the tears of Mother Dark herself.\" Shrugging, he let the handful of chaff fall. \"And I sought to best her. To succeed where she had failed.\" He motioned to encompass the wrecked cavern, the spilled soil and overturned beds. \"So much for my ambitions.\"\n\nAntsy kicked at the black dirt underfoot. \"We still need to get out, Malakai. You can lend a hand.\"\n\nThe man drew a heavy breath. \"Yes. Well... we shall see.\"\n\nAntsy motioned to Orchid. \"I have to go,\" he said, low.\n\nShe nodded and waved him out.\n\nBack in the main chamber the chiselling had stopped. On the way to the throne-room doors Antsy heard ominous popping and cracking that reverberated up through the stone beneath his feet. Time's runnin\" out, I swear.\n\nThe mercenaries were all crouched inspecting the pocket they'd worked. They were arguing. The blond man, Cull, was cuffing the other two and shouting them down. Antsy picked up his pace.\n\n\"What's this? '\n\n\"Ah, Malazan. I tell these fools no more. We wait for you.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Antsy pushed through them– a hard task in that each seemed as solid and immobile as the rock itself– and studied the gap beneath the stone doors. \"Looks good. Let's try the fit. ' He swung his pannier forward.\n\nThe three mercenaries backed away. Antsy took a moment to study them. \"Who are you anyway? What do I call you?\"\n\nCull thumped his broad armoured chest. \"We are the Heels!\"\n\nAntsy just stared. Right. The Heels. Okay... He waved them off and returned his attention to the pocket. The fit was too wide in places and too tight in one spot. A last few touches of the chisel fixed that. Stone chips helped keep the cusser in place, then Antsy pulled out a stone of rough unpolished granite. With this he started to abrade the keratin shell of the cusser as close to the top of it as he could reach.\n\nFiddler and Hedge had perfected this technique– skimming. They used it to time charges. Problem was, he'd never actually had call to do it himself. But they'd all talked it over pretty thoroughly. All the squad saboteurs. Come to think of it– none of them had ever done it themselves neither!\n\nShit.\n\nHe pulled away the granite grinding stone. Well then, he decided. Maybe that's good enough. Lying on his stomach he turned back to the chamber, yelled:\"Seris! Get your people ready! '\n\nThe tall woman emerged from the gloom. \"Now? You are prepared?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" And he shouted louder. \"Munitions! Ware!\"\n\nHe pulled out a small hard case, opened it. Inside rested a glass tube. This he unstoppered, and, reaching awkwardly under the lip of the door's bottom, let three drops fall into the scar he'd scraped into the shell of the munition."},{"from":"human","value":"He pushed himself away as quickly as he could and ran."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Across the chamber he spotted Orchid and Corien behind a thick pillar and joined them.\n\n\"How long?\" Corien whispered.\n\n\"Don't know. Shouldn't be too-\"\n\nThe entire structure juddered around them, groaning and snapping in an agony of tortured rock. A stone arch burst overhead, sending shards pattering down. The Spawn began to tilt. Equipment, rubbish and broken rubble slid across the floor. Antsy grabbed hold of the pillar together with Orchid and Corien.\n\nHe watched, horrified, as something came tumbling out from the tilting threshold before the doors and rolled down the shallow stairs. The cusser. Sweet Soliel, no!\n\nEven as he stared it bounced once, twice, three times, then slid down the polished smooth stone floor to disappear into the great yawning hole in the middle of the chamber.\n\nHood's laughter!\n\nEveryone was screaming and shouting and cursing. Apiece of what looked like expensive travelling baggage came sliding out of the darkness to follow the cusser down the well. An old man yelled his despair.\n\nThen the stone of the Spawn kicked Antsy. At least that's what it felt like. The floor jerked, punishing his ankles and knees. A great gust of air came shooting from the well. It stank of the acrid smoke of expended munitions and was heavy with water vapour.\n\nPonderously, among bursting and grinding complaints of stone, the Spawn began to tilt back in the opposite direction, righting itself. The old woman, Hesta, came staggering out of the dark. Her ribbons and hair had gone, revealing a wrinkled bald scalp. With her pale head and scrawny body she more than ever resembled a vulture."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 21\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The Fists met each other's gaze. K'ess cocked a brow. Steppen gave one quick nod that bulged her double chin. K'ess leaned over the catwalk.\\\"Captain Fal-ej! '\\n\\n\\\"Aye?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"An immediate withdrawal west! Over the wall! Lightest pack. Three days\\\" water. '\\n\\n\\\"Aye, sir!\\\"\\n\\nBoth Fists returned to gauging the fighting. Rhivi riders, alone and in packs, thundered off through the encirclement, riding north for the lake. Many fell, but the majority bulled through. Presumably those survivors wouldn't stop for anything.\\n\\n\\\"Four squads should remain on the walls till everyone's gone, \\\"K'ess said. \\\"I'll stay with them. '\\n\\n\\\"I believe you held the rear-guard last,\\\" Steppen pointed out. \\\"It's my turn. '\\n\\nK'ess looked the rather dumpy woman up and down.\\\"You sure you're up to it?\\\"\\n\\nSteppen merely looked to the sky. \\\"These recruits don't know what a hard march is. Not like the run to Evinor. Time they learned. '\\n\\nK'ess cast an eye over the fort.\\\"A shame, really. Well built. '\\n\\n\\\"Have to have a word with the engineers. I was really looking for something roomier.\\\"\\n\\nThe distant scream of a dying horse pierced the din of battle, making Steppen wince. She faced the east. \\\"Run, you poor bastards,\\\" she murmured. \\\"Flee. Just mount up and ride.\\\"\\n\\nK'ess squeezed her shoulder.\\\"Oponn's favour.\\\" He turned and left her.\\n\\n\\\"Toren,\\\" she called, using his first name, and he paused on his way down.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Give them something to remember,\\\" she said, smiling. \\\"Show them what they've taken on, yes?\\n\\nFist K'ess inclined his head in agreement.\\\"Somewhere narrow, Argell. I will see you there. \\\"He offered a brief salute and bounded down the stairs. Steppen turned to the east again and the screams drifting across with the wind. Gods. So it's true. All that she'd heard. These Seguleh. A few hundreds against some thirty thousand and it's a rout.\\n\\nFacing the gathering twilight she whispered: \\\"Yes, Toren. We'll meet again there. '\\n\\nCrouched in the tall grass, Captain Fal-ej scanned a landscape painted an unnatural watery green. Like the bottom of the sea, she thought to herself. Almost beautiful. To either side sergeants awaited her command to fire. Damn the man. Where was he? This bravado could cost them an experienced commander. Not to mention she hadn't yet told him all that she wanted to.\\n\\nThen movement among the grass and the Fist came running up the slope. Fal-ej signed fora stand-down. She rose to meet him. \\\"We're on the move, \\\"she called rather angrily.\\\"Where's Fist Steppen?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Holding the fort.\\\"\\n\\nShe stared past K'ess to the distant structure.\\\"That's-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" K'ess cut in.\\\"She's buying us time. Now let's go. Double-time. '\\n\\nFal-ej backed away, signing a withdrawal to the sergeants. K'ess kept going.\\\"No rearguard or outliers, Captain, \\\"he called.\\\"Just a rear watch. '\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" she answered. She raised her arm in the air to inscribe the circular pullout sign.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"*\\n\\nWhen dawn came Fist Steppen found herself looking out at an encirclement of Seguleh. Crows and other scavenging birds wheeled in the brightening eastern sky, or hopped obscenely among the distant trampled grass. The Seguleh facing her showed no wounds, though blood splashed some. One stepped forward insolently close given the fifteen crossbows covering him. His mask was a dizzying swirled design.\\n\\n\\\"You are surrounded,\\\" he called. \\\"You do not possess sufficient forces to defend your walls. Throw down your weapons and you will be allowed to live.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let us discuss terms,\\\" Steppen answered, a hand tight on the adzed log before her. \\\"What assurances can you provide of our fair treatment? I request a third-party negotiator.\\\"\\n\\nThe Seguleh gave an odd cutting motion with his hand. \\\"We will not allow you to delay. You are not important.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not important? You mean you would just pass us by?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. Well. In that case.\\\" She pointed. \\\"Kill that man.\\\"\\n\\nFifteen crossbows fired. The Seguleh twisted and ducked. Only two bolts struck him: one high in the leg, the other slashing the flesh of his left arm. The Seguleh charged the walls. Using their hands and feet they climbed the log palisade. Troopers backed away, dropping their crossbows as there was no time to reload. Steppen drew her slim blade. At least we wounded one of them, she told herself as the first appeared atop the walls. She swung but he dropped below the blade. Another jumped cat-like over the top to land with her sword already drawn. Steppen swung and the woman seemed to parry and counter all in the same fluid motion. Her blade slid easily through Steppen's leather armour to slash across her front, eviscerating her. The Fist tried one last attack but was off balance from the severing of so many muscle groups and she could not regain her footing. She fell off the catwalk to land in a wet tangled heap. As she lay in the dirt staring at the bark of the palisade logs her last thought was: Not that much of a damned delay...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald Nom did not spend too long in his cell. Just two meal periods later the door ratcheted and opened to reveal a Silver flanked by two Black. Torvald's first thought was that this was the same Silver. Then he realized that he really couldn't tell at all. He wished he'd spent more time memorizing the engraving on his driver's armour. But he'd been rather busy trying not to throw up at the time. He slowly climbed to his feet and gave a shallow bow.\\\"Welcome. If I'd known you were coming I would have saved some of my food.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Torvald Nom of Nom,\\\" the Silver said, and he recognized her voice, \\\"word has come from our Blue cousins affirming your story. Your credentials from the Darujhistan Council have also been deemed adequate. Our apologies.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald gave another brief bow. He suspected that this was all the contrition he was going to see. \\\"I am glad.\\\" Gods! \\\"I am glad.\\\" How banal! Shouldn't I say something profound like:\\\"Let this meeting usher in anew age of accord between our two peoples. ' Something puffed up and self-important like that?\\n\\nThe Silver motioned him out. \\\"This way, please.\\\"\\n\\nAs they walked the stone passages Torvald glanced sideways at his guide. He drew along breath and straightened his shirts and cloak. \\\"So... what is your name? If I may enquire.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Galene.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Galene? Galene. Well, where are we going? What's happening? '\\n\\n\\\"There are disturbing movements of forces in the foothills.\\\" She paused fora time as if sorting through her words. \\\"I have been chosen to act as your guide.\\\"\\n\\nAnd you're thrilled no end. Well, we all have our rows to hoe.\\\"Disturbing movements? You mean the Rhivi? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No. I do not mean the northern tribals.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No? Then... the Malazans?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Not the Malazans.\\\"\\n\\nTor frowned at the maddening woman. \\\"Well... then who?\\\" She ushered him into a stone circular staircase that they climbed single-file, he second. \\\"Well?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your Darujhistani army has been summoned, Nom of Nom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Army? Darujhistan has never had an army.\\\"\\n\\nThey emerged onto another of the tower roofs. Here rank after rank of quorl awaited, wings setting up a roar of commingled thrumming. The wind buffeted him. Most, he saw, carried two Moranth: a driver and a passenger. Ashe watched, stunned, waves of the quorl took off in file after file, peeling away in flights. From other towers more arose until the sky was darkened by their fragile silhouettes sweeping overhead like a tide rushing down a valley. An army– so swift!\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\" he shouted to Galene. \\\"Who is it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Our old enemy,\\\" she answered, icy fury in her voice. \\\"The ones who drove us from the plains. Who exiled us to these mountaintops ages ago.\\\" She thrust a finger at him. \\\"Your murdering Seguleh.\\\"\\n\\nJust inside the unlocked gate of the Eldra Iron Mongers, Barathol cast about for someone, anyone, to greet him. It was illegal to be out this late; the Legate had lowered a curfew that was enforced by the Seguleh. And never had Barathol heard of a curfew so scrupulously respected.\\n\\nThe works were silent. For months now no black choking smoke had swirled about this end of the city and the waters of the bay lapped almost clear. He was of a mind to turn round– curfew breaking compounded by trespassing– when he spotted the odd little fellow himself, arms clasped behind his back, closely studying a workbench of abandoned tools. He came up behind and was about to speak when Kruppe asked: \\\"Was the carriage ride diverting?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Kruppe– I don't know what you calla carriage, but I don't calla cart pulled by an ass a carriage. I could have walked faster.\\\"\\n\\nThe little man's chin pulled in, aghast.\\\"What! Why, the lad assured me it was a carriage. Most replete. '\\n\\n\\\"Would that be the same lad who was hitting the ass to keep it going?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I wouldn't know, was it? And you do mean the ass pulling the cart, yes? '\\n\\nBarathol pulled a hand down his jowls and chin while he studied the bland-faced fellow. He appeared completely forthright. \\\"I'm going now. ' He turned to leave.\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no!\\\" Kruppe dodged around him. \\\"It must be you. Please. A simple job. Delicate and... ah, tricky, yes. But perfect for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kruppe– I'm no master craftsman. I'm just an average smith. You don't want me. And I have to say I'm starting to wonder about this villa of yours.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why, I am assured it is most exquisite! Airy. Charming. With enormous... character.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sounds like an old shack missing a wall.\\\"\\n\\nKruppe froze, surprised. \\\"You've seen it? '\\n\\nBarathol started off again. \\\"Like I said, I'm heading home. ' Rattling at the gate stopped him. The tall iron-barred doors had been closed and someone was approaching. It was hard to see in the eerie jade-hued light but the man appeared to be a tramp or a beggar. His clothes hung tattered and blackened. His hair was a wild nest and his face and hands glistened, soot-smeared and sweaty. He was rubbing his hands in a rag that was even dirtier.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The derelict stopped before them. He eyed Barathol up and down, said to Kruppe, \\\"Is this your smith?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Tis he. '\\n\\n\\\"I know all the smiths in the city. This one's new tome. '\\n\\n\\\"He's a smith of foreign extraction. '\\n\\nA smile shone bright against the man's grimed face.\\\"Just as I am. \\\"He pointed.\\\"This way. '\\n\\nAs they walked Barathol peered about the quiet ghostly yard and open silent sheds. \\\"There maybe guards...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No guards,\\\" said the tramp. \\\"Just me– the owner.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol stopped dead. \\\"You are Humble Measure?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"In the flesh.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol turned to Kruppe, his gaze narrowing. \\\"What's going on here? '\\n\\nHumble waved the rag at Kruppe. \\\"This man has contracted for some work. Welcome income.\\\" He opened his arms wide to encompass his yards. \\\"There has been a temporary slowdown in production.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fabrication,\\\" Kruppe said. \\\"A delicate job.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed,\\\" Humble Measure agreed. He motioned Barathol onward. \\\"Let me tell you a story– if I may. There once was a man who was frightened. He was afraid of the rule of oppressive overlords, of marauding armies, of murderers, of bloody-handed thieves. In short, of almost everything. To defend against them and to be strong he decided to build thick walls of stone all about him. He shackled himself to these walls so that he could not be dragged off. He barred the window with thick iron rods. He secured the door with locks and crossbars and swallowed the keys. Then, one day, peering terrified from between the bars he realized that in his extraordinary efforts to be protected and unassailable he had built for himself something else entirely.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A prison.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Exactly so. In his efforts to be free of oppression he had enslaved himself.\\\"\\n\\nThey had entered one of the larger worksheds. Humble led him to a metal bench cluttered with metal forging tools, tongs, hammers, and pinchers. Nearby, one of the immense furnaces glowed, crackling and hissing. A wide stone box sat upon the bench.\\n\\n\\\"Never touch with your naked hand what lies within,\\\" Kruppe warned.\\n\\nHumble Measure raised a pair of fine pinchers. \\\"I will assist.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol waved to him. \\\"You do it. You're the master smith. '\\n\\n\\\"It requires your, ah, intent,\\\" Kruppe said.\\n\\n\\\"Mine? What for?\\\"\\n\\nThe little man peered to the vaulted roof as if searching for the right words. \\\"For a certain quality of circularity.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Just that.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol eyed the two as if judging their sanity– which seemed utterly lacking. \\\"Just what is the job?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Inlay,\\\" Humble said.\\n\\n\\\"We do not possess the, ah, resources to unmake what lies within that box,\\\" Kruppe explained. \\\"But perhaps you can soften it enough fora fine bit of inlay.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol grunted. Inlay. Well... that didn't seem so unreasonable.\\n\\nKruppe entwined his pudgy fingers over his stomach. \\\"Very good. I'll leave you two to your trade secrets. \\\"He suddenly thrust a finger into the air.\\\"But remember! The finished product must be dipped in bee's wax! That is most imperative.\\\"\\n\\nHumble waved him off. \\\"Yes, yes. We know our trade. Now begone.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Be gone?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"I'll have you know, sir, that Kruppe was about to go! Kruppe will not be hurried or rushed off. No unseemly haste for the timely Kruppe. '\\n\\n\\\"Shall we open the box now?\\\" Humble asked Barathol.\\n\\n\\\"Kruppe is leaving– farewell!\\\"\\n\\nAs they descended the foothills, the Dwelling Plain lay before them, dun and ochre, shimmering in the day's heat, and Yusek cursed the sight of it. She could not believe that here she was yet again setting out across its damned dust-choked hills and draws. How many times had she sworn, and to how many gods and demons, that once she escaped she would never set foot upon it again?\\n\\nThe master of the monastery led the way. Sall followed, then she, and Lo came last. The master carried a sword on his back, wrapped and tightly tied in cloth. Other than this he was unarmed. Yusek still did not know what to call him. When Sall had asked what name they should use in addressing him he'd been silent fora very longtime before drawing a ragged breath and saying in a hoarse voice,\\\"Grief. '\\n\\nYet neither Seguleh chose to call him that. When they needed to gain his attention they simply said, \\\"Seventh.\\\"\\n\\nOne day as they descended towards the plain the Seventh halted, peering to the north. Everyone stopped as well and Yusek squinted, but she saw nothing. \\\"Large numbers on the move,\\\" the Seventh said. \\\"Possibly armies.\\\" He started off again but Sall remained still.\\n\\n\\\"Our brothers and sisters maybe involved,\\\" the youth said.\\n\\n\\\"That does not concern us,\\\" the Seventh replied harshly. \\\"Our purpose lies in Darujhistan. And we must hurry. Things move apace.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We should not turn from them.\\\"\\n\\nThe Seventh faced him squarely now. He drew a hard breath. \\\"Tell me, do you think I want to go to this cursed city? It's the last place I would ever want to go. But I am going– because you came tome. So the least you can damned well do is accompany me. '\\n\\nThe ferocity of the man's words almost drove Yusek back a step. Sall merely inclined his head in acquiescence. Though he did murmur,\\\"My apologies, Seventh. '\\n\\nThe man looked away, blinking. He threw himself further down the trail. \\\"Let's move. '\\n\\nFor her part Yusek couldn't believe she was actually going to Darujhistan. Never did she dream she would seethe great city. City of Blue Flames. Wealthiest city on all the continent, from Evinor in the north to Elingarth in the south. It was said you could find for sale there cloth so sheer it was like the kiss of water. And rare fruits and birds to eat. Like duck. She'd never had roasted duck. She'd heard it called succulent. Now there was a word for food. Succulent. She'd like all her food to be succulent. And she'd bathe in hot water in a tub with scented soap. She'd heard of that too. Now that, as far as she could imagine, must be the height of luxury.\\n\\nEating duck in a tub. Now there's luxury for you.\\n\\nAnd Sall here. Well, she'll talk him out of wearing that stupid mask. And with him at her back there'll be no stopping them. They'll waylay all those rich fat merchants. She'll become so famous even bearded Orbern squatting in his fort in the woods will hear of her. Yes, that sounded like a plan to her. And you had to have a plan– that much she knew. You don't get anywhere without a plan.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The two figures walking down the street of the bakers in the Gadrobi district cut a colourful, if jarring, picture. One was unusually tall and dressed as if he had rolled in the cast-off scraps behind a tailor's shop. The other wore drab threadbare rags, was bald, and had a face that glimmered as if speckled in metal paint. And when this one smiled at those passing in the streets, they flinched away.\\n\\nThey strode nonchalantly, apparently pointing out the sights to one another. They might have been on a stroll to find an inn to pass the evening. They came abreast of a sad figure crouched down on his haunches against a wall, head bowed, and the shorter of the figures nudged his companion and they swung to stand either side of the hunched beggar. There they slid down the wall to sit as bookends.\\n\\n\\\"All is not as desolate as it seems,\\\" the larger, bushy-haired one sighed, his gaze scanning the street.\\n\\n\\\"The sting fades and new horizons show themselves,\\\" the other confirmed.\\n\\nThe larger cocked his head. \\\"Think of it as rigidity sacrificed for an infinity of possibility...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well said,\\\" his companion agreed. \\\"You are your own man now. You may do as you choose.\\\"\\n\\nThe one between them tentatively raised his head. His long untrimmed hair hung down over his eyes. \\\"Actions not dedicated to a higher purpose are meaningless,\\\" he countered as if reciting a text.\\n\\nThe two exchanged glances over his head.\\n\\n\\\"Then select a purpose,\\\" the thin bald one suggested, smiling and flashing gold-capped teeth.\\n\\n\\\"Such as?\\\"\\n\\nThe big one waved expansively. \\\"Well... such as ours, perhaps.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"And that is?\\\"\\n\\nSmiling, the thin one clasped the fellow's shoulder.\\\"That our every action, our very appearance, be a constant denunciation and thumb in the eye to our brethren. Now... \\\"he and his companion hooked arms through the young man's, \\\"let us continue this discussion in more convivial surroundings.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I suggest Magajal's place, ' the big one rumbled as they set off.\\n\\nThe bright metal glimmering on the bald one's face was in fact gold thread stitching. It wrinkled as he frowned.\\\"She waters her wine to excess. No. Dinner first at the Terrace overlooking the lake. We will consider later diversions over the meal. '\\n\\n\\\"Excellent.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Come, friend,\\\" the bald one encouraged. \\\"Let this day be the first in an open-ended garden of companionship, adventure and extravagance.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle watched the street through the slats nailed over the window of K'rul's bar then sat back in his chair, crossbow on his lap. \\\"Looks quiet,\\\" he called back over his shoulder. \\\"Maybe they've given upon us as not worth the candle. '\\n\\n\\\"Whistling in the dark,\\\" Picker grumbled from the bar. She cocked an eye to the bard Fisher at the end of the counter, where he was scratching on a sheet of vellum. She drew two tankards of beer and slid down to him, peered uncomprehending at the marks squiggled on the sheet. \\\"Whatcha writin\\\"? '\\n\\n\\\"An epic poem.\\\" He lifted one of the tankards, saluted her, and drank.\\n\\nLeaning forward on her elbows, she narrowed her gaze as if struck by a sudden new thought. \\\"Why're you here anyway? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I like a quiet place to compose.\\\"\\n\\nShe chuckled. \\\"That's a good one. \\\"Then she frowned.\\\"Wait a minute... ' She had opened her mouth to say more when aloud groaning stilled everyone. It seemed to becoming from the walls themselves, as if the building were twisting, or being squeezed.\\n\\nSpindle jumped to his feet, clutching his crossbow. \\\"What's that? '\\n\\n\\\"Don't fucking know, \\\"Picker growled as she eased her way from behind the bar, long-knives out.\\\"Blend! '\\n\\n\\\"Clear,\\\" came the answer from the rear.\\n\\n\\\"Sounded like it came from below,\\\" Fisher said.\\n\\nPicker nodded her agreement. \\\"Let's have a look. Spin, check the cellar. '\\n\\n\\\"What? Why do I have to check the cellar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Cause I say so, that's why! Now go.\\\"\\n\\nGrumbling, Spindle tramped for the stairs.\\n\\nAfter Spindle disappeared a sudden explosive crack of wood made everyone flinch. \\\"Upstairs,\\\" Picker grunted and headed up. Fisher's hand strayed to his longsword.\\n\\n\\\"This epic poem of yours,\\\" Duiker whispered into the heavy silence, \\\"what's it about? '\\n\\n\\\"The Elder Gods.\\\"\\n\\nPicker came back down, wonder on her face. She motioned upstairs. \\\"Timbers split in the roof and walls. Main load-bearing ones too.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle emerged looking pale and ill. Speechless, he indicated his boots. Black fluid, crusted and gummy like old blood, caked them. His feet had left a bloody smeared trail on the dirty stone floor. \\\"The cellar,\\\" he managed, his voice choked. \\\"Awash. Somethin's goin'on, Pick. Somethin\\\" terrible. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Duiker turned his head to study the foreign bard straight on. \\\"This poem... How's it going? '\\n\\nFisher let out a taut breath. \\\"I think I'm nearing the end. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Paradise would be a city where pearls cobble roads and gems serve as playthings for children. And why? Not because all will be so wealthy, but because its citizens will have recognized that such things truly are toys.\\n\\nWords of the Street Prophets\\n\\nCompiler's name withheld\\n\\nTHERE WERE TIMES when Kiska was dozing in the cave half asleep in the dim phantom light of night when she thought she heard weeping. The sound came drifting in over the surf, faint, wavering, and she would have dismissed it as a scrap of dream had she not heard it more than once.\\n\\nThe sound grated like a blade down her spine, for she knew who it was. If Tayschrenn was not dead as Leoman insisted, then it could be none other. His mind was gone– or, more accurately, she had destroyed his mind by playing into the hand of the Queen of Dreams.\\n\\nThe scheming bitch. She saw it all now. The elegance. All the hallmarks of her plotting. She, Kiska, naïve agent, would find the archmagus and deliver to him the poison supplied by her. And once that happened whatever reaction it was would be unleashed and he would be stricken.\\n\\nAnd she the brainless dupe. Gods! Every time her thoughts returned to that she bashed the heels of her hands to her forehead. She would escape from here if only to track the damned Enchantress down.\\n\\nAnd Agayla? No– she too must have been ignorant of the Queen's intent. Must have.\\n\\nGods above and below, forgotten and forsworn! When would she ever learn? Never trust anyone. Never. That had been her mistake. She'd trusted and been used. As it is for everyone everywhere. You are no different, woman.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She groaned again and wrapped her head in her arms, pulling it down between her knees.\\n\\nFurther into the cave Leoman stirred. \\\"Don't beat yourself up, child, \\\"he said.\\\"You... we... had noway of knowing. '\\n\\n\\\"Shut the Abyss up.\\\"\\n\\nShe heard pebbles striking the wall as he tossed them one by one. \\\"It stings now but that will pass. I should know. And it wasn't even on purpose. So never mind. What's done is done. There's no sense worrying about it. '\\n\\nShe raised her head to stare at him, incredulous. \\\"Says the man who murdered thousands in a firestorm he deliberately set!\\\"\\n\\nHe shrugged. \\\"It was war. I was fighting for my life.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why should your life be worth more than anyone else's in that city? '\\n\\nThe man tossed another pebble. \\\"It is tome.\\\"\\n\\nShe turned away. \\\"Gods. You're beyond hope. '\\n\\n\\\"Just honest.\\\"\\n\\nFrom the cave mouth came the dragging uneven footsteps of the rescued creatures. Kiska and Leoman shared a glance. He rose, brushed dirt from the tattered Seven Cities robes he still wore over his mail. Kiska pushed herself to her feet.\\n\\n\\\"You may exit,\\\" came a weak quavering voice. \\\"Follow us.\\\"\\n\\nShe ducked from the cave, followed by Leoman. The creatures had hobbled off towards the shore. \\\"Come,\\\" one called.\\n\\nThey descended the strand of black sand. Kiska glanced about, searching for the giant, Korus. He seemed nowhere about. The enormous faint silhouette of Maker was visible, larger than any mountain, labouring somewhere on the distant shoreline.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then she saw someone at the shore and she froze. Her heart lurched as if it had been hammered. She clamped a hand to her mouth. Him. Standing. Standing. Staring out at the bright Vitr sea. Oh, my Queen– I have wronged you so.\\n\\nShe ran all the way down to him only to stop just short. She reached out as if to touch him but yanked her hand back, afraid she shouldn't. Or that he might not be there. He turned to her and she flinched, catching her breath. For he was Tayschrenn yet he wasn't. Gone was the sharp questing gaze that could flense flesh from bone. And gone also was the guarded mien– immobile, almost mask-like. He smiled now, studying her in turn. Yet the sight made her heartache even more so sad was it, so melancholy.\\n\\n\\\"You are... healed?\\\" she asked, her voice catching.\\n\\n\\\"Healed? Yes, Kiska. I am healed.\\\" He reached out to brush her hair from her face. \\\"And harrowed. Cut through to the core.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I don't understand. '\\n\\nHe invited her to walk with him along the shore. \\\"You restored me, Kiska. Though I wonder whether I should thank you for it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I mean I was– am– Thenaj still. Just as I am also Tayschrenn. And I find that I was everything Thenaj loathed. Yet I am both still. And now I must choose who to be.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are both? Be both then. Who you are.\\\"\\n\\nAgain the wintry smile as he walked, his long thin hair loose. \\\"Always the hard choice with you, hey, Kiska? Easier just to deny the one or the other. Blot it out. Pretend it never was... but instead you counsel conciliation. The difficult third path of adaptation and growth.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He held his long-fingered hands out in front of him, turned them over as if studying them for the first time. \\\"So be it. I shall be both– and neither.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And,\\\" Kiska asked warily, \\\"what will you do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. What to do. I cannot return to the old now that I am not who I was... Yet one possibility does beckon. A possible place for me. One perhaps only I can fill...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And that is?\\\"\\n\\nHe turned to face her, square on. Shook his head. \\\"We shall see. I may not be strong enough to take it on. For now it is enough that we will be going. I am finished here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So– we are leaving? You are coming with me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nKiska felt as if she had shed ten stone. \\\"Thank the gods!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not thank them,\\\" Tayschrenn snapped in a manner something like his old self. \\\"Terrible, unforgivable things are stirring and it could be argued that they are to blame. They've stuck their hands into the furnace once too many times and now they find they cannot pull them out. So do not thank them. But perhaps we can find it within us to pity them. '\\n\\nKiska did not know what to make of that– most of which seemed directed more at himself, in any case. But it wasn't important. She'd heard the words she'd wanted to hear. He was returning. She had succeeded. Sent on a mission across creation to find someone cast into Chaos– and she had succeeded!\\n\\nAnd now she wondered: was that in truth what mattered to her? Was it that which had been gnawing at her all this time? Not concern for Tayschrenn; not fear of her own fate. Was it just that she couldn't stomach failure? Not a flattering piece of self-revelation.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Perhaps, as Tayschrenn suggested, she should just blot that one out.\\n\\nHe led her back to where Leoman stood waiting, hands on his belt, next to the gathered creatures.\\n\\nTayschrenn stopped in front of the man and frowned. \\\"Leoman of the Flails. You have some nerve standing here before me.\\\"\\n\\nThe man gave an insouciant shrug. \\\"All that is the past.\\\"\\n\\nThe mage's gaze narrowed, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepening. \\\"Funny you should say that...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thenaj...\\\" one of the unformed asked, its thin voice trembling. \\\"What is happening?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry. But– I am leaving.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Leaving? Going?\\\" The creatures setup a clamour of murmuring and crying.\\n\\nThen Korus appeared, bounding towards them from among the dunes. \\\"What is this!\\\" it bellowed. \\\"You are going?\\\" Coming close, it dug in its odd clawed feet to halt, kicking up sand. \\\"I knew you would betray us! Look at you. I sense it in you– mage. Torturer! Murderer!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's not fair! ' Kiska shouted.\\n\\n\\\"Look at you... abandoning us. Does your word mean nothing? No– of course it does not, for you have been forsworn all your life!\\\"\\n\\nUndisguised hurt twisted Tayschrenn's features. He raised a hand to speak.\\\"Please, Korus... my friend... '\\n\\n\\\"And what are we to do?\\\" the giant demon raged on. It thrust a taloned hand to the Vitr. \\\"Every day I hear them calling. Our brothers and sisters, dying! Burning into dissolution! What are we to do?\\\" Kiska was astounded to hear true torment in the demon's cracking trembling voice.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Korus... Korus. Please. Listen tome. Give me your hands.\\\"\\n\\nThe huge beast flinched away. \\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Korus, trust me. I am still the man you knew as Thenaj. Truly. I am. Now give me your hands.\\\"\\n\\nThe high-born demon edged its wide taloned hands closer. Its knife-like fangs ground and scraped at the strain of the gesture. Tayschrenn took the mangled fingers in his. Scar tissue that twisted up Korus's forearms marked the extent of its past suffering. After a moment Tayschrenn released them.\\\"There. '\\n\\n\\\"There? What trick is this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are now inured to the Vitr, friend. You may enter it as I did. Without fear or effect. You will take my place.\\\"\\n\\nThe demon backed away. It cocked its wide mangy head as if it could not, or would not, believe. \\\"How can I...\\\"\\n\\nTayschrenn gestured to the Vitr sea. \\\"Go ahead. Test it.\\\"\\n\\nKorus stepped back, still wary. Then it padded down to the waves. It dipped a hand into a glimmering wash of the liquid light and raised it, letting the fluid run from its taloned fingers. Then, peering back at them, it laughed. It threw back its maned head and let go a great shaking roar of laughter. It fell to its knees splashing both hands in the Vitr as if it were no more than a tidal pool. The malformed creatures gathered nearby on the shore. They murmured their amazement while Korus chuckled on and on.\\n\\n\\\"That was a great thing,\\\" Kiska said.\\n\\nThe mage shook his head. \\\"Was it? Few who call survive. He will suffer much failure. That will be a torment.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No. His helplessness was his torment.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Helplessness?\\\" The mage examined his own hands once more. \\\"Ah. Helplessness.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And now?\\\" she asked.\\n\\n\\\"Now we will go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Leoman said. \\\"Now you will go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You?\\\" Kiska repeated sharply. \\\"What do you mean? You said that earlier too.\\\"\\n\\nThe man brushed his moustache, shrugging again. \\\"I mean I will be staying, I think.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You? Stay?\\\" Kiska laughed. \\\"That's absurd. \\\"She gestured to the desolate shore.\\\"There's nothing here for you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's peaceful, Kiska, \\\"he answered calmly, completely unruffled by her disparagement.\\\"I can sleep here. And tome that means a lot. '\\n\\n\\\"I understand,\\\" Tayschrenn said.\\n\\nKiska set her hands on her hips. \\\"This is ridiculous.\\\" She gestured towards Tayschrenn. \\\"I just got-You're coming with us. That's all there is to it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. And who knows... if this place can help our friend here, perhaps it can help me.\\\"\\n\\nKiska waved, entreating Tayschrenn to speak. \\\"Say something. He can't stay here all alone! '\\n\\nThe mage cleared his throat, nodding. \\\"Maker likes stories. I was always sorry I didn't have any for him. '\\n\\nLeoman groomed his moustache again. \\\"Oh-ho!\\\" He smiled behind his hand. \\\"Have I got stories for him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nTayschrenn took her hand. \\\"Come.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\"\\n\\nHe pulled her along behind like a reluctant child.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No– we can't just leave him here all alone...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"'\\n\\n\\\"He is not alone.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, yes, but...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He knows what is best for him. Now come. We have far to go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fine!\\\" She twisted her hand free and straightened her shirt. \\\"Fine. Leave him exiled, then! Forever!\\\"\\n\\nTayschrenn walked on, hands clasped behind his back. \\\"He is not exiled. He can leave whenever he wishes. Maker can send him anywhere he chooses.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Oh... well. Why didn't you say so? \\\"Kiska ran to catch up. She glanced back, caught Leoman's eye, and waved farewell.\\n\\nLeoman answered the wave then turned away, arms crossed, to watch Korus play in the sea. And, to Kiska's eyes, he did possess the look of a man at peace.\\n\\nNoise from downstairs woke Scillara. She tensed, listening in the dark. The city had been quiet these last weeks now that the Legate had imposed his curfew. Every sound carried a sudden insistence and stood out as rare and unexpected as... well, as an honest man.\\n\\nShe reached down for the long-knife Barathol kept on the floor under the bed. She'd laughed, of course, as washer way with him– anything to dance away from the grim– for she'd spotted him long ago as one of those who could slide too easily into gloomy brooding.\\n\\nUp to her to chivvy him along.\\n\\nStrangely enough, her first thought had been for the babe. Now there's a shocker. Gettin\\\" tome after all. Just as Barathol said.\\n\\nShe listened once more: now all she could hear were the babe's quick wet breaths.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Then it came again.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Someone moving about downstairs. As if they had two sticks to steal! As disappointing a break-in as they come. She went quickly to the stairs and edged her way down, blade out in front. Let them chuckle at the fat woman with a knife; she'd had to cut her fair share of men turned ugly with drink and sour tempers.\\n\\nAlight was visible on the main floor. Halfway down the stone stairs she saw Barathol at the rear seeing to the banked fire. She reached up through the trapdoor to slip the blade onto the bedroom floor and went down.\\n\\n\\\"Back already?\\\"\\n\\nHe grunted and turned from coaxing the fire going. She was shocked to see that he was sodden through. \\\"You're soaked. Was it raining? '\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" he croaked, his voice ragged.\\n\\nShe took the sticks and tinder from his shaking hands. \\\"I'll see to it. What happened, then? ' She blew on the embers.\\n\\nHe slumped into a chair. \\\"I washed. Washed everything. Dumped water over myself from a cistern.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To hide the smell of the drink?\\\"\\n\\nNot a glimmer answered that. \\\"No. To wash away... something else.\\\" He held out his hands and turned them over. They shook like leaves. Kneeling, she reached for them but he yanked them away. Even so, she felt their chill. Frozen!\\n\\n\\\"A lad came yesterday with a cooked meal for us and a note sayin\\\" you were working still. \\\"He looked confused, blinking heavily. Exhausted– what was this job? I'll have that fat man's head!\\n\\n\\\"Message? I sent no message.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well. You're back now. Want to seethe little one? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He straightened, lurching. \\\"No! Have to... have to wash first.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Wash?\\\" She laughed lightly. \\\"You're cleaner than I've ever seen you!\\\"\\n\\nHe merely stared at the fire. \\\"Heat water. Bring that cake of soap. And our smallest knife. Have to cut my nails. Scour my hands. Before– before I touch anything.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Barathol... you're clean enough-'\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. \\\"Dammit, woman, just do as I ask for once.\\\"\\n\\nScillara backed away. Fine. Just this once then! She went to fill the pot.\\n\\n*\\n\\nChal Grilol had been a woodwright turning out spoked wheels for wagons and chests, benches, just about anything anyone required in the neighbourhood. Then the joint-ache took his hands and he couldn't hold a tool no more. He couldn't work so he lost his home; his boys were long gone and the wife was dead so he was out on the street sleeping under a wharf on the waterfront. Tonight he was out fishing off the end of the dock, using a lantern to lure fingerlings.\\n\\nThen along came this two-wheeled cart pushed backwards up the dock by a shaggy man all dirty and wild-haired and muttering to himself. And while Chal watched, amazed, this burly fellow proceeded to toss tools and bits and pieces from the cart into the lake. He threw hammers as far as he could out into the waves. Wearing thick leather gloves he tossed handfuls of smaller tools like scatterings of stones off the dock. Then he got upon to the cart and kicked over a big anvil that fell with a resounding bang that shook the entire dock from end to end. This he pushed over and over until he tipped it off the end with a huge splash. Last, the gloves themselves followed into the drink.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Dusting his hands, the fellow turned to Chal, still sitting, pole in his hands. He took out a soot-smeared rag and wiped his face and hands then peered down, frowning. \\\"You might bethinking to yourself, friend: \\\"That lot could be worth a copper or two.\\\" But don't consider it. \\\"He leaned even closer and there was something in his eyes, something wild and terrible.\\\"They're cursed, friend. Touched with a fearsome curse.\\\" He glanced about as if listening to the night, the water lapping, the boats groaning against their berths. \\\"Even now it might not be safe.\\\" And he patted Chal's shoulder and started up the dock with his cart.\\\"G'night!\\\"\\n\\nAs the creaking of the cartwheels diminished up the waterfront Chal sat listening and it seemed to him that the murmur of the water had taken on a more ominous hollow moaning and that the wheels' groaning had returned to his ears– this time accompanied by the jangling of metal chain, perhaps from the nearby ships. Pole in one hand and lantern in the other, he ran. His naked feet slapped the grey boards as he went and a cold chill seemed to nip at them with each step.\\n\\n*\\n\\nSpindle was half awake in the bar common room, chin in hands, dredging his brain trying to figure out what that damned alchemist-mage, Baruk, had been trying to tell him. There must be something there. He was sure of it. Why else let him go? Why else hint at... whatever it was he meant? Something was there just beyond his reach; it was driving him crazy.\\n\\nAt the barrier they'd thrown across the door, watching the night-time street, Blend recrossed her legs and tilted back in her chair, her crossbow on her lap. Then the long stone counter of the bar exploded. There was no other word for it. It just burst with an eruption that sent Blend cartwheeling backwards, the crossbow firing, to fall on her back. Spindle fell from his chair and scooted under the table.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Feet thumped and in came Duiker wearing a shirt and trousers, sheathed sword in hand, followed by Picker in along nightshirt.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The bard, Fisher, was out: taking the mood of the city, or some damned thing like that.\\n\\n\\\"What happened?\\\" Picker demanded. Peering up, Spindle thought the woman's heavy unbound breasts pushed out the nightshirt in a very appealing way.\\n\\n\\\"Damned bar cracked,\\\" Blend said. \\\"Spin... Get outta there, Spin. Take a look.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fell out of my chair, that's all. ' He straightened, adjusted his shirt. She waved him to the bar.\\n\\nThe stone was cracked clean across. Dust still lingered in the air. \\\"More of the same,\\\" he said. \\\"This place is under some kinda pressure. Like it's bein'twisted and squeezed. Just like K'rul himself. '\\n\\n\\\"Herself,\\\" Blend corrected. \\\"You saw her.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. But I always thought o\\\" K'rul as a he.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Always been a she– everyone knows that!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not as I'd heard. '\\n\\n\\\"Doesn't fucking matter! \\\"Picker cut in.\\\"Get your priorities straight, would you? Spin, we in worse trouble now? Should we cutout? '\\n\\nHe laid a hand on the stone counter and tried to sort through the jangling messages blaring from his Warren. Gods! Like an overturned anthill. Everything's running allover, frantic, hunting for cover from what they don't even know. Got the feeling it won't matter where we go...\\n\\n\\\"We should stay,\\\" Duiker suddenly announced. Everyone looked at the old man.\\n\\n\\\"Why?\\\" Blend demanded.\\n\\n\\\"I think it helps. Us, people, being here. I think it helps.\\\"\\n\\nBlend turned to Spindle. \\\"Well?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He gave a quick jerk of his head.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yeah. Not sure we'd be any safer anywhere else. '\\n\\n\\\"Good.\\\" Blend peered about the place, almost possessive. \\\"Don't want to be run out. Got too much invested here. \\\"She glared at them.\\\"Well, get back to sleep. Excitement's over.\\\"\\n\\nSpindle watched Picker head back to the old priest cells. Man, haven't had a woman in along time if Picker's lookin' good. He rubbed his hand on the smooth cold stone. Stone. The stones. Maybe that was it. Something about the stones. Yes! Had to be it. But what? What about the stones?\\n\\nHe slapped the counter. Queen take it! It was infuriating! He knew there was something there. He just couldn't reach it. Had to be important. It just had to be.\\n\\nJan lay in the quarters that had been setup for the Seguleh among the rambling rooms of Majesty Hall. One of the Hundredth came to let him know that the Legate required him in the Great Hall. He nodded and rose.\\n\\nRequired. Their new status here. Servants. Servants to the Throne. Yet it was not as if this were new. They were merely returning to their original place. Their original role. Was this not all they had yearned for during the long exile? Why then his disquiet, his unease?\\n\\nToo proud for service? Too arrogant to bend the knee? Was that his trouble?\\n\\nPerhaps. Yet he could not help suspecting that the cause lay deeper than that. Something more integral, more essential.\\n\\nHe found the Great Hall crowded with councillors, city aristocrats, court functionaries, and general hangers-on such as Lady Envy– many of whom had no actual purpose but who seemed able to behave as if they did. He ignored them all, of course, not being of the sword. Even those who did wear weapons on their hips, such as some of the councillors. He and his brothers and sisters had had to come up with anew category for those individuals: eunuchs who still retained their weapons.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Talk was a low murmur– perhaps so that everyone could eavesdrop on everyone else. Jan walked straight for the throne. Four of the Twenty guarded it. Also present were those two shabby guards. They stood off to one side among the pillars of the colonnade. Right now their crossbows hung at their sides as they ate some sort of steamed buns. It occurred to Jan that they always seemed to be eating.\\n\\nThe Mouthpiece approached, looking as pale and haggard as always. He appeared sick, fevered perhaps, sweaty, a hand constantly at his throat. \\\"Second,\\\" he greeted him. Jan bowed. \\\"We have a prisoner. A spy who worked against us. He must be executed.\\\"\\n\\nJan gave the slightest of shrugs. \\\"Executed? Very well. Let it be done.\\\"\\n\\nThe Mouthpiece wiped his brow, swallowed, and held his stomach, pained. \\\"You do not seem to understand. The execution is for you Seguleh to perform. You must see to it.\\\"\\n\\nJan faced the gold-masked figure on the throne. \\\"There must be some misunderstanding. We are warriors, not headsmen. We do not kill prisoners.\\\"\\n\\nThe gold oval edged his way. It seemed to Jan that the graven half-smile on the lips took on a cold aloofness. \\\"You Seguleh have always been my executioners,\\\" said the Mouthpiece. \\\"That is the purpose for which I moulded you. The perfect executioners who slew any and all who opposed me. Now... fulfil your role.\\\"\\n\\nIt was not only the speed of Jan's reflexes that had raised him to the rank of Second; it was also the quickness of his mind. And so in answer he merely inclined his mask slightly and turned to leave.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Now is not the time, nor the place. Leaping into opposition now would mean confrontation and escalation. Before entering into battle one must consider all the potential outcomes, select the most desirable, then guide the engagement to the achievement of that end.\\n\\nAnd what is that end? At this time I have no idea what it might be...\\n\\nWhen the city Warden opened the cell door for Jan and two of the Hundredth, the prisoner stood to meet them. He held his head level. His hands were bound behind his back. He was an older, rather overweight, retired city guardsman, now dishevelled from having been searched and mildly beaten.\\n\\n\\\"You are charged with conspiring to bring down the rule of the Legate,\\\" Jan said.\\n\\nThe two of the Hundredth exchanged wondering glances; the prisoner seemed unaware of the extraordinary honour Jan had just accorded him.\\n\\nThe man shrugged as best he could with his hands tightly bound. \\\"I am not ashamed. Nor do I deny it. I would do it again. Darujhistan can govern itself without coercion or command.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That would be chaos.\\\"\\n\\nThe ex-guardsman appeared amused. \\\"Only to those who do not understand it.\\\"\\n\\nJan gave a quick cut of his hand. \\\"Hierarchy must be clear.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You of all people I do not expect to understand such things.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps that is so,\\\" Jan agreed. \\\"I do not pretend to be conversant with all forms of rulership.\\\"\\n\\nThe former guardsman nodded. \\\"Ah... I see it now. You speak of rulership. I speak of governance.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not seethe distinction.\\\"\\n\\nThe ex-guardsman studied Jan closely, as if attempting to peer in behind the mask. What he saw there, or failed to see, appeared to disappoint him. \\\"Then that is the gulf between us.\\\" He tilted his head as if struck by anew thought. \\\"Yet you are speaking tome– why?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I am trying to understand.\\\"\\n\\nThis admission rocked the ex-guardsman and his eyes widened as he seemed to appreciate the depth of it. Then his gaze slid to the floor and he let out a heavy breath. \\\"If that is so, then I am saddened for you.\\\"\\n\\nNow Jan was shaken as if struck. I am hereto execute this man yet he pities me?\\n\\nPerhaps alarmed by Jan's reaction one of the Hundredth stepped forward, gripping her sword.\\\"Kneel, \\\"she commanded.\\\"You have been condemned to die. '\\n\\nJan snapped out a hand-command. No. \\\"This is for me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You are Second,\\\" the woman dared breathe, mask held aside.\\n\\n\\\"All the more reason it must be me.\\\" Yes, I am Second. Tome must fall this burden. Tome must fall the guilt. He slipped a hand to his sword-grip, addressed the ex-guardsman. \\\"It will be quick.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"For me it will be,\\\" the man whispered before Jan's blade flashed one-handed beneath his chin. The knees gave first, seeming to drag the body down. It fell straight, limp, sagging.\\n\\nJan regarded the corpse and its last pumping jets of arterial blood as the heart stubbornly laboured on, refusing to admit to the end. He carefully cleaned his blade before resheathing it. The two of the Hundredth stared on, fascinated by the graphic demonstration. Jan motioned them out, rather impatiently, and remained behind. The man was right. For him this had been quick. But I fear I will never put this behind me. I have murdered. Tome now falls the guilt for this... and so much more. Oh, First, why did you not speak of this? Was it because your guilt was too great? And yet all that was so long ago. Can't a people change? Perhaps they can– if those around them will allow it.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Leaving the hall of cells Jan motioned to the prison guards. They passed him, eyes downcast, sliding along the far wall. And where Jan might have once read respect, or due esteem, he now saw only fear. Perhaps even a touch of distaste.\\n\\nOr was that just himself?\\n\\nAntsy could no longer hear the muted groaning and crack of rock echoing through the Spawn now that he was chiselling out the stone threshold under the great stone doors concealing what this crazy-eyed gang of witches, priests, mages and mercenaries were convinced was the Throne of Night.\\n\\nHe didn't think they led to anything remotely like that at all. Maybe the Broom Closet of Dust. Or more likely the Toilet of Crap. But that wasn't his worry. His job was to open these doors, or no one was going anywhere. Even when he rested, the sharp ringing of iron on iron twanged in his ears, and so it was a shock to glance over and see a set of fine polished leather boots right next to him. He glanced up and saw the armoured and richly attired fellow who he assumed to be a mage, who had given his name as Bauchelain.\\n\\n\\\"What do you want?\\\" Antsy said, rather loudly because of all the ringing.\\n\\nThe man bent down to study him with unsettling intensity. \\\"You are close to death,\\\" he said.\\n\\nAntsy looked the fellow up and down very pointedly. \\\"I sure am.\\\"\\n\\nHe shook his head, chuckling. \\\"No, no, no. Not me. Not at the moment, in any case. No, I mean death is watching you. You are of interest to... ah... it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You mean Hood?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Certainly not. Hood has gone to his oh-so-poetic and appropriate end, has he not? Dying, as he did. Which itself raises all sorts of disturbing chicken-and-egg questions and other philosophical conundrums. No, what I mean is the new manifestation it has fixed on while it flails about trying to find a permanent one– if any. Which brings us back to you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Me?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. The current manifestation of death is, again appropriately enough, soldiers. A certain band of soldiers, whose remains, so rumours have it, can be found on this very rock. My companion, Korbal Broach, is very eager to make their acquaintance. Quite keen he is to study them. You wouldn't happen to know their whereabouts, would you? '\\n\\nAntsy swallowed hard and said, dead level, \\\"I have no idea what yer talking about.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah. A shame, that. Well, let's hope something turns up, yes? '\\n\\nAntsy said nothing.\\n\\nA reedy old man's voice called from the darkness:\\\"Master Bauchelain! Our, ah, friend is getting into trouble again! '\\n\\nThe fellow stroked his goatee, looking at the ceiling and sighing. \\\"Must go. Korbal's wandered off. Till later then, yes? Take care. '\\n\\nShaken, Antsy returned to his chiselling. Burn's own blood! Truth be told, he'd come here precisely to make sure nothing like what that creature was hinting at would happen, or had happened. In the back of his mind he'd known the danger existed, what with the Spawn crashing and all. Sure, a bucketful of gems and coin would go along way. But that was just cream. All along he'd wanted to make sure things were still all squared away and proper. The thought of a broken sealed pit or whatever it was, and people messin' about with the bones of his brothers and sisters, made him too furious to even think straight-\\n\\nHe left off his chiselling, panting, hands fisted on his thighs. Almost busted a thumb there.\\n\\nSomeone else was standing behind him now: cracked sandals, tattered trouser legs over bony bruised shanks. The lad, Jallin. He leaned down. \\\"You're gonna die, soldier, \\\"he said, matter of fact.\\\"My mistress. The things I seen her do. She's gonna do for you...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Shut the Abyss up,\\\" Antsy growled. \\\"I'm busy. '\\n\\nThe lad flinched, almost hurt. Then he recovered, grinning toothily. \\\"Gonna die,\\\" he mouthed, backing away.\\n\\nShaking his head Antsy returned to his work. Sometime later someone banged on the stone flag of the threshold and Antsy whipped round, a curse on his lips. It was the blond-haired mercenary in his plain cloth tabard over mail armour, and canvas-covered round shield. With him were two of his guards. The other two, it seemed, hadn't made it.\\\"What is it? ' Antsy asked, wary.\\n\\nThe man peered at his work from under his tangled brows. \\\"You are making a hole, yes? A nest?\\\"\\n\\nThe accent was completely unfamiliar but Antsy nodded. \\\"Yeah. Sorta...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"How deep?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"About the span of a hand. Why?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We will help dig. You go rest. Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're not from Elingarth, are you? '\\n\\n\\\"No. We are from another land. Faraway.\\\" He motioned to his guards and they held out their hands for the hammer and chisel. Antsy passed them over. The two laid aside their shields and set to work with a vengeance, bashing away. Antsy backed off. He drew out a cloth and wiped his face. \\\"Why're you here? '\\n\\n\\\"Same as you, hey? The stories of riches we heard. We were in the south. We had a ship. We were... how you say... taxing shipping, yes? Then we came here.\\\" He shook his head. \\\"Very large mistake. You get us out, we owe you much.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Antsy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Cull. Cull Heel. Now you go sleep. We dig.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy kneaded the cloth in his numb aching hands. \\\"Well, all right. You come get me in a little while, hey?\\\"\\n\\nThe man waved him off. \\\"Yes, yes.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy walked towards the room off the main chamber that Orchid and Corien had taken. He caught the two mages, the old woman and the fat man, eyeing him all the way across the chamber. He tried his best to ignore them.\\n\\nWithin, Orchid turned quickly on him, asking, \\\"How is it going?\\\"\\n\\nAntsy lay down on a pile of gathered cloaks and odd clothing and threw an arm over his eyes. \\\"Damned slow.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They keep coming round– peering at us. Like they're sizing us up fora meal. Gives me the shivers. '\\n\\n\\\"Who does?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All of them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Orchid,\\\" Corien warned gently from across the room.\\n\\n\\\"What? Oh.\\\"\\n\\nAlight kick woke Antsy and he blinked, squinting in the bluish magelight. It was Corien. The lad waved him up. One of the mercenaries was there; the man gestured him out. After pulling together his gear Antsy followed. Something about the mercenaries struck him then as he walked: they were all damned big fellows, wide and tall, unusually so. And they all had the same broad heavy faces, as if they were related by blood.\\n\\nThe blond man, Cull, motioned to the chiselled-out gap. \\\"Good, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Let's have a look. \\\"Antsy lay on his stomach to measure the space. Still too tight for his cusser. He pushed himself up to his knees.\\\"A touch more yet. ' He reached for the hammer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No, no. We do more. You watch.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It's all right. I should... '\\n\\nCull held up a bloodied hand. \\\"No. You need your fingers to get us out, yes? We do this.\\\"\\n\\nHunh. How do you like that? He peered around at all the sweaty glistening faces watching from the dark walkways and portals: the tall woman, Seris; the old mage, Hemper; Hesta and Ogule. Typical. They want out but don't even consider lending a hand. Privileged shits. And as for the Malazans, well, at least they were standing guard down the hall.\\n\\nWhile Antsy was crouched, watching the chiselling, Orchid emerged from the dark to come to his side. \\\"You should see this,\\\" she said, sounding unusually subdued.\\n\\n\\\"We're close here, Orchid. '\\n\\n\\\"It'll only take a moment. '\\n\\nHe saw the wonder on her face and grunted. \\\"All right. But quick.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"This way.\\\"\\n\\nShe led him up an unlit side passage; his mage-sight allowed him to see here away from the lanterns in the main chamber. Through doorways and a short set of stairs down she brought him into another large cavern, this one low-ceilinged and filled with undecorated stone pillars. Crystals glistened on the uneven black rock walls and from where he stood he could see a sort of natural set of terraces descending into the distance. Dirt lay under his feet along with brown withered plant stalks. \\\"What's this? \\\"he breathed, sharing Orchid's wonder.\\n\\nA figure emerged from the gloom: Malakai. He carried a bunch of stalks gathered up in one hand like a bouquet. He sat on the ledge of one of the low terraces, which Antsy now recognized as a kind of planting bed. \\\"A garden,\\\" the man said, inspecting the dead stalks.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Antsy stared, amazed. \\\"Not...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Orchid whispered, awed. \\\"The legends were true. A garden.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There were flowers here that scholars tell had never seen the sun,\\\" Malakai said, and he shook his head. \\\"Imagine what a single such blossom would have bought. All dead now. This is what Apsalar sought when she came to the Spawn so long ago. The Lady of Thieves came to steal arose. A black rose. One that poets claimed had been touched by the tears of Mother Dark herself.\\\" Shrugging, he let the handful of chaff fall. \\\"And I sought to best her. To succeed where she had failed.\\\" He motioned to encompass the wrecked cavern, the spilled soil and overturned beds. \\\"So much for my ambitions.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy kicked at the black dirt underfoot. \\\"We still need to get out, Malakai. You can lend a hand.\\\"\\n\\nThe man drew a heavy breath. \\\"Yes. Well... we shall see.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy motioned to Orchid. \\\"I have to go,\\\" he said, low.\\n\\nShe nodded and waved him out.\\n\\nBack in the main chamber the chiselling had stopped. On the way to the throne-room doors Antsy heard ominous popping and cracking that reverberated up through the stone beneath his feet. Time's runnin\\\" out, I swear.\\n\\nThe mercenaries were all crouched inspecting the pocket they'd worked. They were arguing. The blond man, Cull, was cuffing the other two and shouting them down. Antsy picked up his pace.\\n\\n\\\"What's this? '\\n\\n\\\"Ah, Malazan. I tell these fools no more. We wait for you.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Antsy pushed through them– a hard task in that each seemed as solid and immobile as the rock itself– and studied the gap beneath the stone doors. \\\"Looks good. Let's try the fit. ' He swung his pannier forward.\\n\\nThe three mercenaries backed away. Antsy took a moment to study them. \\\"Who are you anyway? What do I call you?\\\"\\n\\nCull thumped his broad armoured chest. \\\"We are the Heels!\\\"\\n\\nAntsy just stared. Right. The Heels. Okay... He waved them off and returned his attention to the pocket. The fit was too wide in places and too tight in one spot. A last few touches of the chisel fixed that. Stone chips helped keep the cusser in place, then Antsy pulled out a stone of rough unpolished granite. With this he started to abrade the keratin shell of the cusser as close to the top of it as he could reach.\\n\\nFiddler and Hedge had perfected this technique– skimming. They used it to time charges. Problem was, he'd never actually had call to do it himself. But they'd all talked it over pretty thoroughly. All the squad saboteurs. Come to think of it– none of them had ever done it themselves neither!\\n\\nShit.\\n\\nHe pulled away the granite grinding stone. Well then, he decided. Maybe that's good enough. Lying on his stomach he turned back to the chamber, yelled:\\\"Seris! Get your people ready! '\\n\\nThe tall woman emerged from the gloom. \\\"Now? You are prepared?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" And he shouted louder. \\\"Munitions! Ware!\\\"\\n\\nHe pulled out a small hard case, opened it. Inside rested a glass tube. This he unstoppered, and, reaching awkwardly under the lip of the door's bottom, let three drops fall into the scar he'd scraped into the shell of the munition.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He pushed himself away as quickly as he could and ran.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Across the chamber he spotted Orchid and Corien behind a thick pillar and joined them.\\n\\n\\\"How long?\\\" Corien whispered.\\n\\n\\\"Don't know. Shouldn't be too-\\\"\\n\\nThe entire structure juddered around them, groaning and snapping in an agony of tortured rock. A stone arch burst overhead, sending shards pattering down. The Spawn began to tilt. Equipment, rubbish and broken rubble slid across the floor. Antsy grabbed hold of the pillar together with Orchid and Corien.\\n\\nHe watched, horrified, as something came tumbling out from the tilting threshold before the doors and rolled down the shallow stairs. The cusser. Sweet Soliel, no!\\n\\nEven as he stared it bounced once, twice, three times, then slid down the polished smooth stone floor to disappear into the great yawning hole in the middle of the chamber.\\n\\nHood's laughter!\\n\\nEveryone was screaming and shouting and cursing. Apiece of what looked like expensive travelling baggage came sliding out of the darkness to follow the cusser down the well. An old man yelled his despair.\\n\\nThen the stone of the Spawn kicked Antsy. At least that's what it felt like. The floor jerked, punishing his ankles and knees. A great gust of air came shooting from the well. It stank of the acrid smoke of expended munitions and was heavy with water vapour.\\n\\nPonderously, among bursting and grinding complaints of stone, the Spawn began to tilt back in the opposite direction, righting itself. The old woman, Hesta, came staggering out of the dark. Her ribbons and hair had gone, revealing a wrinkled bald scalp. With her pale head and scrawny body she more than ever resembled a vulture.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":96,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 23"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Aragan nodded. \"Oponn favour you, man.\" He waved Captain Dreshen to follow.\n\nWhen he found K'ess, the Fist stared his disbelief before belatedly saluting.\"Ambassador– you shouldn't be here. I suggest you withdraw-\"\n\n\"None of us should be here, Fist. What's the butcher's bill?\"\n\nThe Fist exchanged bleak glances with the aides and staff surrounding him. \"First estimate is forty percent incapacitated,\" he reported, his voice hoarse. \"Wounded or otherwise.\"\n\nAragan's chest constricted like an iron band. He couldn't draw breath. Burn deliver them! Forty percent! This was... unimaginable. What were these Seguleh? The noise of the nearby fighting faded to a dull roar. He blinked away the darkness that seemed to be clawing at him from the edges of his vision and forced in a deep steadying breath. \"Fist. The Rhivi have bought us time. We no longer have the troops to hold this line. I suggest we withdraw to the head of the valley, among the rocks.\"\n\nFist K'ess saluted. The man's face was a lifeless mask, shocked beyond expression, beyond feeling. \"Yes, Ambassador.\"\n\n*\n\nThen a bellowed call came: \"Retreat! Move out! Up valley!\"\n\n\"Damn,\" Hektar murmured, stricken. \"I can't see nothing. '\n\nThough feeling strangely weak and a touch dizzy Bendan took the man's elbow with his one good hand.\"I'll guide you, Sarge. Don't you worry. C'mon, this way.\"\n\nAfter the scramble higher up the slope, Bendan found himself and Hektar among the front ranks. Not believing his terrible luck, he glanced to the slashed limping and crippled troopers on his left and right and swallowed his outrage. A gimp and a blind man– best the Empire can muster! What a Twins-cursed joke. \"Get back, Sarge. You're no use. '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"I can still fill a slot."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hold the line.\"\n\n\"You can't see a thing! '\n\nThe beaming smile returned. \"We're all just hidin'behind our shields anyways, ain't we? '\n\nBendan squinted down the valley to where the Seguleh had assembled. What in the name of the Queen of Mysteries were they waiting for?\n\n\"Still not comin\"? ' Hektar asked.\n\n\"Yeah. They're just... standin'there. Like they was waitin\" for us to runaway or somethin\".\"\n\nSomeone came scrambling among the rocks. It was Bone, the old saboteur. \"Hey, Sarge! I...\" His voice trailed away when Hektar turned to the sound of his voice. \"Damn! I'm sorry, Sarge. '\n\n\"I'm still standing. Seen Little? '\n\n\"Yeah... up the lines.\"\n\n\"Good.\"\n\n\"What're they waitin'for?\" Bendan complained yet again.\n\n\"They do not pursue,\" K'ess muttered where he stood with Aragan at the centre of the Malazan lines.\n\n\"No,\" Aragan answered, distracted. \"They maybe giving us time to have a good think about this. And frankly, the troops deserve that... In fact, they deserve better than that...\"\n\nBracing himself, he stepped out among the rocks before the lines and turned to face the troops. He raised his arms for their attention. \"Rankers! You know me. Some of you knew meas Fist Aragan, some as Captain Aragan. Abyss– some of you old dogs even knew meas Sergeant Aragan! And what's my point? \"He swept an arm behind to the Seguleh, now forming up in column.\"You've all heard the stories about how these Seguleh have never been beaten. How they've slaughtered everyone who's ever faced them. Well, look around... We're still here! And now– now they're offerin\" you a choice! All you have to do is drop your swords to surrender. That's all. But if you do that I can promise you one thing... You ain't gonna get another shot at the bastards! So what's it going to be? Hey? What's your answer? '"},{"from":"human","value":"Silence."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Aragan glared right and left, his heart hammering, gulping his breaths. Then at the far end of the line a hulking Dal Honese trooper drew his blade, held it out saluting, and bashed it to his shield twice. Hands went to sword-grips all up and down the lines. Swords hissed, drawing to clash in a great thunderous roar against shields, once, twice, then extending in the formal salute.\n\nThere's your Malazan answer. Aragan's vision blurred and he blinked to clear it. To all appearances the man was overcome. Inwardly he unclenched a nightmare of dread. Thank the gods they didn't tell me to piss off.\n\nHe rejoined Fist K'ess in the lines.\n\n\"Well done, sir,\" K'ess murmured.\"Still not coming. '\n\nAragan squinted down on the gathered Seguleh, then up the mountain slope behind, sweeping on above to the distant snow-touched peaks, then back again. \"They're waiting... ' He cursed and slammed a fist to his armoured thigh.\n\nK'ess glanced at him.\"What? '\n\nAragan raised his hands as if clutching at the air. \"We're bait! Nothing more than Hood-damned bait! '\n\n\"Bait? What do you mean?\"\n\n\"They don't want us, man! They've never wanted us.\" He pointed to the mountains. \"It's the Moranth! They're calling out the Moranth!\"\n\nK'ess rubbed his chin, nodding. Then he muttered darkly,\"Knew we should've stayed at Dhavran.\"\n\nShouts of alarm sounded and Bendan glanced up. The Seguleh had started up the valley. They came on at a slow jog, double-file. \"Would ya look at that,\" Bone murmured from nearby. \"Beautiful. Done for the Rhivi and now comin\" to finish us off. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Shut up,\" Bendan snapped.\n\n\"What's that? \"Bone answered, grinning.\"Thought you was all for butchery. '\n\n\"Not like this.\"\n\n\"Aw. Not so pleasant when it's you gettin'pummelled, hey?\"\n\n\"I mean not like this!\" He thrust a hand behind them. \"What're we doin'here? There's nothing here but rocks. What's the point?\"\n\n\"Point is we stood up,\" Hektar answered. Then he tilted his head, listening. \"Swear I hear somethin\". '\n\n*\n\nTorvald held on for his life as the Silver sent her quorl stooping down the mountain slope, scudding over trees and stone outcroppings with barely an arm's length to spare. They turned and the valley came into his sight ahead. The Seguleh were advancing in column on the Malazans, who had formed anew line, a much thinner line, along higher rough ground.\n\n\"Open the satchel,\" Galene shouted over the wind tearing at them.\n\nArms wrapped in the leather strapping, his hands free, Tor reached for the heavy-duty leather pack tied to the saddle between them. He undid the metal clasps and opened the mouth of the pack. What he saw nestled within made him jump and the quorl jerked in answer, weaving unsteadily in its flight.\n\n\"Careful!\" Galene called loudly, her voice pitched rather higher.\n\nHis gaze slit, Torvald peered down at the valley swooping up to meet them, the diminutive figures moving there, and he shook his head. \"No. I won't do it, ' he shouted.\n\nGalene turned awkwardly in the saddle to glance back at him. \"Take it out!\" she ordered, fierce."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No! How can you even consider-\" and he choked, his heart strangling him, as the quorl curved sideways, turning and diving as if meaning to smash into the valley floor below. Behind them, flight after flight of burdened quorl followed, all flitting downslope in a careering, rushing stream.\n\n*\n\n\"Night-damned arm,\" Bendan snarled, as he tried to raise his shield higher.\n\n\"What's that? ' Hektar asked.\n\n\"Ach– took a slash on the shield arm. Now I can't get it high enough! '\n\n\"Use your belt. Strap it and tie it off.\"\n\nBendan grunted. \"Right. But then... what am I gonna do after?\"\n\nThe big Dal Hon turned in his direction as if staring though his eyes were gone. Bendan ducked his head. \"Ah. Right.\" Then he jerked, surprised. \"Would ya look at that!\" He rose from his crouch pointing skyward where curve after curve of Moranth quorls came arching down the valley. They appeared to be swooping in on the closing Seguleh.\n\nBone straightened, shading his gaze. \"Oh, no...\" he whispered.\n\n\"What is it?\" Hektar asked, peering wildly about, his sword ready.\n\n\"Moranth flyin\" in on their monster mounts, \"Bendan told him.\"Gonna land and rush the Seguleh! \"He threw up his one good arm, shouting:\"Yah! '\n\n\"No, they aren't, \"Bone said, his voice shaky.\"Burn forgive us... The poor bastards... '\n\nBendan eyed him, frowning. \"What's that? '\n\nThe grizzled saboteur was hugging himself, backing away among the tall boulders. \"Slaughter... Hood-damned slaughter!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What's the matter, man? '\n\nThe saboteur pointed to him. \"Take cover,\" he ordered. \"All o\" you take cover. \"He ran off up the lines, shouting as he went:\" Get cover now, damn you all! '\n\nYet the lines were stirring, readying shields, regripping weapons. For the Seguleh were close now.\n\n*\n\nGalene reached behind herself one-handed to pull the fat oblong from its pack. Ducking from the driving wind, Tor grasped it in both hands, hugging it. \"No!\" he shouted. \"It's murder! '\n\n\"Let go, fool!\" The quorl weaved drunkenly. Treetops slashed by beneath, almost striking Tor's boots. The impossible storm of wind threatened to sweep him from the saddle.\"This is war, \"she grated.\"Our survival! '\n\n\"But they stand no chance!\"\n\nShe yanked the cusser free. \"Then they should not have taken up the sword.\"\n\nThe quorl dived even lower now. Tor rose off his seat in the descent. Just ahead the Seguleh column was spreading out. They now appeared so close, and he was rushing in upon them at such a ferocious speed, it seemed to him that they would collide. Before him the valley head rose rocky and steep, thin streams darkening the stonewall here and there. At its foot the Malazan line stood firm in their black surcoats, shields overlapping. Tor spared one quick glance back: line after line of quorl followed, their Silver drivers hunched forward as if racing, Red and Black passengers behind cradling the fat munitions in their arms.\n\nGalene raised the cusser in both hands. The slashing wind snapped her flying jesses and straps about her armoured form."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"*\n\nSword in hand, Aragan turned from the panting veteran saboteur to stare down into the valley. He took in the jogging Seguleh. Then, above, the swooping Moranth. And he felt as if he would faint. Oh, Hood, no... So close... He staggered forward, threw his arms out, bellowing: \"Take cover now! Cover!\"\n\nBendan felt himself bending backwards further and further as the Moranth quorl seemed to becoming straight for him personally. He saw riders throwing and dark objects tumbling through the air as the quorl tore overhead, so low it seemed he could stretch up and touch their delicate thrumming wingtips. He yanked Hektar– the only man still standing– down among the rearing jumbled boulders and bellowed in his ear over the roaring: \"Shield!\"\n\nAn enormous invisible wall struck Bendan, smashing him down into the rocks. His shield bashed him in the face, stunning him. Stones and dirt and thick choking clouds of dust came billowing over him and he coughed, spitting, and shaking his ringing pummelled head. Multiple blasts punished him, driving him down into the surrounding broken rocks, punching the breath from him.\n\nHe didn't know if he lost consciousness, but at some point he realized that it seemed to be over. He'd been waiting, tensed, curled into a ball beneath his shield, for yet another concussion that never came. He dared to raise his head. Dirt and gravel tumbled from his back. He shook it from his hair and staggered up. All was obscured in hanging drifting smoke and swirling dust. He could hear nothing over the punishing ringing in his ears. He spat again, blinking, holding his chest where his ribs ached from the concussive waves that had battered him."},{"from":"human","value":"A huge shape shambled upright nearby, dirt sifting from him: Hektar, arms out, blindly searching about the rocks."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Bendan clasped his arm. \"I'm here, ' he croaked.\n\nThe Dal Hon wiped his face where a clear wetness had cut through the dirt caked beneath his bloodied wrappings. \"Poor bastards,\" he was saying. \"Poor fucking bastards.\"\n\nIt occurred to Bendan that the man was crying.\n\n~\n\nTorvald had pressed himself to Galene's back, one arm around her, the other clasping one of the saddle grips. He squeezed his eyes closed to miss their dizzying near vertical climb scudding over the naked rock face of the valley head. He felt the pressure wave of the multiple eruptions behind him. It was like a hand pressing him into the Moranth Silver and rushing the quorl along like a great tidal push.\n\nCold wetness chilled his cheeks in the slashing wind and he knew that he was weeping. Galene shifted in the saddle and adjusted the jesses and the quorl tilted, arching backwards. It seemed that they were turning round.\n\nWhile the smoke and dust swirled and hung in curtains over the blasted slope Bendan patted Hektar's arm.\"It's all right, man. They woulda done for us.\"\n\n\"Ain't right, \"the sergeant was saying over and over.\"What was done here. Ain't right. It's a fucking tragedy is what it is. '\n\nHorrified shouts sounded from the lines and Bendan turned, squinting into the clouds of settling dust. He almost fell then, his knees weakening, a hand going to his throat. \"Oh no... Hood, no... Don't do this... '\n\n\"What is it?\" Hektar demanded, peering blindly about.\n\nThey came out of the hanging smoke and dust. Some limped, some staggered. Others stayed upright only by virtue of their swords dragging along over the rocks. Still they came onward, advancing."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"All around, troopers retreated, backing up the rising slope, edging past boulders. \"Stop!\" Bendan shouted to one tattered figure making for him. \"Please– stop!\"\n\nIt was a woman, one arm shattered, bone glistening white through the flesh. Her mask was broken, half gone, that side of her face a blackened red ruin. Still she raised her sword, pointing.\n\nBendan backed away, a hand on Hektar's arm.\n\n\"Where is he?\" the Dal Hon whispered.\n\n\"She's on your left. '\n\nThe Seguleh came on. A trooper scrambled down to her, hunched, sword in one hand, reaching outwith the other. \"Let's put it down, lass, \"he urged, gently.\"Drop your sword. It's allover now.\"\n\nLunging, she slashed one-handed and he fell, eviscerated in a great gout of splashing innards. She straightened again, weaving slightly, blade pointing straight at Bendan.\n\n\"Tell me when she's close, ' Hektar ground out.\n\nTwo more regulars charged her, swinging. Both were weeping as they attacked. She sidestepped, parrying, her sword sliding easily over the first to slash his throat then quickly blocking the other, twisting in a blur round and under his shield, taking the man's leg off at the knee. He fell shrieking.\n\nIt seemed to Bendan that the woman would have fallen at that moment but for leaning her weight on a stab into the crippled man's chest. She recovered then, her mouth writhing in agony beneath its caked dirt and blood. The sword snapped up again, the point inhumanly steady.\n\nHe let go Hektar's arm.\"Ready now, ' he whispered beneath his breath, crouching, shortsword raised."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Two quick paces from the woman closed the gap. Bendan hunched even further, eyes barely peeping over his shield. Her blade slashed across the top and he flinched. Warmth ran down his nose. Behind his shield Hektar cocked his head as if listening; then he suddenly launched himself forward with a roar, throwing his arms out.\n\nThe woman slashed and a forearm flew but the man's enormous weight bulled her over and they fell together. Her slim blade somehow licked up between them even as they crashed among the rocks and Bendan jumped after them. He stabbed at the woman, piercing her hip, his blade grating down the pelvis bone. Lancing burning pain erupted in his leg and he glanced down to seethe woman's blade twist free from high in his thigh. Then more troopers crowded him, all thrusting, crying, cursing, weeping. He slumped down against a rock, his leg completely numb. He satin a cold shaky sweat of pain, shock and panic.\n\nOne of the troopers turned Hektar over to reveal the man's chest slashed open. Pink foam blew at his mouth as he laboured to breathe. Bendan slid down to cradle the man's head on his lap. Hektar's wide smile returned but the teeth were bright red with blood now.\"Got one, ' the big man murmured.\n\n\"Yeah. You got one.\"\n\n\"All... done... now.\"\n\n\"Yeah, Sarge. All done now.\"\n\nBendan sat fora longtime holding the dead man. Squad cutters came and tied off his cuts and stopped the bleeding. When they gently pulled at the corpse he batted them away. Having seen it before, the healers moved off without objecting. The hot sun beat down and still Bendan rocked him. Carrion birds gathered, circling over the blasted field of kicked-up dirt and scattered torn bodies. A shadow occluded the sun over Bendan and he looked up, squinting. It was Corporal Little."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She crouched on her haunches at his side, rested a hand on Hektar, then looked to him.\n\n\"Don't you say it, \"he croaked.\"Don't you fucking say anything.\"\n\nShe looked away, blinking back tears. \"No,\" she managed, her voice barely audible. \"I guess not.\"\n\n*\n\n\"Sir?\" Fist K'ess said, clearing his throat. Ambassador Aragan did not turn away from where he had stood since the attack, his gaze steady on the shattered field. K'ess himself was not insensate to the horror: the drifting smoke, the broken bodies lying in droves around craters blasted into the loose talus of the slope. He almost turned away, imagining that firestorm of blasts and the fragmented rock chips lancing like shrapnel through unprotected flesh. What disturbed him the most, however, was the silence. How eerie it was; nothing like any of the many fields of battle he'd known. No cries or moans of wounded echoed over the slopes. No calls for water. No outbursts or hopeless cursing.\n\nIndeed, all the murmured sounds of stricken awe, all the curses, the moans and quiet weeping came now from the Malazan troops behind him. And he wondered: what was worse? To have died in that ill-fated charge, or to have to live now having witnessed it?\n\nIt took a strong effort of will to tear his gaze from that appalling field of slaughter and he glanced back to Captain Fal-ej, the woman's arm and chest bloodied and wrapped in stiff drying cloth. She signed to him to speak again.\"Sir, \"he repeated, a touch louder.\"The Moranth have landed. A contingent awaits. '\n\nThe ambassador appeared to gather himself. He turned, blinking and wiping at his eyes. He cleared his throat against the back of his hand. \"Yes. The Moranth,\" he said, his voice shaking with emotion. \"Thank you, Fist. Let's go and see what they want, shall we? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"As they clambered down the rocks K'ess was surprised to see a man alongside a Moranth Silver and a battered Red. What was more, the ambassador and the Red actually embraced.\n\n\"Fist K'ess, Captain Fal-ej, \"said Aragan,\"may I introduce Torn, our attaché. '\n\nTorn gestured to the Silver. \"Galene, an Elect. What you might calla priestess. And this is Torvald, Nom of Nom, member of the Darujhistan Council.\"\n\nK'ess and Fal-ej bowed.\"Councillor, an honour. '\n\nThe Darujhistani aristocrat grimaced. He looked shaky and sickly pale. \"Well, it would seem the Council has been suspended.\"\n\n\"None the less,\" Aragan murmured. He gestured aside to another officer, calling, \"Captain Dreshen!\"\n\nThe young officer jogged up, bowing. Aragan held out a hand and the man dug in his shoulder bag to pullout an object about the size of a mace, wrapped in black silk. He handed it to Aragan who held it in both hands, studying it, lips pursed in thought. He looked up. \"Attaché Torn, Councillor Nom. I believe we need to negotiate.\" He gestured towards the woods. The Moranth Red bowed.\n\n\"Yes, Ambassador.\" He turned to Torvald. \"Councillor...\"\n\nThe three walked off into the forest. Fist K'ess faced the Silver, Galene.\"What of the prisoners? '\n\nThe Moranth female tilted her bright helm. \"Prisoners?\"\n\n\"Some of the Seguleh survived. Badly wounded, but alive. Some few threw down their swords.\"\n\n\"Surprising, that.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"K'ess rubbed an arm as if cold.\"Well– it might just have been the shock. '\n\n\"Perhaps. What of it?\"\n\n\"Well... we could hold them until such time as they can be repatriated.\"\n\n\"I doubt they will be, Fist. But, yes, if you wish. We have no interest in them.\"\n\n\"Very good.\" He bowed. Elect, Torn named her– one of those who guide their people?\n\nWhen the Silver had gone K'ess introduced the two captains, then eyed the woods. Negotiate? Aragan, you've got balls.\n\nCaptain Fal-ej cleared her throat. \"Fist. Forgive me... but we're in no position to negotiate anything. '\n\n\"Yes, Captain.\"\n\n\"Then...?\"\n\nK'ess raised his chin to the blasted field of craters and thrown dirt.\"Look... '\n\nMalazan rankers were silently spreading out among the fallen torn bodies, collecting around the mangled corpses. Out came cloaks and blankets and other odds and ends to wrap the bodies. Then out came saboteur shovels and picks to hack individual shallow graves out of the thin rocky soil. Some even took advantage of the craters the munitions had blasted to site their pits.\n\nThen one by one, respectful hands clenching the tied-off cloth at head and feet and sides, the bodies were laid in their graves. Only the noise of shovels clattering from stones sounded from the valley. Each pit was covered and the troopers stood still fora long moment, heads bowed.\n\nWatching and observing his own silence, K'ess thought back to that wrenching moan of pain that had swept through the massed ranks as realization came of what was about to strike. It had beed an awful, hopeless sound. The one that soldiers give when they see unavoidable death descending over a compatriot, for, in that instant, the Seguleh had become– if not friends– then brothers and sisters of the battlefield."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Now he did not have to wonder at their thoughts. Once they may have been, Thank the gods that ain't me. Or, Damn you to Hood's lost Abyss. Now he knew they shared what he himself felt as a knife point in his heart: No one should die like that. If this is war then I want no more to do with it.\n\nTo one side the captured Seguleh, a bare handful out of the four hundred, sat or stood, unarmed, still masked, watching while their dead were buried. K'ess could not even imagine what was going through their minds.\n\nClearing his throat, he turned to the officers. \"Captain Fal-ej... I believe what Aragan is hoping to do is stop the Moranth from doing to Darujhistan what they just did herein this valley. Reducing the entire city to smoking rubble.\"\n\n\"By the Seven,\" Fal-ej murmured, falling back on her old faith. \"That would be unforgivable. We cannot allow that.\"\n\nK'ess let out along pained breath.\"It looks as though we no longer have much say in the matter. '\n\n\"But, Fist... over a half-million live there.\"\n\n\"Yes, Captain... Yes.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The contempt of the cultured elite of Darujhistan for the manners and customs of the Seguleh of the far south is well known. One Council member famously remarked that what these Seguleh fail to understand is that words are the most powerful weapons of all.\n\nA Seguleh informed of this argument responded: \"Then when he is silent he is useless.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sulerem of Mengal\n\nLIKE SMALL BLESSINGS moments of calm occasionally descended unbidden into the punishing windstorm of Ebbin's thoughts. During these respites he was able, at least briefly, to gather his scattered identity and reconstitute his thoughts.\n\nSometimes he would find himself in a recurring dream of the gold-masked figure standing at the edge of Majesty Hill overlooking Darujhistan. Either the ancient terror allowed him to join him therein reviewing these memories, or he was simply too insignificant to matter. Each time Ebbin was unwilling to creep up to the overlook, for he knew what would confront him there: the city inflames, screams, mass murder, carnage. The fall of a civilization.\n\nAfter many of these dreams, or waking nightmares– having wandered here, or been drawn, or allowed to discover him here– Ebbin finally dared speak: \"Why do you always come here?\"\n\n\"Lessons learned,\" the masked and cloaked figure answered.\n\n\"You seek to avoid this.\"\n\n\"I seek to avoid a paradox. Escape the inescapable. I wish to complete the circle without suffering its fate.\"\n\n\"Each time it has ended this way.\"\n\n\"So far.\"\n\n\"So many would-be tyrants,\" Ebbin breathed, saddened.\n\nThe graven gold face turned his way. \"Still you do not fully understand.\"\n\nEmboldened, Ebbin ventured: \"What is thereto understand? You failed once, you shall fail again.\"\n\n\"Once? No, scholar. Evidently the truth is even more difficult for you to swallow than that. In truth, I have failed countless times.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nThe taunting secretive curve carved on the lips of the mask seemed to be verging on a full smile. \"Each time it has been me, scholar. In truth, there has been but one Tyrant.\""},{"from":"human","value":"The raging winds of Ebbin's mind crept closer."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Walls of impenetrable black closing in.\"But... that cannot be. What of Raest? What of him? '\n\n\"Ah, yes. Raest. Too crude in his methods. I have refined and perfected his tools. Lessons learned, scholar.\"\n\nEbbin clenched his skull as if to hold it from flying apart. \"Why tell me this?\"\n\n\"Give up, scholar. Yield. There can be but one outcome.\"\n\n\"No! Never. I... never.\" And he fled. Hands pressed to his skull, he ran from the ledge and laughter chased him. The laughter melded with the howling of the winds that came sweeping into toss him, spinning and flying, into countless shattered fragments.\n\nJan could not get used to being confronted wherever he turned by near replicas of the Legate's gold mask. The ladies of the court held theirs on long gold stems that they raised to their faces. The men's rested on the bridges of their noses, held thereby fine thread that ran behind their heads.\n\nPart of Jan wished to slap them all off. Just as he still could not help twitching upon meeting so many directly challenging, even haughty, stares from armed men.\n\nThese are no longer your people, his inner voice said to him. These are no longer your ways.\n\nAcross the court Palla, the Sixth, signed to him: Any word?\n\nNone.\n\nIt has been long.\n\nThe mountains are vast.\n\nThe Moranth have never been shy.\n\nTrue. A tentative throat-clearing at his side. Jan turned, knowing who to expect: the Mouthpiece. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"A word, Second.\"\n\nThey crossed to the edge of the court where a pillared colonnade stretched all along one wall. It was the favoured locale for much whispering. \"Yes?\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"Send a runner to your people in the south."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Have them all relocate hereto the city.\"\n\nJan's gaze snapped to the masked figure on his throne, his hands resting lightly atop a white stone armrest to either side.\"All? '\n\n\"Yes. All. It seems strange notions and distortions have crept into your teachings over the years. It would be best if I took overall future training.\"\n\n\"You,\" Jan said, his gaze fixed on the broad oval mask.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nJan nearly fainted in the animal urge to draw and slice. No! The burden is yours! Endure! He allowed himself a shuddering intake of breath while his eyes slitted almost closed. \"Very well,\" he grated through clenched jaws. \"It shall be as you order.\"\n\n\"Of course.\" The Mouthpiece, Jan noted, appeared more sweaty and pallid than ever before.\n\nHe turned his back, signing to Palla: We must talk.\n\nAt aside entrance he came to the two private guards. Seeing him, they jumped to attention, saluting. \"Don't you worry there, sir, \"one said,\"we'll keep a watch out. Ain't that so, Scorch? ' He elbowed his companion.\n\n\"Yessir.\" The other winced, blinking his bloodshot eyes.\n\nJan swept past without answer. Odd that the Legate should want these two here. But, as he had read, every court has its fools.\n\nHe waited in his quarters for Palla to find a moment to excuse herself. Eventually the door quickly opened and was just as swiftly shut. What now? she signed.\n\n\"He would have us all here. All our people.\"\n\n\"That cannot be allowed,\" she answered, her mask averted.\n\n\"No. It cannot. We do not belong here.\" Something shook him then. Something arising from the base of his spine and low in his stomach. He shuddered as it clenched his throat and he fought it with hands clamped to his sides. Was this weakness? Is this the gathering wail of despair? \"I am so sorry.\" The words seemed to escape of their own accord. \"This is all my doing.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She drew close, almost raising her mask to gaze up at him. \"No! You did as any Second would have. The call came and you answered. There is no error in that. It is this place,\" she went on, fierce. \"Here. Darujhistan. It is no longer worthy of us.\"\n\nJan groaned. Oh, the loftiness of pride! No longer worthy of us? Or are we simply... obsolete?\n\n\"What should we do?\"\n\n\"When the others return I will reinstitute the Exile.\"\n\n\"Gall will challenge.\"\n\n\"That is his right.\"\n\n\"We must not allow that. He must be stopped before he can-\"\n\n\"Palla! Listen to yourself. And we worry about perversion of our ways?\"\n\nShe touched his arm, lightly, as if frightened that he would brush her hand aside. \"But what if he...\"\n\n\"What if he wins?\"\n\nShe whispered a faint'Yes\" .\n\nHe crooked his lips. \"Is your estimation of my abilities so low?\"\n\nShe ducked, genuinely hurt, and he winced inwardly. \"I see how all this weighs upon you,\" she breathed.\n\nHe touched her arm. \"I only jest. If he should best me then he deserves the victory.\"\n\nHer grip tightened. \"Then do not force me to wade through the Fourth and Third to reach him.\"\n\n\"I will go peacefully knowing you would avenge me, Palla.\"\n\n\"You know,\" she said, after a brief silence, \"the others will note our absence, and...\"\n\n\"... there will be much wagging of tongues in the dormitory.\" He allowed his fingertips to trace a line down her taut arm. \"Another reason to hope for better times, Palla.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She returned the gesture, sending a shiver through his flesh. \"Let us hope, then.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He opened the door. \"In the meantime...\"\n\nStepping out to the hall she murmured low, \"We delay.\"\n\nAntsy came to, coughing up a great gout of water followed all too swiftly by the contents of his stomach. On his side, his face pressed into dirt, he groaned, his stomach still cramping. A great shout of surprise sounded then and hands grasped at him.\n\n\"You're alive! ' Orchid cried.\n\n\"We thought you dead,\" Corien said, amazed.\n\nHe merely groaned again, dry-heaving. \"What in the Abyss happened?\" he managed, spitting.\n\n\"You ought to ask these gentlemen,\" Corien said.\n\nAntsy peered up. It was still as dark as the inside of a barrel, but his mage-vision allowed him to see that they occupied what appeared to be a meadow surrounded by a thick forest, its boughs windswept. Starry night arched above, empty of any greenish glow.\n\nWith him were Orchid and Corien, yes, but also the three mercenaries, the Heels, and about tenor so Malazan marines including Sergeant Girth. But what captured his attention were the six Seguleh standing about him, water dripping from their leathers.\n\n\"Where's the Hood-damned menagerie of mages? '\n\n\"All fled as soon as they could,\" said Orchid.\n\n\"Even Malakai?\"\n\nCorien nodded. \"Even him.\"\n\n\"Well... how do you like that. Not even a by-your-leave.\" He eyed the Seguleh. \"Who's the spokesman here? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I,\" said one.\n\n\"Right.\" He gestured for Corien to help him up. \"So, what happened?\"\n\n\"We returned to the Throne as soon as we were able. You were in our way so we merely pushed you through with us.\"\n\n\"Well... my thanks.\"\n\n\"We did not intend to save your life– we thought you dead.\"\n\nAntsy waved a hand. \"I said thanks!\" He held his head, grimacing. \"Leave it at that. Gods.\"\n\nHe faced Orchid. \"So. Where are we?\"\n\n\"Isn't that obvious? \"She turned a full circle, arms raised to the night sky.\"Kurald Galain. Elder Night. '\n\n\"We shouldn't be here. We have to go. Right away. '\n\n\"And go where?\" Girth demanded, pushing forward blindly. Antsy realized that none of the others could see a thing. \"Just where would you suggest? And how? And who's gonna send us? All the mages have scarpered. We're no better off now than where we were.\"\n\nAntsy pointed. \"We have her.\"\n\nThe Malazan sergeant peered about. \"Who?\"\n\n\"Orchid– the girl!\" Antsy barked then held his head again, groaning.\n\nGirth pulled at his beard. \"Fine. So– question still stands. What's the marching orders? '\n\n\"Well... I don't know quite yet, ' Antsy admitted. He rubbed his neck, feeling where the dagger had entered, and found only slit cloth and throbbing pain.\n\n\"I would suggest Darujhistan,\" said anew voice, and Orchid gasped.\n\n\"Morn! You escaped.\" She ran to him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The hooded figure of dark wavered, translucent. \"I am barely here at all, Orchid,\" he said, his voice hollow. \"In truth I am very committed elsewhere.\"\n\n\"You're fading! '\n\n\"I'm sorry, child. This sending has done its duty. Now it must disperse. All I can say is that these men ought to go to Darujhistan. You have given me much hope, child. It was a pleasure, this time I spent with you. I found it... renewing. '\n\n\"Don't go! '\n\n\"I must. I cannot stay. It is too... painful. May Night bless you. Farewell.\"\n\nThe hooded figure faded away like smoke.\n\nAfter a moment of silence, Girth complained, \"Well– that was no damned help. And I still can't see a Togg-farting thing! '\n\nAntsy went to Orchid's side, whispered,\"We should go, lass. These Warrens are dangerous. '\n\n\"I believe it maybe too late,\" Corien said, pointing to the woods.\n\nSome sort of party or procession was approaching through the trees. They carried torches on tall poles, but to Antsy's eyes the torches burned with black flames that gave off black light that seemed to aid his mage-vision. The strange inversion made him dizzy.\n\nThe Malazan marines were linking up, he noticed, weapons out, sweeping the blades through what to them must be utter dark. \"Form circle!\" Antsy barked, and set to helping organize them. When he reached for Cull Heel the man brushed his hand aside, making him jump. \"You can see?\"\n\n\"Aye,\" the man ground out, his narrowed eyes on the approaching party. \"We can see a little– someone's coming. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Antsy had no time to wonder about that at the moment. \"Form up with the soldiers. Help them out.\"\n\n\"Aye.\"\n\nAside, the Seguleh formed their own small circle round one of their number as if to protect him. His mask was mostly pale; only a handful of lines marred it. Three crossed the forehead and three each cheek. One crossed the bridge of the nose. While Antsy studied him the man's hand strayed to a cloth-wrapped package thrust into his waist sash and rested therefor a time as if making sure of it.\n\nAntsy and Corien shifted to stand before Orchid at the centre of the circled marines and Heel mercenaries.\n\n\"That's close enough, ' Antsy shouted. The party halted. It consisted of a double file of female Tiste Andii. From their flowing dress and rich jewellery he thought them priestesses of some sort. One at the forefront advanced slightly closer. She held high a torch of the liquid pitch light.\n\n\"There is no need for such suspicion,\" she called in accented Talian, perhaps making herself understood through magery.\n\n\"What do you want?\" Antsy called.\n\nShe gestured towards him. \"Our daughter.\"\n\nA gasped breath sounded from Orchid. \"I think that's up to her, ' Antsy said.\n\n\"Indeed. Then let it be so.\" The Andii woman's eyes, almost black as the night surrounding them, swept past him.\"Child, \"she called,\"we have been bereft, in mourning. For we have lost a Son of Darkness. Yet behold. We rejoice! For just as precious and rare are the Daughters of Tiam! '\n\nOrchid's weight fell on Antsy, and he grunted. The girl was much more solid than she looked. He clasped her arm.\"What's this, lass? What's she goin'on about?\""},{"from":"human","value":"She steadied herself, blinking rapidly, a hand on Antsy's shoulder.\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"If what she says is true-'\n\n\"It is,\" the Andii woman asserted.\n\n\"-then I am part Andii, yes. But also part– Eleint.\"\n\nAntsy jerked away a step. \"Eleint! But that's... '\n\n\"Yes,\" the Andii woman shouted. \"That is so. Child, whoever hid you and protected you all these years has taught you also, I see. Very good. Now join us. It is time to continue your education.\"\n\n\"Orchid,\" Corien murmured, \"you don't have to go with these witches... '\n\n\"I need to know,\" she answered just as low, fierce. \"I want to.\"\n\nAntsy nodded. \"\"Tis true– we can't stop you. But what of us?\"\n\nShe shot him an insulted look. \"I'm not an utter fool, Bridgeburner. \"She raised her chin to the Andii woman.\"I have terms! '\n\nThey barely made it to shore before the hide boat became too heavy with water to be manoeuvrable. Crouched, Yusek hugged her knees, warming herself, watching the flooded thing slowly drift away. It was no more than an oval rim now, like a squeezed ring laid on the smooth dark surface of the river. She was soaked and shivering but had to admit that she missed the damned thing. Beat walkin', that was for sure.\n\nThe Seventh merely shouldered his meagre roll of gear, waterskin and such, and set off. Sall and Lo followed. Yusek bent her head back to send an entreating look to the sky and all the gods, but bit back any complaint knowing it would be entirely useless. Well, she suddenly realized, seem to have finally understood that lesson at least."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She pulled up her own roll and shoulder bag of wet gear and followed. It was many hours before dawn. She was exhausted. It had been almost impossible to sleep in the damned boat what with the constant bailing and the sloshing water. Now they were expected to march on? What was the rush? It wasn't like the city was goin\" anywhere.\n\nShe pushed herself to reach Sall, and announced: \"I'm beat! I ain't going another step. We need to sleep.\"\n\nSall hesitated, glanced ahead to the others. \"They will not stop.\"\n\nYusek sank to her knees. \"Well– what's the use of arriving on your last legs? Too tired to be of any use? Aw, fuck it, ' and she glared at the river making its sluggish way north, gleaming beneath bands of clouds.\n\nSall jogged ahead.\n\nSometime later the three returned. They sat without a word. A few scraps of food were handed out and the waterskins made the rounds. Someone must have kept watch but Yusek didn't know who because she immediately fell asleep.\n\nLate in the morning they set off again, following the Maiten's east shore. Here they climbed small hills and narrow gullies the sides of which seemed too steep to be natural. It occurred to Yusek that they were crossing the remains of large channels that might have once carried water from the river. The Maiten was far too low now even to reach these features, but at sometime in the past it must have run much higher. And these channels, then, would have directed part of the flow eastward. To farms, no doubt. Yet now the Dwelling Plain was a dusty wasteland of dry hills and wind-scoured hardpan. Frankly that fitted quite well with her personal experience of what happened anywhere after people arrived. She'd seen it again and again as a refugee fleeing the Pannions. Their bands would come staggering into towns and settlements, and fighting would immediately breakout over water and food. Homes were invaded, herds decimated, water sources bled dry. Then the whole stream would move on again, a swarm of locusts, consuming and destroying all it met. And the only way to have a hope of snatching anything, a handful of barley, or a crust of hard bread, was to be among the first to arrive. Thus the mad dash westward; the desperate effort to beat the mob; to be among the first to kick down the doors."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"It had been a harrowing time. And it had left its mark upon her wiry lean limbs, her restless gaze and her constant, almost feverish, nerves. And what of the scars one couldn't see? The marks upon psyche and spirit? Well, she didn't even want to think about that.\n\nNow Sall, he interested her. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever met on her march west, nor among Orbern's crew. All those boys forced too early to become men had ruled through muscle and viciousness, the fist and the club. But not Sall, nor his father Lo, or this fellow, the Seventh.\n\nTheir way was strange, and, she could admit, harsh. But it had clear rules, and that attracted her. She knew she wanted to be part of it.\n\nLate in the day, from one of the higher hillsides, they saw the first hints that they were getting closer. Smoke stained the northeast sky and ahead more and more huts and rotten piers crowded the riverbanks. They were close now. Close to the greatest city of the continent. Yusek had to hug herself to contain her yip of glee.\n\nThe murmurings of the arrival preceded them: doors slamming, sandalled feet stamping the stone floor; gasps and exclamations. Then the doors to the Great Hall swung open to admit a troop of Seguleh, dirty and sweat-stained, jogging up the centre.\n\nCourtiers and aristocrats hastily flinched to the sides, making way. From near the white throne Jan watched their advance with stunned incomprehension. What was this? Why were they here?\n\nLeading the troop came Gall. Soot stained his mask and black dried blood caked his side where a wound still gaped wet and open. The Third bowed to Jan."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Speak,\" Jan managed, almost breathless with wonder.\n\nGall straightened, weaving slightly. His chest worked soundlessly. \"The Moranth,\" he grated. \"They... used their alchemical weapons upon us. Only we few... escaped the slaughter.\"\n\nStill uncomprehending, Jan glared at the man. \"That is nothing new. They have always had their strange chemistries. The smoking and bursting globes that they throw.\"\n\nThe Third shook his head as if unable to find the words. \"This is different, Second. Things have changed during our absence.\"\n\nAnd what an understatement, Gall. Yes. It seems that just as we have changed, so too have the Moranth. It is to be expected.\n\nThe Third bowed again. \"I accept full responsibility, Second. I await your judgement.\"\n\nJan signed for him to rise. \"No, Third. All responsibility is mine and mine alone. Our rush to engage was foolish. And obviously costly beyond measure. We must re-evaluate our strategy.\"\n\n\"I concur,\" put in anew voice and Jan glanced down to seethe Mouthpiece at his side. \"When the rest of your people arrive, Second, then anew army will be sent to punish the Moranth. In the meantime control over the city must be enforced. You Seguleh must keep the population in order.\"\n\nJan struggled to keep his tone neutral as he said: \"And how do you propose we do so?\"\n\n\"Why,\" the sickly pale man answered as he dabbed a cloth to his sweaty forehead, \"are you not my sword and anvil?\"\n\nJan turned his mask to the immobile Legate upon his white stone seat. \"I suggest, Legate, that we may not have the time.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Yes. The Moranth have dealt us a severe blow. I would be surprised if they did not strike now while we are weakened.\"\n\n\"Do not fear, Second. We are impregnable here within the protection of the Circle.\"\n\nFear? This creature thinks I fear? Great Ancestors! The gulf between our thinking. Our mutual miscomprehension... beyond belief. If I fear at all, it is for the future of my people.\n\nYet Jan bowed, saying, \"Of that I have no doubt, Legate.\"\n\n*\n\nA knock brought Tiserra to her door. She was reluctant to open it, expecting some damned debt collector– not that she couldn't handle such a one, but it was a distraction from her work. Finally, the persistence of the knocking, and its gentleness, persuaded her to answer.\n\nShe saw there the tall slim man that Bellam, one of her nephews on Torvald's side, had become. She opened the door fully and he bowed.\n\n\"Auntie.\"\n\n\"Bellam– a pleasure. You do not come by often enough.\"\n\n\"I am sorry, Auntie. I understand that the Legate has sent Torvald from the city. Some sort of political mission. So you are alone...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Well, Seguleh have returned to the city from the west. Just a bare ragged handful. People think there will be trouble. We are heading out to a residence in the Gadrobi hills. Perhaps you would care to join us?\"\n\nTouched, she squeezed his arm. \"Why, thank you for the offer, nephew. But no. I will remain. Torvald will be returning and I will have to be here for him. And do not worry, I will be safe. Now go. Look after your mother and father, yes?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Reluctant, a touch confused, the lad hesitated. \"How do you know...\"\n\n\"Never you mind that, lad. Now go.\"\n\nHe was still uncertain, but he bowed, deferring to her in any case. Sometimes, she knew, a reputation for fierceness made things so much easier.\n\nShe did not shut the door but threw on a shawl instead. So, it shall be this night. I must warn the Greyfaces– no gas! Shut the pipes! Squeeze their throats shut just as tight if I must!\n\nThe forest they walked gave way to a canyon. A narrow strip of starry night sky shone above. Tayschrenn led, moving confidently. Kiska kept a wary eye out. The canyon became a cave then a series of natural stone tunnels. Kiska finally ventured to ask: \"Where are we going?\"\n\nBut the mage merely raised a hand for patience. Kiska subsided, grumbling.\n\nEventually they emerged from a cave mouth and Kiska found herself high on the steep slope of some sort of mountain. Not too faraway the sea spread to the horizons, black and glimmering like the sky. The jade banner of the Visitor glared high above. They were on an island.\n\n\"Where are we?\"\n\n\"Kartool.\"\n\n\"Kartool!\" Kiska suppressed a start of revulsion. \"Why hereof all places?\"\n\nHe turned on her a fond, almost amused, glance. \"As I said, along delayed reunion. Come.\" Kiska wasn't sure if she approved of this peculiar sense of humour the High Mage seemed to have acquired.\n\nHe led the way along the narrow stone ledge. It curved round the wall of the mountain. For an instant Kiska had a flashback to a similar path on the cliffs of Malaz Isle, no great distance from her now. Agayla... are you there? Is this the Queen's intent? Is this the right path? Gods, if I only knew."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The track stepped upon to a wide flat walkway that ran straight into the side of the mountain, to a worked cave entrance whose stone pillars were carved with the sigils of D'rek, the Worm of the World's Autumn. After a moment's stunned silence, Kiska cleared her throat.\"Ah, Tayschrenn– this is a temple to D'rek...\"\n\n\"Indeed it is. I am glad to see your education encompasses the cult's iconography. '\n\nHa! \"D'rek tried to capture you! '\n\n\"Many times, yes. Capture or kill. But that is the past. Anew crossroads has been reached. It is time fora chat. Mustn't hold grudges. '\n\nThey walked the processional way, where braziers lit the tunnel between thick pillars carved from the stone of the walls. No one was about. \"Where is everyone?\" Kiska breathed, her voice low.\n\n\"D'rek is still without priests, Kiska. Even here and at the temple below. This is the Holy of Holies. The most sacred shrine. Only priests and priestesses were ever allowed entrance here. '\n\n\"And these braziers?\"\n\n\"We've been invited, Kiska. Here we are. '\n\nThe processional way ended at a great cavern, roughly circular. Kiska followed the line of its roof up and up until, squinting, she realized there was no roof. They stood at the base of a central vent that ran through the mountain to its very top. A dormant volcano.\n\nAt the centre of the cavern was a pit, a black jagged hole that led down into smoke and utter night. Kiska flinched back from its lip; whatever was down there, it smelled vile."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What now?\" she asked, a hand at her nose.\n\n\"Now she and I are going to have a talk, and you mustn't interfere. Stay here, yes? '\n\n\"Well, all right,\" she allowed, doubtful. \"But where are you-\" Then she screamed as Tayschrenn stepped up and threw himself into the pit, diving in along arc to disappear from sight.\n\nScreaming still, she nearly threw herself in after him, but a strong hand grasped her cloak and yanked her away. She fell on her back and found herself looking up at an old woman, bent, hair a thick ropy nest and eyes bright circles of milky white. \"Doan do that,\" the old crone snarled at her crossly, shaking a crooked finger.\n\n\"Don't do what? ' she gasped, completely shocked.\n\n\"Doan yell like that to wake the dead. Hurts the ears, that does.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\" She leapt to her feet. \"But he jumped! He-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes.\" The old woman waved dismissively. \"That's what the most powerful of them do. Doan worry y'self. He'll be back. Or... he'll be dinner for the Worm!\" and she chuckled, shuffling off.\n\nKiska followed. \"Dinner! You mean... down there... it's down there? '\n\n\"Oh aye. Down there. Far enough. Coiling and churning eternal. The Worm of the Earth. A worm of energy, it is. Fire and flame, molten rock and boiling metal. Ever restless. And a good thing too! Else we'd all be dead! '\n\n\"I'm sorry– I'm not sure what you mean.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Never mind. Make y'self useful. See that bucket? '\n\nKiska peered into the shadows. \"I think so.\"\n\n\"Well, fill it and follow me!\"\n\nAgainst the wall Kiska found a bucket and woven baskets bursting with coal. She filled the bucket and followed.\n\n\"Keep the fires going– that's my job, \"the old hag was muttering.\"Can't be neglected! It's the light and heat that keeps us all alive. Yes? ' She peered about blindly.\n\n\"Ah... yes,\" Kiska said.\n\n\"That's right! \"Reaching the wall, the woman walked along, tracing her way with one hand. The other hand she held up high, quavering. Nearing a brazier, she patted at the hot metal to test its heat. Kiska winced at the sight. Nodding to herself, satisfied, she moved on.\"There's precious few these days understand that, girl,\" she muttered. \"Precious few understand that it's all about service. Serving! '\n\n\"Yes,\" Kiska answered, understanding now that this washer role.\n\n\"No,\" the old crone muttered, spitting aside. \"Nowadays it's all about gathering– influence and power and whatnot. \"She found another brazier, patted its hot iron with her naked hand, waved.\"Low! Fill it! '\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, that's not how it used to be. Not how it should be! Do you understand me? '\n\n\"Ah... yes.\" I have no idea what you're blathering on about, you miserable hag.\n\n\"Only way to sustain anything, to build anything, is to give! You understand me, girl? Give and give of y'self till there's nothing left to give! Only then can you have something! If you take, you diminish things till there's nothing left. If you give, you provide and things grow! Yes? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Yes.\"\n\n\"There y'go! That's right. Everyone's greedy these days. It'll only diminish the pot till there's nothing left! Then we're all in the dark, yes?\"\n\n\"Ah... right. Yes.\"\n\nThe old woman leaned back against the wall, breathing wetly. \"There we go. All done.\"\n\n\"We're done? ' Kiska studied the countless other braziers surrounding the chamber.\n\n\"Not us! Me. I'm done. You goon and finish. '\n\nKiska eased out along low breath between her teeth, but continued. She went all the way round the cavern, tossing lumps of coal into any of the braziers that were low, relighting others that had gone out. When she returned the bucket to its place she found the old woman sitting against the wall, her knees drawn uptight, a cloak wrapped around her, asleep, her mouth half open.\n\nTired, hungry, her nerves still jangling for Tayschrenn, Kiska eased herself down the wall to sit with her own knees drawn up and rested her chin on them. Soon afterwards she fell asleep.\n\nShe awoke to alight kick and jerked, blinking. Tayschrenn was peering down at her. He appeared to be in a good mood. He was smiling and seemed unharmed from his descent, but for his mussed hair and soot-stained cloak.\n\n\"I'm sorry if I scared you, \"he said.\"But I don't think you would've reacted well to my telling you what I was about to do. '\n\n\"No. I wouldn't have. \"She pushed herself up, wincing and easing her back.\"So– we're done here?\"\n\n\"Yes.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You... spoke to her?\"\n\nThe mage eyed her sidelong. \"Sort of. That's not really how we communicated. '\n\n\"I see. Well, I had a grand old time doing chores here.\"\n\n\"Chores?\"\n\n\"Yes. The old woman who takes care of the place. She showed me the ropes. Gods, does she ever goon.\"\n\nTayschrenn had been on his way to the tunnel. He stopped to turn. \"Kiska. There's no one else here. '\n\n\"Sure there is.\" She glanced about. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. \"She was right here.\"\n\n\"Must have been a dream, Kiska. Because we are all alone. But tell me... what did she have to say?\"\n\nBaruk's workroom was at the very top of the tower. On the way up the endless narrow circular stairway Spindle had grumbled to himself: Gods, why do they always have to beat the top? Never on the ground floor. All this useless walking up and down!\n\nSince being guided into the room by the little waddling demon, Duiker had had him searching for all the various chemicals in their phials, globes, decanters and cups. The historian dropped samples from each liquid onto a chip of the white stone. He hadn't been happy with any of the reactions produced.\n\nEventually, long past midnight, they gave up for the time being and Spindle gestured for the old man to rest. He would take first watch. An old campaigner, the historian curled upon all the cloths they'd piled together as abed and went to sleep.\n\nFrom a seat beneath a window Spindle watched the city below. It struck him as oddly dark. Very few of the many gas jets of blue flame that normally illuminated its streets and buildings appeared to be lit. Above, the green radiance of the Scimitar shone down. And it seemed to him that the two nimbuses warred over the city. Or at least that was what he fancied. The night was very quiet. In fact the city had been very quiet ever since the Seguleh arrived. Everyone hurried, reluctant to be out, constantly peering over their shoulders. People were afraid. And the Seguleh hadn't even done anything yet! He had the impression that they simply weren't welcome, weren't wanted, herein Darujhistan. Which struck him as odd since the city seemed to welcome everyone, priding itself on being so cosmopolitan and all."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He supposed it was more what they represented. Or stood for, perhaps.\n\nA few bells later he woke the historian.\n\nIn the morning nothing had changed. None of the chemicals they tested elicited the sort of reaction the historian seemed to expect. As the day waned Spindle returned to his seat at the window. A growled sigh of frustration drew his gaze to Duiker as the man pushed himself away from the worktable. He regarded Spindle through bloodshot, squinting eyes. \"Nothing. I don't understand it. This should be the answer. Why is nothing reacting? '\n\nSpindle shrugged. \"Maybe we need anew sample? Another shard?\"\n\nThe historian waved his hands in a gesture of helplessness. \"Well... perhaps. Go get one.\"\n\n\"All right.\" He heaved himself from the chair and headed to the top of the stairs where they'd dropped their load of stones. Here he found the fat little demon, its head in the cloak, stuffing its great mouth with the chips.\n\n\"Hey! Git outta there!\"\n\nIt raced off, dragging the cloak with it. Spindle gave chase. Its little clawed feet clicked over the polished stone floor as it ducked under tables and around furniture. Spindle swore again for leaving his shortsword behind. He almost lost his quarry amid all the furnishings and hangings but spotted a telltale corner of the cloak peeping out of a well-hidden door. Searching about, Spindle found a fireplace poker and raised it, then reached for the slim stone door.\n\nHe yanked it open, poker poised, and the little demon hissed at him then ran between his legs and scuttled off. Spindle let it go; it had abandoned the cloak. He gathered up the cloth and gave it a shake. Just a few leavings rattled at the bottom."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Togg curse it!\n\nThen he glimpsed something else in the narrow cupboard. A huge amphora as tall as his waist set on a wrought-iron stand. It looked to be of some sort of fired ceramic, glazed black. Its lid was sealed with wax and pressed into the liberal drippings was some kind of sigil.\n\nHe went to get the historian.\n\nTogether they carried the amphora into the workroom. Duiker studied the seal then looked at Spindle, arching one grey brow. Spindle reached outward to feel for any Warren-anchored wardings or traps. He sensed nothing and shrugged. \"What's the seal? ' he asked.\n\n\"Looks like the High Alchemist's own. As far as I can deduce. '\n\n\"Should we open it?\"\n\nThe historian sat back in his chair, rested his chin in one hand. \"Well, that is a question. We're inside the inner sanctum of a powerful alchemist. We find an amphora specifically hidden away and sealed and so naturally we open it. Sounds like an epitaph tome. '\n\nSpindle nodded, pursing his lips. \"I see what you mean. Let's go get the pet. '\n\nThey lured it in with the stone chips. Spindle held one out, beckoning, backing up until they had it in the room. Duiker closed the door on it. It looked unhappy but Spindle held the chip over its head and let it have it.\n\nThen he held out another of their rapidly dwindling supply and pointed to the amphora. \"Should we open that?\" The little demon wouldn't take its beady blood-red eyes off the chip. It hissed and tried to jump. Its potbelly wobbled.\"What will happen if we open that? ' Spindle tried again, pointing. It held up its skinny arms, clawing the air. Spindle sighed."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Put the chip on the jar,\" Duiker suggested.\n\nSpindle did so, resting the piece of Alabaster on the wax. The little demon watched with narrowed eyes. It waddled over to the amphora and with scratching claws and feet tried its best to climb it. Spindle had to stop the thing from toppling over.\n\nDuiker came up and shooed the demon off. It snatched up the stone chip and scrambled off, claws scritching. \"I guess we have our answer,\" Spindle said.\n\n\"Unless the wretch has no idea what's in there– which is more than likely. '\n\n\"Ah. Well. What'll we do? '\n\nDuiker rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. \"I guess we have no choice. We open it.\"\n\nUsing the tools and supplies available in the alchemist's workroom Spindle setup a rig. First he selected the sharpest steel tool he could find to scour a ring all the way round the neck of the amphora. Then he adjusted the height of a table so that it matched the height of the scoured line and secured the amphora to the edge. He cleared the table of everything and poured a decanter of oil allover it. Earlier he'd spotted along iron bar and this he laid down on the tabletop so that one end touched the neck of the amphora while the other extended out over the opposite edge. Then he stood on a chair to drive a pin into the ceiling over the table. Using rope, he hung the biggest lead weight he could find from the pin. Carefully, he measured the length so that the weight– in the form of an elephant, appropriately enough– just touched the far end of the bar.\n\nAll this extraordinary effort Duiker watched, bemused, arms crossed. Finally he waved a hand. \"Why all this?\""}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 23\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Aragan nodded. \\\"Oponn favour you, man.\\\" He waved Captain Dreshen to follow.\\n\\nWhen he found K'ess, the Fist stared his disbelief before belatedly saluting.\\\"Ambassador– you shouldn't be here. I suggest you withdraw-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None of us should be here, Fist. What's the butcher's bill?\\\"\\n\\nThe Fist exchanged bleak glances with the aides and staff surrounding him. \\\"First estimate is forty percent incapacitated,\\\" he reported, his voice hoarse. \\\"Wounded or otherwise.\\\"\\n\\nAragan's chest constricted like an iron band. He couldn't draw breath. Burn deliver them! Forty percent! This was... unimaginable. What were these Seguleh? The noise of the nearby fighting faded to a dull roar. He blinked away the darkness that seemed to be clawing at him from the edges of his vision and forced in a deep steadying breath. \\\"Fist. The Rhivi have bought us time. We no longer have the troops to hold this line. I suggest we withdraw to the head of the valley, among the rocks.\\\"\\n\\nFist K'ess saluted. The man's face was a lifeless mask, shocked beyond expression, beyond feeling. \\\"Yes, Ambassador.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nThen a bellowed call came: \\\"Retreat! Move out! Up valley!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Damn,\\\" Hektar murmured, stricken. \\\"I can't see nothing. '\\n\\nThough feeling strangely weak and a touch dizzy Bendan took the man's elbow with his one good hand.\\\"I'll guide you, Sarge. Don't you worry. C'mon, this way.\\\"\\n\\nAfter the scramble higher up the slope, Bendan found himself and Hektar among the front ranks. Not believing his terrible luck, he glanced to the slashed limping and crippled troopers on his left and right and swallowed his outrage. A gimp and a blind man– best the Empire can muster! What a Twins-cursed joke. \\\"Get back, Sarge. You're no use. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I can still fill a slot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hold the line.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You can't see a thing! '\\n\\nThe beaming smile returned. \\\"We're all just hidin'behind our shields anyways, ain't we? '\\n\\nBendan squinted down the valley to where the Seguleh had assembled. What in the name of the Queen of Mysteries were they waiting for?\\n\\n\\\"Still not comin\\\"? ' Hektar asked.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. They're just... standin'there. Like they was waitin\\\" for us to runaway or somethin\\\".\\\"\\n\\nSomeone came scrambling among the rocks. It was Bone, the old saboteur. \\\"Hey, Sarge! I...\\\" His voice trailed away when Hektar turned to the sound of his voice. \\\"Damn! I'm sorry, Sarge. '\\n\\n\\\"I'm still standing. Seen Little? '\\n\\n\\\"Yeah... up the lines.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Good.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What're they waitin'for?\\\" Bendan complained yet again.\\n\\n\\\"They do not pursue,\\\" K'ess muttered where he stood with Aragan at the centre of the Malazan lines.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" Aragan answered, distracted. \\\"They maybe giving us time to have a good think about this. And frankly, the troops deserve that... In fact, they deserve better than that...\\\"\\n\\nBracing himself, he stepped out among the rocks before the lines and turned to face the troops. He raised his arms for their attention. \\\"Rankers! You know me. Some of you knew meas Fist Aragan, some as Captain Aragan. Abyss– some of you old dogs even knew meas Sergeant Aragan! And what's my point? \\\"He swept an arm behind to the Seguleh, now forming up in column.\\\"You've all heard the stories about how these Seguleh have never been beaten. How they've slaughtered everyone who's ever faced them. Well, look around... We're still here! And now– now they're offerin\\\" you a choice! All you have to do is drop your swords to surrender. That's all. But if you do that I can promise you one thing... You ain't gonna get another shot at the bastards! So what's it going to be? Hey? What's your answer? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Silence.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Aragan glared right and left, his heart hammering, gulping his breaths. Then at the far end of the line a hulking Dal Honese trooper drew his blade, held it out saluting, and bashed it to his shield twice. Hands went to sword-grips all up and down the lines. Swords hissed, drawing to clash in a great thunderous roar against shields, once, twice, then extending in the formal salute.\\n\\nThere's your Malazan answer. Aragan's vision blurred and he blinked to clear it. To all appearances the man was overcome. Inwardly he unclenched a nightmare of dread. Thank the gods they didn't tell me to piss off.\\n\\nHe rejoined Fist K'ess in the lines.\\n\\n\\\"Well done, sir,\\\" K'ess murmured.\\\"Still not coming. '\\n\\nAragan squinted down on the gathered Seguleh, then up the mountain slope behind, sweeping on above to the distant snow-touched peaks, then back again. \\\"They're waiting... ' He cursed and slammed a fist to his armoured thigh.\\n\\nK'ess glanced at him.\\\"What? '\\n\\nAragan raised his hands as if clutching at the air. \\\"We're bait! Nothing more than Hood-damned bait! '\\n\\n\\\"Bait? What do you mean?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They don't want us, man! They've never wanted us.\\\" He pointed to the mountains. \\\"It's the Moranth! They're calling out the Moranth!\\\"\\n\\nK'ess rubbed his chin, nodding. Then he muttered darkly,\\\"Knew we should've stayed at Dhavran.\\\"\\n\\nShouts of alarm sounded and Bendan glanced up. The Seguleh had started up the valley. They came on at a slow jog, double-file. \\\"Would ya look at that,\\\" Bone murmured from nearby. \\\"Beautiful. Done for the Rhivi and now comin\\\" to finish us off. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Shut up,\\\" Bendan snapped.\\n\\n\\\"What's that? \\\"Bone answered, grinning.\\\"Thought you was all for butchery. '\\n\\n\\\"Not like this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aw. Not so pleasant when it's you gettin'pummelled, hey?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I mean not like this!\\\" He thrust a hand behind them. \\\"What're we doin'here? There's nothing here but rocks. What's the point?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Point is we stood up,\\\" Hektar answered. Then he tilted his head, listening. \\\"Swear I hear somethin\\\". '\\n\\n*\\n\\nTorvald held on for his life as the Silver sent her quorl stooping down the mountain slope, scudding over trees and stone outcroppings with barely an arm's length to spare. They turned and the valley came into his sight ahead. The Seguleh were advancing in column on the Malazans, who had formed anew line, a much thinner line, along higher rough ground.\\n\\n\\\"Open the satchel,\\\" Galene shouted over the wind tearing at them.\\n\\nArms wrapped in the leather strapping, his hands free, Tor reached for the heavy-duty leather pack tied to the saddle between them. He undid the metal clasps and opened the mouth of the pack. What he saw nestled within made him jump and the quorl jerked in answer, weaving unsteadily in its flight.\\n\\n\\\"Careful!\\\" Galene called loudly, her voice pitched rather higher.\\n\\nHis gaze slit, Torvald peered down at the valley swooping up to meet them, the diminutive figures moving there, and he shook his head. \\\"No. I won't do it, ' he shouted.\\n\\nGalene turned awkwardly in the saddle to glance back at him. \\\"Take it out!\\\" she ordered, fierce.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No! How can you even consider-\\\" and he choked, his heart strangling him, as the quorl curved sideways, turning and diving as if meaning to smash into the valley floor below. Behind them, flight after flight of burdened quorl followed, all flitting downslope in a careering, rushing stream.\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"Night-damned arm,\\\" Bendan snarled, as he tried to raise his shield higher.\\n\\n\\\"What's that? ' Hektar asked.\\n\\n\\\"Ach– took a slash on the shield arm. Now I can't get it high enough! '\\n\\n\\\"Use your belt. Strap it and tie it off.\\\"\\n\\nBendan grunted. \\\"Right. But then... what am I gonna do after?\\\"\\n\\nThe big Dal Hon turned in his direction as if staring though his eyes were gone. Bendan ducked his head. \\\"Ah. Right.\\\" Then he jerked, surprised. \\\"Would ya look at that!\\\" He rose from his crouch pointing skyward where curve after curve of Moranth quorls came arching down the valley. They appeared to be swooping in on the closing Seguleh.\\n\\nBone straightened, shading his gaze. \\\"Oh, no...\\\" he whispered.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Hektar asked, peering wildly about, his sword ready.\\n\\n\\\"Moranth flyin\\\" in on their monster mounts, \\\"Bendan told him.\\\"Gonna land and rush the Seguleh! \\\"He threw up his one good arm, shouting:\\\"Yah! '\\n\\n\\\"No, they aren't, \\\"Bone said, his voice shaky.\\\"Burn forgive us... The poor bastards... '\\n\\nBendan eyed him, frowning. \\\"What's that? '\\n\\nThe grizzled saboteur was hugging himself, backing away among the tall boulders. \\\"Slaughter... Hood-damned slaughter!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What's the matter, man? '\\n\\nThe saboteur pointed to him. \\\"Take cover,\\\" he ordered. \\\"All o\\\" you take cover. \\\"He ran off up the lines, shouting as he went:\\\" Get cover now, damn you all! '\\n\\nYet the lines were stirring, readying shields, regripping weapons. For the Seguleh were close now.\\n\\n*\\n\\nGalene reached behind herself one-handed to pull the fat oblong from its pack. Ducking from the driving wind, Tor grasped it in both hands, hugging it. \\\"No!\\\" he shouted. \\\"It's murder! '\\n\\n\\\"Let go, fool!\\\" The quorl weaved drunkenly. Treetops slashed by beneath, almost striking Tor's boots. The impossible storm of wind threatened to sweep him from the saddle.\\\"This is war, \\\"she grated.\\\"Our survival! '\\n\\n\\\"But they stand no chance!\\\"\\n\\nShe yanked the cusser free. \\\"Then they should not have taken up the sword.\\\"\\n\\nThe quorl dived even lower now. Tor rose off his seat in the descent. Just ahead the Seguleh column was spreading out. They now appeared so close, and he was rushing in upon them at such a ferocious speed, it seemed to him that they would collide. Before him the valley head rose rocky and steep, thin streams darkening the stonewall here and there. At its foot the Malazan line stood firm in their black surcoats, shields overlapping. Tor spared one quick glance back: line after line of quorl followed, their Silver drivers hunched forward as if racing, Red and Black passengers behind cradling the fat munitions in their arms.\\n\\nGalene raised the cusser in both hands. The slashing wind snapped her flying jesses and straps about her armoured form.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"*\\n\\nSword in hand, Aragan turned from the panting veteran saboteur to stare down into the valley. He took in the jogging Seguleh. Then, above, the swooping Moranth. And he felt as if he would faint. Oh, Hood, no... So close... He staggered forward, threw his arms out, bellowing: \\\"Take cover now! Cover!\\\"\\n\\nBendan felt himself bending backwards further and further as the Moranth quorl seemed to becoming straight for him personally. He saw riders throwing and dark objects tumbling through the air as the quorl tore overhead, so low it seemed he could stretch up and touch their delicate thrumming wingtips. He yanked Hektar– the only man still standing– down among the rearing jumbled boulders and bellowed in his ear over the roaring: \\\"Shield!\\\"\\n\\nAn enormous invisible wall struck Bendan, smashing him down into the rocks. His shield bashed him in the face, stunning him. Stones and dirt and thick choking clouds of dust came billowing over him and he coughed, spitting, and shaking his ringing pummelled head. Multiple blasts punished him, driving him down into the surrounding broken rocks, punching the breath from him.\\n\\nHe didn't know if he lost consciousness, but at some point he realized that it seemed to be over. He'd been waiting, tensed, curled into a ball beneath his shield, for yet another concussion that never came. He dared to raise his head. Dirt and gravel tumbled from his back. He shook it from his hair and staggered up. All was obscured in hanging drifting smoke and swirling dust. He could hear nothing over the punishing ringing in his ears. He spat again, blinking, holding his chest where his ribs ached from the concussive waves that had battered him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"A huge shape shambled upright nearby, dirt sifting from him: Hektar, arms out, blindly searching about the rocks.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Bendan clasped his arm. \\\"I'm here, ' he croaked.\\n\\nThe Dal Hon wiped his face where a clear wetness had cut through the dirt caked beneath his bloodied wrappings. \\\"Poor bastards,\\\" he was saying. \\\"Poor fucking bastards.\\\"\\n\\nIt occurred to Bendan that the man was crying.\\n\\n~\\n\\nTorvald had pressed himself to Galene's back, one arm around her, the other clasping one of the saddle grips. He squeezed his eyes closed to miss their dizzying near vertical climb scudding over the naked rock face of the valley head. He felt the pressure wave of the multiple eruptions behind him. It was like a hand pressing him into the Moranth Silver and rushing the quorl along like a great tidal push.\\n\\nCold wetness chilled his cheeks in the slashing wind and he knew that he was weeping. Galene shifted in the saddle and adjusted the jesses and the quorl tilted, arching backwards. It seemed that they were turning round.\\n\\nWhile the smoke and dust swirled and hung in curtains over the blasted slope Bendan patted Hektar's arm.\\\"It's all right, man. They woulda done for us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ain't right, \\\"the sergeant was saying over and over.\\\"What was done here. Ain't right. It's a fucking tragedy is what it is. '\\n\\nHorrified shouts sounded from the lines and Bendan turned, squinting into the clouds of settling dust. He almost fell then, his knees weakening, a hand going to his throat. \\\"Oh no... Hood, no... Don't do this... '\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\" Hektar demanded, peering blindly about.\\n\\nThey came out of the hanging smoke and dust. Some limped, some staggered. Others stayed upright only by virtue of their swords dragging along over the rocks. Still they came onward, advancing.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"All around, troopers retreated, backing up the rising slope, edging past boulders. \\\"Stop!\\\" Bendan shouted to one tattered figure making for him. \\\"Please– stop!\\\"\\n\\nIt was a woman, one arm shattered, bone glistening white through the flesh. Her mask was broken, half gone, that side of her face a blackened red ruin. Still she raised her sword, pointing.\\n\\nBendan backed away, a hand on Hektar's arm.\\n\\n\\\"Where is he?\\\" the Dal Hon whispered.\\n\\n\\\"She's on your left. '\\n\\nThe Seguleh came on. A trooper scrambled down to her, hunched, sword in one hand, reaching outwith the other. \\\"Let's put it down, lass, \\\"he urged, gently.\\\"Drop your sword. It's allover now.\\\"\\n\\nLunging, she slashed one-handed and he fell, eviscerated in a great gout of splashing innards. She straightened again, weaving slightly, blade pointing straight at Bendan.\\n\\n\\\"Tell me when she's close, ' Hektar ground out.\\n\\nTwo more regulars charged her, swinging. Both were weeping as they attacked. She sidestepped, parrying, her sword sliding easily over the first to slash his throat then quickly blocking the other, twisting in a blur round and under his shield, taking the man's leg off at the knee. He fell shrieking.\\n\\nIt seemed to Bendan that the woman would have fallen at that moment but for leaning her weight on a stab into the crippled man's chest. She recovered then, her mouth writhing in agony beneath its caked dirt and blood. The sword snapped up again, the point inhumanly steady.\\n\\nHe let go Hektar's arm.\\\"Ready now, ' he whispered beneath his breath, crouching, shortsword raised.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Two quick paces from the woman closed the gap. Bendan hunched even further, eyes barely peeping over his shield. Her blade slashed across the top and he flinched. Warmth ran down his nose. Behind his shield Hektar cocked his head as if listening; then he suddenly launched himself forward with a roar, throwing his arms out.\\n\\nThe woman slashed and a forearm flew but the man's enormous weight bulled her over and they fell together. Her slim blade somehow licked up between them even as they crashed among the rocks and Bendan jumped after them. He stabbed at the woman, piercing her hip, his blade grating down the pelvis bone. Lancing burning pain erupted in his leg and he glanced down to seethe woman's blade twist free from high in his thigh. Then more troopers crowded him, all thrusting, crying, cursing, weeping. He slumped down against a rock, his leg completely numb. He satin a cold shaky sweat of pain, shock and panic.\\n\\nOne of the troopers turned Hektar over to reveal the man's chest slashed open. Pink foam blew at his mouth as he laboured to breathe. Bendan slid down to cradle the man's head on his lap. Hektar's wide smile returned but the teeth were bright red with blood now.\\\"Got one, ' the big man murmured.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah. You got one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All... done... now.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yeah, Sarge. All done now.\\\"\\n\\nBendan sat fora longtime holding the dead man. Squad cutters came and tied off his cuts and stopped the bleeding. When they gently pulled at the corpse he batted them away. Having seen it before, the healers moved off without objecting. The hot sun beat down and still Bendan rocked him. Carrion birds gathered, circling over the blasted field of kicked-up dirt and scattered torn bodies. A shadow occluded the sun over Bendan and he looked up, squinting. It was Corporal Little.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She crouched on her haunches at his side, rested a hand on Hektar, then looked to him.\\n\\n\\\"Don't you say it, \\\"he croaked.\\\"Don't you fucking say anything.\\\"\\n\\nShe looked away, blinking back tears. \\\"No,\\\" she managed, her voice barely audible. \\\"I guess not.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"Sir?\\\" Fist K'ess said, clearing his throat. Ambassador Aragan did not turn away from where he had stood since the attack, his gaze steady on the shattered field. K'ess himself was not insensate to the horror: the drifting smoke, the broken bodies lying in droves around craters blasted into the loose talus of the slope. He almost turned away, imagining that firestorm of blasts and the fragmented rock chips lancing like shrapnel through unprotected flesh. What disturbed him the most, however, was the silence. How eerie it was; nothing like any of the many fields of battle he'd known. No cries or moans of wounded echoed over the slopes. No calls for water. No outbursts or hopeless cursing.\\n\\nIndeed, all the murmured sounds of stricken awe, all the curses, the moans and quiet weeping came now from the Malazan troops behind him. And he wondered: what was worse? To have died in that ill-fated charge, or to have to live now having witnessed it?\\n\\nIt took a strong effort of will to tear his gaze from that appalling field of slaughter and he glanced back to Captain Fal-ej, the woman's arm and chest bloodied and wrapped in stiff drying cloth. She signed to him to speak again.\\\"Sir, \\\"he repeated, a touch louder.\\\"The Moranth have landed. A contingent awaits. '\\n\\nThe ambassador appeared to gather himself. He turned, blinking and wiping at his eyes. He cleared his throat against the back of his hand. \\\"Yes. The Moranth,\\\" he said, his voice shaking with emotion. \\\"Thank you, Fist. Let's go and see what they want, shall we? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"As they clambered down the rocks K'ess was surprised to see a man alongside a Moranth Silver and a battered Red. What was more, the ambassador and the Red actually embraced.\\n\\n\\\"Fist K'ess, Captain Fal-ej, \\\"said Aragan,\\\"may I introduce Torn, our attaché. '\\n\\nTorn gestured to the Silver. \\\"Galene, an Elect. What you might calla priestess. And this is Torvald, Nom of Nom, member of the Darujhistan Council.\\\"\\n\\nK'ess and Fal-ej bowed.\\\"Councillor, an honour. '\\n\\nThe Darujhistani aristocrat grimaced. He looked shaky and sickly pale. \\\"Well, it would seem the Council has been suspended.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None the less,\\\" Aragan murmured. He gestured aside to another officer, calling, \\\"Captain Dreshen!\\\"\\n\\nThe young officer jogged up, bowing. Aragan held out a hand and the man dug in his shoulder bag to pullout an object about the size of a mace, wrapped in black silk. He handed it to Aragan who held it in both hands, studying it, lips pursed in thought. He looked up. \\\"Attaché Torn, Councillor Nom. I believe we need to negotiate.\\\" He gestured towards the woods. The Moranth Red bowed.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Ambassador.\\\" He turned to Torvald. \\\"Councillor...\\\"\\n\\nThe three walked off into the forest. Fist K'ess faced the Silver, Galene.\\\"What of the prisoners? '\\n\\nThe Moranth female tilted her bright helm. \\\"Prisoners?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some of the Seguleh survived. Badly wounded, but alive. Some few threw down their swords.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Surprising, that.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"K'ess rubbed an arm as if cold.\\\"Well– it might just have been the shock. '\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps. What of it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well... we could hold them until such time as they can be repatriated.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I doubt they will be, Fist. But, yes, if you wish. We have no interest in them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very good.\\\" He bowed. Elect, Torn named her– one of those who guide their people?\\n\\nWhen the Silver had gone K'ess introduced the two captains, then eyed the woods. Negotiate? Aragan, you've got balls.\\n\\nCaptain Fal-ej cleared her throat. \\\"Fist. Forgive me... but we're in no position to negotiate anything. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Captain.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then...?\\\"\\n\\nK'ess raised his chin to the blasted field of craters and thrown dirt.\\\"Look... '\\n\\nMalazan rankers were silently spreading out among the fallen torn bodies, collecting around the mangled corpses. Out came cloaks and blankets and other odds and ends to wrap the bodies. Then out came saboteur shovels and picks to hack individual shallow graves out of the thin rocky soil. Some even took advantage of the craters the munitions had blasted to site their pits.\\n\\nThen one by one, respectful hands clenching the tied-off cloth at head and feet and sides, the bodies were laid in their graves. Only the noise of shovels clattering from stones sounded from the valley. Each pit was covered and the troopers stood still fora long moment, heads bowed.\\n\\nWatching and observing his own silence, K'ess thought back to that wrenching moan of pain that had swept through the massed ranks as realization came of what was about to strike. It had beed an awful, hopeless sound. The one that soldiers give when they see unavoidable death descending over a compatriot, for, in that instant, the Seguleh had become– if not friends– then brothers and sisters of the battlefield.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Now he did not have to wonder at their thoughts. Once they may have been, Thank the gods that ain't me. Or, Damn you to Hood's lost Abyss. Now he knew they shared what he himself felt as a knife point in his heart: No one should die like that. If this is war then I want no more to do with it.\\n\\nTo one side the captured Seguleh, a bare handful out of the four hundred, sat or stood, unarmed, still masked, watching while their dead were buried. K'ess could not even imagine what was going through their minds.\\n\\nClearing his throat, he turned to the officers. \\\"Captain Fal-ej... I believe what Aragan is hoping to do is stop the Moranth from doing to Darujhistan what they just did herein this valley. Reducing the entire city to smoking rubble.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"By the Seven,\\\" Fal-ej murmured, falling back on her old faith. \\\"That would be unforgivable. We cannot allow that.\\\"\\n\\nK'ess let out along pained breath.\\\"It looks as though we no longer have much say in the matter. '\\n\\n\\\"But, Fist... over a half-million live there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Captain... Yes.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The contempt of the cultured elite of Darujhistan for the manners and customs of the Seguleh of the far south is well known. One Council member famously remarked that what these Seguleh fail to understand is that words are the most powerful weapons of all.\\n\\nA Seguleh informed of this argument responded: \\\"Then when he is silent he is useless.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sulerem of Mengal\\n\\nLIKE SMALL BLESSINGS moments of calm occasionally descended unbidden into the punishing windstorm of Ebbin's thoughts. During these respites he was able, at least briefly, to gather his scattered identity and reconstitute his thoughts.\\n\\nSometimes he would find himself in a recurring dream of the gold-masked figure standing at the edge of Majesty Hill overlooking Darujhistan. Either the ancient terror allowed him to join him therein reviewing these memories, or he was simply too insignificant to matter. Each time Ebbin was unwilling to creep up to the overlook, for he knew what would confront him there: the city inflames, screams, mass murder, carnage. The fall of a civilization.\\n\\nAfter many of these dreams, or waking nightmares– having wandered here, or been drawn, or allowed to discover him here– Ebbin finally dared speak: \\\"Why do you always come here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lessons learned,\\\" the masked and cloaked figure answered.\\n\\n\\\"You seek to avoid this.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I seek to avoid a paradox. Escape the inescapable. I wish to complete the circle without suffering its fate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Each time it has ended this way.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So far.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So many would-be tyrants,\\\" Ebbin breathed, saddened.\\n\\nThe graven gold face turned his way. \\\"Still you do not fully understand.\\\"\\n\\nEmboldened, Ebbin ventured: \\\"What is thereto understand? You failed once, you shall fail again.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Once? No, scholar. Evidently the truth is even more difficult for you to swallow than that. In truth, I have failed countless times.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\nThe taunting secretive curve carved on the lips of the mask seemed to be verging on a full smile. \\\"Each time it has been me, scholar. In truth, there has been but one Tyrant.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The raging winds of Ebbin's mind crept closer.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Walls of impenetrable black closing in.\\\"But... that cannot be. What of Raest? What of him? '\\n\\n\\\"Ah, yes. Raest. Too crude in his methods. I have refined and perfected his tools. Lessons learned, scholar.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin clenched his skull as if to hold it from flying apart. \\\"Why tell me this?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Give up, scholar. Yield. There can be but one outcome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! Never. I... never.\\\" And he fled. Hands pressed to his skull, he ran from the ledge and laughter chased him. The laughter melded with the howling of the winds that came sweeping into toss him, spinning and flying, into countless shattered fragments.\\n\\nJan could not get used to being confronted wherever he turned by near replicas of the Legate's gold mask. The ladies of the court held theirs on long gold stems that they raised to their faces. The men's rested on the bridges of their noses, held thereby fine thread that ran behind their heads.\\n\\nPart of Jan wished to slap them all off. Just as he still could not help twitching upon meeting so many directly challenging, even haughty, stares from armed men.\\n\\nThese are no longer your people, his inner voice said to him. These are no longer your ways.\\n\\nAcross the court Palla, the Sixth, signed to him: Any word?\\n\\nNone.\\n\\nIt has been long.\\n\\nThe mountains are vast.\\n\\nThe Moranth have never been shy.\\n\\nTrue. A tentative throat-clearing at his side. Jan turned, knowing who to expect: the Mouthpiece. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A word, Second.\\\"\\n\\nThey crossed to the edge of the court where a pillared colonnade stretched all along one wall. It was the favoured locale for much whispering. \\\"Yes?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Send a runner to your people in the south.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Have them all relocate hereto the city.\\\"\\n\\nJan's gaze snapped to the masked figure on his throne, his hands resting lightly atop a white stone armrest to either side.\\\"All? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes. All. It seems strange notions and distortions have crept into your teachings over the years. It would be best if I took overall future training.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You,\\\" Jan said, his gaze fixed on the broad oval mask.\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\nJan nearly fainted in the animal urge to draw and slice. No! The burden is yours! Endure! He allowed himself a shuddering intake of breath while his eyes slitted almost closed. \\\"Very well,\\\" he grated through clenched jaws. \\\"It shall be as you order.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Of course.\\\" The Mouthpiece, Jan noted, appeared more sweaty and pallid than ever before.\\n\\nHe turned his back, signing to Palla: We must talk.\\n\\nAt aside entrance he came to the two private guards. Seeing him, they jumped to attention, saluting. \\\"Don't you worry there, sir, \\\"one said,\\\"we'll keep a watch out. Ain't that so, Scorch? ' He elbowed his companion.\\n\\n\\\"Yessir.\\\" The other winced, blinking his bloodshot eyes.\\n\\nJan swept past without answer. Odd that the Legate should want these two here. But, as he had read, every court has its fools.\\n\\nHe waited in his quarters for Palla to find a moment to excuse herself. Eventually the door quickly opened and was just as swiftly shut. What now? she signed.\\n\\n\\\"He would have us all here. All our people.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That cannot be allowed,\\\" she answered, her mask averted.\\n\\n\\\"No. It cannot. We do not belong here.\\\" Something shook him then. Something arising from the base of his spine and low in his stomach. He shuddered as it clenched his throat and he fought it with hands clamped to his sides. Was this weakness? Is this the gathering wail of despair? \\\"I am so sorry.\\\" The words seemed to escape of their own accord. \\\"This is all my doing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She drew close, almost raising her mask to gaze up at him. \\\"No! You did as any Second would have. The call came and you answered. There is no error in that. It is this place,\\\" she went on, fierce. \\\"Here. Darujhistan. It is no longer worthy of us.\\\"\\n\\nJan groaned. Oh, the loftiness of pride! No longer worthy of us? Or are we simply... obsolete?\\n\\n\\\"What should we do?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"When the others return I will reinstitute the Exile.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Gall will challenge.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is his right.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We must not allow that. He must be stopped before he can-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Palla! Listen to yourself. And we worry about perversion of our ways?\\\"\\n\\nShe touched his arm, lightly, as if frightened that he would brush her hand aside. \\\"But what if he...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What if he wins?\\\"\\n\\nShe whispered a faint'Yes\\\" .\\n\\nHe crooked his lips. \\\"Is your estimation of my abilities so low?\\\"\\n\\nShe ducked, genuinely hurt, and he winced inwardly. \\\"I see how all this weighs upon you,\\\" she breathed.\\n\\nHe touched her arm. \\\"I only jest. If he should best me then he deserves the victory.\\\"\\n\\nHer grip tightened. \\\"Then do not force me to wade through the Fourth and Third to reach him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I will go peacefully knowing you would avenge me, Palla.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You know,\\\" she said, after a brief silence, \\\"the others will note our absence, and...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"... there will be much wagging of tongues in the dormitory.\\\" He allowed his fingertips to trace a line down her taut arm. \\\"Another reason to hope for better times, Palla.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She returned the gesture, sending a shiver through his flesh. \\\"Let us hope, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" He opened the door. \\\"In the meantime...\\\"\\n\\nStepping out to the hall she murmured low, \\\"We delay.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy came to, coughing up a great gout of water followed all too swiftly by the contents of his stomach. On his side, his face pressed into dirt, he groaned, his stomach still cramping. A great shout of surprise sounded then and hands grasped at him.\\n\\n\\\"You're alive! ' Orchid cried.\\n\\n\\\"We thought you dead,\\\" Corien said, amazed.\\n\\nHe merely groaned again, dry-heaving. \\\"What in the Abyss happened?\\\" he managed, spitting.\\n\\n\\\"You ought to ask these gentlemen,\\\" Corien said.\\n\\nAntsy peered up. It was still as dark as the inside of a barrel, but his mage-vision allowed him to see that they occupied what appeared to be a meadow surrounded by a thick forest, its boughs windswept. Starry night arched above, empty of any greenish glow.\\n\\nWith him were Orchid and Corien, yes, but also the three mercenaries, the Heels, and about tenor so Malazan marines including Sergeant Girth. But what captured his attention were the six Seguleh standing about him, water dripping from their leathers.\\n\\n\\\"Where's the Hood-damned menagerie of mages? '\\n\\n\\\"All fled as soon as they could,\\\" said Orchid.\\n\\n\\\"Even Malakai?\\\"\\n\\nCorien nodded. \\\"Even him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well... how do you like that. Not even a by-your-leave.\\\" He eyed the Seguleh. \\\"Who's the spokesman here? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I,\\\" said one.\\n\\n\\\"Right.\\\" He gestured for Corien to help him up. \\\"So, what happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We returned to the Throne as soon as we were able. You were in our way so we merely pushed you through with us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well... my thanks.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We did not intend to save your life– we thought you dead.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy waved a hand. \\\"I said thanks!\\\" He held his head, grimacing. \\\"Leave it at that. Gods.\\\"\\n\\nHe faced Orchid. \\\"So. Where are we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Isn't that obvious? \\\"She turned a full circle, arms raised to the night sky.\\\"Kurald Galain. Elder Night. '\\n\\n\\\"We shouldn't be here. We have to go. Right away. '\\n\\n\\\"And go where?\\\" Girth demanded, pushing forward blindly. Antsy realized that none of the others could see a thing. \\\"Just where would you suggest? And how? And who's gonna send us? All the mages have scarpered. We're no better off now than where we were.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy pointed. \\\"We have her.\\\"\\n\\nThe Malazan sergeant peered about. \\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Orchid– the girl!\\\" Antsy barked then held his head again, groaning.\\n\\nGirth pulled at his beard. \\\"Fine. So– question still stands. What's the marching orders? '\\n\\n\\\"Well... I don't know quite yet, ' Antsy admitted. He rubbed his neck, feeling where the dagger had entered, and found only slit cloth and throbbing pain.\\n\\n\\\"I would suggest Darujhistan,\\\" said anew voice, and Orchid gasped.\\n\\n\\\"Morn! You escaped.\\\" She ran to him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The hooded figure of dark wavered, translucent. \\\"I am barely here at all, Orchid,\\\" he said, his voice hollow. \\\"In truth I am very committed elsewhere.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You're fading! '\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry, child. This sending has done its duty. Now it must disperse. All I can say is that these men ought to go to Darujhistan. You have given me much hope, child. It was a pleasure, this time I spent with you. I found it... renewing. '\\n\\n\\\"Don't go! '\\n\\n\\\"I must. I cannot stay. It is too... painful. May Night bless you. Farewell.\\\"\\n\\nThe hooded figure faded away like smoke.\\n\\nAfter a moment of silence, Girth complained, \\\"Well– that was no damned help. And I still can't see a Togg-farting thing! '\\n\\nAntsy went to Orchid's side, whispered,\\\"We should go, lass. These Warrens are dangerous. '\\n\\n\\\"I believe it maybe too late,\\\" Corien said, pointing to the woods.\\n\\nSome sort of party or procession was approaching through the trees. They carried torches on tall poles, but to Antsy's eyes the torches burned with black flames that gave off black light that seemed to aid his mage-vision. The strange inversion made him dizzy.\\n\\nThe Malazan marines were linking up, he noticed, weapons out, sweeping the blades through what to them must be utter dark. \\\"Form circle!\\\" Antsy barked, and set to helping organize them. When he reached for Cull Heel the man brushed his hand aside, making him jump. \\\"You can see?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye,\\\" the man ground out, his narrowed eyes on the approaching party. \\\"We can see a little– someone's coming. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Antsy had no time to wonder about that at the moment. \\\"Form up with the soldiers. Help them out.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye.\\\"\\n\\nAside, the Seguleh formed their own small circle round one of their number as if to protect him. His mask was mostly pale; only a handful of lines marred it. Three crossed the forehead and three each cheek. One crossed the bridge of the nose. While Antsy studied him the man's hand strayed to a cloth-wrapped package thrust into his waist sash and rested therefor a time as if making sure of it.\\n\\nAntsy and Corien shifted to stand before Orchid at the centre of the circled marines and Heel mercenaries.\\n\\n\\\"That's close enough, ' Antsy shouted. The party halted. It consisted of a double file of female Tiste Andii. From their flowing dress and rich jewellery he thought them priestesses of some sort. One at the forefront advanced slightly closer. She held high a torch of the liquid pitch light.\\n\\n\\\"There is no need for such suspicion,\\\" she called in accented Talian, perhaps making herself understood through magery.\\n\\n\\\"What do you want?\\\" Antsy called.\\n\\nShe gestured towards him. \\\"Our daughter.\\\"\\n\\nA gasped breath sounded from Orchid. \\\"I think that's up to her, ' Antsy said.\\n\\n\\\"Indeed. Then let it be so.\\\" The Andii woman's eyes, almost black as the night surrounding them, swept past him.\\\"Child, \\\"she called,\\\"we have been bereft, in mourning. For we have lost a Son of Darkness. Yet behold. We rejoice! For just as precious and rare are the Daughters of Tiam! '\\n\\nOrchid's weight fell on Antsy, and he grunted. The girl was much more solid than she looked. He clasped her arm.\\\"What's this, lass? What's she goin'on about?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"She steadied herself, blinking rapidly, a hand on Antsy's shoulder.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"If what she says is true-'\\n\\n\\\"It is,\\\" the Andii woman asserted.\\n\\n\\\"-then I am part Andii, yes. But also part– Eleint.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy jerked away a step. \\\"Eleint! But that's... '\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" the Andii woman shouted. \\\"That is so. Child, whoever hid you and protected you all these years has taught you also, I see. Very good. Now join us. It is time to continue your education.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Orchid,\\\" Corien murmured, \\\"you don't have to go with these witches... '\\n\\n\\\"I need to know,\\\" she answered just as low, fierce. \\\"I want to.\\\"\\n\\nAntsy nodded. \\\"\\\"Tis true– we can't stop you. But what of us?\\\"\\n\\nShe shot him an insulted look. \\\"I'm not an utter fool, Bridgeburner. \\\"She raised her chin to the Andii woman.\\\"I have terms! '\\n\\nThey barely made it to shore before the hide boat became too heavy with water to be manoeuvrable. Crouched, Yusek hugged her knees, warming herself, watching the flooded thing slowly drift away. It was no more than an oval rim now, like a squeezed ring laid on the smooth dark surface of the river. She was soaked and shivering but had to admit that she missed the damned thing. Beat walkin', that was for sure.\\n\\nThe Seventh merely shouldered his meagre roll of gear, waterskin and such, and set off. Sall and Lo followed. Yusek bent her head back to send an entreating look to the sky and all the gods, but bit back any complaint knowing it would be entirely useless. Well, she suddenly realized, seem to have finally understood that lesson at least.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She pulled up her own roll and shoulder bag of wet gear and followed. It was many hours before dawn. She was exhausted. It had been almost impossible to sleep in the damned boat what with the constant bailing and the sloshing water. Now they were expected to march on? What was the rush? It wasn't like the city was goin\\\" anywhere.\\n\\nShe pushed herself to reach Sall, and announced: \\\"I'm beat! I ain't going another step. We need to sleep.\\\"\\n\\nSall hesitated, glanced ahead to the others. \\\"They will not stop.\\\"\\n\\nYusek sank to her knees. \\\"Well– what's the use of arriving on your last legs? Too tired to be of any use? Aw, fuck it, ' and she glared at the river making its sluggish way north, gleaming beneath bands of clouds.\\n\\nSall jogged ahead.\\n\\nSometime later the three returned. They sat without a word. A few scraps of food were handed out and the waterskins made the rounds. Someone must have kept watch but Yusek didn't know who because she immediately fell asleep.\\n\\nLate in the morning they set off again, following the Maiten's east shore. Here they climbed small hills and narrow gullies the sides of which seemed too steep to be natural. It occurred to Yusek that they were crossing the remains of large channels that might have once carried water from the river. The Maiten was far too low now even to reach these features, but at sometime in the past it must have run much higher. And these channels, then, would have directed part of the flow eastward. To farms, no doubt. Yet now the Dwelling Plain was a dusty wasteland of dry hills and wind-scoured hardpan. Frankly that fitted quite well with her personal experience of what happened anywhere after people arrived. She'd seen it again and again as a refugee fleeing the Pannions. Their bands would come staggering into towns and settlements, and fighting would immediately breakout over water and food. Homes were invaded, herds decimated, water sources bled dry. Then the whole stream would move on again, a swarm of locusts, consuming and destroying all it met. And the only way to have a hope of snatching anything, a handful of barley, or a crust of hard bread, was to be among the first to arrive. Thus the mad dash westward; the desperate effort to beat the mob; to be among the first to kick down the doors.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"It had been a harrowing time. And it had left its mark upon her wiry lean limbs, her restless gaze and her constant, almost feverish, nerves. And what of the scars one couldn't see? The marks upon psyche and spirit? Well, she didn't even want to think about that.\\n\\nNow Sall, he interested her. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever met on her march west, nor among Orbern's crew. All those boys forced too early to become men had ruled through muscle and viciousness, the fist and the club. But not Sall, nor his father Lo, or this fellow, the Seventh.\\n\\nTheir way was strange, and, she could admit, harsh. But it had clear rules, and that attracted her. She knew she wanted to be part of it.\\n\\nLate in the day, from one of the higher hillsides, they saw the first hints that they were getting closer. Smoke stained the northeast sky and ahead more and more huts and rotten piers crowded the riverbanks. They were close now. Close to the greatest city of the continent. Yusek had to hug herself to contain her yip of glee.\\n\\nThe murmurings of the arrival preceded them: doors slamming, sandalled feet stamping the stone floor; gasps and exclamations. Then the doors to the Great Hall swung open to admit a troop of Seguleh, dirty and sweat-stained, jogging up the centre.\\n\\nCourtiers and aristocrats hastily flinched to the sides, making way. From near the white throne Jan watched their advance with stunned incomprehension. What was this? Why were they here?\\n\\nLeading the troop came Gall. Soot stained his mask and black dried blood caked his side where a wound still gaped wet and open. The Third bowed to Jan.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Speak,\\\" Jan managed, almost breathless with wonder.\\n\\nGall straightened, weaving slightly. His chest worked soundlessly. \\\"The Moranth,\\\" he grated. \\\"They... used their alchemical weapons upon us. Only we few... escaped the slaughter.\\\"\\n\\nStill uncomprehending, Jan glared at the man. \\\"That is nothing new. They have always had their strange chemistries. The smoking and bursting globes that they throw.\\\"\\n\\nThe Third shook his head as if unable to find the words. \\\"This is different, Second. Things have changed during our absence.\\\"\\n\\nAnd what an understatement, Gall. Yes. It seems that just as we have changed, so too have the Moranth. It is to be expected.\\n\\nThe Third bowed again. \\\"I accept full responsibility, Second. I await your judgement.\\\"\\n\\nJan signed for him to rise. \\\"No, Third. All responsibility is mine and mine alone. Our rush to engage was foolish. And obviously costly beyond measure. We must re-evaluate our strategy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I concur,\\\" put in anew voice and Jan glanced down to seethe Mouthpiece at his side. \\\"When the rest of your people arrive, Second, then anew army will be sent to punish the Moranth. In the meantime control over the city must be enforced. You Seguleh must keep the population in order.\\\"\\n\\nJan struggled to keep his tone neutral as he said: \\\"And how do you propose we do so?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why,\\\" the sickly pale man answered as he dabbed a cloth to his sweaty forehead, \\\"are you not my sword and anvil?\\\"\\n\\nJan turned his mask to the immobile Legate upon his white stone seat. \\\"I suggest, Legate, that we may not have the time.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. The Moranth have dealt us a severe blow. I would be surprised if they did not strike now while we are weakened.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do not fear, Second. We are impregnable here within the protection of the Circle.\\\"\\n\\nFear? This creature thinks I fear? Great Ancestors! The gulf between our thinking. Our mutual miscomprehension... beyond belief. If I fear at all, it is for the future of my people.\\n\\nYet Jan bowed, saying, \\\"Of that I have no doubt, Legate.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nA knock brought Tiserra to her door. She was reluctant to open it, expecting some damned debt collector– not that she couldn't handle such a one, but it was a distraction from her work. Finally, the persistence of the knocking, and its gentleness, persuaded her to answer.\\n\\nShe saw there the tall slim man that Bellam, one of her nephews on Torvald's side, had become. She opened the door fully and he bowed.\\n\\n\\\"Auntie.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bellam– a pleasure. You do not come by often enough.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am sorry, Auntie. I understand that the Legate has sent Torvald from the city. Some sort of political mission. So you are alone...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, Seguleh have returned to the city from the west. Just a bare ragged handful. People think there will be trouble. We are heading out to a residence in the Gadrobi hills. Perhaps you would care to join us?\\\"\\n\\nTouched, she squeezed his arm. \\\"Why, thank you for the offer, nephew. But no. I will remain. Torvald will be returning and I will have to be here for him. And do not worry, I will be safe. Now go. Look after your mother and father, yes?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Reluctant, a touch confused, the lad hesitated. \\\"How do you know...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Never you mind that, lad. Now go.\\\"\\n\\nHe was still uncertain, but he bowed, deferring to her in any case. Sometimes, she knew, a reputation for fierceness made things so much easier.\\n\\nShe did not shut the door but threw on a shawl instead. So, it shall be this night. I must warn the Greyfaces– no gas! Shut the pipes! Squeeze their throats shut just as tight if I must!\\n\\nThe forest they walked gave way to a canyon. A narrow strip of starry night sky shone above. Tayschrenn led, moving confidently. Kiska kept a wary eye out. The canyon became a cave then a series of natural stone tunnels. Kiska finally ventured to ask: \\\"Where are we going?\\\"\\n\\nBut the mage merely raised a hand for patience. Kiska subsided, grumbling.\\n\\nEventually they emerged from a cave mouth and Kiska found herself high on the steep slope of some sort of mountain. Not too faraway the sea spread to the horizons, black and glimmering like the sky. The jade banner of the Visitor glared high above. They were on an island.\\n\\n\\\"Where are we?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kartool.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kartool!\\\" Kiska suppressed a start of revulsion. \\\"Why hereof all places?\\\"\\n\\nHe turned on her a fond, almost amused, glance. \\\"As I said, along delayed reunion. Come.\\\" Kiska wasn't sure if she approved of this peculiar sense of humour the High Mage seemed to have acquired.\\n\\nHe led the way along the narrow stone ledge. It curved round the wall of the mountain. For an instant Kiska had a flashback to a similar path on the cliffs of Malaz Isle, no great distance from her now. Agayla... are you there? Is this the Queen's intent? Is this the right path? Gods, if I only knew.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The track stepped upon to a wide flat walkway that ran straight into the side of the mountain, to a worked cave entrance whose stone pillars were carved with the sigils of D'rek, the Worm of the World's Autumn. After a moment's stunned silence, Kiska cleared her throat.\\\"Ah, Tayschrenn– this is a temple to D'rek...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Indeed it is. I am glad to see your education encompasses the cult's iconography. '\\n\\nHa! \\\"D'rek tried to capture you! '\\n\\n\\\"Many times, yes. Capture or kill. But that is the past. Anew crossroads has been reached. It is time fora chat. Mustn't hold grudges. '\\n\\nThey walked the processional way, where braziers lit the tunnel between thick pillars carved from the stone of the walls. No one was about. \\\"Where is everyone?\\\" Kiska breathed, her voice low.\\n\\n\\\"D'rek is still without priests, Kiska. Even here and at the temple below. This is the Holy of Holies. The most sacred shrine. Only priests and priestesses were ever allowed entrance here. '\\n\\n\\\"And these braziers?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We've been invited, Kiska. Here we are. '\\n\\nThe processional way ended at a great cavern, roughly circular. Kiska followed the line of its roof up and up until, squinting, she realized there was no roof. They stood at the base of a central vent that ran through the mountain to its very top. A dormant volcano.\\n\\nAt the centre of the cavern was a pit, a black jagged hole that led down into smoke and utter night. Kiska flinched back from its lip; whatever was down there, it smelled vile.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What now?\\\" she asked, a hand at her nose.\\n\\n\\\"Now she and I are going to have a talk, and you mustn't interfere. Stay here, yes? '\\n\\n\\\"Well, all right,\\\" she allowed, doubtful. \\\"But where are you-\\\" Then she screamed as Tayschrenn stepped up and threw himself into the pit, diving in along arc to disappear from sight.\\n\\nScreaming still, she nearly threw herself in after him, but a strong hand grasped her cloak and yanked her away. She fell on her back and found herself looking up at an old woman, bent, hair a thick ropy nest and eyes bright circles of milky white. \\\"Doan do that,\\\" the old crone snarled at her crossly, shaking a crooked finger.\\n\\n\\\"Don't do what? ' she gasped, completely shocked.\\n\\n\\\"Doan yell like that to wake the dead. Hurts the ears, that does.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sorry.\\\" She leapt to her feet. \\\"But he jumped! He-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, yes.\\\" The old woman waved dismissively. \\\"That's what the most powerful of them do. Doan worry y'self. He'll be back. Or... he'll be dinner for the Worm!\\\" and she chuckled, shuffling off.\\n\\nKiska followed. \\\"Dinner! You mean... down there... it's down there? '\\n\\n\\\"Oh aye. Down there. Far enough. Coiling and churning eternal. The Worm of the Earth. A worm of energy, it is. Fire and flame, molten rock and boiling metal. Ever restless. And a good thing too! Else we'd all be dead! '\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry– I'm not sure what you mean.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Never mind. Make y'self useful. See that bucket? '\\n\\nKiska peered into the shadows. \\\"I think so.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, fill it and follow me!\\\"\\n\\nAgainst the wall Kiska found a bucket and woven baskets bursting with coal. She filled the bucket and followed.\\n\\n\\\"Keep the fires going– that's my job, \\\"the old hag was muttering.\\\"Can't be neglected! It's the light and heat that keeps us all alive. Yes? ' She peered about blindly.\\n\\n\\\"Ah... yes,\\\" Kiska said.\\n\\n\\\"That's right! \\\"Reaching the wall, the woman walked along, tracing her way with one hand. The other hand she held up high, quavering. Nearing a brazier, she patted at the hot metal to test its heat. Kiska winced at the sight. Nodding to herself, satisfied, she moved on.\\\"There's precious few these days understand that, girl,\\\" she muttered. \\\"Precious few understand that it's all about service. Serving! '\\n\\n\\\"Yes,\\\" Kiska answered, understanding now that this washer role.\\n\\n\\\"No,\\\" the old crone muttered, spitting aside. \\\"Nowadays it's all about gathering– influence and power and whatnot. \\\"She found another brazier, patted its hot iron with her naked hand, waved.\\\"Low! Fill it! '\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, that's not how it used to be. Not how it should be! Do you understand me? '\\n\\n\\\"Ah... yes.\\\" I have no idea what you're blathering on about, you miserable hag.\\n\\n\\\"Only way to sustain anything, to build anything, is to give! You understand me, girl? Give and give of y'self till there's nothing left to give! Only then can you have something! If you take, you diminish things till there's nothing left. If you give, you provide and things grow! Yes? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"There y'go! That's right. Everyone's greedy these days. It'll only diminish the pot till there's nothing left! Then we're all in the dark, yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ah... right. Yes.\\\"\\n\\nThe old woman leaned back against the wall, breathing wetly. \\\"There we go. All done.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We're done? ' Kiska studied the countless other braziers surrounding the chamber.\\n\\n\\\"Not us! Me. I'm done. You goon and finish. '\\n\\nKiska eased out along low breath between her teeth, but continued. She went all the way round the cavern, tossing lumps of coal into any of the braziers that were low, relighting others that had gone out. When she returned the bucket to its place she found the old woman sitting against the wall, her knees drawn uptight, a cloak wrapped around her, asleep, her mouth half open.\\n\\nTired, hungry, her nerves still jangling for Tayschrenn, Kiska eased herself down the wall to sit with her own knees drawn up and rested her chin on them. Soon afterwards she fell asleep.\\n\\nShe awoke to alight kick and jerked, blinking. Tayschrenn was peering down at her. He appeared to be in a good mood. He was smiling and seemed unharmed from his descent, but for his mussed hair and soot-stained cloak.\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry if I scared you, \\\"he said.\\\"But I don't think you would've reacted well to my telling you what I was about to do. '\\n\\n\\\"No. I wouldn't have. \\\"She pushed herself up, wincing and easing her back.\\\"So– we're done here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You... spoke to her?\\\"\\n\\nThe mage eyed her sidelong. \\\"Sort of. That's not really how we communicated. '\\n\\n\\\"I see. Well, I had a grand old time doing chores here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Chores?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. The old woman who takes care of the place. She showed me the ropes. Gods, does she ever goon.\\\"\\n\\nTayschrenn had been on his way to the tunnel. He stopped to turn. \\\"Kiska. There's no one else here. '\\n\\n\\\"Sure there is.\\\" She glanced about. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. \\\"She was right here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Must have been a dream, Kiska. Because we are all alone. But tell me... what did she have to say?\\\"\\n\\nBaruk's workroom was at the very top of the tower. On the way up the endless narrow circular stairway Spindle had grumbled to himself: Gods, why do they always have to beat the top? Never on the ground floor. All this useless walking up and down!\\n\\nSince being guided into the room by the little waddling demon, Duiker had had him searching for all the various chemicals in their phials, globes, decanters and cups. The historian dropped samples from each liquid onto a chip of the white stone. He hadn't been happy with any of the reactions produced.\\n\\nEventually, long past midnight, they gave up for the time being and Spindle gestured for the old man to rest. He would take first watch. An old campaigner, the historian curled upon all the cloths they'd piled together as abed and went to sleep.\\n\\nFrom a seat beneath a window Spindle watched the city below. It struck him as oddly dark. Very few of the many gas jets of blue flame that normally illuminated its streets and buildings appeared to be lit. Above, the green radiance of the Scimitar shone down. And it seemed to him that the two nimbuses warred over the city. Or at least that was what he fancied. The night was very quiet. In fact the city had been very quiet ever since the Seguleh arrived. Everyone hurried, reluctant to be out, constantly peering over their shoulders. People were afraid. And the Seguleh hadn't even done anything yet! He had the impression that they simply weren't welcome, weren't wanted, herein Darujhistan. Which struck him as odd since the city seemed to welcome everyone, priding itself on being so cosmopolitan and all.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He supposed it was more what they represented. Or stood for, perhaps.\\n\\nA few bells later he woke the historian.\\n\\nIn the morning nothing had changed. None of the chemicals they tested elicited the sort of reaction the historian seemed to expect. As the day waned Spindle returned to his seat at the window. A growled sigh of frustration drew his gaze to Duiker as the man pushed himself away from the worktable. He regarded Spindle through bloodshot, squinting eyes. \\\"Nothing. I don't understand it. This should be the answer. Why is nothing reacting? '\\n\\nSpindle shrugged. \\\"Maybe we need anew sample? Another shard?\\\"\\n\\nThe historian waved his hands in a gesture of helplessness. \\\"Well... perhaps. Go get one.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"All right.\\\" He heaved himself from the chair and headed to the top of the stairs where they'd dropped their load of stones. Here he found the fat little demon, its head in the cloak, stuffing its great mouth with the chips.\\n\\n\\\"Hey! Git outta there!\\\"\\n\\nIt raced off, dragging the cloak with it. Spindle gave chase. Its little clawed feet clicked over the polished stone floor as it ducked under tables and around furniture. Spindle swore again for leaving his shortsword behind. He almost lost his quarry amid all the furnishings and hangings but spotted a telltale corner of the cloak peeping out of a well-hidden door. Searching about, Spindle found a fireplace poker and raised it, then reached for the slim stone door.\\n\\nHe yanked it open, poker poised, and the little demon hissed at him then ran between his legs and scuttled off. Spindle let it go; it had abandoned the cloak. He gathered up the cloth and gave it a shake. Just a few leavings rattled at the bottom.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Togg curse it!\\n\\nThen he glimpsed something else in the narrow cupboard. A huge amphora as tall as his waist set on a wrought-iron stand. It looked to be of some sort of fired ceramic, glazed black. Its lid was sealed with wax and pressed into the liberal drippings was some kind of sigil.\\n\\nHe went to get the historian.\\n\\nTogether they carried the amphora into the workroom. Duiker studied the seal then looked at Spindle, arching one grey brow. Spindle reached outward to feel for any Warren-anchored wardings or traps. He sensed nothing and shrugged. \\\"What's the seal? ' he asked.\\n\\n\\\"Looks like the High Alchemist's own. As far as I can deduce. '\\n\\n\\\"Should we open it?\\\"\\n\\nThe historian sat back in his chair, rested his chin in one hand. \\\"Well, that is a question. We're inside the inner sanctum of a powerful alchemist. We find an amphora specifically hidden away and sealed and so naturally we open it. Sounds like an epitaph tome. '\\n\\nSpindle nodded, pursing his lips. \\\"I see what you mean. Let's go get the pet. '\\n\\nThey lured it in with the stone chips. Spindle held one out, beckoning, backing up until they had it in the room. Duiker closed the door on it. It looked unhappy but Spindle held the chip over its head and let it have it.\\n\\nThen he held out another of their rapidly dwindling supply and pointed to the amphora. \\\"Should we open that?\\\" The little demon wouldn't take its beady blood-red eyes off the chip. It hissed and tried to jump. Its potbelly wobbled.\\\"What will happen if we open that? ' Spindle tried again, pointing. It held up its skinny arms, clawing the air. Spindle sighed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Put the chip on the jar,\\\" Duiker suggested.\\n\\nSpindle did so, resting the piece of Alabaster on the wax. The little demon watched with narrowed eyes. It waddled over to the amphora and with scratching claws and feet tried its best to climb it. Spindle had to stop the thing from toppling over.\\n\\nDuiker came up and shooed the demon off. It snatched up the stone chip and scrambled off, claws scritching. \\\"I guess we have our answer,\\\" Spindle said.\\n\\n\\\"Unless the wretch has no idea what's in there– which is more than likely. '\\n\\n\\\"Ah. Well. What'll we do? '\\n\\nDuiker rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. \\\"I guess we have no choice. We open it.\\\"\\n\\nUsing the tools and supplies available in the alchemist's workroom Spindle setup a rig. First he selected the sharpest steel tool he could find to scour a ring all the way round the neck of the amphora. Then he adjusted the height of a table so that it matched the height of the scoured line and secured the amphora to the edge. He cleared the table of everything and poured a decanter of oil allover it. Earlier he'd spotted along iron bar and this he laid down on the tabletop so that one end touched the neck of the amphora while the other extended out over the opposite edge. Then he stood on a chair to drive a pin into the ceiling over the table. Using rope, he hung the biggest lead weight he could find from the pin. Carefully, he measured the length so that the weight– in the form of an elephant, appropriately enough– just touched the far end of the bar.\\n\\nAll this extraordinary effort Duiker watched, bemused, arms crossed. Finally he waved a hand. \\\"Why all this?\\\"\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":97,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 26"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The men stared. Several let out long sighs. \"I'm joinin'Shadow,\" one murmured to his neighbour.\n\nThe moustached soldier found his voice: \"We, ah– we're... \"He raised a hand for silence.\"What's that noise?\"\n\nSordiko nodded to him. \"War, Malazan. The Legate has called the Seguleh and now they and the Moranth make war upon each other as in ancient times. Only now the city is caught between.\"\n\n\"Legate?\" one shouted, stepping forward. Youngest of them, Darujhistani by his tattered clothes and the style of his weapon. In fact... She squinted. \"You are of the Lim family?\"\n\n\"Yes. Corien.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Corien, but your cousin... '\n\nThe Seguleh started for the main exit. A priestess blocked it, shouting, \"The High Priestess has not given you leave!\"\n\nThe lead Seguleh, one of the Twenty by his mask, cocked his head towards Sordiko in a silent question. She waved the priestess aside. Unreasonable bastards. They marched out. All of the rest of the ragtag wretches followed. Dammit! \"You, Malazans! Your troops are west of the city! You three others– who are you? There's something strange about you! Comeback! '\n\nThe doors gaped empty until attending priestesses slammed and barred them. Sordiko set her fists to her hips. How do you like that? First time so many men have ever walked out on me...\n\nThe streets were jammed with citizenry all attempting to flee at once and therefore unable to flee anywhere because the way was choked. From the steps to the temple to Shadow, Antsy glimpsed a strange darkness that hungover the city, and above this, the circling quorls, and the munitions punishing the hilltop Majesty Hall. An immense opalescent dome shimmered over that hilltop. The Seguleh seemed to be making straight for the hill. The crowds screamed and flinched aside, leaving them clear passage. Antsy urged Corien onward. \"C'mon! '"},{"from":"human","value":"\"We're headin'west,\" Sergeant Girth shouted."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ain't our fight. Gonna get yourself kilt! '\n\nAntsy waved the man off. Miserable bastard. Save his skin and that's the thanks I get. Well, his duty is to get his troops back safe. Fair enough, then.\n\nThe Heels marched with him and Corien. They had huge grins pasted to their faces and peered about like country hicks, nudging one another and pointing at buildings as if this was one big night out. Trailing along in the wake of the Seguleh they all made good time. And just what do you plan to do, Antsy? \"Cept maybe get your fool head blown off. Still, these boys and girls had been on a mission. And now they're charging for their fellows. Something's definitely up.\n\n*\n\nA richly appointed carriage careered its way down one of the switchback roads of the Third Tier escarpment. Four panicked horses drew it. The coachman whipped them between terrified glances over his shoulder to Majesty Hill, where bursts of light made him flinch and an accompanying rumbling shook the carriage beneath him.\n\nThey roared down the road, sending pedestrians fleeing for the walls. \"Out of the way!\" the coachman bellowed. \"Clear way for Lord Pal'ull! Clearway! '\n\nAnd all the citizenry did dart aside. The carriage swung round a sharp corner, iron rims striking sparks from the flint cobbles, horses' hooves clattering. A further stretch of jammed pedestrians jumped for the walls– all but for one very tall fellow coming up against the flow.\n\n\"Clear!\" the coachman bellowed. Then his eyes widened and he dropped the whip to yank the reins aside. The horses plunged to the right and passed the tall armoured figure, but the carriage swung sideways and slammed into him in an eruption of splintering wood and bending, wrenching iron. The coachman was thrown from his seat over the road wall while the horses continued down the way, dragging the shattered fore-section of the carriage behind them in a shower of trailing sparks and falling splinters."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The armoured figure, bright reflections flashing from it in emerald and sapphire, hadn't shifted a fraction. It lifted one heavy foot to crunch down on the broken wreckage, snapping and flattening the siding. Lord and Lady Pal'ull lay unconscious amid the remains. It walked on without pause, crushing all the debris in its way.\n\nAfter the great lumbering armoured figure had passed, the citizenry descended on the wreckage in a looting horde. Ten minutes later all that remained at the scene was shattered wood and an unconscious lord and lady in their linen underclothes.\n\n*\n\nAragan adjusted his seat on his mount– his arse was getting numb. He was still waiting next to Fist K'ess. A short time ago several quorls had come flitting overhead, twin saddles empty. Some limped along on damaged wings, hardly able to stay aloft. A few came soaring down out of the night sky in a sort of controlled fall to land out of sight without any sound of their crash.\n\nHe and K'ess shared looks of dread. Fearsome though the Moranth might be, both had hoped it wouldn't come to this. K'ess had offered marines for the assault but Aragan had vetoed the suggestion. They'd lost enough troops against the Seguleh; no need to lose more. They were the outsiders here. This was an ancient feud. One this Legate had reopened– perhaps to his short-lived regret. Or so Aragan hoped.\n\nRegardless, he would watch and report. And faraway, across Seeker's Deep, Command at Unta would then adjust Imperial strategy accordingly...\n\nA deep murmuring rose to his attention. It hummed in his ears like a shaking of the earth. Standing water in the fields rippled as if vibrating. Aragan turned in his saddle, along with many others, peering about for the source of the penetrating din."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then the light changed. Something intervened in the night sky between the glowing bright green Scimitar and the ground. He squinted up to look. A cloud. A wide dark cloud sweeping in from the west.\n\nThe murmuring swelled to a deafening thrumming that drowned out all other sounds. Aragan hunched beneath the punishing noise, as did K'ess and others all around. Peering up, he caught the cloud of glimmering wings. Each quorl now carried only one rider, but from every saddle hung fat double panniers fore and aft.\n\nAragan turned a glare on Torn. \"What is this?\" he shouted.\n\n\"The alternative,\" calmly answered Torn.\n\n\"Give the assault a chance!\"\n\n\"We are. We await the signal.\"\n\n\"Signal? What signal?\"\n\n\"Success or failure.\"\n\nAragan thrust a hand to the city. \"Gods, man! Give them time to offer terms, or calla truce!\"\n\nTorn shook a slow negative. \"There will be no terms from the Tyrant. We know him of old.\"\n\n\"Torn, be careful here. You could be opening a blood-feud that will soak all these lands!\"\n\n\"So it was in the old days, Malazan,\" Torn answered, steel in his voice. \"The lands of Pale were once ours. We had colonies in the lowlands. Where are they now, I ask you! Annihilated. Such are his terms.\"\n\nAragan opened his mouth but no words would come. And above the quorls circled, waiting, a thrumming drone promising a cataclysm of destruction for the unsuspecting city beyond. Mortal enemies, each determined to utterly crush the other. No quarter. No survival for the fallen. These stakes are far too high. And we Malazans, outsiders, no more than impotent witnesses? Yet what can we do? What are our options? Soliel look away! Is there nothing we can do?"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Of thy bones they have made a seat;\n\nThey have taken the orbs of thine eyes\n\nYet it is they who are blind\n\nWarning carved on tomb entrance,\n\nDwelling Plain\n\nTHE WOODEN STAIRCASE left Torvald at the rear of the rambling buildings. Paths nearby led through a slim belt of woods and courts that encircled the top of Majesty Hill. He half walked, half dragged the wounded Galene through the park-like strip. It looked as though she'd twisted or broken her leg in the crash. The blasts and echoing reverberations shook him rarely now; through the trees he glimpsed quorls diving into deposit their riders. He knew that somewhere Seguleh were waiting and he dreaded what would happen should he run into any now. But then, neither of them had weapons drawn so he imagined at worst they'd only be captured.\n\nHis fears played out when they rounded a curve and he saw two Seguleh standing where major paths crossed. He stopped abruptly, his shoulders falling. One calmly waved him forward. Galene fumbled for her longsword but he pushed her hand aside. \"No point,\" he murmured.\n\n\"I have one munition,\" she whispered, reaching to her opposite side.\n\n\"No!\" They'd just kill us.\"It's too late.\"\n\n\"I won't allow myself-'\n\nThe Seguleh spun aside raising their weapons as heavy armoured feet came pounding up another path. A column of Black Moranth charged: the first two held their wide shields up and threw something from behind. Galene yanked Torvald down.\n\nHe fell; she yelped her pain as she bent her wounded leg.\n\nMultiple blasts buffeted him and gravel came pattering down all around. When he raised his head he glimpsed the Moranth finishing off the stunned and lacerated Seguleh. Even then there was a ferocious exchange of blows and half the Moranth were wounded."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Hands raised him and Galene. \"We saw you go down,\" one Black said to her, \"and came for you.\" They took her from Torvald, one to each side.\n\n\"Take me to the main entrance,\" she ordered, her voice tight with suppressed pain.\n\nThe party formed up around Torvald and Galene and they headed to the front of the rambling complex. In the distance the staccato blasts of sharpers came and went in great volleys that shook the night. They had not gone far when they caught a glimpse through the trees of the main approach, and Galene groaned at what was revealed.\n\nThe walkways and flagged open courts and benches had been turned into one huge killing zone littered with Moranth fallen. As they landed they had formed squares or circles of interlocking shields, yet despite barrages of sharpers and crossbow volleys Seguleh had won through to slice their way into the formations, wreaking terrible destruction before being cut down from all sides.\n\nAnd to one side further defences awaited in the form of a tall mage, watching, staff at his side, seemingly content to let the fighting proceed in its own course– for the time being.\n\nGalene straightened. \"We cannot win through,\" Torvald heard her murmur. \"Yet he cannot be allowed to succeed. Cannot.\" From a pouch at her side she drew a tube, about the size of a baton, enamelled a deep red. She turned her helmed head to him. \"I'm sorry, Councillor. '\n\nTorvald eyed the tube, uncertain at first, then horror raised the hair on his arms and neck and he lunged for her. \"No!\" A Black restrained him. \"Don't call it! Please don't summon them. Wait! Just wait. That is all I ask!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Very well, Councillor. For you, a moment.\"\n\n*\n\nIt looked to Spindle as though they were getting close; damned close. The depth looked right from what he remembered of the trench. So far they'd been ignored, as the Seguleh had much more immediate worries. Wave after wave of Moranth had landed, formed up, and made for the entrances to Majesty Hall, where they were met by the Seguleh. So far, from what glimpses he could snatch, despite their munitions it looked as if the Moranth were coming off far the worse. That meant that for him and Fisher time was running out.\n\nHe straightened once more to toss a shovelful of dirt only to see a pair of sandalled feet on either side of the pit. He looked up: the feet belonged to two Seguleh who were peering down at them, swords pointed.\n\n\"Do not move,\" one commanded.\n\nSpindle glanced to Fisher who slowly straightened, shovel in hand.\n\n\"Explain this,\" the Seguleh demanded.\n\nSpindle opened his mouth to answer then gaped, shocked, and threw himself flat yelling: \"Down!\"\n\nFisher fell immediately. The Seguleh only had time to turn before multiple eruptions blasted about the pit, sending earth flying. Spindle held his hands over his head as stones and clots of soil struck him. Fisher recovered first; he straightened, shaking his hair and brushing dirt from himself.\n\n\"What was that?\" he demanded, speaking overly loud as everyone does after enduring blasts.\n\n\"Just a hit and run,\" Spindle said, picking up his shovel. \"C'mon. We're almost there.\"\n\nBut attention had been drawn; only one of the Seguleh had been taken down. The other had limped off, and now more were on their way. Spindle had barely scooped up the freshly fallen soil when another two came jumping through the low brush to glare down at them."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Out,\" one ordered.\n\nSpindle dropped his shovel and raised his hands. Fisher followed suit.\n\n\"Out!\"\n\n\"Okay, okay!\" Spindle reached up to the side.\n\nA great war whoop erupted from the woods, freezing him; it sounded like across between a Barghast war bellow and a death scream. Even the Seguleh flinched. Then a huge multicoloured shape jumped the pit, two swords flashing, followed by another equally bizarre-looking fellow also wielding two swords. Even more astoundingly, they drove off the Seguleh in a dazzling coordinated attack of continuous multiple strikes.\n\nSpindle stared open-mouthed at the astonishing apparition.\n\n\"Ha ha!\" the huge one announced, waving his blades. \"That is how you do it!\" He peered down at Spindle and Fisher. \"Well? Go ahead, you two– dig away!\" He motioned across the pit and Spindle turned to see a third man standing there.\n\n\"Ah, yes,\" the newcomer said, his voice nowhere near as loud as the huge one's.\"Dig. '\n\nHalf stunned, Spindle retrieved his shovel to set to it once more. Fisher, he saw, was shaking his head in disbelief as he worked. \"You know them?\" Spindle asked.\n\n\"It's Madrun and Lazan Door is who it is. '\n\nSpindle tossed a shovelful of dirt. \"I thought those were just stories,\" he hissed.\n\n\"No– they're flesh and blood. As for what's attributed to them, well... some of that is my fault.\"\n\n*\n\nAt the main entrance Jan watched while more and more of the Moranth gathered. Their strategy was simple but effective. They formed into tight squares of shield-walls from behind which the rear ranks threw their munitions. And those munitions: like the punishing heavier ones used earlier, these too demonstrated afar greater killing capacity than those written of in their records."},{"from":"human","value":"It was to be expected, he allowed."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Time had passed. The Moranth had gone their way just as the Seguleh had gone theirs.\n\nSo far they had held them off. But the cost had been horrific. Anyone fallen brother or sister was too much for Jan to imagine. Yet now, before his disbelieving eyes, ten, twenty, lacerated and maimed by the salvos of munitions. Each bloody cut was a slash across his heart. Each fallen, a name and a face well known: Toru, Sengal, Leah, Arras, Rhuk.\n\nI am responsible for this. On my head lie their severed futures. Their lost potential. How many possible Seconds cut down before they could display their mastery?\n\nHow can I possibly atone for this? What act could even begin to repair the damage wrought?\n\nAll this he watched and his heart bled.\n\nA runner arrived. She bowed her head, begging to speak, and Jan signed his permission. \"They have broken through in the eastern wing, Second. We were few there.\"\n\n\"I see.\" He nodded to Palla. \"Watch here. I will go.\"\n\n\"Take at least five,\" Palla urged.\n\n\"No. You must defend these doors. Only I need go.\"\n\n\"But, Second...\"\n\n\"No. It is for me to answer this.\" He set off before Palla could speak again. The runner followed.\n\nJan found the doors blasted open and another fallen: Por, the Thirteenth. Yet the price the Moranth paid to achieve this breach had been high. Their slain far exceeded the few defenders. He drew his blade and stole ahead as silently as he could. With each step he loosed the fisted hold he kept upon everything driven down within his blazing chest: his self-condemnation, his self-disgust, his rage, and above all the lacerating sorrow that threatened to suffocate him. Until at last he carried no awareness at all into the rear of the ranks before him."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Horul, of the Hundredth, quickly fell behind within the maze of rooms. The Second more than ran; he charged unchecked by numbers. He did not slow no matter how many faced him; driving, spinning, slashing until only the bellows and howls of wounded Moranth led heron. And at every turn, every room, the fallen. Each bearing only a single mortal wound either to neck or to artery or to nearly severed limb. They did not know what was coming, so swift was his advance. No chance to throw their munitions or form a defence. It seemed to her he passed through them like a breeze, utterly silent but for the hiss of his two-handed blade.\n\nShe found him standing motionless deep within the east wing; listening, perhaps. She carefully stepped over the carpet of fallen choking the room: some sort of last stand. Gore limned his sleeves and legs. Bright droplets spattered his once pure mask, like seeds on snow. He seemed completely unaware of her before him.\n\n\"Second,\" she breathed, almost reverent. \"Second. Never had I ever imagined...\"\n\nAwareness suddenly flooded his gaze, but not before she glimpsed something naked and utterly unguarded that drove her eyes away. Horror. Horror and soul-lashing pain.\n\n\"I... live,\" he uttered, wonder in his voice.\n\n\"Yes. You live.\"\n\n\"Not... today, then.\"\n\n\"No. Not today.\"\n\n\"Tomorrow, then.\" He eased a hand from his side, releasing at the same time a hiss of suppressed pain. Horul glimpsed the wound from a penetrating thrust. His despairing smile made her turn her mask away again.\n\n\"Second!\"\n\n\"Bind it, Horul,\" he managed through clenched lips. \"Bind it tight.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"*\n\nNow that the last of the crowd of councillors, aristocrats and court functionaries had all long since fled, the Great Hall was quiet. Scorch and Leff stood watch leaning up against the rear of one of the fat columns that ran along a wall. All was hushed now; the pounding had faded away. Only the laboured breathing and occasional muted sobs of that miserable Mouthpiece broke the silence of the hall. But listening, his head cocked, Leff could make out the distant clash of fighting.\n\nScorch turned to him, even more anxious and confused than usual. Then he sent a meaningful glance to a nearby exit. Leff shook his head. Scorch glared, demanding an explanation.\n\nHis voice as low as possible, Leff whispered: \"You don't really think anyone's gonna get through all them Seguleh, do ya?\"\n\nScorch's expressive brows rose and he gave a great show of the light dawning. He winked.\"Right. What now? '\n\nLeff hefted his crossbow. \"Well, now we gotta guard, don't we? Up to us. Last line o'defence and such.\"\n\nScorch nodded towards the centre of the hall. \"Maybe we should, y\" know, take a look...? '\n\n\"Right. You go ahead.\"\n\n\"Me?\" Scorch ducked his head. He whispered sotto voce: \"Why me? You go– you're senior \"n\" all. '\n\n\"No, I ain't. Equals we are. Same rank. \"He urged Scorch out.\"G'wan.\"\n\nCursing under his breath, Scorch edged around the column. He stepped out, leaning to peer at the throne. \"Still there,\" he whispered. \"Hasn't moved a muscle. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fine. Good. All's... \"Leff's voice faded away as he peered closely at Scorch. \"Wait a minute. What's that? '\n\n\"What's what? '\n\n*\n\nIn the doorway, Palla ducked flying stone chips from an errant throw. She waved aside the obscuring smoke to study the blasted grounds dotted with fallen, and the Moranth squares pushing for the walls. Then she scanned the night sky, now empty of quorls.\n\n\"I believe that is all of them,\" she called to Shun, the Eighteenth.\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"I cannot be certain. Perhaps a thousand.\"\n\n\"Then we have won. These last few we will finish off.\"\n\n\"Still, they have taken too many with them.\"\n\n\"It was their gamble. They-\"\n\nA dull brown blade smeared in gore erupted from the Eighteenth's chest and was withdrawn almost before Palla had registered that it was there. She leapt backwards an instant before it slashed again, striking shards of stone from where she had just been standing. As Shun fella walking horror was revealed behind him in the doorway: carious face of dried sinew and skull brown with age, broken remnants of hide and bone armour, limbs of bare bone strung with ligaments and creaking flesh, legs oddly mismatched.\n\nAncestors give me strength! Imass!\n\n\"Attend!\" Palla shouted, backing away as she parried sweep after sweep of the wide flint sword.\n\nThree others of the Hundredth charged. Blows rocked the Imass in a flurry of bone chips, sliced rotten hide and bits of cured flesh, and still it came on. A downward sweep taken full on the edge of one Seguleh's sword shattered the blade and knocked the bearer to crash against a wall and slump unconscious."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Still Palla yielded ground one hard-fought step at a time. Each overbearing attack she slipped as obliquely as she dared, feeling her blade shudder and flex on the cusp of failing in her hands. Another of the Hundredth lunged close as the creature appeared to waver, but the Imass snatched the youth's arm and propelled him into a pillar to smack wetly and fall.\n\n\"It's not you I want, \"it ground out.\"Stand aside. '\n\nThe third Hundredth took the opportunity to leap, swinging a great blow to the creature's neck. The blade chopped but caught. The half fleshless skull atop canted but did not topple. Palla halted her own lunge as the Imass seized the lad under the chin and lifted him from the floor while it knocked the blade from its neck.\n\nHow can I save the poor lad? What could I possibly...\n\nInspiration came. Palla offered the long deep bow of the ancient form, hands out from her sides. Then she struck the most traditional of the ready stances.\n\n\"Your challenge is accepted.\"\n\nThe Imass stilled. A second later it tossed the lad through an open doorway, where he landed amid furniture. \"What is your rank?\"\n\n\"Sixth.\"\n\n\"Sixth? I met the First. Long ages ago. Then I wouldn't have dared face any of the champions. Let us see how things proceed– now that I have had ample time to practise. ' It grasped the naked flint tang of its sword in both bone and sinew hands, and advanced.\n\n*\n\nThe whirling storms that scattered Ebbin's consciousness to the furthest corners of his mind had receded. And all his memories came crashing in at once, bringing with them the horrifying awareness of all that had happened, caused by him. The one small stone he dislodged and the avalanche it precipitated. And so he wept. Arms wrapped around his head, he sobbed, abject."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"You see, the voice whispered within his mind, the favour I do you? Ignorance is a blessing.\n\nStung, Ebbin moved to scuttle off on all fours.\n\nIn his mind a hand clutched his neck. The monstrosity straddled him, gold mask turned to study the roiling clouds. \"Let me go!\" Ebbin pleaded. \"You're finished! '\n\n\"Nay. I have won. The Moranth are defeated. They cannot touch me.\"\n\n\"Your attack failed!\"\n\n\"True,\" the creature allowed. \"That was... impetuous. But live and learn, yes, scholar? I will bide my time.\"\n\n\"No– you are lost. You're revealed for what you are. '\n\n\"And what is that, dear scholar?\"\n\n\"A monster nightmare of our childhood.\"\n\nThe hand released his neck. The Tyrant stepped away from him. Mocking laughter rose from behind the graven gold oval. The embossed lips seemed to drip it. \"Oh, scholar. If you only knew.\" The mask snapped away. \"Enemies gather... but not the one I was expecting. Of course, the same maybe said for me. We will continue this discussion later, scholar.\"\n\nThe figure swirled away, but Ebbin's awareness remained. He groaned and held his head once more.\n\n*\n\n\"There. That thing. In your crossbow.\"\n\nScorch lifted the weapon to take a look. \"What? Nothing.\"\n\n\"No– the...\" Exasperated, Leff stepped out to tap the stock. \"Look at that bolt. Where'd you get that? '\n\nScorch stared. His mouth opened in amazement. \"Would you look at that!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Leff cuffed him. \"Keep it down,\" he hissed, fierce. \"Where'd you get it? You holding out on me? '\n\n\"I ain't never seen it afore in all my life! I promise. '\n\n\"You stole it, didn't ya? '\n\n\"What? Never.\"\n\n\"Well– we need to give it back. Got our position to think about. Can't be wavin'stolen goods about.\"\n\nUnnoticed, the Legate stood to step down from his throne. He stopped before it, hands clasped behind his back.\n\nLeff grabbed the stock. \"Look at that thing. All engraved. Wax on the head, too– real fancy, that. Gotta give it back.\"\n\n\"No– let go. Don't... \"Scorch knocked one of Leff's hands aside. Leff tried twisting the weapon from his partner's grip.\n\n\"Just cooperate! Let me...\"\n\n\"Watch it!\" Scorch hissed. \"Don't... '\n\nThe crossbow fired, jerking in their four hands.\n\nThe bolt slammed into the Legate, who spun round with the force of the impact.\n\nFour eyes swivelled to seethe Legate straightening. He touched at the feathered end of the bolt where it stood from his ribs. The mask turned their way. A hand stretched out to them.\n\nScorch and Leff looked atone another, eyes hugely wide at the enormity of the accident. And at the magnitude of their immediate danger.\n\n\"Fire!\" they yelled in unison and Leff levelled his crossbow, noticing in passing that an identical bolt sat snugly in the channel of his stock. He aimed and fired while Scorch slipped afoot through the stirrup of his weapon and yanked ferociously."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Leff's bolt threw the Legate back another step. His knees appeared to weaken briefly as he staggered. Yet he came on. Smoke streamed from the two wounds.\n\n\"Fire!\" Leff bawled again and Scorch levelled his weapon. The third bolt struck true, thumping the Legate backwards a good few weaving steps.\n\nLeff reached into the sack at his side and was briefly surprised to see that every single one of the bolts he possessed had intricately engraved blackened shafts and gleaming iron heads encased in wax. None of this stopped him from frantically reloading.\n\n\"He's still comin'for us!\" Scorch yelled, nearly bursting into tears.\n\n\"Fire'em all! ' Leff howled.\n\n*\n\nLady Envy left a second-storey terrace overlooking the front battle-grounds. Tapping her fingertips together she crossed the abandoned darkened office. So, an Imass. Never cared for them. Smelly unkempt things always leaving bits of themselves lying about. She cocked her head, thinking. Been ages since I destroyed one of them.\n\nShe remembered impertinences recently suffered from one Imass in particular and her mouth hardened. Yes... too long by far.\n\nShe headed for the stairs.\n\nYet something whispered from the dark drew her to a pause. A presence. Someone's there. In the shadows.\"Who is it? '\n\n\"Envy.\"\n\nThe barest whisper from the night.\n\nShe raised her defences. Her Warren crackled, sending papers flying and bursting into flame around her. \"Who's there! I demand that you show yourself! '\n\n\"Still afraid of the dark, Envy?\"\n\nThat voice! So familiar. Who? \"Who are you?\" she called, tentative now, a hand at her throat."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"With reason!\"\n\nA flash of munitions lit the room, and in a freeze-frame instant revealed a tall man all in black. Face, eyes and hair all black. Envy backed away, her hand at her mouth, and gasped, choking and stammering, \"Father...!\"\n\nAnd she fainted dead away.\n\n*\n\nOne of the Moranth guarding Galene gestured, pointing through the woods, and Torvald joined in squinting at the nearest building corner. There one of the mages had been standing– the hunched, oddly proportioned one– and now while they watched he was down on all fours attempting to getup, clutching at his chest.\n\n\"There! Look there!\" Torvald hissed. He almost reached out for the Moranth Silver. \"Something's happening. '\n\nThe red tube still in her gauntleted fist, Galene shifted her attention.\n\nThe mage managed to straighten but fell backwards against the wall. Panting, in obvious agony, he hugged his chest as if he would burst. Then he disappeared.\n\n\"There!\" Torvald exclaimed. \"See that! We've won! '\n\n\"Contain yourself, Councillor,\" Galene said. She gestured to one of her guards. \"Check in with the wing commanders. What's going on? '\n\nThe Black trooper ran off through the woods.\n\n*\n\nUp hall after hall they duelled. The heavy flint sword was a blur in the hands of the tireless Imass. Palla retreated step by step, yielding, slipping all blows, leaving countless gashes across the fleshless ribs and skull and hacking apart rotting furs. She struck for the joints, hoping to sever ligaments and cripple the creature, not knowing if it was even possible."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"But she was tiring. Her reactions were slowing. The weakness of complete exhaustion now stood between what she wanted to do and what she could. She knew she would fall; it was merely a question of when and how.\n\nIt came unseen in the form of a closing feint from the creature, a stunning elbow to her temple and a choking grip on her neck. Blinking, Palla found herself staring into two empty eye sockets where only a low glow simmered, like distant campfires.\n\n\"You would have beaten me, Sixth,\" the Imass growled, slamming her into a stone door and releasing her to fall, \"had I been alive.\"\n\nThe Imass walked on.\n\n*\n\nRallick watched from a window high up in the Great Hall while the two guards hammered bolt after bolt into the Legate. Then he watched them throw down their crossbows and run. Amazingly, the creature still stood. It must have fifteen bolts in it yet it remained upright. It leaned now, bracing itself with one arm, against a pillar.\n\nRallick had raised the coiled fine silk rope ready to toss it down, when out of the shadows came that shuffling servant, the Mouthpiece, and he knelt flat once more. The fellow came edging out the way a mouse might circle a crippled cat.\n\n\"You are done!\" the Mouthpiece yelled, a fist raised. Then he flinched. \"How can you say that? It is over! It is!\" The fellow was frantic with emotion, weeping uncontrollably. He backed away. \"Flee? Me? Go? Why? Why would they kill me? I have done nothing! Nothing!\"\n\nThen he jumped as if seeing something terrifying. His hands flew to his throat and chest. \"No!\" he breathed, appalled. \"No– they wouldn't. They mustn't! Dear Soliel succour me... no!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"He fled from the chamber.\n\nAfter a moment the Legate straightened from the pillar. The mask lowered as he seemed to inspect the many crossbow bolts studding his torso and the thin wisps of smoke arising from each wound. What could only be described as a muted chuckle shook him. The creature gestured to himself as if to say: yet here I am! And he laughed on and on behind the gold mask.\n\nRallick eased away from the open window ledge and pulled himself up to the roof again. Crouching, he brushed the tips of his fingers over his lips fora time, eyes narrowed, and came to a decision. He stuffed the coil of rope down his shirt and padded off along the roof, heading for the maze of mismatched gables and slopes of the complex.\n\nDown in the Great Hall the main doors opened. The Legate turned to face them then rocked backwards, obviously shocked. An Imass strode within. The Legate backed away, hands raised. The Imass closed with astonishing speed on its oddly shaped legs, clasped hold of the Legate and raised its flint sword.\n\n\"Now I take your head, Jaghut,\" it growled.\n\nThen it stilled, hands falling. What dried muscle and flesh remained on its ravaged visage twisted as it frowned its uncertainty. It lowered its fleshless face to the gold mask as if inspecting the workmanship. A low rumble shook the sinews and bones of its torso. Its jaws shifted in something like disgust. \"Faugh! Human!\" It threw down the Legate in a snapping of crossbow bolts and stalked from the chamber.\n\nAt the doors it met Palla, staggering towards the throne room, but it passed on, ignoring her, and Palla paid it no attention as its broad flint weapon was now tucked into the twisted hair rope it wore as a belt. She took in the crossbow-bolt-studded form of the Legate lying supine on the floor, and fled."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"~\n\nAfter a time the Legate managed to roll onto his side and lever himself upright. All in the snapping of more of the bolts. He staggered for the doors, one heavy step at a time. All the while his crossbow-bolt-lanced chest convulsed in what may have been silent laughter.\n\nThe doors to the Great Hall slammed shut. The Legate pulled up short. He turned in a slow weaving and shuffling circle to scan the chamber.\n\nKruppe stepped out from behind the nearest pillar. He slicked back his oiled hair and adjusted his frilled shirt cuffs and crimson waistcoat. Then he made a great show of waving a handkerchief in a rather too elaborate courtier's bow.\"Never did Kruppe imagine he would be called to court! '\n\nThe Legate lunged for him.\n\nKruppe twisted and narrowly avoided one grasping hand. \"Come, then, Legate. Let us dance again!\" Another catching hand swung, missing a sleeve by a breath. Kruppe dodged aside. \"Nearly!\" he encouraged. \"Come. This way.\" He waved the handkerchief. \"It strikes Kruppe that the problem with masks is one of seeing clearly.\"\n\nThe Legate snapped out a clawed hand; cloth tore as Kruppe backed away. \"Oh my!\"\n\n*\n\n\"Pay-dirt!\" Spindle announced, sitting back from where he'd cleared a patch of dirt from the bottom of the pit. Fisher crouched down. It was a mud-smeared flat white surface. Together they cleared as wide a space as possible.\n\n\"Hurry, my friends,\" called one of their protectors from above. Spindle glanced up to seethe man's gold and silver teeth bright against his face in a gleaming smile.\"We are attracting too much attention. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What? You? Attract attention?\"\n\nBut the man was gone and the rapid clash of swordplay sounded from all sides of the pit. Spindle caught Fisher's eye and nodded to the bottles.\n\nTogether they uncorked two and upended them. Neither was prepared for the reaction that instantly engulfed them.\n\n*\n\nPalla met Jan at the main entrance. She groaned inwardly at his blood-spattered condition. Upon catching sight of her he demanded: \"What has happened? Where is this Imass?\"\n\nPalla waved her battered state aside. \"It is gone. It killed the Legate.\"\n\n\"What? He is dead?\"\n\n\"Or near it.\"\n\n\"Why would it...\" The Second turned away to the grounds; Palla thought he moved awkwardly, as if stiff. \"Recall everyone. Retreat to the inner halls.\"\n\nPalla bowed. \"As you order.\" She ran for the open doors.\n\nJan turned a puzzled glance up the wide entrance foyer, and headed for the Great Hall.\n\n*\n\nGreat roiling choking clouds drove the Seguleh from the pit. The smoke gnawed the tissue of the nose and seared the lungs. Coughing and gagging, Madrun, Lazan and Thurule backed away.\n\n\"They have been consumed!\" Madrun announced, hand on chest.\n\nA shadow moved within the clouds and figures emerged: the taller of the two dragging the shorter. The three quickly rushed into aid the man, who went to his knees hacking and gasping. The smaller of the two, the Malazan, sat up and made for the pit again. Lazan held him back. \"You'll die, man. It's poison!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"The rest have to go!\" the Malazan answered. His eyes were weeping uncontrollably and a stream of blood dripped from his nose.\n\n\"There's nothing you can do. '\n\n\"Oh yes, there is!\" and the fellow raised his arms to inscribe a great circle in the air. If Lazan had had one hair on his head he knew it would be prickling and he edged away. The Malazan ducked back within the dense clouds.\n\nMadrun was thumping the other on the back. Then he raised his head to peer about. \"Am I mad, or do you hear horses screaming?\"\n\n*\n\nIn the Great Hall the Legate lurched away from reaching after Kruppe to face the doors. Something like a muffled snarl of panic sounded from his throat. He made unsteadily for the exit. Halfway there he fell to his knees, swayed, then crashed face down, a last few crossbow bolts snapping, the mask clanging against the floor.\n\nStill wary, Kruppe edged slightly forward to peer more closely.\n\nThe Legate's limbs shifted and he fumbled at the polished stone flagging. He began dragging himself onward. Kruppe threw his arms out in vexation. Great Elemental Forces! What more must Kruppe do?\n\nSliding one arm ahead of the other, the Legate began to chuckle. Ashe crawled, the chuckle swelled into a muffled dark laughter.\n\nKruppe backed away. He tucked the handkerchief into a sleeve and set his hands on his hips. His dimpled cheeks pulled down in an uncertain frown.\n\nReally now. This is quite unreasonable.\n\n*\n\nTorvald stood immobile, listening as intently as he could. He felt as if his nerves were as taut as those annoying high-pitched Seven Cities stringed instruments. He believed he could discern a lessening in the clash of battle. Did that mean one side or the other was winning? Exactly what was going on? From their vantage they could see only a small portion of the overall extent of the front. Galene still held the baton ready in one hand but he saw her stance shift as if she, too, sensed the change."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Something...\""},{"from":"gpt","value":"he began, but she raised a hand for silence.\n\nA Black trooper ran to them from the woods. Torvald pushed closer to hear the report.\n\n\"The Seguleh have withdrawn to the interior,\" he announced.\n\nGalene examined the blasted field dotted with fallen. \"Why would they... Our numbers?\" she snapped.\n\n\"Less than three hundred of the flight remain viable.\"\n\n\"Ancestors,\" the Silver breathed, and the baton creaked in her ferocious grip. \"And they?\"\n\n\"Perhaps seventy.\"\n\n\"Then why... One last charge...\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" Torvald observed, breaking in, \"someone could go and ask.\"\n\nAnd Galene turned to look him up and down.\n\n*\n\n\"It is very quiet,\" Councillor D'Arle whispered from his post next to the stairs up from the lowest of the cellars.\"Perhaps I should take a look. '\n\nColl rested a hand on the old man's arm.\"I'll go.\" He turned back to examine all the gathered councillors, aristocrats and court bureaucrats staring from the dark. No one else volunteered. Sighing, he loosed his sword in its sheath and started up.\n\nHalfway he stopped as he heard footsteps behind. Redda Orr came up round a corner. \"What are you doing?\" he hissed.\n\n\"I'm coming with you. '\n\n\"No, you're not. This isn't some summer jaunt. Stay below!\"\n\n\"I'm trained! ' She drew her slim sword far more swiftly than he ever could.\n\nColl shook his head. \"I'm sure you are, child. But this isn't the duelling field.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I could take you, old man...\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\" Coll motioned to one side. \"What's that? '\n\nRedda looked. He snatched the blade from her hand. She gaped, frozen, then fury blazed in her eyes. \"What a dirty trick!\"\n\n\"Yes, it was.\" He started up the stairs again carrying both swords. \"The world's full of them so you'd better get used to it.\"\n\nAshe approached the top landing he lay flat to peer over the lip, his blade ready. His gaze met the sandalled feet of two Seguleh. One motioned him back down the stairs.\n\nDamn. We're prisoners. Goddamned prisoners.\n\nWhat's going on? Has the Legate won?\n\nA thought struck him on the way down and he paused, swallowing. Gods! Are we expendable now?\n\n*\n\nMadrun, Lazan, Thurule and Fisher all crouched as near as was possible to the foaming roiling clouds steaming from the pit. The noisome fumes seemed to repel all the birds and bats stooping in upon them, and the dogs charging from the woods– even one mad horse that had stormed past threatening to run them down.\n\nA dull thud sounded from nearby and Madrun observed, disbelieving, \"Did that owl just crash into a tree?\"\n\nThe mist churned and out came the Malazan, a cloth pressed to his nose and mouth. He would have fallen had Fisher not lunged to support him. He hung coughing and gagging, and waved an arm weakly to the pit. \"That's the lot. But it's still there– still in one piece!\"\n\n\"What is, Malazan?\" Madrun asked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Lazan had been squinting off into the woods and now he backed away to tap Madrun on the arm. The giant glanced over and visibly started, amazement and panic in his gaze. \"Holy Ancestors, I cannot believe it,\" he murmured to Lazan. The two began edging away.\n\n\"Come, Thurule,\" Lazan called. \"We have fulfilled our mistress's instructions– now is the time to withdraw! '\n\nSpindle watched in stunned astonishment as the three ran off in what could only be described as a panicked flight. He even sensed his ma grow quiescent in what felt almost like respectful deference. He turned to the woods and saw something huge approaching. Clearing his throat, he spat up a mouthful of the awful fumes he'd endured and raised his Warren to its highest pitch.\n\nFisher, an arm under one of Spindle's, whispered, awed,\"Is that... '\n\nThe shape emerged from the shadows to resolve into a wide and massive figure that Spindle recognized as Caladan Brood, the Warlord. The man's narrowed gaze was turned aside, following Madrun and Lazan Door's hasty retreat. Bizarrely, he held a spitting cat by the scruff of the neck. His heavy gaze swung to Spindle.\n\n\"What are those two fools doing here?\" he demanded.\n\n\"I... I don't know, ' said Spindle.\n\nThe Warlord held out the frenzied cat. \"That's quite enough, Malazan, ' he growled.\n\nSpindle blinked. \"Oh! Sorry.\" He lowered his Warren. Brood handed the cat to him; it ravaged his hand and arm escaping."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Fisher,\" Brood said. \"What are you doing here?\"\n\nThe bard shrugged. \"You know how I feel about witnessing things.\"\n\nThe Warlord grunted his understanding. \"Careful. One day you might just buy yourself too much trouble.\" He studied the pit barely visible through the boiling fumes. \"Let's have a look, then. ' And he walked into the cloud of poisonous steam.\n\nSpindle watched as best he could through the mist. Peering forward, he thought he saw the Warlord down in the pit studying the stones, tapping them. The man sat back as if thinking. Then he raised both arms up over his head, clasped his hands into a great double fist and brought it down in a tremendous blow that shook the ground beneath Spindle's feet. Once more he raised his fists and swung them down. This time the air was split by an immense crack that felt almost like a knife jabbing Spindle's ears.\n\nThe Warlord pulled himself up from the pit and emerged waving the fumes from his face. He paused to glance down at Spindle. \"I warned the creature,\" he said, and walked off the way he'd come.\n\nSpindle let out along slow breath. Fisher echoed the sentiment with a nod. Spindle gestured to the pit. \"Well– you know, we must've weakened it for him... '\n\n\"Oh, of course...\"\n\n*\n\nJan found the double doors of the Great Hall closed, but they opened easily at his touch. Within lay the Legate, or his body. He lay on his back, hands crossed over his chest. A forest of broken bolts stood from him at all angles. The gleaming gold oval remained fixed to his face. Yet it was marred now; a crack ran from the bottom up one cheek to just below a graven eye. Jan approached. He wanted to kneel to make certain of him, but to do so would possibly reopen the wound at his side. Was the man dead? He could not be sure."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"A voice whispered then, within his mind: \"Servant...\"\n\nHe flinched away. What was this?\n\n\"Take the mask, servant.\"\n\nThe mask?\n\n\"Yes. I sense you are wounded. Accept it and you will live forever.\"\n\nAccept it? Wear it?\n\n\"Yes. I have been banished from this flesh– but accept the mask and together we shall live again.\"\n\nJan retreated from the corpse. No.\n\n\"No? No! You have no choice, servant. Do as I command!\"\n\nNo. Our slavery is long over. We have found our own way. We are our own masters now. I consign you to the past. I turn my face from you. You no longer exist.\n\n\"Slave! Comeback! I order you! Obey!\"\n\nJan walked away. Leaving the throne room he met one of the pet mages at the doors; the one who paraded as a dancing girl. She came staggering up, an arm across her stomach, agony on her panicked face. \"What is going on?\" she gasped. \"Where are the others? What has happened?\"\n\n\"To us he is as dead,\" Jan said, flatly, and walked on, stiffly.\n\n\"No! Impossible!\" She lurched into the room.\n\nWithin, alone, Taya edged up to the body. \"Master!\" She reached out, but at the last instant she yanked back her hand as if stung. She started to her feet, flinching away. \"No...\" she murmured, wincing. \"Please... not that. Anything but-\"\n\nA sound spun her around. Someone emerged from behind one of the pillars. He was tall, dressed all in shades of green, and his hair hung silver and black. Along snarled hiss escaped her. \"You...\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Topper bowed. \"As they say, all good things, et cetera. And look at you. You area bonus. One I've been hoping to pluck for sometime now. '\n\nTaya flicked her hands and short thin blades appeared. \"I will have your head.\"\n\n\"I rather doubt that.\"\n\nThey charged, meeting in a maelstrom of whirling flashing blades. Competing Warrens rose together, spinning and swirling until both disappeared in aloud burst of displaced air.\n\n*\n\nTorvald had never felt so exposed in all his life. Unarmed, he walked across the gouged and overturned dirt and broken flags of the once-groomed grounds. Galene limped at his side supported by a single Black. They made for the group of Seguleh guarding the main entrance, the majority of whose masks, he noted, bore very few marks.\n\nAs they neared, one Seguleh signalled for them to halt. Another, who carried a single bold line across his brow, signed to a third and these two approached.\n\n\"I am Councillor Nom,\" Torvald said quickly. \"I am come to propose negotiations.\"\n\n\"What is it you wish?\" the smaller Seguleh asked. She carried five hatch lines on her mask.\n\n\"We come to demand your surrender,\" Galene said.\n\n\"Our surrender? I rather think it is you who should surrender.\"\n\nGalene held up an empty gauntleted hand then slowly reached into her shoulder bag to remove a red baton. She held it up. \"Your protective sorceries are gone, Seguleh. I merely have to signal with this and the hilltop will be reduced to rubble.\"\n\nThe Seguleh Sixth motioned to Torvald. \"What think you of this, Councillor Nom?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Torvald swallowed. His voice came faint: \"Darujhistan would consider that an act of war.\"\n\nGalene's helm shifted to face him.\"Better that than the alternative. '\n\n\"We propose,\" said the Sixth, \"that you merely stand aside and allow us to return to our homeland.\"\n\n\"Happily,\" Galene snapped. \"We propose that you merely set down your swords and go unarmed.\"\n\n\"That is unacceptable to us.\"\n\n\"Then we have an impasse.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" the Sixth began again, anew iron in her voice. \"We could march outright now if we so chose and there are none here who could stop us.\"\n\n\"Go ahead. We will chase you down like dogs and slay everyone of you from above!\"\n\nTorvald loudly cleared his throat. \"What of the hostages?\"\n\nThe Sixth reluctantly pulled her gaze from Galene. \"What hostages?\"\n\n\"The councillors and other citizens.\"\n\nThe Sixth glanced to the one with her, obviously the Seguleh Second. Torvald felt almost dizzy standing this close to the highest living ranked of them. He couldn't imagine what it must take to occupy such a position– let alone have all the others accept it as fully justified.\n\nThe Second signed something and the Sixth inclined her masked head. She turned to Galene. \"They will be released. It is not our way to hide behind hostages.\"\n\nTorvald bowed. \"Very good. My– our– thanks.\"\n\nGalene held out the red baton. \"Once the non-combatants are clear consider your final answer carefully.\"\n\n\"You have it already,\" the Sixth replied, and the two Seguleh turned away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Torvald and Galene watched them go. \"Stiff-necked fools,\" she ground out. \"They merely have to set aside their swords and all this would be behind us.\"\n\n\"Galene, I believe you are asking for the one thing they simply cannot do.\"\n\n*\n\nSpindle and Fisher crouched in the woods, peering through the branches.\n\n\"Looks like a parley,\" Spindle whispered.\n\n\"Shh,\" Fisher warned. \"We don't want-'\n\nBursting eruptions of munitions drove them to the ground with their hands over their heads. Feet ran past nearby. Alarms were shouted, followed by more munitions.\n\nSpindle raised his head fora peep. He saw a handful of Seguleh dodging for the entrance, Moranth running to intercept. Another group followed in the distance and Spindle gaped, astonished, at who was among them. He put fingers to his mouth and let go a piercing whistle. The fellow he had spotted skidded to a halt, grabbing another and gesturing.\n\nSpindle jumped to his feet, waving. The whole group made for him.\n\nSpindle opened his arms wide and to his further amazement Antsy accepted the greeting, giving an answering hug in return. \"You dog!\" Spindle laughed, cuffing him.\n\n\"What are you doin\" here? \"Antsy said.\"Thought you were down south. '\n\n\"You too!\" He gestured to the lad with him. \"Who's this? '\n\n\"Corien,\" the lad answered. \"Corien Lim.\"\n\n\"Lim! No...\"\n\n\"Fisher!\" one of the giants with Antsy suddenly bellowed. He grabbed hold of the bard and lifted him from his feet in a great bear hug."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Great Mother!\" Fisher cursed. \"Cull? Cull Heel? What are you doing here!\"\n\n\"Fisher! Comeback home with us, yes? You have been gone too long!\"\n\nAt that moment Moranth emerged from the woods to surround them.\n\n*\n\nJan ordered the release of the citizens, then saw to the defences of the main entrance. Should the Moranth return to their aerial bombardment his plan was for his people to occupy those same deepest cellars, wait for night to return, then scatter in all directions to return to Cant in ones and twos. Undignified, but perhaps the best way of ensuring that as many as possible made it out alive. His side was completely numb and he was weak from loss of blood, but if he could just avoid any further exertion he believed he might yet live to see this through.\n\nIt was here that the guards assigned to the west found him. They came escorting exhausted and bedraggled brothers and sisters whom he did not immediately recognize. It was not until one went to one knee before him that Jan realized who he was. With that understanding came a wave of anticipation that nearly caused him to faint. Great Ancestors! Oru, the Eleventh, gone more than two years, assumed lost by so many, returned now, at such a time!\n\nJan moved to raise him up but restrained himself, exclaiming instead, \"Oru!\" He then clamped down on his breathing to observe dispassionately, \"You are returned to us. I am pleased– but you should not have come here.\"\n\nThe Eleventh stood. His eyes shone now with even greater passion than Jan remembered from years ago. \"I believe it was fated that I should do so, Second.\" He drew from his waist a small object wrapped in a fine black cloth. \"Just as I believed it was my fate to one day find this.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jan stared at the flat object held so delicately in Oru's hands. This is it? The Unmarred? It seems so small. His arms remained petrified at his sides. His eyes rose to meet Oru's eager, avid gaze. \"There can be no doubt?\"\n\n\"None, Second.\"\n\n\"Then call everyone. All must witness this.\"\n\nOru bowed. \"Yes... Second.\"\n\nThey assembled in the main entrance foyer, all remaining of the Five Hundred. Jan was stricken through the heart to countless than one hundred. Of the Eldrii, the Ten, only he, Gall and Palla yet lived.\n\nHe raised his chin for their attention. Through the windows the sky was lightening to the dark blue and violet of a coming predawn. Please, all our Ancestors, he invoked, eyes on the coming day, allow me the strength to see this through! Grant me that and you shall have me.\n\n\"Brothers and sisters,\" he started, his voice thick with emotion– and more. \"In this time of our greatest testing, one who has been gone from us on along journey has returned– with the object he vowed never to return without.\"\n\nThe gathered stirred, masks shifting to the Eleventh at his side. \"Oru,\" Jan went on, \"hold up the Mask of our Ancestors. The Pure One crafted by the First who led us on our exile...\" Even as he repeated the traditional words of invocation a sudden new realization came to Jan and their meaning shifted, taking on an utterly new significance. His breath caught at the truth of this new formulation. Everything made sense now: his people's fate, their exile. It came to him that this must be what others describe as a religious awakening.\n\nHe took a renewing breath and continued, louder, his voice rough. \"... on our exile... which was in truth a deliverance. A flight from slavery and a flight from our shame. Crafted in the hope of an eventual redemption, a cleansing of our past.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Oru pulled off the black covering and held up above his head a pure unmarred mask carved from the same translucent bright stone as the Legate's throne. In the gathering brightness of dawn it seemed to glow with an inner light. All those present stared immobile. It seemed to Jan that a great easing of some long-held breath escaped from them all, and as one they bowed to one knee, heads lowered.\n\n\"A sign,\" he continued. \"A promise. An offering sent from our past to our future. One we hope to one day be worthy of. One which belongs to all our people and must be returned to await that future safe in the temple at Cant.\"\n\nAt these words the Third, Gall, straightened. \"Nay! Take it, Second. Don it! With you at our head we will sweep these Moranth before us and return triumphant!\"\n\n\"No! It must not betaken up in anger or bloodshed. That would taint it beyond redemption. No, this artefact is too important for us few hereto risk its destruction. We shall accede to the Moranth demands so that we may see it brought safely home.\"\n\n\"To that decision I give my fullest support.\" Anew voice spoke up from the back of the assembly– which parted swiftly as Seguleh drew blades against the newcomer.\n\nJan and Gall both peered, squinting. Jan recognized Lo first, then his son and some girl. And with them one other, and as soon as he looked at this man he recognized him and knew him for what he was, and what he could be, all in one transfiguring instant. He knew then what he must do.\n\nGall turned his back on Lo, the Eighth, and the man who all knew must be the slayer of Blacksword, the presumed Seventh. He faced Jan. \"We must not put down our swords. How can we abandon what it means to be Seguleh? It is not for you to propose such a thing.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Jan felt remarkably calm in the face of what all others present must see as an inexcusable insult. The Third's behaviour was nothing less than a direct challenge. Jan knew that was exactly what Gall intended. Yet I am not strong enough! I will fall and all I have just glimpsed will be lost to us! Please, Gall, my old friend. Stand aside just this once...\n\nAfter along bracing breath Jan's answer emerged level and strong:\"I propose it because I have seen what we could all too easily become– what we must never become. '\n\nThe Third reached out as if begging something of him. In his gaze Jan saw the reluctance, the torment of his position. \"Please,\" he whispered. \"Do not drive me to what duty demands of me...\"\n\n\"I have spoken, Third,\" Jan said. \"It shall be as I say.\"\n\nAnd Gall said what Jan knew he felt he must as Third: \"Then I challenge you.\"\n\n*\n\nAfter the Seguleh left to return inside, Torvald waited with Galene. She tapped the red baton in her palm, shaking her helmed head. \"I fear we have our answer,\" she murmured. \"I'm sorry. But once word comes that your fellow councillors are clear, I am compelled to act. '\n\nGods protect us! Torvald turned away to study the vista of Darujhistan spread out below in the coming light of the east. The various fires appeared to have been mastered, the looming threat of a firestorm feeding gas eruptions circumvented. For that he gave thanks. One miracle. Dare he hope for another?\n\n\"Couldn't you-'\n\n\"No.\" She rubbed her leg, hissing with pain. \"If it were up tome alone... perhaps. But I am not hereon my own. I must think of my people. We cannot allow this threat to exist.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Then I am sorry as well, because I have no idea how the Council will take this. There maybe war between us.\"\n\n\"Perhaps.\"\n\nA party of Black troopers jogged up. One saluted Galene. \"A small group that contained Seguleh were allowed through the cordon.\"\n\nGalene straightened, outraged. \"Allowed through? On whose authority?\"\n\nAnother of the troopers saluted. \"Mine, Commander.\"\n\nTorvald studied the last speaker. He appeared to be the oldest Moranth he'd seen yet. The chitinous plates of his armour were thick, cracked and lined. He bore the countless scarifications and gouges of a veteran of many battles.\n\nGalene nodded to the trooper. \"Master Sergeant. Your record is beyond reproach. Why have you done this?\"\n\nThe veteran bowed. \"M'lady. You know I was among the first contingent serving alongside the Malazans. I fought with them for decades. I allowed that party through because of the man who was with them. Though it has been many years, I recognized him. I would know him anywhere. He was Dassem, the First Sword of the Empire. '\n\nTorvald couldn't believe what he was hearing. The First Sword? Here? Was this credible?\n\nGalene's voice was barely audible:\"That is impossible. '\n\n\"Elect,\" the veteran continued, anew edge in his voice, \"must I remind you that our treaty of alliance with the Malazans included Dassem as a signatory?\"\n\n\"And if he lives...\"\n\n\"Exactly, Elect. If he lives... then contrary to what we had assumed, that treaty is not void.\"\n\n*\n\nCrowded within the rear of the hall, Yusek whispered to Sall, \"What's goin'on?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"A challenge for leadership,\" he answered just as low.\n\n\"If this is how things get resolved then I'm surprised there's any of you above Fiftieth.\"\n\nHe turned to regard her more closely. \"Yusek– no one will be hurt. At this level it will all be over before you or I notice.\"\n\n\"And if someone was hurt?\"\n\n\"Then, consider. I see only the Sixth and Third with us now. That means this man, the Seventh, could be within one or two ranks of Second.\"\n\n\"That's not why I came here, ' the Seventh growled.\n\n\"Yet it is our way,\" Sall murmured, undeterred.\n\nPalla came to Jan's side, whispering, fierce:\"Do not accept! There is something wrong... I see it. You're wounded.\"\n\n\"I must answer or stand aside– as you well know.\" How to salvage this? The future I foresaw mustn't be lost to us!\"Will you second me? ' he asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" she answered, nearly choking.\n\n\"No challenges here!\" a voice called from the crowd and a Hundredth stepped forward. Horul. \"This must wait until we return to Cant.\" A strange panic filled her voice. \"Before the temple...\"\n\nOru signed a negative. \"The challenge has been made. It must be answered. What say you, Second?\"\n\nJan inclined his head to the Eleventh. \"I accept.\"\n\nGall bowed, then looked around; by tradition the next highest ranked present or available should second him... the Seventh.\n\nLo extended a hand, inviting the dark-skinned Malazan forward. The man shot him a glare but the gathered Seguleh parted and so he reluctantly advanced."},{"from":"human","value":"Ashe passed through the ranks some reached out reverently to the sword wrapped in rags on his back and Yusek heard them murmuring a word."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What's that they're saying?\" she whispered to Sall.\n\n\"Many say the sword on his back is the Son of Darkness's own. The very one that defeated him. They are saying what legends hold as its oldest name– Grief. '\n\nThe four gathered near the centre of the hall and all the assembled Seguleh backed away to the walls. \"Challenge has been issued,\" Gall called out.\n\n\"And accepted,\" Jan answered.\n\nPalla stepped forward. \"As honour has been met I ask that said challenge be withdrawn.\" And she added so low that only the four gathered could hear: \"If you proceed in this, Gall, then I will challenge you.\"\n\n\"Do as you feel you must,\" he answered, equally low. \"Just as I must.\"\n\n\"Now you say that the challenge will proceed,\" Jan prompted the Seventh.\n\nThe Seventh studied the Second. He looked him up and down. Fora longtime he let his gaze linger on Jan's wounded side.\"Is this what you wish? ' he asked finally, uncertain.\n\nJan allowed himself a stiff nod. \"Yes. It is what I wish.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" He raised his voice: \"The challenge proceeds.\"\n\nThe two seconds withdrew. Gall stepped away from Jan to make room.\n\nJan eased his weapon free. The moment the challenge was issued he had known what he had to do. It would be his most difficult performance ever. Weakened as he was he did not know if he could succeed. Yet he must. He would give all he had left. Even if it meant destroying a friend. He shouted to Gall: \"In all the times we've fought you've never come close. What have you planned this time?\"\n\n\"What is he doing?\" Palla murmured, thinking aloud. \"He's never taunted anyone before. '"}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 26\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The men stared. Several let out long sighs. \\\"I'm joinin'Shadow,\\\" one murmured to his neighbour.\\n\\nThe moustached soldier found his voice: \\\"We, ah– we're... \\\"He raised a hand for silence.\\\"What's that noise?\\\"\\n\\nSordiko nodded to him. \\\"War, Malazan. The Legate has called the Seguleh and now they and the Moranth make war upon each other as in ancient times. Only now the city is caught between.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Legate?\\\" one shouted, stepping forward. Youngest of them, Darujhistani by his tattered clothes and the style of his weapon. In fact... She squinted. \\\"You are of the Lim family?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Corien.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry, Corien, but your cousin... '\\n\\nThe Seguleh started for the main exit. A priestess blocked it, shouting, \\\"The High Priestess has not given you leave!\\\"\\n\\nThe lead Seguleh, one of the Twenty by his mask, cocked his head towards Sordiko in a silent question. She waved the priestess aside. Unreasonable bastards. They marched out. All of the rest of the ragtag wretches followed. Dammit! \\\"You, Malazans! Your troops are west of the city! You three others– who are you? There's something strange about you! Comeback! '\\n\\nThe doors gaped empty until attending priestesses slammed and barred them. Sordiko set her fists to her hips. How do you like that? First time so many men have ever walked out on me...\\n\\nThe streets were jammed with citizenry all attempting to flee at once and therefore unable to flee anywhere because the way was choked. From the steps to the temple to Shadow, Antsy glimpsed a strange darkness that hungover the city, and above this, the circling quorls, and the munitions punishing the hilltop Majesty Hall. An immense opalescent dome shimmered over that hilltop. The Seguleh seemed to be making straight for the hill. The crowds screamed and flinched aside, leaving them clear passage. Antsy urged Corien onward. \\\"C'mon! '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We're headin'west,\\\" Sergeant Girth shouted.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ain't our fight. Gonna get yourself kilt! '\\n\\nAntsy waved the man off. Miserable bastard. Save his skin and that's the thanks I get. Well, his duty is to get his troops back safe. Fair enough, then.\\n\\nThe Heels marched with him and Corien. They had huge grins pasted to their faces and peered about like country hicks, nudging one another and pointing at buildings as if this was one big night out. Trailing along in the wake of the Seguleh they all made good time. And just what do you plan to do, Antsy? \\\"Cept maybe get your fool head blown off. Still, these boys and girls had been on a mission. And now they're charging for their fellows. Something's definitely up.\\n\\n*\\n\\nA richly appointed carriage careered its way down one of the switchback roads of the Third Tier escarpment. Four panicked horses drew it. The coachman whipped them between terrified glances over his shoulder to Majesty Hill, where bursts of light made him flinch and an accompanying rumbling shook the carriage beneath him.\\n\\nThey roared down the road, sending pedestrians fleeing for the walls. \\\"Out of the way!\\\" the coachman bellowed. \\\"Clear way for Lord Pal'ull! Clearway! '\\n\\nAnd all the citizenry did dart aside. The carriage swung round a sharp corner, iron rims striking sparks from the flint cobbles, horses' hooves clattering. A further stretch of jammed pedestrians jumped for the walls– all but for one very tall fellow coming up against the flow.\\n\\n\\\"Clear!\\\" the coachman bellowed. Then his eyes widened and he dropped the whip to yank the reins aside. The horses plunged to the right and passed the tall armoured figure, but the carriage swung sideways and slammed into him in an eruption of splintering wood and bending, wrenching iron. The coachman was thrown from his seat over the road wall while the horses continued down the way, dragging the shattered fore-section of the carriage behind them in a shower of trailing sparks and falling splinters.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The armoured figure, bright reflections flashing from it in emerald and sapphire, hadn't shifted a fraction. It lifted one heavy foot to crunch down on the broken wreckage, snapping and flattening the siding. Lord and Lady Pal'ull lay unconscious amid the remains. It walked on without pause, crushing all the debris in its way.\\n\\nAfter the great lumbering armoured figure had passed, the citizenry descended on the wreckage in a looting horde. Ten minutes later all that remained at the scene was shattered wood and an unconscious lord and lady in their linen underclothes.\\n\\n*\\n\\nAragan adjusted his seat on his mount– his arse was getting numb. He was still waiting next to Fist K'ess. A short time ago several quorls had come flitting overhead, twin saddles empty. Some limped along on damaged wings, hardly able to stay aloft. A few came soaring down out of the night sky in a sort of controlled fall to land out of sight without any sound of their crash.\\n\\nHe and K'ess shared looks of dread. Fearsome though the Moranth might be, both had hoped it wouldn't come to this. K'ess had offered marines for the assault but Aragan had vetoed the suggestion. They'd lost enough troops against the Seguleh; no need to lose more. They were the outsiders here. This was an ancient feud. One this Legate had reopened– perhaps to his short-lived regret. Or so Aragan hoped.\\n\\nRegardless, he would watch and report. And faraway, across Seeker's Deep, Command at Unta would then adjust Imperial strategy accordingly...\\n\\nA deep murmuring rose to his attention. It hummed in his ears like a shaking of the earth. Standing water in the fields rippled as if vibrating. Aragan turned in his saddle, along with many others, peering about for the source of the penetrating din.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then the light changed. Something intervened in the night sky between the glowing bright green Scimitar and the ground. He squinted up to look. A cloud. A wide dark cloud sweeping in from the west.\\n\\nThe murmuring swelled to a deafening thrumming that drowned out all other sounds. Aragan hunched beneath the punishing noise, as did K'ess and others all around. Peering up, he caught the cloud of glimmering wings. Each quorl now carried only one rider, but from every saddle hung fat double panniers fore and aft.\\n\\nAragan turned a glare on Torn. \\\"What is this?\\\" he shouted.\\n\\n\\\"The alternative,\\\" calmly answered Torn.\\n\\n\\\"Give the assault a chance!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We are. We await the signal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Signal? What signal?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Success or failure.\\\"\\n\\nAragan thrust a hand to the city. \\\"Gods, man! Give them time to offer terms, or calla truce!\\\"\\n\\nTorn shook a slow negative. \\\"There will be no terms from the Tyrant. We know him of old.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Torn, be careful here. You could be opening a blood-feud that will soak all these lands!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"So it was in the old days, Malazan,\\\" Torn answered, steel in his voice. \\\"The lands of Pale were once ours. We had colonies in the lowlands. Where are they now, I ask you! Annihilated. Such are his terms.\\\"\\n\\nAragan opened his mouth but no words would come. And above the quorls circled, waiting, a thrumming drone promising a cataclysm of destruction for the unsuspecting city beyond. Mortal enemies, each determined to utterly crush the other. No quarter. No survival for the fallen. These stakes are far too high. And we Malazans, outsiders, no more than impotent witnesses? Yet what can we do? What are our options? Soliel look away! Is there nothing we can do?\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Of thy bones they have made a seat;\\n\\nThey have taken the orbs of thine eyes\\n\\nYet it is they who are blind\\n\\nWarning carved on tomb entrance,\\n\\nDwelling Plain\\n\\nTHE WOODEN STAIRCASE left Torvald at the rear of the rambling buildings. Paths nearby led through a slim belt of woods and courts that encircled the top of Majesty Hill. He half walked, half dragged the wounded Galene through the park-like strip. It looked as though she'd twisted or broken her leg in the crash. The blasts and echoing reverberations shook him rarely now; through the trees he glimpsed quorls diving into deposit their riders. He knew that somewhere Seguleh were waiting and he dreaded what would happen should he run into any now. But then, neither of them had weapons drawn so he imagined at worst they'd only be captured.\\n\\nHis fears played out when they rounded a curve and he saw two Seguleh standing where major paths crossed. He stopped abruptly, his shoulders falling. One calmly waved him forward. Galene fumbled for her longsword but he pushed her hand aside. \\\"No point,\\\" he murmured.\\n\\n\\\"I have one munition,\\\" she whispered, reaching to her opposite side.\\n\\n\\\"No!\\\" They'd just kill us.\\\"It's too late.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I won't allow myself-'\\n\\nThe Seguleh spun aside raising their weapons as heavy armoured feet came pounding up another path. A column of Black Moranth charged: the first two held their wide shields up and threw something from behind. Galene yanked Torvald down.\\n\\nHe fell; she yelped her pain as she bent her wounded leg.\\n\\nMultiple blasts buffeted him and gravel came pattering down all around. When he raised his head he glimpsed the Moranth finishing off the stunned and lacerated Seguleh. Even then there was a ferocious exchange of blows and half the Moranth were wounded.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Hands raised him and Galene. \\\"We saw you go down,\\\" one Black said to her, \\\"and came for you.\\\" They took her from Torvald, one to each side.\\n\\n\\\"Take me to the main entrance,\\\" she ordered, her voice tight with suppressed pain.\\n\\nThe party formed up around Torvald and Galene and they headed to the front of the rambling complex. In the distance the staccato blasts of sharpers came and went in great volleys that shook the night. They had not gone far when they caught a glimpse through the trees of the main approach, and Galene groaned at what was revealed.\\n\\nThe walkways and flagged open courts and benches had been turned into one huge killing zone littered with Moranth fallen. As they landed they had formed squares or circles of interlocking shields, yet despite barrages of sharpers and crossbow volleys Seguleh had won through to slice their way into the formations, wreaking terrible destruction before being cut down from all sides.\\n\\nAnd to one side further defences awaited in the form of a tall mage, watching, staff at his side, seemingly content to let the fighting proceed in its own course– for the time being.\\n\\nGalene straightened. \\\"We cannot win through,\\\" Torvald heard her murmur. \\\"Yet he cannot be allowed to succeed. Cannot.\\\" From a pouch at her side she drew a tube, about the size of a baton, enamelled a deep red. She turned her helmed head to him. \\\"I'm sorry, Councillor. '\\n\\nTorvald eyed the tube, uncertain at first, then horror raised the hair on his arms and neck and he lunged for her. \\\"No!\\\" A Black restrained him. \\\"Don't call it! Please don't summon them. Wait! Just wait. That is all I ask!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Very well, Councillor. For you, a moment.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nIt looked to Spindle as though they were getting close; damned close. The depth looked right from what he remembered of the trench. So far they'd been ignored, as the Seguleh had much more immediate worries. Wave after wave of Moranth had landed, formed up, and made for the entrances to Majesty Hall, where they were met by the Seguleh. So far, from what glimpses he could snatch, despite their munitions it looked as if the Moranth were coming off far the worse. That meant that for him and Fisher time was running out.\\n\\nHe straightened once more to toss a shovelful of dirt only to see a pair of sandalled feet on either side of the pit. He looked up: the feet belonged to two Seguleh who were peering down at them, swords pointed.\\n\\n\\\"Do not move,\\\" one commanded.\\n\\nSpindle glanced to Fisher who slowly straightened, shovel in hand.\\n\\n\\\"Explain this,\\\" the Seguleh demanded.\\n\\nSpindle opened his mouth to answer then gaped, shocked, and threw himself flat yelling: \\\"Down!\\\"\\n\\nFisher fell immediately. The Seguleh only had time to turn before multiple eruptions blasted about the pit, sending earth flying. Spindle held his hands over his head as stones and clots of soil struck him. Fisher recovered first; he straightened, shaking his hair and brushing dirt from himself.\\n\\n\\\"What was that?\\\" he demanded, speaking overly loud as everyone does after enduring blasts.\\n\\n\\\"Just a hit and run,\\\" Spindle said, picking up his shovel. \\\"C'mon. We're almost there.\\\"\\n\\nBut attention had been drawn; only one of the Seguleh had been taken down. The other had limped off, and now more were on their way. Spindle had barely scooped up the freshly fallen soil when another two came jumping through the low brush to glare down at them.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Out,\\\" one ordered.\\n\\nSpindle dropped his shovel and raised his hands. Fisher followed suit.\\n\\n\\\"Out!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Okay, okay!\\\" Spindle reached up to the side.\\n\\nA great war whoop erupted from the woods, freezing him; it sounded like across between a Barghast war bellow and a death scream. Even the Seguleh flinched. Then a huge multicoloured shape jumped the pit, two swords flashing, followed by another equally bizarre-looking fellow also wielding two swords. Even more astoundingly, they drove off the Seguleh in a dazzling coordinated attack of continuous multiple strikes.\\n\\nSpindle stared open-mouthed at the astonishing apparition.\\n\\n\\\"Ha ha!\\\" the huge one announced, waving his blades. \\\"That is how you do it!\\\" He peered down at Spindle and Fisher. \\\"Well? Go ahead, you two– dig away!\\\" He motioned across the pit and Spindle turned to see a third man standing there.\\n\\n\\\"Ah, yes,\\\" the newcomer said, his voice nowhere near as loud as the huge one's.\\\"Dig. '\\n\\nHalf stunned, Spindle retrieved his shovel to set to it once more. Fisher, he saw, was shaking his head in disbelief as he worked. \\\"You know them?\\\" Spindle asked.\\n\\n\\\"It's Madrun and Lazan Door is who it is. '\\n\\nSpindle tossed a shovelful of dirt. \\\"I thought those were just stories,\\\" he hissed.\\n\\n\\\"No– they're flesh and blood. As for what's attributed to them, well... some of that is my fault.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nAt the main entrance Jan watched while more and more of the Moranth gathered. Their strategy was simple but effective. They formed into tight squares of shield-walls from behind which the rear ranks threw their munitions. And those munitions: like the punishing heavier ones used earlier, these too demonstrated afar greater killing capacity than those written of in their records.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"It was to be expected, he allowed.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Time had passed. The Moranth had gone their way just as the Seguleh had gone theirs.\\n\\nSo far they had held them off. But the cost had been horrific. Anyone fallen brother or sister was too much for Jan to imagine. Yet now, before his disbelieving eyes, ten, twenty, lacerated and maimed by the salvos of munitions. Each bloody cut was a slash across his heart. Each fallen, a name and a face well known: Toru, Sengal, Leah, Arras, Rhuk.\\n\\nI am responsible for this. On my head lie their severed futures. Their lost potential. How many possible Seconds cut down before they could display their mastery?\\n\\nHow can I possibly atone for this? What act could even begin to repair the damage wrought?\\n\\nAll this he watched and his heart bled.\\n\\nA runner arrived. She bowed her head, begging to speak, and Jan signed his permission. \\\"They have broken through in the eastern wing, Second. We were few there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I see.\\\" He nodded to Palla. \\\"Watch here. I will go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Take at least five,\\\" Palla urged.\\n\\n\\\"No. You must defend these doors. Only I need go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"But, Second...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. It is for me to answer this.\\\" He set off before Palla could speak again. The runner followed.\\n\\nJan found the doors blasted open and another fallen: Por, the Thirteenth. Yet the price the Moranth paid to achieve this breach had been high. Their slain far exceeded the few defenders. He drew his blade and stole ahead as silently as he could. With each step he loosed the fisted hold he kept upon everything driven down within his blazing chest: his self-condemnation, his self-disgust, his rage, and above all the lacerating sorrow that threatened to suffocate him. Until at last he carried no awareness at all into the rear of the ranks before him.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Horul, of the Hundredth, quickly fell behind within the maze of rooms. The Second more than ran; he charged unchecked by numbers. He did not slow no matter how many faced him; driving, spinning, slashing until only the bellows and howls of wounded Moranth led heron. And at every turn, every room, the fallen. Each bearing only a single mortal wound either to neck or to artery or to nearly severed limb. They did not know what was coming, so swift was his advance. No chance to throw their munitions or form a defence. It seemed to her he passed through them like a breeze, utterly silent but for the hiss of his two-handed blade.\\n\\nShe found him standing motionless deep within the east wing; listening, perhaps. She carefully stepped over the carpet of fallen choking the room: some sort of last stand. Gore limned his sleeves and legs. Bright droplets spattered his once pure mask, like seeds on snow. He seemed completely unaware of her before him.\\n\\n\\\"Second,\\\" she breathed, almost reverent. \\\"Second. Never had I ever imagined...\\\"\\n\\nAwareness suddenly flooded his gaze, but not before she glimpsed something naked and utterly unguarded that drove her eyes away. Horror. Horror and soul-lashing pain.\\n\\n\\\"I... live,\\\" he uttered, wonder in his voice.\\n\\n\\\"Yes. You live.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not... today, then.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. Not today.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Tomorrow, then.\\\" He eased a hand from his side, releasing at the same time a hiss of suppressed pain. Horul glimpsed the wound from a penetrating thrust. His despairing smile made her turn her mask away again.\\n\\n\\\"Second!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Bind it, Horul,\\\" he managed through clenched lips. \\\"Bind it tight.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"*\\n\\nNow that the last of the crowd of councillors, aristocrats and court functionaries had all long since fled, the Great Hall was quiet. Scorch and Leff stood watch leaning up against the rear of one of the fat columns that ran along a wall. All was hushed now; the pounding had faded away. Only the laboured breathing and occasional muted sobs of that miserable Mouthpiece broke the silence of the hall. But listening, his head cocked, Leff could make out the distant clash of fighting.\\n\\nScorch turned to him, even more anxious and confused than usual. Then he sent a meaningful glance to a nearby exit. Leff shook his head. Scorch glared, demanding an explanation.\\n\\nHis voice as low as possible, Leff whispered: \\\"You don't really think anyone's gonna get through all them Seguleh, do ya?\\\"\\n\\nScorch's expressive brows rose and he gave a great show of the light dawning. He winked.\\\"Right. What now? '\\n\\nLeff hefted his crossbow. \\\"Well, now we gotta guard, don't we? Up to us. Last line o'defence and such.\\\"\\n\\nScorch nodded towards the centre of the hall. \\\"Maybe we should, y\\\" know, take a look...? '\\n\\n\\\"Right. You go ahead.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Me?\\\" Scorch ducked his head. He whispered sotto voce: \\\"Why me? You go– you're senior \\\"n\\\" all. '\\n\\n\\\"No, I ain't. Equals we are. Same rank. \\\"He urged Scorch out.\\\"G'wan.\\\"\\n\\nCursing under his breath, Scorch edged around the column. He stepped out, leaning to peer at the throne. \\\"Still there,\\\" he whispered. \\\"Hasn't moved a muscle. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fine. Good. All's... \\\"Leff's voice faded away as he peered closely at Scorch. \\\"Wait a minute. What's that? '\\n\\n\\\"What's what? '\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the doorway, Palla ducked flying stone chips from an errant throw. She waved aside the obscuring smoke to study the blasted grounds dotted with fallen, and the Moranth squares pushing for the walls. Then she scanned the night sky, now empty of quorls.\\n\\n\\\"I believe that is all of them,\\\" she called to Shun, the Eighteenth.\\n\\n\\\"How many?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I cannot be certain. Perhaps a thousand.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we have won. These last few we will finish off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Still, they have taken too many with them.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was their gamble. They-\\\"\\n\\nA dull brown blade smeared in gore erupted from the Eighteenth's chest and was withdrawn almost before Palla had registered that it was there. She leapt backwards an instant before it slashed again, striking shards of stone from where she had just been standing. As Shun fella walking horror was revealed behind him in the doorway: carious face of dried sinew and skull brown with age, broken remnants of hide and bone armour, limbs of bare bone strung with ligaments and creaking flesh, legs oddly mismatched.\\n\\nAncestors give me strength! Imass!\\n\\n\\\"Attend!\\\" Palla shouted, backing away as she parried sweep after sweep of the wide flint sword.\\n\\nThree others of the Hundredth charged. Blows rocked the Imass in a flurry of bone chips, sliced rotten hide and bits of cured flesh, and still it came on. A downward sweep taken full on the edge of one Seguleh's sword shattered the blade and knocked the bearer to crash against a wall and slump unconscious.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Still Palla yielded ground one hard-fought step at a time. Each overbearing attack she slipped as obliquely as she dared, feeling her blade shudder and flex on the cusp of failing in her hands. Another of the Hundredth lunged close as the creature appeared to waver, but the Imass snatched the youth's arm and propelled him into a pillar to smack wetly and fall.\\n\\n\\\"It's not you I want, \\\"it ground out.\\\"Stand aside. '\\n\\nThe third Hundredth took the opportunity to leap, swinging a great blow to the creature's neck. The blade chopped but caught. The half fleshless skull atop canted but did not topple. Palla halted her own lunge as the Imass seized the lad under the chin and lifted him from the floor while it knocked the blade from its neck.\\n\\nHow can I save the poor lad? What could I possibly...\\n\\nInspiration came. Palla offered the long deep bow of the ancient form, hands out from her sides. Then she struck the most traditional of the ready stances.\\n\\n\\\"Your challenge is accepted.\\\"\\n\\nThe Imass stilled. A second later it tossed the lad through an open doorway, where he landed amid furniture. \\\"What is your rank?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sixth.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sixth? I met the First. Long ages ago. Then I wouldn't have dared face any of the champions. Let us see how things proceed– now that I have had ample time to practise. ' It grasped the naked flint tang of its sword in both bone and sinew hands, and advanced.\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe whirling storms that scattered Ebbin's consciousness to the furthest corners of his mind had receded. And all his memories came crashing in at once, bringing with them the horrifying awareness of all that had happened, caused by him. The one small stone he dislodged and the avalanche it precipitated. And so he wept. Arms wrapped around his head, he sobbed, abject.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"You see, the voice whispered within his mind, the favour I do you? Ignorance is a blessing.\\n\\nStung, Ebbin moved to scuttle off on all fours.\\n\\nIn his mind a hand clutched his neck. The monstrosity straddled him, gold mask turned to study the roiling clouds. \\\"Let me go!\\\" Ebbin pleaded. \\\"You're finished! '\\n\\n\\\"Nay. I have won. The Moranth are defeated. They cannot touch me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Your attack failed!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"True,\\\" the creature allowed. \\\"That was... impetuous. But live and learn, yes, scholar? I will bide my time.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No– you are lost. You're revealed for what you are. '\\n\\n\\\"And what is that, dear scholar?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A monster nightmare of our childhood.\\\"\\n\\nThe hand released his neck. The Tyrant stepped away from him. Mocking laughter rose from behind the graven gold oval. The embossed lips seemed to drip it. \\\"Oh, scholar. If you only knew.\\\" The mask snapped away. \\\"Enemies gather... but not the one I was expecting. Of course, the same maybe said for me. We will continue this discussion later, scholar.\\\"\\n\\nThe figure swirled away, but Ebbin's awareness remained. He groaned and held his head once more.\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"There. That thing. In your crossbow.\\\"\\n\\nScorch lifted the weapon to take a look. \\\"What? Nothing.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No– the...\\\" Exasperated, Leff stepped out to tap the stock. \\\"Look at that bolt. Where'd you get that? '\\n\\nScorch stared. His mouth opened in amazement. \\\"Would you look at that!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Leff cuffed him. \\\"Keep it down,\\\" he hissed, fierce. \\\"Where'd you get it? You holding out on me? '\\n\\n\\\"I ain't never seen it afore in all my life! I promise. '\\n\\n\\\"You stole it, didn't ya? '\\n\\n\\\"What? Never.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well– we need to give it back. Got our position to think about. Can't be wavin'stolen goods about.\\\"\\n\\nUnnoticed, the Legate stood to step down from his throne. He stopped before it, hands clasped behind his back.\\n\\nLeff grabbed the stock. \\\"Look at that thing. All engraved. Wax on the head, too– real fancy, that. Gotta give it back.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No– let go. Don't... \\\"Scorch knocked one of Leff's hands aside. Leff tried twisting the weapon from his partner's grip.\\n\\n\\\"Just cooperate! Let me...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Watch it!\\\" Scorch hissed. \\\"Don't... '\\n\\nThe crossbow fired, jerking in their four hands.\\n\\nThe bolt slammed into the Legate, who spun round with the force of the impact.\\n\\nFour eyes swivelled to seethe Legate straightening. He touched at the feathered end of the bolt where it stood from his ribs. The mask turned their way. A hand stretched out to them.\\n\\nScorch and Leff looked atone another, eyes hugely wide at the enormity of the accident. And at the magnitude of their immediate danger.\\n\\n\\\"Fire!\\\" they yelled in unison and Leff levelled his crossbow, noticing in passing that an identical bolt sat snugly in the channel of his stock. He aimed and fired while Scorch slipped afoot through the stirrup of his weapon and yanked ferociously.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Leff's bolt threw the Legate back another step. His knees appeared to weaken briefly as he staggered. Yet he came on. Smoke streamed from the two wounds.\\n\\n\\\"Fire!\\\" Leff bawled again and Scorch levelled his weapon. The third bolt struck true, thumping the Legate backwards a good few weaving steps.\\n\\nLeff reached into the sack at his side and was briefly surprised to see that every single one of the bolts he possessed had intricately engraved blackened shafts and gleaming iron heads encased in wax. None of this stopped him from frantically reloading.\\n\\n\\\"He's still comin'for us!\\\" Scorch yelled, nearly bursting into tears.\\n\\n\\\"Fire'em all! ' Leff howled.\\n\\n*\\n\\nLady Envy left a second-storey terrace overlooking the front battle-grounds. Tapping her fingertips together she crossed the abandoned darkened office. So, an Imass. Never cared for them. Smelly unkempt things always leaving bits of themselves lying about. She cocked her head, thinking. Been ages since I destroyed one of them.\\n\\nShe remembered impertinences recently suffered from one Imass in particular and her mouth hardened. Yes... too long by far.\\n\\nShe headed for the stairs.\\n\\nYet something whispered from the dark drew her to a pause. A presence. Someone's there. In the shadows.\\\"Who is it? '\\n\\n\\\"Envy.\\\"\\n\\nThe barest whisper from the night.\\n\\nShe raised her defences. Her Warren crackled, sending papers flying and bursting into flame around her. \\\"Who's there! I demand that you show yourself! '\\n\\n\\\"Still afraid of the dark, Envy?\\\"\\n\\nThat voice! So familiar. Who? \\\"Who are you?\\\" she called, tentative now, a hand at her throat.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"With reason!\\\"\\n\\nA flash of munitions lit the room, and in a freeze-frame instant revealed a tall man all in black. Face, eyes and hair all black. Envy backed away, her hand at her mouth, and gasped, choking and stammering, \\\"Father...!\\\"\\n\\nAnd she fainted dead away.\\n\\n*\\n\\nOne of the Moranth guarding Galene gestured, pointing through the woods, and Torvald joined in squinting at the nearest building corner. There one of the mages had been standing– the hunched, oddly proportioned one– and now while they watched he was down on all fours attempting to getup, clutching at his chest.\\n\\n\\\"There! Look there!\\\" Torvald hissed. He almost reached out for the Moranth Silver. \\\"Something's happening. '\\n\\nThe red tube still in her gauntleted fist, Galene shifted her attention.\\n\\nThe mage managed to straighten but fell backwards against the wall. Panting, in obvious agony, he hugged his chest as if he would burst. Then he disappeared.\\n\\n\\\"There!\\\" Torvald exclaimed. \\\"See that! We've won! '\\n\\n\\\"Contain yourself, Councillor,\\\" Galene said. She gestured to one of her guards. \\\"Check in with the wing commanders. What's going on? '\\n\\nThe Black trooper ran off through the woods.\\n\\n*\\n\\nUp hall after hall they duelled. The heavy flint sword was a blur in the hands of the tireless Imass. Palla retreated step by step, yielding, slipping all blows, leaving countless gashes across the fleshless ribs and skull and hacking apart rotting furs. She struck for the joints, hoping to sever ligaments and cripple the creature, not knowing if it was even possible.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"But she was tiring. Her reactions were slowing. The weakness of complete exhaustion now stood between what she wanted to do and what she could. She knew she would fall; it was merely a question of when and how.\\n\\nIt came unseen in the form of a closing feint from the creature, a stunning elbow to her temple and a choking grip on her neck. Blinking, Palla found herself staring into two empty eye sockets where only a low glow simmered, like distant campfires.\\n\\n\\\"You would have beaten me, Sixth,\\\" the Imass growled, slamming her into a stone door and releasing her to fall, \\\"had I been alive.\\\"\\n\\nThe Imass walked on.\\n\\n*\\n\\nRallick watched from a window high up in the Great Hall while the two guards hammered bolt after bolt into the Legate. Then he watched them throw down their crossbows and run. Amazingly, the creature still stood. It must have fifteen bolts in it yet it remained upright. It leaned now, bracing itself with one arm, against a pillar.\\n\\nRallick had raised the coiled fine silk rope ready to toss it down, when out of the shadows came that shuffling servant, the Mouthpiece, and he knelt flat once more. The fellow came edging out the way a mouse might circle a crippled cat.\\n\\n\\\"You are done!\\\" the Mouthpiece yelled, a fist raised. Then he flinched. \\\"How can you say that? It is over! It is!\\\" The fellow was frantic with emotion, weeping uncontrollably. He backed away. \\\"Flee? Me? Go? Why? Why would they kill me? I have done nothing! Nothing!\\\"\\n\\nThen he jumped as if seeing something terrifying. His hands flew to his throat and chest. \\\"No!\\\" he breathed, appalled. \\\"No– they wouldn't. They mustn't! Dear Soliel succour me... no!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He fled from the chamber.\\n\\nAfter a moment the Legate straightened from the pillar. The mask lowered as he seemed to inspect the many crossbow bolts studding his torso and the thin wisps of smoke arising from each wound. What could only be described as a muted chuckle shook him. The creature gestured to himself as if to say: yet here I am! And he laughed on and on behind the gold mask.\\n\\nRallick eased away from the open window ledge and pulled himself up to the roof again. Crouching, he brushed the tips of his fingers over his lips fora time, eyes narrowed, and came to a decision. He stuffed the coil of rope down his shirt and padded off along the roof, heading for the maze of mismatched gables and slopes of the complex.\\n\\nDown in the Great Hall the main doors opened. The Legate turned to face them then rocked backwards, obviously shocked. An Imass strode within. The Legate backed away, hands raised. The Imass closed with astonishing speed on its oddly shaped legs, clasped hold of the Legate and raised its flint sword.\\n\\n\\\"Now I take your head, Jaghut,\\\" it growled.\\n\\nThen it stilled, hands falling. What dried muscle and flesh remained on its ravaged visage twisted as it frowned its uncertainty. It lowered its fleshless face to the gold mask as if inspecting the workmanship. A low rumble shook the sinews and bones of its torso. Its jaws shifted in something like disgust. \\\"Faugh! Human!\\\" It threw down the Legate in a snapping of crossbow bolts and stalked from the chamber.\\n\\nAt the doors it met Palla, staggering towards the throne room, but it passed on, ignoring her, and Palla paid it no attention as its broad flint weapon was now tucked into the twisted hair rope it wore as a belt. She took in the crossbow-bolt-studded form of the Legate lying supine on the floor, and fled.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"~\\n\\nAfter a time the Legate managed to roll onto his side and lever himself upright. All in the snapping of more of the bolts. He staggered for the doors, one heavy step at a time. All the while his crossbow-bolt-lanced chest convulsed in what may have been silent laughter.\\n\\nThe doors to the Great Hall slammed shut. The Legate pulled up short. He turned in a slow weaving and shuffling circle to scan the chamber.\\n\\nKruppe stepped out from behind the nearest pillar. He slicked back his oiled hair and adjusted his frilled shirt cuffs and crimson waistcoat. Then he made a great show of waving a handkerchief in a rather too elaborate courtier's bow.\\\"Never did Kruppe imagine he would be called to court! '\\n\\nThe Legate lunged for him.\\n\\nKruppe twisted and narrowly avoided one grasping hand. \\\"Come, then, Legate. Let us dance again!\\\" Another catching hand swung, missing a sleeve by a breath. Kruppe dodged aside. \\\"Nearly!\\\" he encouraged. \\\"Come. This way.\\\" He waved the handkerchief. \\\"It strikes Kruppe that the problem with masks is one of seeing clearly.\\\"\\n\\nThe Legate snapped out a clawed hand; cloth tore as Kruppe backed away. \\\"Oh my!\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"Pay-dirt!\\\" Spindle announced, sitting back from where he'd cleared a patch of dirt from the bottom of the pit. Fisher crouched down. It was a mud-smeared flat white surface. Together they cleared as wide a space as possible.\\n\\n\\\"Hurry, my friends,\\\" called one of their protectors from above. Spindle glanced up to seethe man's gold and silver teeth bright against his face in a gleaming smile.\\\"We are attracting too much attention. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What? You? Attract attention?\\\"\\n\\nBut the man was gone and the rapid clash of swordplay sounded from all sides of the pit. Spindle caught Fisher's eye and nodded to the bottles.\\n\\nTogether they uncorked two and upended them. Neither was prepared for the reaction that instantly engulfed them.\\n\\n*\\n\\nPalla met Jan at the main entrance. She groaned inwardly at his blood-spattered condition. Upon catching sight of her he demanded: \\\"What has happened? Where is this Imass?\\\"\\n\\nPalla waved her battered state aside. \\\"It is gone. It killed the Legate.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What? He is dead?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Or near it.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why would it...\\\" The Second turned away to the grounds; Palla thought he moved awkwardly, as if stiff. \\\"Recall everyone. Retreat to the inner halls.\\\"\\n\\nPalla bowed. \\\"As you order.\\\" She ran for the open doors.\\n\\nJan turned a puzzled glance up the wide entrance foyer, and headed for the Great Hall.\\n\\n*\\n\\nGreat roiling choking clouds drove the Seguleh from the pit. The smoke gnawed the tissue of the nose and seared the lungs. Coughing and gagging, Madrun, Lazan and Thurule backed away.\\n\\n\\\"They have been consumed!\\\" Madrun announced, hand on chest.\\n\\nA shadow moved within the clouds and figures emerged: the taller of the two dragging the shorter. The three quickly rushed into aid the man, who went to his knees hacking and gasping. The smaller of the two, the Malazan, sat up and made for the pit again. Lazan held him back. \\\"You'll die, man. It's poison!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"The rest have to go!\\\" the Malazan answered. His eyes were weeping uncontrollably and a stream of blood dripped from his nose.\\n\\n\\\"There's nothing you can do. '\\n\\n\\\"Oh yes, there is!\\\" and the fellow raised his arms to inscribe a great circle in the air. If Lazan had had one hair on his head he knew it would be prickling and he edged away. The Malazan ducked back within the dense clouds.\\n\\nMadrun was thumping the other on the back. Then he raised his head to peer about. \\\"Am I mad, or do you hear horses screaming?\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the Great Hall the Legate lurched away from reaching after Kruppe to face the doors. Something like a muffled snarl of panic sounded from his throat. He made unsteadily for the exit. Halfway there he fell to his knees, swayed, then crashed face down, a last few crossbow bolts snapping, the mask clanging against the floor.\\n\\nStill wary, Kruppe edged slightly forward to peer more closely.\\n\\nThe Legate's limbs shifted and he fumbled at the polished stone flagging. He began dragging himself onward. Kruppe threw his arms out in vexation. Great Elemental Forces! What more must Kruppe do?\\n\\nSliding one arm ahead of the other, the Legate began to chuckle. Ashe crawled, the chuckle swelled into a muffled dark laughter.\\n\\nKruppe backed away. He tucked the handkerchief into a sleeve and set his hands on his hips. His dimpled cheeks pulled down in an uncertain frown.\\n\\nReally now. This is quite unreasonable.\\n\\n*\\n\\nTorvald stood immobile, listening as intently as he could. He felt as if his nerves were as taut as those annoying high-pitched Seven Cities stringed instruments. He believed he could discern a lessening in the clash of battle. Did that mean one side or the other was winning? Exactly what was going on? From their vantage they could see only a small portion of the overall extent of the front. Galene still held the baton ready in one hand but he saw her stance shift as if she, too, sensed the change.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Something...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"he began, but she raised a hand for silence.\\n\\nA Black trooper ran to them from the woods. Torvald pushed closer to hear the report.\\n\\n\\\"The Seguleh have withdrawn to the interior,\\\" he announced.\\n\\nGalene examined the blasted field dotted with fallen. \\\"Why would they... Our numbers?\\\" she snapped.\\n\\n\\\"Less than three hundred of the flight remain viable.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Ancestors,\\\" the Silver breathed, and the baton creaked in her ferocious grip. \\\"And they?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps seventy.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then why... One last charge...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps,\\\" Torvald observed, breaking in, \\\"someone could go and ask.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Galene turned to look him up and down.\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"It is very quiet,\\\" Councillor D'Arle whispered from his post next to the stairs up from the lowest of the cellars.\\\"Perhaps I should take a look. '\\n\\nColl rested a hand on the old man's arm.\\\"I'll go.\\\" He turned back to examine all the gathered councillors, aristocrats and court bureaucrats staring from the dark. No one else volunteered. Sighing, he loosed his sword in its sheath and started up.\\n\\nHalfway he stopped as he heard footsteps behind. Redda Orr came up round a corner. \\\"What are you doing?\\\" he hissed.\\n\\n\\\"I'm coming with you. '\\n\\n\\\"No, you're not. This isn't some summer jaunt. Stay below!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm trained! ' She drew her slim sword far more swiftly than he ever could.\\n\\nColl shook his head. \\\"I'm sure you are, child. But this isn't the duelling field.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I could take you, old man...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps.\\\" Coll motioned to one side. \\\"What's that? '\\n\\nRedda looked. He snatched the blade from her hand. She gaped, frozen, then fury blazed in her eyes. \\\"What a dirty trick!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes, it was.\\\" He started up the stairs again carrying both swords. \\\"The world's full of them so you'd better get used to it.\\\"\\n\\nAshe approached the top landing he lay flat to peer over the lip, his blade ready. His gaze met the sandalled feet of two Seguleh. One motioned him back down the stairs.\\n\\nDamn. We're prisoners. Goddamned prisoners.\\n\\nWhat's going on? Has the Legate won?\\n\\nA thought struck him on the way down and he paused, swallowing. Gods! Are we expendable now?\\n\\n*\\n\\nMadrun, Lazan, Thurule and Fisher all crouched as near as was possible to the foaming roiling clouds steaming from the pit. The noisome fumes seemed to repel all the birds and bats stooping in upon them, and the dogs charging from the woods– even one mad horse that had stormed past threatening to run them down.\\n\\nA dull thud sounded from nearby and Madrun observed, disbelieving, \\\"Did that owl just crash into a tree?\\\"\\n\\nThe mist churned and out came the Malazan, a cloth pressed to his nose and mouth. He would have fallen had Fisher not lunged to support him. He hung coughing and gagging, and waved an arm weakly to the pit. \\\"That's the lot. But it's still there– still in one piece!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is, Malazan?\\\" Madrun asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Lazan had been squinting off into the woods and now he backed away to tap Madrun on the arm. The giant glanced over and visibly started, amazement and panic in his gaze. \\\"Holy Ancestors, I cannot believe it,\\\" he murmured to Lazan. The two began edging away.\\n\\n\\\"Come, Thurule,\\\" Lazan called. \\\"We have fulfilled our mistress's instructions– now is the time to withdraw! '\\n\\nSpindle watched in stunned astonishment as the three ran off in what could only be described as a panicked flight. He even sensed his ma grow quiescent in what felt almost like respectful deference. He turned to the woods and saw something huge approaching. Clearing his throat, he spat up a mouthful of the awful fumes he'd endured and raised his Warren to its highest pitch.\\n\\nFisher, an arm under one of Spindle's, whispered, awed,\\\"Is that... '\\n\\nThe shape emerged from the shadows to resolve into a wide and massive figure that Spindle recognized as Caladan Brood, the Warlord. The man's narrowed gaze was turned aside, following Madrun and Lazan Door's hasty retreat. Bizarrely, he held a spitting cat by the scruff of the neck. His heavy gaze swung to Spindle.\\n\\n\\\"What are those two fools doing here?\\\" he demanded.\\n\\n\\\"I... I don't know, ' said Spindle.\\n\\nThe Warlord held out the frenzied cat. \\\"That's quite enough, Malazan, ' he growled.\\n\\nSpindle blinked. \\\"Oh! Sorry.\\\" He lowered his Warren. Brood handed the cat to him; it ravaged his hand and arm escaping.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Fisher,\\\" Brood said. \\\"What are you doing here?\\\"\\n\\nThe bard shrugged. \\\"You know how I feel about witnessing things.\\\"\\n\\nThe Warlord grunted his understanding. \\\"Careful. One day you might just buy yourself too much trouble.\\\" He studied the pit barely visible through the boiling fumes. \\\"Let's have a look, then. ' And he walked into the cloud of poisonous steam.\\n\\nSpindle watched as best he could through the mist. Peering forward, he thought he saw the Warlord down in the pit studying the stones, tapping them. The man sat back as if thinking. Then he raised both arms up over his head, clasped his hands into a great double fist and brought it down in a tremendous blow that shook the ground beneath Spindle's feet. Once more he raised his fists and swung them down. This time the air was split by an immense crack that felt almost like a knife jabbing Spindle's ears.\\n\\nThe Warlord pulled himself up from the pit and emerged waving the fumes from his face. He paused to glance down at Spindle. \\\"I warned the creature,\\\" he said, and walked off the way he'd come.\\n\\nSpindle let out along slow breath. Fisher echoed the sentiment with a nod. Spindle gestured to the pit. \\\"Well– you know, we must've weakened it for him... '\\n\\n\\\"Oh, of course...\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nJan found the double doors of the Great Hall closed, but they opened easily at his touch. Within lay the Legate, or his body. He lay on his back, hands crossed over his chest. A forest of broken bolts stood from him at all angles. The gleaming gold oval remained fixed to his face. Yet it was marred now; a crack ran from the bottom up one cheek to just below a graven eye. Jan approached. He wanted to kneel to make certain of him, but to do so would possibly reopen the wound at his side. Was the man dead? He could not be sure.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A voice whispered then, within his mind: \\\"Servant...\\\"\\n\\nHe flinched away. What was this?\\n\\n\\\"Take the mask, servant.\\\"\\n\\nThe mask?\\n\\n\\\"Yes. I sense you are wounded. Accept it and you will live forever.\\\"\\n\\nAccept it? Wear it?\\n\\n\\\"Yes. I have been banished from this flesh– but accept the mask and together we shall live again.\\\"\\n\\nJan retreated from the corpse. No.\\n\\n\\\"No? No! You have no choice, servant. Do as I command!\\\"\\n\\nNo. Our slavery is long over. We have found our own way. We are our own masters now. I consign you to the past. I turn my face from you. You no longer exist.\\n\\n\\\"Slave! Comeback! I order you! Obey!\\\"\\n\\nJan walked away. Leaving the throne room he met one of the pet mages at the doors; the one who paraded as a dancing girl. She came staggering up, an arm across her stomach, agony on her panicked face. \\\"What is going on?\\\" she gasped. \\\"Where are the others? What has happened?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To us he is as dead,\\\" Jan said, flatly, and walked on, stiffly.\\n\\n\\\"No! Impossible!\\\" She lurched into the room.\\n\\nWithin, alone, Taya edged up to the body. \\\"Master!\\\" She reached out, but at the last instant she yanked back her hand as if stung. She started to her feet, flinching away. \\\"No...\\\" she murmured, wincing. \\\"Please... not that. Anything but-\\\"\\n\\nA sound spun her around. Someone emerged from behind one of the pillars. He was tall, dressed all in shades of green, and his hair hung silver and black. Along snarled hiss escaped her. \\\"You...\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Topper bowed. \\\"As they say, all good things, et cetera. And look at you. You area bonus. One I've been hoping to pluck for sometime now. '\\n\\nTaya flicked her hands and short thin blades appeared. \\\"I will have your head.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I rather doubt that.\\\"\\n\\nThey charged, meeting in a maelstrom of whirling flashing blades. Competing Warrens rose together, spinning and swirling until both disappeared in aloud burst of displaced air.\\n\\n*\\n\\nTorvald had never felt so exposed in all his life. Unarmed, he walked across the gouged and overturned dirt and broken flags of the once-groomed grounds. Galene limped at his side supported by a single Black. They made for the group of Seguleh guarding the main entrance, the majority of whose masks, he noted, bore very few marks.\\n\\nAs they neared, one Seguleh signalled for them to halt. Another, who carried a single bold line across his brow, signed to a third and these two approached.\\n\\n\\\"I am Councillor Nom,\\\" Torvald said quickly. \\\"I am come to propose negotiations.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is it you wish?\\\" the smaller Seguleh asked. She carried five hatch lines on her mask.\\n\\n\\\"We come to demand your surrender,\\\" Galene said.\\n\\n\\\"Our surrender? I rather think it is you who should surrender.\\\"\\n\\nGalene held up an empty gauntleted hand then slowly reached into her shoulder bag to remove a red baton. She held it up. \\\"Your protective sorceries are gone, Seguleh. I merely have to signal with this and the hilltop will be reduced to rubble.\\\"\\n\\nThe Seguleh Sixth motioned to Torvald. \\\"What think you of this, Councillor Nom?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald swallowed. His voice came faint: \\\"Darujhistan would consider that an act of war.\\\"\\n\\nGalene's helm shifted to face him.\\\"Better that than the alternative. '\\n\\n\\\"We propose,\\\" said the Sixth, \\\"that you merely stand aside and allow us to return to our homeland.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Happily,\\\" Galene snapped. \\\"We propose that you merely set down your swords and go unarmed.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That is unacceptable to us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then we have an impasse.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Not so,\\\" the Sixth began again, anew iron in her voice. \\\"We could march outright now if we so chose and there are none here who could stop us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Go ahead. We will chase you down like dogs and slay everyone of you from above!\\\"\\n\\nTorvald loudly cleared his throat. \\\"What of the hostages?\\\"\\n\\nThe Sixth reluctantly pulled her gaze from Galene. \\\"What hostages?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The councillors and other citizens.\\\"\\n\\nThe Sixth glanced to the one with her, obviously the Seguleh Second. Torvald felt almost dizzy standing this close to the highest living ranked of them. He couldn't imagine what it must take to occupy such a position– let alone have all the others accept it as fully justified.\\n\\nThe Second signed something and the Sixth inclined her masked head. She turned to Galene. \\\"They will be released. It is not our way to hide behind hostages.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald bowed. \\\"Very good. My– our– thanks.\\\"\\n\\nGalene held out the red baton. \\\"Once the non-combatants are clear consider your final answer carefully.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have it already,\\\" the Sixth replied, and the two Seguleh turned away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald and Galene watched them go. \\\"Stiff-necked fools,\\\" she ground out. \\\"They merely have to set aside their swords and all this would be behind us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Galene, I believe you are asking for the one thing they simply cannot do.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nSpindle and Fisher crouched in the woods, peering through the branches.\\n\\n\\\"Looks like a parley,\\\" Spindle whispered.\\n\\n\\\"Shh,\\\" Fisher warned. \\\"We don't want-'\\n\\nBursting eruptions of munitions drove them to the ground with their hands over their heads. Feet ran past nearby. Alarms were shouted, followed by more munitions.\\n\\nSpindle raised his head fora peep. He saw a handful of Seguleh dodging for the entrance, Moranth running to intercept. Another group followed in the distance and Spindle gaped, astonished, at who was among them. He put fingers to his mouth and let go a piercing whistle. The fellow he had spotted skidded to a halt, grabbing another and gesturing.\\n\\nSpindle jumped to his feet, waving. The whole group made for him.\\n\\nSpindle opened his arms wide and to his further amazement Antsy accepted the greeting, giving an answering hug in return. \\\"You dog!\\\" Spindle laughed, cuffing him.\\n\\n\\\"What are you doin\\\" here? \\\"Antsy said.\\\"Thought you were down south. '\\n\\n\\\"You too!\\\" He gestured to the lad with him. \\\"Who's this? '\\n\\n\\\"Corien,\\\" the lad answered. \\\"Corien Lim.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Lim! No...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fisher!\\\" one of the giants with Antsy suddenly bellowed. He grabbed hold of the bard and lifted him from his feet in a great bear hug.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Great Mother!\\\" Fisher cursed. \\\"Cull? Cull Heel? What are you doing here!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Fisher! Comeback home with us, yes? You have been gone too long!\\\"\\n\\nAt that moment Moranth emerged from the woods to surround them.\\n\\n*\\n\\nJan ordered the release of the citizens, then saw to the defences of the main entrance. Should the Moranth return to their aerial bombardment his plan was for his people to occupy those same deepest cellars, wait for night to return, then scatter in all directions to return to Cant in ones and twos. Undignified, but perhaps the best way of ensuring that as many as possible made it out alive. His side was completely numb and he was weak from loss of blood, but if he could just avoid any further exertion he believed he might yet live to see this through.\\n\\nIt was here that the guards assigned to the west found him. They came escorting exhausted and bedraggled brothers and sisters whom he did not immediately recognize. It was not until one went to one knee before him that Jan realized who he was. With that understanding came a wave of anticipation that nearly caused him to faint. Great Ancestors! Oru, the Eleventh, gone more than two years, assumed lost by so many, returned now, at such a time!\\n\\nJan moved to raise him up but restrained himself, exclaiming instead, \\\"Oru!\\\" He then clamped down on his breathing to observe dispassionately, \\\"You are returned to us. I am pleased– but you should not have come here.\\\"\\n\\nThe Eleventh stood. His eyes shone now with even greater passion than Jan remembered from years ago. \\\"I believe it was fated that I should do so, Second.\\\" He drew from his waist a small object wrapped in a fine black cloth. \\\"Just as I believed it was my fate to one day find this.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jan stared at the flat object held so delicately in Oru's hands. This is it? The Unmarred? It seems so small. His arms remained petrified at his sides. His eyes rose to meet Oru's eager, avid gaze. \\\"There can be no doubt?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"None, Second.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then call everyone. All must witness this.\\\"\\n\\nOru bowed. \\\"Yes... Second.\\\"\\n\\nThey assembled in the main entrance foyer, all remaining of the Five Hundred. Jan was stricken through the heart to countless than one hundred. Of the Eldrii, the Ten, only he, Gall and Palla yet lived.\\n\\nHe raised his chin for their attention. Through the windows the sky was lightening to the dark blue and violet of a coming predawn. Please, all our Ancestors, he invoked, eyes on the coming day, allow me the strength to see this through! Grant me that and you shall have me.\\n\\n\\\"Brothers and sisters,\\\" he started, his voice thick with emotion– and more. \\\"In this time of our greatest testing, one who has been gone from us on along journey has returned– with the object he vowed never to return without.\\\"\\n\\nThe gathered stirred, masks shifting to the Eleventh at his side. \\\"Oru,\\\" Jan went on, \\\"hold up the Mask of our Ancestors. The Pure One crafted by the First who led us on our exile...\\\" Even as he repeated the traditional words of invocation a sudden new realization came to Jan and their meaning shifted, taking on an utterly new significance. His breath caught at the truth of this new formulation. Everything made sense now: his people's fate, their exile. It came to him that this must be what others describe as a religious awakening.\\n\\nHe took a renewing breath and continued, louder, his voice rough. \\\"... on our exile... which was in truth a deliverance. A flight from slavery and a flight from our shame. Crafted in the hope of an eventual redemption, a cleansing of our past.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Oru pulled off the black covering and held up above his head a pure unmarred mask carved from the same translucent bright stone as the Legate's throne. In the gathering brightness of dawn it seemed to glow with an inner light. All those present stared immobile. It seemed to Jan that a great easing of some long-held breath escaped from them all, and as one they bowed to one knee, heads lowered.\\n\\n\\\"A sign,\\\" he continued. \\\"A promise. An offering sent from our past to our future. One we hope to one day be worthy of. One which belongs to all our people and must be returned to await that future safe in the temple at Cant.\\\"\\n\\nAt these words the Third, Gall, straightened. \\\"Nay! Take it, Second. Don it! With you at our head we will sweep these Moranth before us and return triumphant!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No! It must not betaken up in anger or bloodshed. That would taint it beyond redemption. No, this artefact is too important for us few hereto risk its destruction. We shall accede to the Moranth demands so that we may see it brought safely home.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To that decision I give my fullest support.\\\" Anew voice spoke up from the back of the assembly– which parted swiftly as Seguleh drew blades against the newcomer.\\n\\nJan and Gall both peered, squinting. Jan recognized Lo first, then his son and some girl. And with them one other, and as soon as he looked at this man he recognized him and knew him for what he was, and what he could be, all in one transfiguring instant. He knew then what he must do.\\n\\nGall turned his back on Lo, the Eighth, and the man who all knew must be the slayer of Blacksword, the presumed Seventh. He faced Jan. \\\"We must not put down our swords. How can we abandon what it means to be Seguleh? It is not for you to propose such a thing.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Jan felt remarkably calm in the face of what all others present must see as an inexcusable insult. The Third's behaviour was nothing less than a direct challenge. Jan knew that was exactly what Gall intended. Yet I am not strong enough! I will fall and all I have just glimpsed will be lost to us! Please, Gall, my old friend. Stand aside just this once...\\n\\nAfter along bracing breath Jan's answer emerged level and strong:\\\"I propose it because I have seen what we could all too easily become– what we must never become. '\\n\\nThe Third reached out as if begging something of him. In his gaze Jan saw the reluctance, the torment of his position. \\\"Please,\\\" he whispered. \\\"Do not drive me to what duty demands of me...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I have spoken, Third,\\\" Jan said. \\\"It shall be as I say.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Gall said what Jan knew he felt he must as Third: \\\"Then I challenge you.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nAfter the Seguleh left to return inside, Torvald waited with Galene. She tapped the red baton in her palm, shaking her helmed head. \\\"I fear we have our answer,\\\" she murmured. \\\"I'm sorry. But once word comes that your fellow councillors are clear, I am compelled to act. '\\n\\nGods protect us! Torvald turned away to study the vista of Darujhistan spread out below in the coming light of the east. The various fires appeared to have been mastered, the looming threat of a firestorm feeding gas eruptions circumvented. For that he gave thanks. One miracle. Dare he hope for another?\\n\\n\\\"Couldn't you-'\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\" She rubbed her leg, hissing with pain. \\\"If it were up tome alone... perhaps. But I am not hereon my own. I must think of my people. We cannot allow this threat to exist.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Then I am sorry as well, because I have no idea how the Council will take this. There maybe war between us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Perhaps.\\\"\\n\\nA party of Black troopers jogged up. One saluted Galene. \\\"A small group that contained Seguleh were allowed through the cordon.\\\"\\n\\nGalene straightened, outraged. \\\"Allowed through? On whose authority?\\\"\\n\\nAnother of the troopers saluted. \\\"Mine, Commander.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald studied the last speaker. He appeared to be the oldest Moranth he'd seen yet. The chitinous plates of his armour were thick, cracked and lined. He bore the countless scarifications and gouges of a veteran of many battles.\\n\\nGalene nodded to the trooper. \\\"Master Sergeant. Your record is beyond reproach. Why have you done this?\\\"\\n\\nThe veteran bowed. \\\"M'lady. You know I was among the first contingent serving alongside the Malazans. I fought with them for decades. I allowed that party through because of the man who was with them. Though it has been many years, I recognized him. I would know him anywhere. He was Dassem, the First Sword of the Empire. '\\n\\nTorvald couldn't believe what he was hearing. The First Sword? Here? Was this credible?\\n\\nGalene's voice was barely audible:\\\"That is impossible. '\\n\\n\\\"Elect,\\\" the veteran continued, anew edge in his voice, \\\"must I remind you that our treaty of alliance with the Malazans included Dassem as a signatory?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if he lives...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Exactly, Elect. If he lives... then contrary to what we had assumed, that treaty is not void.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nCrowded within the rear of the hall, Yusek whispered to Sall, \\\"What's goin'on?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"A challenge for leadership,\\\" he answered just as low.\\n\\n\\\"If this is how things get resolved then I'm surprised there's any of you above Fiftieth.\\\"\\n\\nHe turned to regard her more closely. \\\"Yusek– no one will be hurt. At this level it will all be over before you or I notice.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And if someone was hurt?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Then, consider. I see only the Sixth and Third with us now. That means this man, the Seventh, could be within one or two ranks of Second.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's not why I came here, ' the Seventh growled.\\n\\n\\\"Yet it is our way,\\\" Sall murmured, undeterred.\\n\\nPalla came to Jan's side, whispering, fierce:\\\"Do not accept! There is something wrong... I see it. You're wounded.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I must answer or stand aside– as you well know.\\\" How to salvage this? The future I foresaw mustn't be lost to us!\\\"Will you second me? ' he asked.\\n\\n\\\"Of course,\\\" she answered, nearly choking.\\n\\n\\\"No challenges here!\\\" a voice called from the crowd and a Hundredth stepped forward. Horul. \\\"This must wait until we return to Cant.\\\" A strange panic filled her voice. \\\"Before the temple...\\\"\\n\\nOru signed a negative. \\\"The challenge has been made. It must be answered. What say you, Second?\\\"\\n\\nJan inclined his head to the Eleventh. \\\"I accept.\\\"\\n\\nGall bowed, then looked around; by tradition the next highest ranked present or available should second him... the Seventh.\\n\\nLo extended a hand, inviting the dark-skinned Malazan forward. The man shot him a glare but the gathered Seguleh parted and so he reluctantly advanced.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ashe passed through the ranks some reached out reverently to the sword wrapped in rags on his back and Yusek heard them murmuring a word.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What's that they're saying?\\\" she whispered to Sall.\\n\\n\\\"Many say the sword on his back is the Son of Darkness's own. The very one that defeated him. They are saying what legends hold as its oldest name– Grief. '\\n\\nThe four gathered near the centre of the hall and all the assembled Seguleh backed away to the walls. \\\"Challenge has been issued,\\\" Gall called out.\\n\\n\\\"And accepted,\\\" Jan answered.\\n\\nPalla stepped forward. \\\"As honour has been met I ask that said challenge be withdrawn.\\\" And she added so low that only the four gathered could hear: \\\"If you proceed in this, Gall, then I will challenge you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do as you feel you must,\\\" he answered, equally low. \\\"Just as I must.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now you say that the challenge will proceed,\\\" Jan prompted the Seventh.\\n\\nThe Seventh studied the Second. He looked him up and down. Fora longtime he let his gaze linger on Jan's wounded side.\\\"Is this what you wish? ' he asked finally, uncertain.\\n\\nJan allowed himself a stiff nod. \\\"Yes. It is what I wish.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well.\\\" He raised his voice: \\\"The challenge proceeds.\\\"\\n\\nThe two seconds withdrew. Gall stepped away from Jan to make room.\\n\\nJan eased his weapon free. The moment the challenge was issued he had known what he had to do. It would be his most difficult performance ever. Weakened as he was he did not know if he could succeed. Yet he must. He would give all he had left. Even if it meant destroying a friend. He shouted to Gall: \\\"In all the times we've fought you've never come close. What have you planned this time?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is he doing?\\\" Palla murmured, thinking aloud. \\\"He's never taunted anyone before. '\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":98,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 27"},{"from":"human","value":"Ashe passed through the ranks some reached out reverently to the sword wrapped in rags on his back and Yusek heard them murmuring a word."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"What's that they're saying?\" she whispered to Sall.\n\n\"Many say the sword on his back is the Son of Darkness's own. The very one that defeated him. They are saying what legends hold as its oldest name– Grief. '\n\nThe four gathered near the centre of the hall and all the assembled Seguleh backed away to the walls. \"Challenge has been issued,\" Gall called out.\n\n\"And accepted,\" Jan answered.\n\nPalla stepped forward. \"As honour has been met I ask that said challenge be withdrawn.\" And she added so low that only the four gathered could hear: \"If you proceed in this, Gall, then I will challenge you.\"\n\n\"Do as you feel you must,\" he answered, equally low. \"Just as I must.\"\n\n\"Now you say that the challenge will proceed,\" Jan prompted the Seventh.\n\nThe Seventh studied the Second. He looked him up and down. Fora longtime he let his gaze linger on Jan's wounded side.\"Is this what you wish? ' he asked finally, uncertain.\n\nJan allowed himself a stiff nod. \"Yes. It is what I wish.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" He raised his voice: \"The challenge proceeds.\"\n\nThe two seconds withdrew. Gall stepped away from Jan to make room.\n\nJan eased his weapon free. The moment the challenge was issued he had known what he had to do. It would be his most difficult performance ever. Weakened as he was he did not know if he could succeed. Yet he must. He would give all he had left. Even if it meant destroying a friend. He shouted to Gall: \"In all the times we've fought you've never come close. What have you planned this time?\"\n\n\"What is he doing?\" Palla murmured, thinking aloud. \"He's never taunted anyone before. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"He's setting him up, ' the Seventh answered grimly.\n\nPalla turned to the Malazan. \"What?\" but then swords clashed.\n\nThe instant their swords met Jan manoeuvred Gall to his wounded side. The Third came on with more passion and power than he had ever displayed in all the years upon the practice sands. But Jan had been one of his teachers and knew what Gall would do before he knew himself. It must be quick– already I'm weakening. No hint. He mustn't have time to pull the thrust.\n\nI'm sorry, my friend. In so many ways you are the most honourable of all of us. But this must be so.\n\nYusek stared, appalled and fascinated. Gods, it was so beautiful! So elegant. This was not the bashing and grunting she'd known. This was more like dance. A dance of nerves, flesh, and razor-sharp iron.\n\n~\n\nThe time had come. Jan knew he could delay no longer; he was about to fall. Already in his parries and turns he had been preparing the way, leaving his hurt side slightly open. And now in an over-extended riposte he began a recovery that would invite the counter-thrust, and in the fraction of a heartbeat that committed Gall to making the move he reversed his recovery and advanced to meet the sword that was already flashing towards him and the razor-edged blade slid in as smoothly as if pushing through cloth.\n\nYusek could not be sure. It looked to her as if the Third deliberately thrust the Second through the side even as he was turning to him. She could not contain a scream at the ugly shock of it. Hers was the only cry in the utterly silent hall.\n\nPalla did not move. This is not happening, she told herself. Such things do not happen. Yet the Second lay with the Third's sword through his side. Only by conscious effort could she move her legs. She and the Seventh approached. All others remained immobile, hushed. Shocked beyond all reaction, perhaps."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Gall stood frozen. He stared at his empty hands as if in disbelief. He raised his gaze and there through the mask Palla saw desolation. \"I didn't... ' he groaned.\n\n\"I know,\" the Seventh answered.\n\nThey knelt at Jan's side. He lived still, panting, his breath wet.\"Oru, ' he rasped.\n\n\"Eleventh!\" Palla called.\n\nA crash sounded close by: Gall had fallen to his knees, his hands covering his face. He rocked himself and shuddered with silent tears.\n\nOru ran to them. The Second swallowed hard to whisper: \"My last request, Oru.\" His voice was slurred. \"Offer the mask to the Seventh.\"\n\n\"What?\" Palla gasped. \"No. You will live! There is no need.\"\n\nThe Seventh jerked upright. \"Do not offer this thing tome.\"\n\n\"You must,\" the Second barely mouthed. \"You will take us... home.\" His eyes, behind their blood-spattered mask, closed.\n\n\"Jan!\" Palla grated, her lips clenched against a ferocious scream. \"Jan!\"\n\n\"He is dead,\" Oru said. The Eleventh straightened and turned to face the gathered Seguleh. He studied the mask he held in both hands.\n\nAfter along moment he raised his head to be seen by all present, turning a full circle. \"All you know me,\" he began, his voice low. 'You know that years ago a vision came tome– a vision that I could find our lost legacy, our birthright. You also know that by tradition the mark of the First cannot betaken... it can only be offered. I came fully intending to offer it to our Second. But he refused. His last request was that it be offered to the Seventh..."},{"from":"human","value":"\"But,\" he continued, after a hard breath, \"we are Seguleh."},{"from":"gpt","value":"We must not forget who we are. And with us rank is paramount. Therefore... I am bound by tradition. By duty. By our ancient code. To offer this mask of the Unmarred, the First, to the Third.\"\n\nHe turned to where Gall crouched rocking himself in mute anguish. \"Third– do you accept?\"\n\nHis face still covered, the man gave one savage negative jerk of his head.\n\nOru turned to Palla next. \"Sixth. Do you accept?\"\n\nThroughout, Palla had not taken her eyes from the dead Second. Without looking up, she shook her head.\n\nOru turned to the Seventh. \"It has come to you, Seventh. Do you accept?\"\n\nThe man raised a hand. \"A moment– there is one here who may choose to dispute this.\"\n\nOru cocked his head, thinking, then turned to the entrance. \"Eighth,\" he called. \"Will you approach?\"\n\nLo started forward. Sall moved to follow then stopped to point a finger at Yusek. \"You, stay here.\"\n\n\"No fucking kidding,\" she answered under her breath.\n\nLo came to Oru's side. The Seventh faced him.\"Tell me, Eighth. If this mask came to you what would you do? '\n\nThe lean man gave an indifferent shrug. Behind his mask his eyes were half lidded, almost lazy. \"Challenge has been issued. It must be met.\"\n\nAside, Sall started forward, drawing breath, but a sign from Lo checked him.\n\nThe Seventh let out a ragged breath. \"Gods– they say never gamble with the Seguleh and now I know why.\" He glared at the Eighth. His deep blue eyes shaded dark as his hands worked at his sides. \"Damn you, Lo. You're determined not to leave meany room... \"Lowering his voice even more he growled,\"I'm of half a mind to call your bluff.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"But you won't. ' The Eighth motioned Oru closer. The Eleventh held out the mask.\n\nWordless, the Seventh snatched the sword from his back and shook the rags from it. Hissed breaths escaped from a hundred throats as the blackwood sheath was revealed, the hilt all blued tonight black, and the sable stone orb that was its pommel. The Seventh tied it to his belt then raised his face to the gathering. \"I do not claim to be unmarred myself,\" he began, and emotion cracked his voice, stopping him. After a moment he continued: \"Far from it. However, I accept this honour in the promise that perhaps one day I will prove worthy of it.\"\n\nHe took the translucent white stone mask from Oru's hands and raised it to his face.\n\n*\n\n\"Damned quiet in there,\" Torvald murmured aloud just to hear someone speak– the Moranth were utterly silent. Pink and gold bands now brightened the undersides of clouds to the east. Dawn was coming. The Moranth remained battle-ready. They appeared to fully expect the Seguleh to come charging out at any moment. And if that did happen, from what he'd seen he personally didn't think anything would stop them.\n\nA Black messenger came jogging up to Galene and saluted. \"Noncombatants captured on the grounds, Elect.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"A citizen, Malazans, and other foreigners.\"\n\n\"Malazans and foreigners? What are they doing here?\"\n\n\"They looked to have come to help fight.\"\n\n\"Well, release them and warn them off.\"\n\nThe Black saluted. \"Very good.\" He moved to leave.\n\n\"Where are the councillors?\" Torvald asked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The messenger looked to his commander. Galene waved to allow an answer. \"They have been escorted off the hill.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nGalene faced Torvald. She crossed her arms, the red baton still in one hand. \"I'm sorry, Councillor. I can't delay much longer. We will withdraw and then I will be forced to signal.\"\n\n\"I'm damned sorry as well. This will destroy our relations forages to come. '\n\nGalene nodded her understanding. \"You are sounding more and more like a councillor, Nom of Nom.\" She turned to an aide and signed. He ran off, signalling to others as he went. The Moranth Black troops stirred, readying to withdraw. \"We will be last,\" she told him.\n\nTogether, they watched the troops back away, making for stairs and twisting roadways down Majesty Hill. Torvald's gaze kept returning to the blasted main entrance. What are you bastards doing in there? Do you mean to hide it out?\n\nThen movement caught his eye and he shouted, near panicked, \"Galene! Someone's coming! '\n\nShe spun to the entrance, a hand going to her sword.\n\nA small party of Seguleh approached– not the all-out charge they'd been fearing. From their masks these men and women represented the top leadership of the people. One fellow, however, carried afar heavier build and was far darker of skin, as dark as many Malazans, in fact. And the mask he wore blazed white in the dawn's light as if glowing. Torvald squinted even more closely at it: was it...\n\nHe turned to Galene. \"That mask! It's-'\n\n\"Yes. I see,\" she answered, and there was something in her voice that Torvald had never heard– what might have been a touch of awe. She crossed her arms, awaiting the party."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The four Seguleh, three men and one woman, stopped short of Galene. The lead one, not even of their stock it seemed to Torvald, matched Galene's crossed arms.\"You are the Elect in charge of this assault group? ' he asked, speaking barbarously accented Daru.\n\n\"I am Galene.\" Then she bowed to the man. \"Greetings, First. This is an unlooked-for honour.\"\n\nFirst, Torvald wondered? This was the man, then? But which First? And still Torvald did not know him, as the mask obscured his face.\n\n\"I propose to lead the Seguleh south, to Cant. You have my word that we shall never return. What say you?\" His gaze slid aside to another of the Seguleh, one bearing ten hatch marks on his mask, and he continued: \"Shall there be any challenge between us, Elect?\"\n\nGalene uncrossed her arms. Her armour gleamed mirror-like in the gathering light. \"There can be no challenge between us, First.\"\n\nHe gave the slightest dip of his head in salute. \"Very good. We will leave by the Worrytown gate. Notify your forces.\"\n\nGalene saluted. \"Done. First...\" she called as he turned away.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I am... relieved.\"\n\nThe man bowed briefly again. \"As am I.\"\n\nTorvald watched them go. Wondrous gods! Was that it then? Done? Finished? Wordless, suddenly exhausted, he watched Galene exchange the red baton for one of gold. This she held skyward and twisted. Some sort of munition shot from it, launched into the still deep-blue sky, where it burst into a sizzling amber flame. Torvald watched it drift like a burning flower, smoking and popping."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"*\n\nTo the west of Darujhistan Captain Fal-ej nudged Fist K'ess, who looked then nudged Ambassador Aragan, who jerked, blinking, and squinted to the city. He then turned to Attaché Torn.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"A signal.\"\n\nAragan bit back a sharp reply; instead he examined the quorls filling the fields around them. Hours ago they'd swooped down and landed in order to conserve their strength and wait out the night. None stirred now. No orders were shouted to mount.\n\n\"Which?\" he asked, dread choking in his throat.\n\nTorn turned his helmed head to Aragan. \"It is the call to stand down. It seems, Ambassador, that the Elect has met with some sort of victory.\"\n\nVictory? Against over a hundred Seguleh? He didn't think that possible. But then, they would hardly have surrendered, would they?\"Now what? '\n\n\"Now?\" Torn indicated the quorls, now readying, rising to flight, all unburdened, carrying only single riders. \"The assault group will be extracted. And then we shall have a report.\"\n\nAragan watched the quorls liftoff and flitt away, making for the glow and drifting smoke over Darujhistan. Twin wakes followed some passing low over flooded fields nearby. And what a report that will be...\n\nNot far off Sergeant Little nudged her squad awake to motion to the disappearing quorls. \"Looks like a pick-up,\" she said. \"Must be what those officer types call'a cessation of hostilities\".\"\n\n\"Sounds so pretty when you say it, Little,\" one trooper called out."},{"from":"human","value":"\"Music to my ears,\" Bendan murmured, half awake."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"We gonna move out?\"\n\nLittle shifted where she lay on one elbow. \"Don't know. '\n\n\"We'll pullback to Pale, \"Bone opined while he picked at his teeth.\"Re-garrison. Won't they be happy to see us.\"\n\n\"Pale! That pit,\" someone grumbled. \"Nothing there.\"\n\n\"Don't matter, \"Bendan sighed.\"All the same to us. '\n\nLittle eyed him where he lay with an arm over his face. \"That's right, trooper. All the same to us. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"And did we not know the sweetest lassitude there\n\nbathed in such silken glow?\n\nHow sad we must part, for the stars command\n\nand none can forestall their turning upon the great\n\nimmutable orbs"},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"SINCE SHE HAD the dawn watch Blend made an early breakfast of fried rashers, eggs, the butt-end of a loaf of heavy black bread and a pot of herb tea, and sat down near the front to eat.\n\nThe smell of cooking roused Picker, who was asleep on a bench. She sat up and rolled her neck to get the kinks out. \"Save me some tea.\"\n\n\"\"Course. '\n\nPicker groaned, rubbing her face where she sat. \"You know– I really expected something last night undercover of all that mayhem.\"\n\n\"Me too. Haven't heard from Spin or Fisher neither. '\n\n\"True. Can't believe those Moranth dropped into take on the Seguleh. '\n\n\"Must've had munitions up the you-know-what. '\n\nBlend washed down a mouthful of bread then set down her cup. \"You hear somethin\"? '\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Out front...\" She pushed back her chair.\n\nThe barrier at the door exploded inward with an eruption of flung splinters and boards. The heavy oak table that held heaped benches slid backwards, grating on the stone floor. Blend tripped on her chair. Picker threw aside the table before her and made for the bar.\n\nA giant fought to force his way through the shattered timbers of the door.\n\nBlend drew her long-knives and closed in a leap, arms drawn back to thrust. Both weapons hit home in the armoured giant's chest. One rebounded while the other shattered into fragments. A sweep of one thick arm knocked her flying backwards.\n\nPicker fired a crossbow from the bar but the bolt glanced off the creature's inlaid armour. It stepped forward, pushing back the heaped benches and broken timbers. Blend ran for the kitchen. Picker reloaded. Duiker appeared from the hall then ducked away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Picker fired again but the second bolt glanced off the creature's closed full helm. She threw down the crossbow and headed out from behind the bar.\n\nThe giant batted aside benches and took another step. Blend came in from the kitchen; she carried their massive log-splitting axe. This she raised over her head in both hands and ran across the room loosing a blood-searing war howl. The axe crashed home against the creature's chest and flew free of Blend's hands. A great shower of stone chips clattered to the floor and the thing lumbered a heavy single step backwards. A crack now showed in its broad chest armour.\n\n\"It ain't human! ' Blend yelled.\n\nFrom the hall Duiker appeared carrying a great two-handed broadsword. He shook it free of the sheath and advanced. Blend searched for the axe. Picker lifted one of the benches and swung it at the thing in an attempt to beat it back. It groped clumsily for the bench.\n\nThe broadsword hacked stone chips from arms and torso, yet still it advanced. It appeared to be making straight for the stairs down to the cellars. Picker hammered at it using the bench as a battering ram while Blend and Duiker chopped at the limbs. Nearing the top of the stairs it managed to get hold of the haft of the axe to wrench it from Blend's hands. It snapped the thick haft in two and tossed the pieces aside.\n\n\"Spindle's munition! ' Picker suddenly yelled.\n\n\"Right!\" Blend dodged one awkward grab to run for the bar.\n\nBoth Duiker and Picker gripped the bench and fended the thing off by butting it in the chest. Blend reappeared behind it, cutoff. \"Now what?\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Dive!\" Picker yelled.\n\nBlend hugged the munition, hunched, then threw herself forward, sliding between the thing's wide braced legs, and almost tumbled down the stairs. Duiker stopped her. The thing planted one foot onto the cellar steps. The three looked at each other, their close quarters.\"Now what? ' Picker asked again.\n\n\"I don't-' Duiker began, and then a skeletal hand grasped his shoulder and shoved him aside. A file of undead Seguleh came climbing the stairs, unsheathing their swords. Duiker, Picker and Blend slid down along the walls, dodging the swinging weapons.\n\nThe guardians, or whatever they were, held the giant off fora time. Their weapons hacked great gouges out of its armour, which appeared to be layered plates of solid stone or fired clay. Its finish of inlaid multicoloured stones had long since been scraped and bashed away. Yet it was destroying them; the clumsy stone hands grasped arms to wrench them from sockets; closed overheads to crush skulls like blood-fruit. The guardians were falling one by one. Their torn limbs and mangled bodies cluttered the stairs.\n\nDown in the darkness of the first cellar level the three eyed one another. Duiker motioned to the cusser in Blend's hands. She nodded.\n\nThey waited until the last of the pickled Seguleh fell. Duiker took a torch, then he and Picker lay down on the much narrower rough stone staircase leading down to the lowest cellar– the one they never used. From the top of this staircase Blend watched for the giant to make its appearance.\n\nIts heavy leaden steps announced it. Each shook the stone beneath them. It turned the corner of the landing. Blend yelled, \"Munitions!\" and threw, then jumped for the stairs."},{"from":"human","value":"They heard the cusser crack like a dropped pot."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Then the giant took another step.\n\nDuiker cursed under his breath.\n\n\"How do you like that!\" Blend snarled. \"It really was a dud!\"\n\nAnother step sounded and the rock beneath them creaked as if under immense pressure.\n\n\"Now what?\" Picker whispered, fierce.\n\n\"Let's get out of here, ' Duiker said.\n\nPicker climbed to her feet. \"Damn right.\"\n\nThey scrambled backup into the upper cellar only to find that the giant had reached the narrow aisle that led through barrels stacked ceiling tall. They were cutoff.\n\n\"Shit!\" Picker exploded, and she reached for her sheaths only to find them empty. \"Now what?\"\n\nExhausted, Duiker wiped his hot slick face. \"We backup. It might widen out down below.\"\n\n\"That's a plan, ' Blend growled and she motioned them back.\n\nThe stairs were uneven, roughly hewn and overgrown with mould– even something that felt like a kind of moss or thick lichen. Duiker hoped the thing might lose its footing and come tumbling down in a heap of wreckage. Then he thought– lichen? Growing on these cut stone stairs? Then that would mean... Burn preserve them... thousands of years!\n\nThe stairs lost definition until Duiker found himself sliding backwards down nothing more than a stone chute. Roots hung, clawing their hair. It had become hotter and far more humid.\n\n\"We ain't never come this low, \"Picker whispered, hushed.\"I don't know if I can go down anymore!\"\n\nDuiker, leading the backwards descent, came up against a hard flat surface. In the dimming light of the torch he could just make out a rough-hewn granite slab. \"End of the way,\" he called. \"Looks like the entrance to a tomb.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"In the gloom Picker punched a dirt wall. \"Fener take it! I can't fucking believe it. What a goddamned place to die. Break it down! '\n\n\"No! I think that's what it's hereto do,\" Duiker said. \"If we all charged it and hit it high we might trip it up. One of us might get by.\" He glimpsed movement up the narrow tunnel. \"Here it comes.\" He jabbed the end of the torch high into a wall. \"Let's go. '\n\n\"I'll lead, ' Picker growled, and turned sideways, hunching a shoulder.\n\nThey ran backup the sloped tunnel. Picker and Blend let out bellowing war howls as they went. They jumped up at the last instant to smash into the creature's battered chest only to tumble together at its stone feet. It rocked backwards but did not fall.\n\nLying in a heap before it they peered up, bruised and puzzled. It remained immobile, like the statue it perhaps had been in truth. A sudden sharp crack split the air like the eruption of a flawed pot in a kiln and an arm fell off it to thump onto them then roll down the tunnel floor, bursting into shards. The other arm split and fell too, bursting like crockery.\n\nThey all scrambled up and backed away. A great crack shot in a jagged diagonal across its torso and the halves slid in opposite directions to crash into countless shards. Its lower torso and legs fell forward, shattering as well.\n\nThe flickering torch revealed standing behind the wreckage a man with long straight greying hair wearing a dirty threadbare shirt and trousers. A young woman hovered close behind him, all in dark clothes and carrying a stave. Blend took one look at the man, gaped, then went for her empty sheaths once more. \"Fucking Tayschrenn!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Picker snatched a dirk from her belt.\n\n\"Hold!\" Duiker bellowed. He pushed forward, and a strange sort of half-smile touched the newcomer's lips.\n\n\"Duiker,\" he said. \"If there was one man I did not expect to run into right now, that would be you.\"\n\nThe old Imperial Historian looked him up and down. \"It is you,\" he breathed, amazed. \"Yet not– you look different.\"\n\n\"We grow older. Things change. You are right... I am not the man I was.\"\n\nPicker snorted at that. \"What do you want?\" She raised her chin in defiance. \"We're retired. It's all official now. On the books.\"\n\nThe High Mage shook his head, frowning now. \"I understand your anger and suspicion, Bridgeburner. You have every right to it. All I can say is that I'm sorry for what happened. I regret it greatly. '\n\n\"Sorry?\" Picker echoed, derisive. \"You're sorry? '\n\nTayschrenn glanced over his shoulder. \"Let's backup, Kiska. '\n\nIn the cellar the three still warily eyed the High Mage. \"What are you doing here?\" Duiker asked.\n\nThe High Mage motioned to the tunnel. \"I've come to attempt something long overdue. Something that should have been done years ago. '\n\nPicker and Blend shared puzzled glances. Duiker eyed the tunnel, then his gaze shifted back to Tayschrenn. He pulled at his black and grey beard. \"If I'm right in what you're suggesting, then I think no one has ever been strong enough– or willing enough– to risk it. If you fail you'll probably be destroyed. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"At that the young woman at Tayschrenn's side started her surprise and turned a savage glare on him.\"What's this?\" she hissed.\n\nThe High Mage raised a hand for quiet.\n\n\"No! I'll not be hushed. You never said anything about this. '\n\nDuiker caught Blend's eye and motioned to the stairs. She nudged Picker and they started up.\n\nAlone now, Tayschrenn took Kiska's shoulders.\"I'm sorry. But it has to be this way. This is something only I can do.\"\n\nKiska wrenched free of his hands. She stamped the butt of the stave to the cobbled floor in a crashing report. \"For this I drag you from the ends of the earth? So you can throw your life away on some damned fool attempt– at what?\"\n\nThe High Mage leaned back against a barrel. He eyed the darkness as if studying something hidden deep within its depths. \"Think, Kiska. Think of all those who nudged and manipulated and plain lied to bring you and me hereto this place at this time.\" He raised a finger, \"Your Aunt Agayla for one. The Enchantress. That priest of Shadow you mentioned– so Shadowthrone himself schemed for this. Even D'rek has given me her blessing. And so it must be. '\n\nShe threw out her arms. \"Oh, certainly! Better you than they, yes? Why haven't they stepped up if it is all so vital? '\n\nHe pressed his hands together before his lips and studied her over them. \"It is hard, I know. But right now at this moment all those I just mentioned, and many others, are utterly enmeshed in a struggle that spans the world. All their strength is already committed in a confrontation manifesting across countless fronts. And K'rul may fail. Wounded, poisoned, weakened– the effort may prove beyond her. That we cannot allow to happen. '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"But why you?\"\n\nHe crooked a chiding smile. \"Tell me, Kiska. If Maker were here– what would he do?\"\n\nShe drew a great shuddering breath, then her shoulders fell. \"He would do his job,\" she granted, looking away, her lips clenched tight.\n\n\"Very good.\" He crossed to her and touched his lips to her brow. \"Kiska– you saved me and you have made me whole. For this I will always be grateful.\" He caught her gaze and held it. \"But now it is your turn. Be whole. Live now not for me or any other. But for yourself.\"\n\nHer answer was hardly audible. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Very good. Farewell. And, my thanks.\" He walked away down the tunnel.\n\nUpstairs Blend gave a great shout of surprise and Picker and Duiker ran up to find the wrecked K'rul's bar crowded. Antsy and Spindle were there, as was Fisher, plus three huge fellows, shields leaning up against their table, busy emptying tall tankards of ale.\n\nAntsy shouted from the bar, \"Did you see...\"\n\nPicker crossed to the bar and gave a sombre nod. \"Yeah. We saw'im. '\n\n\"Just about crapped my pants, I tell you,\" Antsy muttered.\n\n\"I need a drink.\" She fished behind the bar to pullout a bottle, eyed him up and down. \"So, you're back. You look awful. No big bags o'gems?\"\n\nHe ducked his head, glowering. \"The go-down, get-rich, comeback plan got upended. Long fucking story. At least I didn't die. '\n\nPicker snorted a laugh. \"Same old Antsy. Who're these huge bastards? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Old friends of Fisher.\" He lowered his voice. \"Not too pleased to see'em, though. '\n\n\"No kiddin\"? '\n\nSpindle came to the bar and poured a glass from Picker's bottle.\n\n\"So what was all this trouble in the city anyway?\" Antsy asked him.\n\n\"Long story,\" Spindle grumbled. He leaned back against the bar. \"Just my stupid luck too. I come hereto avoid all the trouble down south, then this happens!\" He studied the glass, took a sip. \"I'm headin'back south.\"\n\nCareful slow steps sounded from the rear, crackling and shifting through the broken stone and wood. All eyes turned to the noise and conversation died down to a heavy silence.\n\nThe young woman came up from below. She wore a once stylish dark shirt under leathers that were tattered, scraped and grimed. Her long black hair hung unwashed and mussed but pretty oval features did much to makeup for all that. She held her stave crossways, a touch defensive, and peered around at everyone, her eyes puffy as if she had been crying. She wiped her face. \"This supposed to be a bar, then?\" she asked of the room in general.\n\n\"Yeah...\" Blend admitted guardedly.\n\n\"Got any wine? I could use a glass.\"\n\nBlend nodded. \"Take a seat.\"\n\n\"Who's the gal? ' Spindle asked, his voice low.\n\n\"She's a Claw, ' Picker murmured.\n\nSpindle choked on his drink.\n\n*\n\nStudious Lock was in the kitchen experimentally poking at a burlap bag of potatoes and thinking to himself: Dear Unknowable Ancients... They eat these growths? A crash sounded from the main chambers, followed by furniture breaking, gasping, flailing limbs thumping the floor, and a man's roar of outraged pain."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Guests!\n\nHe hurried out. A man– half Andii! – in a torn green shirt, blood-spattered, a blade in each hand, was climbing to his feet among the broken wood of an ornamental table. He drew the back of one hand across his face, leaving a smear of bright fresh blood.\n\n\"You are in need of dressing!\" Studious announced, eager.\n\nSeeing him, the man flinched away, almost falling again. \"Don't you touch me! ' He ran off, following a trail of bare bloody footprints that led to stairs to the lower levels.\n\n\"I have unguents!\" Studious called after him.\n\nThen he sniffed the air and his mouth moved in what might be called a smile. Ah! The Mistress's daughter has returned! Perhaps I should find some pretty live plants and pull them up to kill them. As is the barbaric custom here for celebrations.\n\nThe lowest cellar was all one empty roughly octagonal room. At its centre a single figure sat cross-legged. She occupied a series of concentric circles inscribed in the floor, which was dotted with wards and sigils and symbols in languages spoken by no human. Her head was bowed and long black hair hung in a curtain that touched the ground before her.\n\nTaya came down the wide staircase sliding along a wall. She clutched her side, blood a smear down that leg. Her gauzy scarves hung in tatters. She threw herself down before the crouched figure, a hand reaching, entreating.\n\n\"Mother! Protect me!\"\n\nThe figure's head rose.\n\nTopper came bounding down the stairs. He caught sight of the two women and stuttered to a halt. He raised his blades out from his sides, head cocked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The woman within the centre of the wards stood. Chains rattled, running from her wrists to rings set in the floor at her sides. She wrapped a hand round one of these chains and yanked. Metal screeched and the chain snapped. She did the same with the other.\n\nTopper's brows rose in silent appreciation. A feral smile twisted his lips and he flicked the blades, shaking droplets of blood across the floor.\n\nThe woman advanced out of the concentric circles, dragging the chains behind her. She lashed one, sending a scattering of sparks flying. \"Clawmaster,\" she said from behind the curtain of hair. \"Do we have a quarrel?\"\n\nTopper eased his left leg slightly further back. \"Vorcan. I'm here for that one. She must answer fora crime against the Empire. '\n\nVorcan glanced back to the prone figure. \"Leave her tome.\"\n\n\"To you?\" A puzzled frown creased his brow. He tapped one bloody blade to his lips, thinking. After a moment the feral grin returned and he offered a mockingly elaborate courtier's bow.\"Very well. For now. However... if I see her again I will take her head. '\n\nVorcan pointed to the stairs. Remaining half bowed, Topper backed up, all the while keeping his eyes on her. At the top he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.\n\nVorcan turned back to Taya.\n\nShe lay on her side, still panting, drenched in a sweat of pain and exhaustion. She stared up at Vorcan, her brows crimped in puzzlement. \"All this time...\" she breathed. \"You could have...\"\n\n\"Yes. Had I chosen to– of my own freewill.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Taya shook her head in mute rueful incomprehension. Then she grimaced, hissing. She struggled to rise. \"Well, thank you. I knew you would help me, Mother.\"\n\nA metal click sounded and Taya jerked up an arm. One of the chains now hung from it. \"What is this?\" Vorcan gripped the other wrist and transferred the second chain. \"No!\" Taya reached fora fallen knife. Vorcan kicked it aside, then took her daughter's neck in a vice grip. While she held her in the choking throttle she reattached the chains to their rings. Then she tossed her down and backed away.\n\nTaya lunged but the chains rang and grated, restraining her. She lay rubbing her wrists. \"You cannot do this tome! I'll have your heart! '\n\nVorcan continued backing away up the stairs.\n\n\"Mother? You're not really...? '\n\nVorcan disappeared. An unseen door closed heavily and a lock ratcheted.\n\n\"Mother! Don't leave me like this! '\n\nTaya collapsed to curl into a tight foetal ball at the centre of the concentric rings. She wrapped her arms around herself and laid her head on the cold hard floor.\n\n\"Mother...\"\n\n*\n\nRallick found his man sitting on a bench in the grounds of Majesty Hill. He was facing the east. The sun's warm light was a golden wash across him. He sat next to him; the man did not stir from studying the sunrise over the distant Gadrobi hills.\n\n\"You were supposed to run,\" Rallick said after a time, his hands clasped on his lap.\n\nScholar Ebbin nodded, almost distractedly. He pressed a bunched cloth to his forehead."},{"from":"human","value":"\"He wanted you to."},{"from":"gpt","value":"He drove you off.\"\n\nThe man nodded again. He let out along sigh.\n\n\"But you didn't. '\n\nEbbin shook his head.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\nSlowly, the scholar turned his head to face him. He swallowed to speak. \"I don't want to die. '\n\nRallick looked away. His mouth tightened. \"I'm sorry. '\n\nEbbin studied the sunrise once more. He tapped a finger to his temple. \"He's inside right now. Raging. But only a voice. Just a voice. He's harmless now, I swear. Couldn't I just-'\n\n\"No.\"\n\nEbbin pressed the cloth to his watering eyes. \"I've hurt no one! I didn't mean this to happen. It isn't right! '\n\n\"I'm sorry, ' Rallick said again. His voice was now much softer.\n\n\"I could have run, you know! Could've. But I didn't!\"\n\nAt that Rallick's gaze tightened as if pained.\"I know. '\n\n\"Couldn't you just...? '\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Please...\" Ebbin whispered.\n\nRallick motioned to a copse of woods. \"Come with me.\"\n\n\"No... I don't... '\n\nRallick clasped an arm round his shoulders to raise him from the bench. \"This way, scholar. Only one thing left.\"\n\n*\n\nA fist wrapped tight in the scholar's shirt, Rallick banged on the door of the Finnest house. Ebbin stared, taking in all the details of the bizarre structure.\"Is this... \"he murmured, awed.\"Then there really was... '"},{"from":"human","value":"The door swung open and there stood a horror."},{"from":"gpt","value":"Ebbin jerked to scream but Rallick slapped a hand to his mouth. The scholar slumped, fainting in his arms.\n\n\"A sign,\" Raest announced. \"That is what I need. Something like– Keep off the Mounds.\"\n\n\"Can't you take him? '\n\n\"We already have a boarder.\"\n\n\"That sleeping fellow?\"\n\nRaest shuffled backup the hall. Rallick followed, dragging Ebbin with him. The Jaghut motioned to the huge man lying on the floor, snoring. \"Our boarder. Quiet. Undemanding.\"\n\nRallick studied the sprawled man. Now he thought he recognized him; in fact, he knew where he'd seen him. He'd been with that foreign blacksmith. He adjusted Ebbin in his arms. \"Well, perhaps he'd like to leave now... Can he? '\n\n\"Can he what?\"\n\nRallick studied the Jag's dead scarred face. He cleared his throat.\"Can he– I mean, is he hale? Whole? '\n\n\"Physically, yes. As for his mind– it is the same as when he came to us.\"\n\nEbbin roused in Rallick's arms. He peered about, frowning.\"Where am I? '\n\n\"Could you wake him?\" Rallick asked.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"No. I cannot. You, however, may.\"\n\nRallick struggled to conceal his irritation. He sat Ebbin against a wall then knelt over the big fellow. He touched the back of a hand to his cheek. It was as warm as a child's.\n\n\"Is this...\" Scholar Ebbin gasped. He pointed to Raest. \"Are you...? By all the gods! I have a thousand questions!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Standing above Rallick the Jaghut let out along low growl.\n\n*\n\nIn the grounds of the High Alchemist Baruk's estate a small pot-bellied demon anxiously edged out of the tower's open door. As the rich amber morning sunlight struck its knobbled head it hissed, ducking and writhing from side to side. Then it shaded its gaze, blinking, and continued along in its uneven gait.\n\nIt stopped before a man lying prone halfway up the walk. Smoke curled from his shredded robes and blood matted his torn scalp. He appeared to have been in an explosion. The demon took hold of his shoulders and began attempting to drag him up the walk.\n\nAfter much gasping and flailing, with the man himself weakly pushing, the demon managed to heave him in through the door. He propped him against a wall and waddled off. A short time later he returned with a silver flask that he opened and offered to him.\n\nThe man just peered up through pained eyes, breathing wetly, his jaws clenching against his agony. Anger appeared to be gathering in those eyes.\n\nThe demon slapped a hand to his forehead then leaned over to carefully tilt the flask to the man's mouth. The fellow drank as much as he could then gasped, choking and coughing. After a time he managed to lift an arm to take the flask. Blinking, he peered around at the rubbish, the strewn wreckage and broken furniture.\"Chillbais... ' he began, weakly, and coughed again.\n\n\"Yes, master?\"\n\nHe waved the flask to the surroundings. \"... what have you done to the place?\"\n\n*\n\nThe brightening light cascading in through the windows woke Envy. A hand went to her forehead and, pressing there, she groaned. She rose unsteadily to her feet and staggered to a window. There she tensed, straightening, and glared about."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"No...\" she breathed. She gripped the sill, cracking its stone under her nails. \"No!\"\n\nShe threw herself back from the window as if to dash from the room, but halfway across she raised both hands and came to a halt. She spent sometime adjusting her dress and hair, then let out along, calming breath. \"Very well. What's done is done. Can't be helped. It has all been rather a disappointment, after all.\" She set her hands on her hips. \"Yes. Not what I'd hoped at all. Not at all. Perhaps a change in scenery. \"She tapped a finger to her pursed lips. Her arched brows rose as an idea struck.\"Yes... perhaps the Empire. Hmm. They maybe sophisticated enough... '\n\nShe waved a hand as if dismissing the rooms, Majesty Hall, the entire city, and walked out.\n\nAcross the city a burly foreigner drove a wagon into the yard of the Eldra Iron Mongers and shut the gates behind him. The master of the works himself, Humble Measure, met him as he brought the wagon to a halt before one of the cavernous shops.\n\nBarathol dropped the reins, peered down at Humble. \"Ready?\"\n\nHumble Measure raised along-handled pair of iron tongs. \"Ready.\"\n\nThey went to the rear of the wagon and lowered the gate. A metal casket filled the bed. Barathol grabbed hold of a rope handle and yanked it out. It fell with a crash amid the black clinker and slag. He looked to Humble again. \"Furnace ready?\"\n\n\"Iron's roiling white hot. '\n\n\"All right. Let's get it done. '\n\nHumble set the tongs on the lid and took the other handle. Together they carried the casket into the shop, where an orange and yellow glow flickered and smoke once more billowed out to hangover the city."},{"from":"human","value":"Afterwards, as they walked back to the wagon, Humble Measure wiped his blackened hands on a filthy rag."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Until next time, then.\"\n\nBarathol gave a harsh laugh. \"I know what you mean– but let's hope not, yes? '\n\n\"Yes. Quite. Twins favour you, then.\"\n\nBarathol nodded and shook the reins.\n\nHumble Measure watched the mango. Yes, he agreed: let us hope there will be no further call. Yet in the meantime one must remain vigilant. He had his cause now. He'd been misguided before. Sought answers in the wrong directions. But now he understood. And he would apply all his resources just as ruthlessly as before. He knew where the true threats lay now and he would keep watch.\n\nHe would await the slips of paper inscribed with the broken circle.\n\nFor Torvald the farewells had been swift and without ceremony. The quorls arrived to pickup the survivors of the Moranth assault group and they had flown off, swooping to the east around the city. Galene left last. As if in salute she offered the slightest tilt of her engraved helm. He answered with his best awkward effort at a formal bow.\n\nHe stood fora time watching them disappear into the sun's glare. A mannered cough brought him round to see a young Darujhistani aristocrat in much-damaged finery.\"Yes? '\n\nThe lad bowed. \"I understand you are the new Councillor Nom.\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"Permit me to introduce myself– my name is Corien. Corien Lim.\"\n\nTorvald could not keep his brows from rising. \"Ah... I see. Well... I am sorry for your loss.\"\n\nThe lad bowed again. He rubbed at his grimed nose, grimacing. \"You are most courteous, sir. I take this liberty because given the circumstances I believe we maybe seeing much more of each other.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Torvald had no idea what to say to that so he nodded sagely. \"Really. That is... most interesting.\"\n\nThe Lim scion bowed again, taking his leave. \"Until then, sir.\"\n\nTorvald turned onto a path down the hill. He walked in silence, deep in puzzled thought. Had he just received his first overture of recognition from an aristocrat– a possible future councillor? If so, things were looking up for Torvald Nom. Then he recalled what lay ahead and he lost even that thin shred of optimism: homecoming awaited.\n\nWhat should it be this time? Pirates? Invasions? Slavers? Stomach troubles?\n\nAshe walked the district he passed patches of fire damage. A few city blocks had burned but overall the harm was not nearly so terrible as he had feared. And everywhere, on every corner, lay pots in heaps, abandoned or broken. Some still held water– no doubt drawn from wells, troughs, and even the lake itself.\n\nHe frowned, eyeing them: something familiar about those pots.\n\nHe paused before the door to his own house. Once more wiped his hands on the thighs of his trousers. Ashe reached for the handle the door was yanked inward. Tiserra stood in the threshold. She cocked an eye.\n\n\"Greetings, fair wife!\" He moved to step in but she blocked the way.\n\n\"And what was it this time?\" she demanded.\n\n\"Ah! Well...\" Torvald pulled a hand down his unshaven cheek. \"You may not believe this, good wife... but I was sent on a secret diplomatic mission to the north, only to be kidnapped by Moranth. And in negotiation with them, I managed to save the city!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh, really? You saved the city, did you?\"\n\nHe pressed a hand to his heart. \"Gods\" own truth! That's exactly what happened. If I may come in I'll tell you all about it. '\n\n\"Indeed?\" She edged slightly to one side. \"I can't wait to hear. Does it bear upon this non-paying job of yours? '\n\nHe slid in around her. \"Ah... odd you should mention that. In fact it does.\"\n\nShe shut the door and brushed drying clay from her hands. \"Well then. It's a good thing that I'm owed fora great many pots.\"\n\nCouncillor Coll walked the empty rooms of his manor house. Reaching the wide base of the ornate curved staircase he paused to rest a hand on the balustrade. After a time he set a booted foot on the first stair. Jaws tight, he leaned forward until he had to raise his rear foot to place it upon the second. He eased a breath out between clenched teeth, then continued on.\n\nThe bedroom door was open. He entered to standby the low dresser. Thick curtains hung closed before the terrace doors, holding the room in a dim murky light. The air smelled of dust and stale perfume. He crossed to the curtains and parted them. A shaft of light played across the room: dust motes spun and danced.\n\nHe yanked the thick cloths to the sides and then pulled the double doors open. A gust of wind sent the dust swirling from the bedcovers. Taking a deep breath of the air, he turned to the door. Passing the dresser cluttered with its tiny glass bottles he ran a finger through the thick grey layer upon it. He examined his finger, then dusted his hands together and left."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Outside, his carriage-driver asked, \"Destination, Councillor?\"\n\n\"Destination?\" Coll answered, outraged. \"Why, Majesty Hall of course!\"\n\nThe carriage-driver rolled his eyes to the sky as he gave the reins a tug.\n\nFar outside Darujhistan, on the western edge of Maiten town, an old woman staggered from her straw-roofed shack. She held her head, groaning and blinking in the light. She wrenched at her great mane of matted frizzy hair to examine a handful. She let out a great yelp of horror and batted at the curled mass, raising a cloud of dust and dirt.\n\nThen she worked her mouth as if having tasted something vile. She spat in the street, wiped her mouth and grimaced her disgust. She caught sight now of her mud-caked tatters of skirts and grabbed fists of them, twisting them back and forth. \"May the gods die of crotch-rot! What's happened to my dress? '\n\n\"Watch yer mouth, y\" damned drunken witch, ' a passer-by growled.\n\n\"How would you like-\" She held her head and groaned anew. \"Oh gods! Wait till I get my hands on that slimy toad!\" She reached for the wall of her shack. \"Oh, my head. My poor head. Where's Derudan's hookah off to?\" She stumbled inside and began searching amid the rubbish.\n\n*\n\nWest of the Maiten River the Malazan army broke camp to march. Fist K'ess was packing his travel panniers with orders and records when Ambassador Aragan entered. The Fist saluted, then motioned an invitation to a stool where a tray of tea waited."},{"from":"human","value":"Aragan waved a negative."},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"I'm off for the city. '\n\nK'ess paused in his packing.\"With respect, Ambassador. Perhaps you should wait... '\n\nThe big man tucked his hands into his tight weapon belt. \"No, no. I'll have my honour guard, of course. '\n\n\"Come to Pale with the Fifth.\"\n\nThe Ambassador tilted his balding head. \"Generous offer, Fist, but the embassy hasn't been formally closed. We'll see what the final decision is from whoever ends up in control there.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" K'ess saluted once more.\"A pleasure, Ambassador. '\n\nAragan seemed almost embarrassed as he turned away, clearing his throat. \"You're too kind, Fist. ' He walked off with his splay-legged rolling gait.\n\nK'ess watched him go. A soldier who just wanted to be a soldier but ended up a politician.\n\nCaptain Fal-ej paused at the open tent flaps to salute.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Outriders ready.\"\n\n\"Send them off.\"\n\n\"At once.\" She turned to go.\n\n\"Captain,\" K'ess called quickly.\n\nShe turned back, blinking. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"We'll stay close to the lake shore, Captain. '\n\n\"Very good, Fist.\"\n\nK'ess pulled a hand down his unshaven chin.\"And perhaps– as we ride– you might tell me all about Seven Cities. I never did make it there. '\n\nCaptain Fal-ej's thick dark brows rose very high and she smiled broadly.\"That would please me a great deal, Fist. '\n\n*\n\nThat evening Kruppe sat once more at his usual table near the back of the Phoenix Inn. Jess was on duty that night and when she caught sight of him she marched right over. \"You again! You've some nerve showing your oily self here. I've half a mind to call Scurve to toss you outright now.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Kruppe threw up his hands. \"Good Jess! What ire! What passion! I am overcome. Indeed, I am overcome with famishment. A bottle of red if you would be so kind. With two glasses, for Kruppe is in a bountiful munificent mood. And a touch of that gorgeous mutton I smell. And the pear tart for afters.\"\n\nJess set her fists on her wide hips. \"And how are you going to pay for all this?\"\n\nKruppe pointed past her. \"Oh, look!\"Tis Meese herself thereat the bar. She'll speak for me, I'm certain. '\n\n\"Oh, I'll have a word with her about you all right, you can be sure of that. '\n\nJess crossed to the bar and spoke with Meese. Kruppe watched, eyes narrowed, nervously tapping his fingertips together. The older woman waved Jess close and whispered something in her ear. Jess's eyes widened in surprise and she appeared to mouth Really?\n\nThe older woman gave a serious nod.\n\nJess straightened. Her wondering frown seemed to say: who would have thought it?\n\nShe returned to Kruppe's table. Here she bent down to him with a wide smile, and pushed back her hair.\"Was that two glasses you asked for, sir? '\n\nKruppe's gaze darted left and right. His fingertips halted their tapping.\"Why... yes, good Jess. If you would be amenable? '\n\n\"Certainly, sir. Right away.\" She turned to go but paused fora moment to adjust the lie of her skirt over one broad hip. Then she walked off, swinging those hips like two great warships.\n\nKruppe's brows climbed very high indeed and his gaze shifted to Meese at the bar. An evil smirk raised the corners of her mouth and she winked."},{"from":"human","value":"> Proceed"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Great anxious gods! Whatever did the evil Meese tell the poor woman!\n\nLater that night Kruppe sat back to wipe his enormous handkerchief across his mouth and survey the conquered plates, crusts and bones scattered before him. Most restorative struggle to the death! Kruppe is... satisfied.\n\nYet the second glass remained untouched opposite and he regarded it fora moment, then poured himself more of the– slightly disappointing– red.\n\nTwo cloaked and hooded figures pulled up chairs to either side of him and leaned close.\n\nKruppe set his glass back down. \"Gentlemen... Kruppe was expecting company this night, but not you two.\" He gestured to the empty glass. \"Alas, perhaps my friend's days of bachelor conviviality are done. The chains of domesticity have closed upon him and gone are the times of carefree bonhomie... Out of the window, as it were. '\n\n\"Whatever in the Abyss are you going on about, ya fat fool?\" Leff growled. \"We're in real trouble here and we need your help! '\n\n\"My help? How can poor Kruppe be of any service to you?\"\n\n\"We need to get out of town,\" Scorch added urgently from the other side.\n\nKruppe's expressive thick brows climbed again; he clamped his handkerchief to his mouth and coughed behind it fora time. Fit over, he stuffed the cloth back into a frilly sleeve and thoughtfully stroked the tiny rat's tail braided beard at his chin. \"Really?\" he managed after a time. \"Kruppe hardly dares ask what for...?\"\n\n\"It was an accident-\" Scorch began.\n\n\"It was your fault!\" Leff cut in. \"You fired!\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"You grabbed it!\" Scorch yelled, nearly choking.\n\nNearby conversations stopped as people glanced over.\n\nKruppe raised his hands for quiet. \"Decorum in the bar, please, gentlemen. Now, what, exactly, are you two staggering blindly around?\"\n\nThe two exchanged stricken looks. \"We killed the Legate,\" they said together in a fierce whisper.\n\nKruppe slapped a hand to his mouth, choking again. Once the coughing fit had passed he took a quick sip of wine to clear his throat. \"Oh dear,\" he murmured. \"Most serious. I daresay you are in a great deal of trouble.\"\n\nLeff pulled his hood lower and glared about. \"You have to help! The whole city's after us! '\n\nKruppe stroked the slim beard once more, shaking his head. He sighed heavily. \"Kruppe is only one man... This may lie beyond even his astounding abilities.\"\n\n\"You have to get us out of the city,\" Scorch pleaded. \"We'll do anything! '\n\nKruppe's hand paused upon the beard. His eyes darted once more.\"Anything...? '\n\nThe two shared a glance of utter desperation and together they jerked a nod.\n\nThe little man picked up a last crust and gave it an experimental nibble. \"It just so happens that Kruppe does know of a job outside the city that maybe admirably suited to your, ah, unique, talents...\"\n\nThe two sagged in relief. Leff cuffed Kruppe on the back. \"You're a true friend, Kruppe. Got no idea where we'd be without ya.\"\n\nKruppe took a dainty sip of his wine. \"You have no idea,\" he murmured."},{"from":"human","value":"> Start Chapter"},{"from":"gpt","value":"THE NEXT MORNING Antsy sat looking out of the still gaping doorway of K'rul's Temple and Bar and sipped his tea. Sadly, once more they were all out of liquor as last night the three gigantic friends of Fisher, the Heel brothers, had been up drinking and singing until every bottle and keg was bone dry. After the not-so-discreet glowers from Blend and Picker the bard was out now seeing them off.\n\nAntsy sipped the tea again and grimaced his disgust: damned cheap southern leaf.\n\nDuiker came down and sat with him. The old historian rubbed his face and sighed blearily. \"Didn't sleep a wink. '\n\n\"You'd think with Fisher with \"em they'd at least be able to carry a tune. '\n\n\"See the sigil on one's shield? Black mountain on a blue field? Know it? '\n\nAntsy shook his head. He poured Duiker some tea. \"Do you think he's still down there? ' And he inclined his head to the rear.\n\nThe historian shrugged. \"Don't know. Probably not. \"He looked to where the Claw sat at her own table staring out of an open window. She appeared pensive, somehow lost. He glanced around at the empty common room.\"So, Spindle's off?\"\n\n\"Aye. We can breathe easily now.\" Antsy laughed. The laugh died away as he squinted at something outside. \"Look there,\" he murmured, and he lifted his chin to the open door. \"He's got some nerve showin'his face here.\" Duiker turned in his chair. Across the street a man loitered; but not just any man. Duiker recognized him. In fact, he suspected that every Malazan in the building would've recognized him: Topper, Clawmaster to the Empire."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"The woman appeared to have seen him now as well, as a hissed breath escaped her and she stood up. Antsy sent her a questioning look, which she answered with a sign: stand down. She picked up her stave and went to the door. On her way she paused at their table. \"Thanks for the room,\" she told Antsy. She inclined her head to Duiker. \"Historian.\" She crossed the road and the two appeared to talk fora time. Then they walked off more or less side by side.\n\nAntsy sighed his regret. She'd been a fine place to rest his eyes, what with her long legs sheathed in those tall leather boots, and that challenging dark gaze she had– almost made him think maybe he wasn't as old as he knew he was. Now she walks off with the Clawmaster like they was old acquaintances, which, he supposed, they must be. Which made him glad he didn't try sittin\" down next to her after all.\n\nThe streets were crowded that morning as all Darujhistan was out inspecting the aftermath of fallen Moranth munitions and the fires that followed. The damage was not nearly as severe as it might have been thanks to the neighbourhood fire-fighting volunteers and no shortage of pots.\n\nAs they walked the streets Topper told Kiska: \"I was surprised to sense your presence.\"\n\n\"And I yours.\"\n\nHis gaze slid sideways to her. \"What, may I ask, drew you here– of all places?\"\n\n\"A job. All finished now. You?\"\n\n\"The same.\"\n\n\"What is it you wish to talk about, then?\"\n\nThe man studied his nails, then straightened the rings on all eight fingers. \"We're short personnel. Could always use an experienced hand. What say you? Ever considered teaching? The Academy at Unta perhaps? '"},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"She pushed the too-long fringe from her eyes while she considered. Need a damned haircut before I do anything– and a good scrubbing. \"I'll admit I'm interested. Have to think about it, though. Got one last errand to see to. Then I'll give you my answer. '\n\nTopper bowed, his smile sardonic as ever. \"Very good. Welcome back to the fold, Kiska.\" And he cutaway suddenly to walk off down aside alley. She continued on alone. Let's not get ahead of ourselves...\n\n*\n\nThe tall iron-studded doors to the Varada estate hung open. Rallick entered to find that the two usual colourfully dressed guards had been joined by a third. All three now tossed dice together, arguing and grabbing at the bouncing pieces. Seeing him, one offered a faintly disturbing grin of gold and silver capped teeth. The second gave abroad lewd wink, while the third actually blushed and bowed deeply to hide his reaction.\n\nStudlock met him at the door. \"The Mistress awaits upstairs. Perhaps you wish to freshen up before ascending? Scented oils to disguise unwelcome bodily odours? Honey for offending breath?\"\n\nRallick paused to study the man in his gauze wrappings. \"Ah... no... thank you.\" He moved to go but paused again. \"Is my...\"\n\nStudlock hovered close, hands raised. \"Yes?\"\n\nRallick backed away. \"Never mind. Thank you.\"\n\nThe bedroom was empty, the terrace doors open. He went out and leaned against the rail to look about, but saw nothing. Then his gaze lifted to the lattices and climbing vines that rose to the tiled roof. He took hold of one and gave it a strong pull. It held."},{"from":"human","value":"He found her sitting on the peak looking out across the Estate District to Majesty Hall atop its hill."},{"from":"gpt","value":"She wore a loose armless shirt and trousers, and was barefoot. Her hair blew brushed by the wind. He sat at her side. In the distance Majesty Hall appeared no different from before. From here only the smoke rising from the ragged woods gave any sign of last night's assault.\n\n\"I'm glad you stayed away, \"she said.\"Glad you weren't taken.\"\n\n\"You could have told me more.\"\n\nShe tilted her head, thinking, her gaze still on Majesty Hall. \"No. If I'd told you more you would have been tempted to try some sort of work-around and would have failed. This way all that uncertainty forced you to keep your distance. '\n\n\"If you say so.\"\n\nShe turned a smile on him. \"I do.\"\n\n\"And... the girl?\"\n\nThe smile overturned into a tight scowl. \"Sent to her room to think things over.\"\n\n\"Some things are the same everywhere, it seems.\"\n\nVorcan nodded her slow agreement. \"That is so.\" She glanced to him sidelong, pushing back her thick hair. \"And you? What of you?\"\n\n\"I do not need to think anything over.\"\n\nHe leaned to her and they kissed.\n\nShe bumped him with her bare shoulder and together they took in the view fora time. \"So tell me,\" she said, after the silence, \"how did he escape us? What was his last trick?\"\n\nRallick's eyes narrowed and he studied her from their very edges. He slowly shook his head. She cast him one quick look then let go a wistful sigh and rested her shoulder against his.\n\n\"Well... had to try.\"\n\n*\n\nA knock brought Barathol to the door; this time he came without any reluctance as the tapping sounded hesitant, almost respectful. He opened the door to see a worker there, a teamster. The man jerked a nod. \"Was hired to deliver someone to this house,\" the fellow said."},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh?\"\n\nThe man motioned to the wagon. Someone was sitting hunched in the rear bed. A great wide figure of a man; he appeared to be studying the space between his feet.\n\nBarathol's breath caught in his chest and he took one hesitant step out. He approached slowly, silently, until he stood right before the big man, who caught sight of his feet and raised his gaze all the way up Barathol's figure to his eyes, and a hugely wide smile broke thereon his face and he said, \"Thol!\"\n\nBarathol could not answer. He reached out to gently squeeze the man's arm. Finally, he succeeded in clearing his throat to say thickly,\"Chaur... welcome back. '\n\nSmiling, nodding, the big man slipped from the wagon bed. He peered around eagerly like a child.\n\nThe teamster coughed. Barathol looked at him. \"Got another job too,\" the man said.\n\n\"Another?\"\n\n\"Yessir. On my way here. Was stopped by an odd little fellow. He hired me to take you out to your villa, now. If you wish.\"\n\n\"My... villa?\"\n\n\"Yessir. East of the city, up in the hills.\"\n\nHis hand still on Chaur's shoulder, Barathol turned to the row-house to yell,\"Scillara! Get the lad! We're going fora ride!\"\n\n*\n\nIn the middle of the night south of the city on the Dwelling Plain Scorch and Leff fought to secure a heavy man-sized bundle to a tripod and barrel winch setup over an open well. They knocked each other's hands aside and fought and cursed one another as they wrestled with the heavyweight."}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 27\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Ashe passed through the ranks some reached out reverently to the sword wrapped in rags on his back and Yusek heard them murmuring a word.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"What's that they're saying?\\\" she whispered to Sall.\\n\\n\\\"Many say the sword on his back is the Son of Darkness's own. The very one that defeated him. They are saying what legends hold as its oldest name– Grief. '\\n\\nThe four gathered near the centre of the hall and all the assembled Seguleh backed away to the walls. \\\"Challenge has been issued,\\\" Gall called out.\\n\\n\\\"And accepted,\\\" Jan answered.\\n\\nPalla stepped forward. \\\"As honour has been met I ask that said challenge be withdrawn.\\\" And she added so low that only the four gathered could hear: \\\"If you proceed in this, Gall, then I will challenge you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Do as you feel you must,\\\" he answered, equally low. \\\"Just as I must.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Now you say that the challenge will proceed,\\\" Jan prompted the Seventh.\\n\\nThe Seventh studied the Second. He looked him up and down. Fora longtime he let his gaze linger on Jan's wounded side.\\\"Is this what you wish? ' he asked finally, uncertain.\\n\\nJan allowed himself a stiff nod. \\\"Yes. It is what I wish.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well.\\\" He raised his voice: \\\"The challenge proceeds.\\\"\\n\\nThe two seconds withdrew. Gall stepped away from Jan to make room.\\n\\nJan eased his weapon free. The moment the challenge was issued he had known what he had to do. It would be his most difficult performance ever. Weakened as he was he did not know if he could succeed. Yet he must. He would give all he had left. Even if it meant destroying a friend. He shouted to Gall: \\\"In all the times we've fought you've never come close. What have you planned this time?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is he doing?\\\" Palla murmured, thinking aloud. \\\"He's never taunted anyone before. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He's setting him up, ' the Seventh answered grimly.\\n\\nPalla turned to the Malazan. \\\"What?\\\" but then swords clashed.\\n\\nThe instant their swords met Jan manoeuvred Gall to his wounded side. The Third came on with more passion and power than he had ever displayed in all the years upon the practice sands. But Jan had been one of his teachers and knew what Gall would do before he knew himself. It must be quick– already I'm weakening. No hint. He mustn't have time to pull the thrust.\\n\\nI'm sorry, my friend. In so many ways you are the most honourable of all of us. But this must be so.\\n\\nYusek stared, appalled and fascinated. Gods, it was so beautiful! So elegant. This was not the bashing and grunting she'd known. This was more like dance. A dance of nerves, flesh, and razor-sharp iron.\\n\\n~\\n\\nThe time had come. Jan knew he could delay no longer; he was about to fall. Already in his parries and turns he had been preparing the way, leaving his hurt side slightly open. And now in an over-extended riposte he began a recovery that would invite the counter-thrust, and in the fraction of a heartbeat that committed Gall to making the move he reversed his recovery and advanced to meet the sword that was already flashing towards him and the razor-edged blade slid in as smoothly as if pushing through cloth.\\n\\nYusek could not be sure. It looked to her as if the Third deliberately thrust the Second through the side even as he was turning to him. She could not contain a scream at the ugly shock of it. Hers was the only cry in the utterly silent hall.\\n\\nPalla did not move. This is not happening, she told herself. Such things do not happen. Yet the Second lay with the Third's sword through his side. Only by conscious effort could she move her legs. She and the Seventh approached. All others remained immobile, hushed. Shocked beyond all reaction, perhaps.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Gall stood frozen. He stared at his empty hands as if in disbelief. He raised his gaze and there through the mask Palla saw desolation. \\\"I didn't... ' he groaned.\\n\\n\\\"I know,\\\" the Seventh answered.\\n\\nThey knelt at Jan's side. He lived still, panting, his breath wet.\\\"Oru, ' he rasped.\\n\\n\\\"Eleventh!\\\" Palla called.\\n\\nA crash sounded close by: Gall had fallen to his knees, his hands covering his face. He rocked himself and shuddered with silent tears.\\n\\nOru ran to them. The Second swallowed hard to whisper: \\\"My last request, Oru.\\\" His voice was slurred. \\\"Offer the mask to the Seventh.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\" Palla gasped. \\\"No. You will live! There is no need.\\\"\\n\\nThe Seventh jerked upright. \\\"Do not offer this thing tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You must,\\\" the Second barely mouthed. \\\"You will take us... home.\\\" His eyes, behind their blood-spattered mask, closed.\\n\\n\\\"Jan!\\\" Palla grated, her lips clenched against a ferocious scream. \\\"Jan!\\\"\\n\\n\\\"He is dead,\\\" Oru said. The Eleventh straightened and turned to face the gathered Seguleh. He studied the mask he held in both hands.\\n\\nAfter along moment he raised his head to be seen by all present, turning a full circle. \\\"All you know me,\\\" he began, his voice low. 'You know that years ago a vision came tome– a vision that I could find our lost legacy, our birthright. You also know that by tradition the mark of the First cannot betaken... it can only be offered. I came fully intending to offer it to our Second. But he refused. His last request was that it be offered to the Seventh...\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But,\\\" he continued, after a hard breath, \\\"we are Seguleh.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"We must not forget who we are. And with us rank is paramount. Therefore... I am bound by tradition. By duty. By our ancient code. To offer this mask of the Unmarred, the First, to the Third.\\\"\\n\\nHe turned to where Gall crouched rocking himself in mute anguish. \\\"Third– do you accept?\\\"\\n\\nHis face still covered, the man gave one savage negative jerk of his head.\\n\\nOru turned to Palla next. \\\"Sixth. Do you accept?\\\"\\n\\nThroughout, Palla had not taken her eyes from the dead Second. Without looking up, she shook her head.\\n\\nOru turned to the Seventh. \\\"It has come to you, Seventh. Do you accept?\\\"\\n\\nThe man raised a hand. \\\"A moment– there is one here who may choose to dispute this.\\\"\\n\\nOru cocked his head, thinking, then turned to the entrance. \\\"Eighth,\\\" he called. \\\"Will you approach?\\\"\\n\\nLo started forward. Sall moved to follow then stopped to point a finger at Yusek. \\\"You, stay here.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No fucking kidding,\\\" she answered under her breath.\\n\\nLo came to Oru's side. The Seventh faced him.\\\"Tell me, Eighth. If this mask came to you what would you do? '\\n\\nThe lean man gave an indifferent shrug. Behind his mask his eyes were half lidded, almost lazy. \\\"Challenge has been issued. It must be met.\\\"\\n\\nAside, Sall started forward, drawing breath, but a sign from Lo checked him.\\n\\nThe Seventh let out a ragged breath. \\\"Gods– they say never gamble with the Seguleh and now I know why.\\\" He glared at the Eighth. His deep blue eyes shaded dark as his hands worked at his sides. \\\"Damn you, Lo. You're determined not to leave meany room... \\\"Lowering his voice even more he growled,\\\"I'm of half a mind to call your bluff.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But you won't. ' The Eighth motioned Oru closer. The Eleventh held out the mask.\\n\\nWordless, the Seventh snatched the sword from his back and shook the rags from it. Hissed breaths escaped from a hundred throats as the blackwood sheath was revealed, the hilt all blued tonight black, and the sable stone orb that was its pommel. The Seventh tied it to his belt then raised his face to the gathering. \\\"I do not claim to be unmarred myself,\\\" he began, and emotion cracked his voice, stopping him. After a moment he continued: \\\"Far from it. However, I accept this honour in the promise that perhaps one day I will prove worthy of it.\\\"\\n\\nHe took the translucent white stone mask from Oru's hands and raised it to his face.\\n\\n*\\n\\n\\\"Damned quiet in there,\\\" Torvald murmured aloud just to hear someone speak– the Moranth were utterly silent. Pink and gold bands now brightened the undersides of clouds to the east. Dawn was coming. The Moranth remained battle-ready. They appeared to fully expect the Seguleh to come charging out at any moment. And if that did happen, from what he'd seen he personally didn't think anything would stop them.\\n\\nA Black messenger came jogging up to Galene and saluted. \\\"Noncombatants captured on the grounds, Elect.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A citizen, Malazans, and other foreigners.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Malazans and foreigners? What are they doing here?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"They looked to have come to help fight.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Well, release them and warn them off.\\\"\\n\\nThe Black saluted. \\\"Very good.\\\" He moved to leave.\\n\\n\\\"Where are the councillors?\\\" Torvald asked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The messenger looked to his commander. Galene waved to allow an answer. \\\"They have been escorted off the hill.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Thank you.\\\"\\n\\nGalene faced Torvald. She crossed her arms, the red baton still in one hand. \\\"I'm sorry, Councillor. I can't delay much longer. We will withdraw and then I will be forced to signal.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I'm damned sorry as well. This will destroy our relations forages to come. '\\n\\nGalene nodded her understanding. \\\"You are sounding more and more like a councillor, Nom of Nom.\\\" She turned to an aide and signed. He ran off, signalling to others as he went. The Moranth Black troops stirred, readying to withdraw. \\\"We will be last,\\\" she told him.\\n\\nTogether, they watched the troops back away, making for stairs and twisting roadways down Majesty Hill. Torvald's gaze kept returning to the blasted main entrance. What are you bastards doing in there? Do you mean to hide it out?\\n\\nThen movement caught his eye and he shouted, near panicked, \\\"Galene! Someone's coming! '\\n\\nShe spun to the entrance, a hand going to her sword.\\n\\nA small party of Seguleh approached– not the all-out charge they'd been fearing. From their masks these men and women represented the top leadership of the people. One fellow, however, carried afar heavier build and was far darker of skin, as dark as many Malazans, in fact. And the mask he wore blazed white in the dawn's light as if glowing. Torvald squinted even more closely at it: was it...\\n\\nHe turned to Galene. \\\"That mask! It's-'\\n\\n\\\"Yes. I see,\\\" she answered, and there was something in her voice that Torvald had never heard– what might have been a touch of awe. She crossed her arms, awaiting the party.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The four Seguleh, three men and one woman, stopped short of Galene. The lead one, not even of their stock it seemed to Torvald, matched Galene's crossed arms.\\\"You are the Elect in charge of this assault group? ' he asked, speaking barbarously accented Daru.\\n\\n\\\"I am Galene.\\\" Then she bowed to the man. \\\"Greetings, First. This is an unlooked-for honour.\\\"\\n\\nFirst, Torvald wondered? This was the man, then? But which First? And still Torvald did not know him, as the mask obscured his face.\\n\\n\\\"I propose to lead the Seguleh south, to Cant. You have my word that we shall never return. What say you?\\\" His gaze slid aside to another of the Seguleh, one bearing ten hatch marks on his mask, and he continued: \\\"Shall there be any challenge between us, Elect?\\\"\\n\\nGalene uncrossed her arms. Her armour gleamed mirror-like in the gathering light. \\\"There can be no challenge between us, First.\\\"\\n\\nHe gave the slightest dip of his head in salute. \\\"Very good. We will leave by the Worrytown gate. Notify your forces.\\\"\\n\\nGalene saluted. \\\"Done. First...\\\" she called as he turned away.\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am... relieved.\\\"\\n\\nThe man bowed briefly again. \\\"As am I.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald watched them go. Wondrous gods! Was that it then? Done? Finished? Wordless, suddenly exhausted, he watched Galene exchange the red baton for one of gold. This she held skyward and twisted. Some sort of munition shot from it, launched into the still deep-blue sky, where it burst into a sizzling amber flame. Torvald watched it drift like a burning flower, smoking and popping.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"*\\n\\nTo the west of Darujhistan Captain Fal-ej nudged Fist K'ess, who looked then nudged Ambassador Aragan, who jerked, blinking, and squinted to the city. He then turned to Attaché Torn.\\n\\n\\\"What is it?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A signal.\\\"\\n\\nAragan bit back a sharp reply; instead he examined the quorls filling the fields around them. Hours ago they'd swooped down and landed in order to conserve their strength and wait out the night. None stirred now. No orders were shouted to mount.\\n\\n\\\"Which?\\\" he asked, dread choking in his throat.\\n\\nTorn turned his helmed head to Aragan. \\\"It is the call to stand down. It seems, Ambassador, that the Elect has met with some sort of victory.\\\"\\n\\nVictory? Against over a hundred Seguleh? He didn't think that possible. But then, they would hardly have surrendered, would they?\\\"Now what? '\\n\\n\\\"Now?\\\" Torn indicated the quorls, now readying, rising to flight, all unburdened, carrying only single riders. \\\"The assault group will be extracted. And then we shall have a report.\\\"\\n\\nAragan watched the quorls liftoff and flitt away, making for the glow and drifting smoke over Darujhistan. Twin wakes followed some passing low over flooded fields nearby. And what a report that will be...\\n\\nNot far off Sergeant Little nudged her squad awake to motion to the disappearing quorls. \\\"Looks like a pick-up,\\\" she said. \\\"Must be what those officer types call'a cessation of hostilities\\\".\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sounds so pretty when you say it, Little,\\\" one trooper called out.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Music to my ears,\\\" Bendan murmured, half awake.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"We gonna move out?\\\"\\n\\nLittle shifted where she lay on one elbow. \\\"Don't know. '\\n\\n\\\"We'll pullback to Pale, \\\"Bone opined while he picked at his teeth.\\\"Re-garrison. Won't they be happy to see us.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Pale! That pit,\\\" someone grumbled. \\\"Nothing there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't matter, \\\"Bendan sighed.\\\"All the same to us. '\\n\\nLittle eyed him where he lay with an arm over his face. \\\"That's right, trooper. All the same to us. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And did we not know the sweetest lassitude there\\n\\nbathed in such silken glow?\\n\\nHow sad we must part, for the stars command\\n\\nand none can forestall their turning upon the great\\n\\nimmutable orbs\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"SINCE SHE HAD the dawn watch Blend made an early breakfast of fried rashers, eggs, the butt-end of a loaf of heavy black bread and a pot of herb tea, and sat down near the front to eat.\\n\\nThe smell of cooking roused Picker, who was asleep on a bench. She sat up and rolled her neck to get the kinks out. \\\"Save me some tea.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Course. '\\n\\nPicker groaned, rubbing her face where she sat. \\\"You know– I really expected something last night undercover of all that mayhem.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Me too. Haven't heard from Spin or Fisher neither. '\\n\\n\\\"True. Can't believe those Moranth dropped into take on the Seguleh. '\\n\\n\\\"Must've had munitions up the you-know-what. '\\n\\nBlend washed down a mouthful of bread then set down her cup. \\\"You hear somethin\\\"? '\\n\\n\\\"What?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Out front...\\\" She pushed back her chair.\\n\\nThe barrier at the door exploded inward with an eruption of flung splinters and boards. The heavy oak table that held heaped benches slid backwards, grating on the stone floor. Blend tripped on her chair. Picker threw aside the table before her and made for the bar.\\n\\nA giant fought to force his way through the shattered timbers of the door.\\n\\nBlend drew her long-knives and closed in a leap, arms drawn back to thrust. Both weapons hit home in the armoured giant's chest. One rebounded while the other shattered into fragments. A sweep of one thick arm knocked her flying backwards.\\n\\nPicker fired a crossbow from the bar but the bolt glanced off the creature's inlaid armour. It stepped forward, pushing back the heaped benches and broken timbers. Blend ran for the kitchen. Picker reloaded. Duiker appeared from the hall then ducked away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Picker fired again but the second bolt glanced off the creature's closed full helm. She threw down the crossbow and headed out from behind the bar.\\n\\nThe giant batted aside benches and took another step. Blend came in from the kitchen; she carried their massive log-splitting axe. This she raised over her head in both hands and ran across the room loosing a blood-searing war howl. The axe crashed home against the creature's chest and flew free of Blend's hands. A great shower of stone chips clattered to the floor and the thing lumbered a heavy single step backwards. A crack now showed in its broad chest armour.\\n\\n\\\"It ain't human! ' Blend yelled.\\n\\nFrom the hall Duiker appeared carrying a great two-handed broadsword. He shook it free of the sheath and advanced. Blend searched for the axe. Picker lifted one of the benches and swung it at the thing in an attempt to beat it back. It groped clumsily for the bench.\\n\\nThe broadsword hacked stone chips from arms and torso, yet still it advanced. It appeared to be making straight for the stairs down to the cellars. Picker hammered at it using the bench as a battering ram while Blend and Duiker chopped at the limbs. Nearing the top of the stairs it managed to get hold of the haft of the axe to wrench it from Blend's hands. It snapped the thick haft in two and tossed the pieces aside.\\n\\n\\\"Spindle's munition! ' Picker suddenly yelled.\\n\\n\\\"Right!\\\" Blend dodged one awkward grab to run for the bar.\\n\\nBoth Duiker and Picker gripped the bench and fended the thing off by butting it in the chest. Blend reappeared behind it, cutoff. \\\"Now what?\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Dive!\\\" Picker yelled.\\n\\nBlend hugged the munition, hunched, then threw herself forward, sliding between the thing's wide braced legs, and almost tumbled down the stairs. Duiker stopped her. The thing planted one foot onto the cellar steps. The three looked at each other, their close quarters.\\\"Now what? ' Picker asked again.\\n\\n\\\"I don't-' Duiker began, and then a skeletal hand grasped his shoulder and shoved him aside. A file of undead Seguleh came climbing the stairs, unsheathing their swords. Duiker, Picker and Blend slid down along the walls, dodging the swinging weapons.\\n\\nThe guardians, or whatever they were, held the giant off fora time. Their weapons hacked great gouges out of its armour, which appeared to be layered plates of solid stone or fired clay. Its finish of inlaid multicoloured stones had long since been scraped and bashed away. Yet it was destroying them; the clumsy stone hands grasped arms to wrench them from sockets; closed overheads to crush skulls like blood-fruit. The guardians were falling one by one. Their torn limbs and mangled bodies cluttered the stairs.\\n\\nDown in the darkness of the first cellar level the three eyed one another. Duiker motioned to the cusser in Blend's hands. She nodded.\\n\\nThey waited until the last of the pickled Seguleh fell. Duiker took a torch, then he and Picker lay down on the much narrower rough stone staircase leading down to the lowest cellar– the one they never used. From the top of this staircase Blend watched for the giant to make its appearance.\\n\\nIts heavy leaden steps announced it. Each shook the stone beneath them. It turned the corner of the landing. Blend yelled, \\\"Munitions!\\\" and threw, then jumped for the stairs.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"They heard the cusser crack like a dropped pot.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Then the giant took another step.\\n\\nDuiker cursed under his breath.\\n\\n\\\"How do you like that!\\\" Blend snarled. \\\"It really was a dud!\\\"\\n\\nAnother step sounded and the rock beneath them creaked as if under immense pressure.\\n\\n\\\"Now what?\\\" Picker whispered, fierce.\\n\\n\\\"Let's get out of here, ' Duiker said.\\n\\nPicker climbed to her feet. \\\"Damn right.\\\"\\n\\nThey scrambled backup into the upper cellar only to find that the giant had reached the narrow aisle that led through barrels stacked ceiling tall. They were cutoff.\\n\\n\\\"Shit!\\\" Picker exploded, and she reached for her sheaths only to find them empty. \\\"Now what?\\\"\\n\\nExhausted, Duiker wiped his hot slick face. \\\"We backup. It might widen out down below.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That's a plan, ' Blend growled and she motioned them back.\\n\\nThe stairs were uneven, roughly hewn and overgrown with mould– even something that felt like a kind of moss or thick lichen. Duiker hoped the thing might lose its footing and come tumbling down in a heap of wreckage. Then he thought– lichen? Growing on these cut stone stairs? Then that would mean... Burn preserve them... thousands of years!\\n\\nThe stairs lost definition until Duiker found himself sliding backwards down nothing more than a stone chute. Roots hung, clawing their hair. It had become hotter and far more humid.\\n\\n\\\"We ain't never come this low, \\\"Picker whispered, hushed.\\\"I don't know if I can go down anymore!\\\"\\n\\nDuiker, leading the backwards descent, came up against a hard flat surface. In the dimming light of the torch he could just make out a rough-hewn granite slab. \\\"End of the way,\\\" he called. \\\"Looks like the entrance to a tomb.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"In the gloom Picker punched a dirt wall. \\\"Fener take it! I can't fucking believe it. What a goddamned place to die. Break it down! '\\n\\n\\\"No! I think that's what it's hereto do,\\\" Duiker said. \\\"If we all charged it and hit it high we might trip it up. One of us might get by.\\\" He glimpsed movement up the narrow tunnel. \\\"Here it comes.\\\" He jabbed the end of the torch high into a wall. \\\"Let's go. '\\n\\n\\\"I'll lead, ' Picker growled, and turned sideways, hunching a shoulder.\\n\\nThey ran backup the sloped tunnel. Picker and Blend let out bellowing war howls as they went. They jumped up at the last instant to smash into the creature's battered chest only to tumble together at its stone feet. It rocked backwards but did not fall.\\n\\nLying in a heap before it they peered up, bruised and puzzled. It remained immobile, like the statue it perhaps had been in truth. A sudden sharp crack split the air like the eruption of a flawed pot in a kiln and an arm fell off it to thump onto them then roll down the tunnel floor, bursting into shards. The other arm split and fell too, bursting like crockery.\\n\\nThey all scrambled up and backed away. A great crack shot in a jagged diagonal across its torso and the halves slid in opposite directions to crash into countless shards. Its lower torso and legs fell forward, shattering as well.\\n\\nThe flickering torch revealed standing behind the wreckage a man with long straight greying hair wearing a dirty threadbare shirt and trousers. A young woman hovered close behind him, all in dark clothes and carrying a stave. Blend took one look at the man, gaped, then went for her empty sheaths once more. \\\"Fucking Tayschrenn!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Picker snatched a dirk from her belt.\\n\\n\\\"Hold!\\\" Duiker bellowed. He pushed forward, and a strange sort of half-smile touched the newcomer's lips.\\n\\n\\\"Duiker,\\\" he said. \\\"If there was one man I did not expect to run into right now, that would be you.\\\"\\n\\nThe old Imperial Historian looked him up and down. \\\"It is you,\\\" he breathed, amazed. \\\"Yet not– you look different.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We grow older. Things change. You are right... I am not the man I was.\\\"\\n\\nPicker snorted at that. \\\"What do you want?\\\" She raised her chin in defiance. \\\"We're retired. It's all official now. On the books.\\\"\\n\\nThe High Mage shook his head, frowning now. \\\"I understand your anger and suspicion, Bridgeburner. You have every right to it. All I can say is that I'm sorry for what happened. I regret it greatly. '\\n\\n\\\"Sorry?\\\" Picker echoed, derisive. \\\"You're sorry? '\\n\\nTayschrenn glanced over his shoulder. \\\"Let's backup, Kiska. '\\n\\nIn the cellar the three still warily eyed the High Mage. \\\"What are you doing here?\\\" Duiker asked.\\n\\nThe High Mage motioned to the tunnel. \\\"I've come to attempt something long overdue. Something that should have been done years ago. '\\n\\nPicker and Blend shared puzzled glances. Duiker eyed the tunnel, then his gaze shifted back to Tayschrenn. He pulled at his black and grey beard. \\\"If I'm right in what you're suggesting, then I think no one has ever been strong enough– or willing enough– to risk it. If you fail you'll probably be destroyed. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"At that the young woman at Tayschrenn's side started her surprise and turned a savage glare on him.\\\"What's this?\\\" she hissed.\\n\\nThe High Mage raised a hand for quiet.\\n\\n\\\"No! I'll not be hushed. You never said anything about this. '\\n\\nDuiker caught Blend's eye and motioned to the stairs. She nudged Picker and they started up.\\n\\nAlone now, Tayschrenn took Kiska's shoulders.\\\"I'm sorry. But it has to be this way. This is something only I can do.\\\"\\n\\nKiska wrenched free of his hands. She stamped the butt of the stave to the cobbled floor in a crashing report. \\\"For this I drag you from the ends of the earth? So you can throw your life away on some damned fool attempt– at what?\\\"\\n\\nThe High Mage leaned back against a barrel. He eyed the darkness as if studying something hidden deep within its depths. \\\"Think, Kiska. Think of all those who nudged and manipulated and plain lied to bring you and me hereto this place at this time.\\\" He raised a finger, \\\"Your Aunt Agayla for one. The Enchantress. That priest of Shadow you mentioned– so Shadowthrone himself schemed for this. Even D'rek has given me her blessing. And so it must be. '\\n\\nShe threw out her arms. \\\"Oh, certainly! Better you than they, yes? Why haven't they stepped up if it is all so vital? '\\n\\nHe pressed his hands together before his lips and studied her over them. \\\"It is hard, I know. But right now at this moment all those I just mentioned, and many others, are utterly enmeshed in a struggle that spans the world. All their strength is already committed in a confrontation manifesting across countless fronts. And K'rul may fail. Wounded, poisoned, weakened– the effort may prove beyond her. That we cannot allow to happen. '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"But why you?\\\"\\n\\nHe crooked a chiding smile. \\\"Tell me, Kiska. If Maker were here– what would he do?\\\"\\n\\nShe drew a great shuddering breath, then her shoulders fell. \\\"He would do his job,\\\" she granted, looking away, her lips clenched tight.\\n\\n\\\"Very good.\\\" He crossed to her and touched his lips to her brow. \\\"Kiska– you saved me and you have made me whole. For this I will always be grateful.\\\" He caught her gaze and held it. \\\"But now it is your turn. Be whole. Live now not for me or any other. But for yourself.\\\"\\n\\nHer answer was hardly audible. \\\"Yes.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very good. Farewell. And, my thanks.\\\" He walked away down the tunnel.\\n\\nUpstairs Blend gave a great shout of surprise and Picker and Duiker ran up to find the wrecked K'rul's bar crowded. Antsy and Spindle were there, as was Fisher, plus three huge fellows, shields leaning up against their table, busy emptying tall tankards of ale.\\n\\nAntsy shouted from the bar, \\\"Did you see...\\\"\\n\\nPicker crossed to the bar and gave a sombre nod. \\\"Yeah. We saw'im. '\\n\\n\\\"Just about crapped my pants, I tell you,\\\" Antsy muttered.\\n\\n\\\"I need a drink.\\\" She fished behind the bar to pullout a bottle, eyed him up and down. \\\"So, you're back. You look awful. No big bags o'gems?\\\"\\n\\nHe ducked his head, glowering. \\\"The go-down, get-rich, comeback plan got upended. Long fucking story. At least I didn't die. '\\n\\nPicker snorted a laugh. \\\"Same old Antsy. Who're these huge bastards? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Old friends of Fisher.\\\" He lowered his voice. \\\"Not too pleased to see'em, though. '\\n\\n\\\"No kiddin\\\"? '\\n\\nSpindle came to the bar and poured a glass from Picker's bottle.\\n\\n\\\"So what was all this trouble in the city anyway?\\\" Antsy asked him.\\n\\n\\\"Long story,\\\" Spindle grumbled. He leaned back against the bar. \\\"Just my stupid luck too. I come hereto avoid all the trouble down south, then this happens!\\\" He studied the glass, took a sip. \\\"I'm headin'back south.\\\"\\n\\nCareful slow steps sounded from the rear, crackling and shifting through the broken stone and wood. All eyes turned to the noise and conversation died down to a heavy silence.\\n\\nThe young woman came up from below. She wore a once stylish dark shirt under leathers that were tattered, scraped and grimed. Her long black hair hung unwashed and mussed but pretty oval features did much to makeup for all that. She held her stave crossways, a touch defensive, and peered around at everyone, her eyes puffy as if she had been crying. She wiped her face. \\\"This supposed to be a bar, then?\\\" she asked of the room in general.\\n\\n\\\"Yeah...\\\" Blend admitted guardedly.\\n\\n\\\"Got any wine? I could use a glass.\\\"\\n\\nBlend nodded. \\\"Take a seat.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Who's the gal? ' Spindle asked, his voice low.\\n\\n\\\"She's a Claw, ' Picker murmured.\\n\\nSpindle choked on his drink.\\n\\n*\\n\\nStudious Lock was in the kitchen experimentally poking at a burlap bag of potatoes and thinking to himself: Dear Unknowable Ancients... They eat these growths? A crash sounded from the main chambers, followed by furniture breaking, gasping, flailing limbs thumping the floor, and a man's roar of outraged pain.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Guests!\\n\\nHe hurried out. A man– half Andii! – in a torn green shirt, blood-spattered, a blade in each hand, was climbing to his feet among the broken wood of an ornamental table. He drew the back of one hand across his face, leaving a smear of bright fresh blood.\\n\\n\\\"You are in need of dressing!\\\" Studious announced, eager.\\n\\nSeeing him, the man flinched away, almost falling again. \\\"Don't you touch me! ' He ran off, following a trail of bare bloody footprints that led to stairs to the lower levels.\\n\\n\\\"I have unguents!\\\" Studious called after him.\\n\\nThen he sniffed the air and his mouth moved in what might be called a smile. Ah! The Mistress's daughter has returned! Perhaps I should find some pretty live plants and pull them up to kill them. As is the barbaric custom here for celebrations.\\n\\nThe lowest cellar was all one empty roughly octagonal room. At its centre a single figure sat cross-legged. She occupied a series of concentric circles inscribed in the floor, which was dotted with wards and sigils and symbols in languages spoken by no human. Her head was bowed and long black hair hung in a curtain that touched the ground before her.\\n\\nTaya came down the wide staircase sliding along a wall. She clutched her side, blood a smear down that leg. Her gauzy scarves hung in tatters. She threw herself down before the crouched figure, a hand reaching, entreating.\\n\\n\\\"Mother! Protect me!\\\"\\n\\nThe figure's head rose.\\n\\nTopper came bounding down the stairs. He caught sight of the two women and stuttered to a halt. He raised his blades out from his sides, head cocked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The woman within the centre of the wards stood. Chains rattled, running from her wrists to rings set in the floor at her sides. She wrapped a hand round one of these chains and yanked. Metal screeched and the chain snapped. She did the same with the other.\\n\\nTopper's brows rose in silent appreciation. A feral smile twisted his lips and he flicked the blades, shaking droplets of blood across the floor.\\n\\nThe woman advanced out of the concentric circles, dragging the chains behind her. She lashed one, sending a scattering of sparks flying. \\\"Clawmaster,\\\" she said from behind the curtain of hair. \\\"Do we have a quarrel?\\\"\\n\\nTopper eased his left leg slightly further back. \\\"Vorcan. I'm here for that one. She must answer fora crime against the Empire. '\\n\\nVorcan glanced back to the prone figure. \\\"Leave her tome.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"To you?\\\" A puzzled frown creased his brow. He tapped one bloody blade to his lips, thinking. After a moment the feral grin returned and he offered a mockingly elaborate courtier's bow.\\\"Very well. For now. However... if I see her again I will take her head. '\\n\\nVorcan pointed to the stairs. Remaining half bowed, Topper backed up, all the while keeping his eyes on her. At the top he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.\\n\\nVorcan turned back to Taya.\\n\\nShe lay on her side, still panting, drenched in a sweat of pain and exhaustion. She stared up at Vorcan, her brows crimped in puzzlement. \\\"All this time...\\\" she breathed. \\\"You could have...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Had I chosen to– of my own freewill.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Taya shook her head in mute rueful incomprehension. Then she grimaced, hissing. She struggled to rise. \\\"Well, thank you. I knew you would help me, Mother.\\\"\\n\\nA metal click sounded and Taya jerked up an arm. One of the chains now hung from it. \\\"What is this?\\\" Vorcan gripped the other wrist and transferred the second chain. \\\"No!\\\" Taya reached fora fallen knife. Vorcan kicked it aside, then took her daughter's neck in a vice grip. While she held her in the choking throttle she reattached the chains to their rings. Then she tossed her down and backed away.\\n\\nTaya lunged but the chains rang and grated, restraining her. She lay rubbing her wrists. \\\"You cannot do this tome! I'll have your heart! '\\n\\nVorcan continued backing away up the stairs.\\n\\n\\\"Mother? You're not really...? '\\n\\nVorcan disappeared. An unseen door closed heavily and a lock ratcheted.\\n\\n\\\"Mother! Don't leave me like this! '\\n\\nTaya collapsed to curl into a tight foetal ball at the centre of the concentric rings. She wrapped her arms around herself and laid her head on the cold hard floor.\\n\\n\\\"Mother...\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nRallick found his man sitting on a bench in the grounds of Majesty Hill. He was facing the east. The sun's warm light was a golden wash across him. He sat next to him; the man did not stir from studying the sunrise over the distant Gadrobi hills.\\n\\n\\\"You were supposed to run,\\\" Rallick said after a time, his hands clasped on his lap.\\n\\nScholar Ebbin nodded, almost distractedly. He pressed a bunched cloth to his forehead.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"He wanted you to.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"He drove you off.\\\"\\n\\nThe man nodded again. He let out along sigh.\\n\\n\\\"But you didn't. '\\n\\nEbbin shook his head.\\n\\n\\\"Why not?\\\"\\n\\nSlowly, the scholar turned his head to face him. He swallowed to speak. \\\"I don't want to die. '\\n\\nRallick looked away. His mouth tightened. \\\"I'm sorry. '\\n\\nEbbin studied the sunrise once more. He tapped a finger to his temple. \\\"He's inside right now. Raging. But only a voice. Just a voice. He's harmless now, I swear. Couldn't I just-'\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin pressed the cloth to his watering eyes. \\\"I've hurt no one! I didn't mean this to happen. It isn't right! '\\n\\n\\\"I'm sorry, ' Rallick said again. His voice was now much softer.\\n\\n\\\"I could have run, you know! Could've. But I didn't!\\\"\\n\\nAt that Rallick's gaze tightened as if pained.\\\"I know. '\\n\\n\\\"Couldn't you just...? '\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Please...\\\" Ebbin whispered.\\n\\nRallick motioned to a copse of woods. \\\"Come with me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No... I don't... '\\n\\nRallick clasped an arm round his shoulders to raise him from the bench. \\\"This way, scholar. Only one thing left.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nA fist wrapped tight in the scholar's shirt, Rallick banged on the door of the Finnest house. Ebbin stared, taking in all the details of the bizarre structure.\\\"Is this... \\\"he murmured, awed.\\\"Then there really was... '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The door swung open and there stood a horror.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Ebbin jerked to scream but Rallick slapped a hand to his mouth. The scholar slumped, fainting in his arms.\\n\\n\\\"A sign,\\\" Raest announced. \\\"That is what I need. Something like– Keep off the Mounds.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Can't you take him? '\\n\\n\\\"We already have a boarder.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"That sleeping fellow?\\\"\\n\\nRaest shuffled backup the hall. Rallick followed, dragging Ebbin with him. The Jaghut motioned to the huge man lying on the floor, snoring. \\\"Our boarder. Quiet. Undemanding.\\\"\\n\\nRallick studied the sprawled man. Now he thought he recognized him; in fact, he knew where he'd seen him. He'd been with that foreign blacksmith. He adjusted Ebbin in his arms. \\\"Well, perhaps he'd like to leave now... Can he? '\\n\\n\\\"Can he what?\\\"\\n\\nRallick studied the Jag's dead scarred face. He cleared his throat.\\\"Can he– I mean, is he hale? Whole? '\\n\\n\\\"Physically, yes. As for his mind– it is the same as when he came to us.\\\"\\n\\nEbbin roused in Rallick's arms. He peered about, frowning.\\\"Where am I? '\\n\\n\\\"Could you wake him?\\\" Rallick asked.\\n\\n\\\"No.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No. I cannot. You, however, may.\\\"\\n\\nRallick struggled to conceal his irritation. He sat Ebbin against a wall then knelt over the big fellow. He touched the back of a hand to his cheek. It was as warm as a child's.\\n\\n\\\"Is this...\\\" Scholar Ebbin gasped. He pointed to Raest. \\\"Are you...? By all the gods! I have a thousand questions!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Standing above Rallick the Jaghut let out along low growl.\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the grounds of the High Alchemist Baruk's estate a small pot-bellied demon anxiously edged out of the tower's open door. As the rich amber morning sunlight struck its knobbled head it hissed, ducking and writhing from side to side. Then it shaded its gaze, blinking, and continued along in its uneven gait.\\n\\nIt stopped before a man lying prone halfway up the walk. Smoke curled from his shredded robes and blood matted his torn scalp. He appeared to have been in an explosion. The demon took hold of his shoulders and began attempting to drag him up the walk.\\n\\nAfter much gasping and flailing, with the man himself weakly pushing, the demon managed to heave him in through the door. He propped him against a wall and waddled off. A short time later he returned with a silver flask that he opened and offered to him.\\n\\nThe man just peered up through pained eyes, breathing wetly, his jaws clenching against his agony. Anger appeared to be gathering in those eyes.\\n\\nThe demon slapped a hand to his forehead then leaned over to carefully tilt the flask to the man's mouth. The fellow drank as much as he could then gasped, choking and coughing. After a time he managed to lift an arm to take the flask. Blinking, he peered around at the rubbish, the strewn wreckage and broken furniture.\\\"Chillbais... ' he began, weakly, and coughed again.\\n\\n\\\"Yes, master?\\\"\\n\\nHe waved the flask to the surroundings. \\\"... what have you done to the place?\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe brightening light cascading in through the windows woke Envy. A hand went to her forehead and, pressing there, she groaned. She rose unsteadily to her feet and staggered to a window. There she tensed, straightening, and glared about.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"No...\\\" she breathed. She gripped the sill, cracking its stone under her nails. \\\"No!\\\"\\n\\nShe threw herself back from the window as if to dash from the room, but halfway across she raised both hands and came to a halt. She spent sometime adjusting her dress and hair, then let out along, calming breath. \\\"Very well. What's done is done. Can't be helped. It has all been rather a disappointment, after all.\\\" She set her hands on her hips. \\\"Yes. Not what I'd hoped at all. Not at all. Perhaps a change in scenery. \\\"She tapped a finger to her pursed lips. Her arched brows rose as an idea struck.\\\"Yes... perhaps the Empire. Hmm. They maybe sophisticated enough... '\\n\\nShe waved a hand as if dismissing the rooms, Majesty Hall, the entire city, and walked out.\\n\\nAcross the city a burly foreigner drove a wagon into the yard of the Eldra Iron Mongers and shut the gates behind him. The master of the works himself, Humble Measure, met him as he brought the wagon to a halt before one of the cavernous shops.\\n\\nBarathol dropped the reins, peered down at Humble. \\\"Ready?\\\"\\n\\nHumble Measure raised along-handled pair of iron tongs. \\\"Ready.\\\"\\n\\nThey went to the rear of the wagon and lowered the gate. A metal casket filled the bed. Barathol grabbed hold of a rope handle and yanked it out. It fell with a crash amid the black clinker and slag. He looked to Humble again. \\\"Furnace ready?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Iron's roiling white hot. '\\n\\n\\\"All right. Let's get it done. '\\n\\nHumble set the tongs on the lid and took the other handle. Together they carried the casket into the shop, where an orange and yellow glow flickered and smoke once more billowed out to hangover the city.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Afterwards, as they walked back to the wagon, Humble Measure wiped his blackened hands on a filthy rag.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Until next time, then.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol gave a harsh laugh. \\\"I know what you mean– but let's hope not, yes? '\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Quite. Twins favour you, then.\\\"\\n\\nBarathol nodded and shook the reins.\\n\\nHumble Measure watched the mango. Yes, he agreed: let us hope there will be no further call. Yet in the meantime one must remain vigilant. He had his cause now. He'd been misguided before. Sought answers in the wrong directions. But now he understood. And he would apply all his resources just as ruthlessly as before. He knew where the true threats lay now and he would keep watch.\\n\\nHe would await the slips of paper inscribed with the broken circle.\\n\\nFor Torvald the farewells had been swift and without ceremony. The quorls arrived to pickup the survivors of the Moranth assault group and they had flown off, swooping to the east around the city. Galene left last. As if in salute she offered the slightest tilt of her engraved helm. He answered with his best awkward effort at a formal bow.\\n\\nHe stood fora time watching them disappear into the sun's glare. A mannered cough brought him round to see a young Darujhistani aristocrat in much-damaged finery.\\\"Yes? '\\n\\nThe lad bowed. \\\"I understand you are the new Councillor Nom.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I am.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Permit me to introduce myself– my name is Corien. Corien Lim.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald could not keep his brows from rising. \\\"Ah... I see. Well... I am sorry for your loss.\\\"\\n\\nThe lad bowed again. He rubbed at his grimed nose, grimacing. \\\"You are most courteous, sir. I take this liberty because given the circumstances I believe we maybe seeing much more of each other.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Torvald had no idea what to say to that so he nodded sagely. \\\"Really. That is... most interesting.\\\"\\n\\nThe Lim scion bowed again, taking his leave. \\\"Until then, sir.\\\"\\n\\nTorvald turned onto a path down the hill. He walked in silence, deep in puzzled thought. Had he just received his first overture of recognition from an aristocrat– a possible future councillor? If so, things were looking up for Torvald Nom. Then he recalled what lay ahead and he lost even that thin shred of optimism: homecoming awaited.\\n\\nWhat should it be this time? Pirates? Invasions? Slavers? Stomach troubles?\\n\\nAshe walked the district he passed patches of fire damage. A few city blocks had burned but overall the harm was not nearly so terrible as he had feared. And everywhere, on every corner, lay pots in heaps, abandoned or broken. Some still held water– no doubt drawn from wells, troughs, and even the lake itself.\\n\\nHe frowned, eyeing them: something familiar about those pots.\\n\\nHe paused before the door to his own house. Once more wiped his hands on the thighs of his trousers. Ashe reached for the handle the door was yanked inward. Tiserra stood in the threshold. She cocked an eye.\\n\\n\\\"Greetings, fair wife!\\\" He moved to step in but she blocked the way.\\n\\n\\\"And what was it this time?\\\" she demanded.\\n\\n\\\"Ah! Well...\\\" Torvald pulled a hand down his unshaven cheek. \\\"You may not believe this, good wife... but I was sent on a secret diplomatic mission to the north, only to be kidnapped by Moranth. And in negotiation with them, I managed to save the city!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh, really? You saved the city, did you?\\\"\\n\\nHe pressed a hand to his heart. \\\"Gods\\\" own truth! That's exactly what happened. If I may come in I'll tell you all about it. '\\n\\n\\\"Indeed?\\\" She edged slightly to one side. \\\"I can't wait to hear. Does it bear upon this non-paying job of yours? '\\n\\nHe slid in around her. \\\"Ah... odd you should mention that. In fact it does.\\\"\\n\\nShe shut the door and brushed drying clay from her hands. \\\"Well then. It's a good thing that I'm owed fora great many pots.\\\"\\n\\nCouncillor Coll walked the empty rooms of his manor house. Reaching the wide base of the ornate curved staircase he paused to rest a hand on the balustrade. After a time he set a booted foot on the first stair. Jaws tight, he leaned forward until he had to raise his rear foot to place it upon the second. He eased a breath out between clenched teeth, then continued on.\\n\\nThe bedroom door was open. He entered to standby the low dresser. Thick curtains hung closed before the terrace doors, holding the room in a dim murky light. The air smelled of dust and stale perfume. He crossed to the curtains and parted them. A shaft of light played across the room: dust motes spun and danced.\\n\\nHe yanked the thick cloths to the sides and then pulled the double doors open. A gust of wind sent the dust swirling from the bedcovers. Taking a deep breath of the air, he turned to the door. Passing the dresser cluttered with its tiny glass bottles he ran a finger through the thick grey layer upon it. He examined his finger, then dusted his hands together and left.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Outside, his carriage-driver asked, \\\"Destination, Councillor?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Destination?\\\" Coll answered, outraged. \\\"Why, Majesty Hall of course!\\\"\\n\\nThe carriage-driver rolled his eyes to the sky as he gave the reins a tug.\\n\\nFar outside Darujhistan, on the western edge of Maiten town, an old woman staggered from her straw-roofed shack. She held her head, groaning and blinking in the light. She wrenched at her great mane of matted frizzy hair to examine a handful. She let out a great yelp of horror and batted at the curled mass, raising a cloud of dust and dirt.\\n\\nThen she worked her mouth as if having tasted something vile. She spat in the street, wiped her mouth and grimaced her disgust. She caught sight now of her mud-caked tatters of skirts and grabbed fists of them, twisting them back and forth. \\\"May the gods die of crotch-rot! What's happened to my dress? '\\n\\n\\\"Watch yer mouth, y\\\" damned drunken witch, ' a passer-by growled.\\n\\n\\\"How would you like-\\\" She held her head and groaned anew. \\\"Oh gods! Wait till I get my hands on that slimy toad!\\\" She reached for the wall of her shack. \\\"Oh, my head. My poor head. Where's Derudan's hookah off to?\\\" She stumbled inside and began searching amid the rubbish.\\n\\n*\\n\\nWest of the Maiten River the Malazan army broke camp to march. Fist K'ess was packing his travel panniers with orders and records when Ambassador Aragan entered. The Fist saluted, then motioned an invitation to a stool where a tray of tea waited.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"Aragan waved a negative.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"I'm off for the city. '\\n\\nK'ess paused in his packing.\\\"With respect, Ambassador. Perhaps you should wait... '\\n\\nThe big man tucked his hands into his tight weapon belt. \\\"No, no. I'll have my honour guard, of course. '\\n\\n\\\"Come to Pale with the Fifth.\\\"\\n\\nThe Ambassador tilted his balding head. \\\"Generous offer, Fist, but the embassy hasn't been formally closed. We'll see what the final decision is from whoever ends up in control there.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Very well.\\\" K'ess saluted once more.\\\"A pleasure, Ambassador. '\\n\\nAragan seemed almost embarrassed as he turned away, clearing his throat. \\\"You're too kind, Fist. ' He walked off with his splay-legged rolling gait.\\n\\nK'ess watched him go. A soldier who just wanted to be a soldier but ended up a politician.\\n\\nCaptain Fal-ej paused at the open tent flaps to salute.\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Outriders ready.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Send them off.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"At once.\\\" She turned to go.\\n\\n\\\"Captain,\\\" K'ess called quickly.\\n\\nShe turned back, blinking. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We'll stay close to the lake shore, Captain. '\\n\\n\\\"Very good, Fist.\\\"\\n\\nK'ess pulled a hand down his unshaven chin.\\\"And perhaps– as we ride– you might tell me all about Seven Cities. I never did make it there. '\\n\\nCaptain Fal-ej's thick dark brows rose very high and she smiled broadly.\\\"That would please me a great deal, Fist. '\\n\\n*\\n\\nThat evening Kruppe sat once more at his usual table near the back of the Phoenix Inn. Jess was on duty that night and when she caught sight of him she marched right over. \\\"You again! You've some nerve showing your oily self here. I've half a mind to call Scurve to toss you outright now.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Kruppe threw up his hands. \\\"Good Jess! What ire! What passion! I am overcome. Indeed, I am overcome with famishment. A bottle of red if you would be so kind. With two glasses, for Kruppe is in a bountiful munificent mood. And a touch of that gorgeous mutton I smell. And the pear tart for afters.\\\"\\n\\nJess set her fists on her wide hips. \\\"And how are you going to pay for all this?\\\"\\n\\nKruppe pointed past her. \\\"Oh, look!\\\"Tis Meese herself thereat the bar. She'll speak for me, I'm certain. '\\n\\n\\\"Oh, I'll have a word with her about you all right, you can be sure of that. '\\n\\nJess crossed to the bar and spoke with Meese. Kruppe watched, eyes narrowed, nervously tapping his fingertips together. The older woman waved Jess close and whispered something in her ear. Jess's eyes widened in surprise and she appeared to mouth Really?\\n\\nThe older woman gave a serious nod.\\n\\nJess straightened. Her wondering frown seemed to say: who would have thought it?\\n\\nShe returned to Kruppe's table. Here she bent down to him with a wide smile, and pushed back her hair.\\\"Was that two glasses you asked for, sir? '\\n\\nKruppe's gaze darted left and right. His fingertips halted their tapping.\\\"Why... yes, good Jess. If you would be amenable? '\\n\\n\\\"Certainly, sir. Right away.\\\" She turned to go but paused fora moment to adjust the lie of her skirt over one broad hip. Then she walked off, swinging those hips like two great warships.\\n\\nKruppe's brows climbed very high indeed and his gaze shifted to Meese at the bar. An evil smirk raised the corners of her mouth and she winked.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Proceed\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Great anxious gods! Whatever did the evil Meese tell the poor woman!\\n\\nLater that night Kruppe sat back to wipe his enormous handkerchief across his mouth and survey the conquered plates, crusts and bones scattered before him. Most restorative struggle to the death! Kruppe is... satisfied.\\n\\nYet the second glass remained untouched opposite and he regarded it fora moment, then poured himself more of the– slightly disappointing– red.\\n\\nTwo cloaked and hooded figures pulled up chairs to either side of him and leaned close.\\n\\nKruppe set his glass back down. \\\"Gentlemen... Kruppe was expecting company this night, but not you two.\\\" He gestured to the empty glass. \\\"Alas, perhaps my friend's days of bachelor conviviality are done. The chains of domesticity have closed upon him and gone are the times of carefree bonhomie... Out of the window, as it were. '\\n\\n\\\"Whatever in the Abyss are you going on about, ya fat fool?\\\" Leff growled. \\\"We're in real trouble here and we need your help! '\\n\\n\\\"My help? How can poor Kruppe be of any service to you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"We need to get out of town,\\\" Scorch added urgently from the other side.\\n\\nKruppe's expressive thick brows climbed again; he clamped his handkerchief to his mouth and coughed behind it fora time. Fit over, he stuffed the cloth back into a frilly sleeve and thoughtfully stroked the tiny rat's tail braided beard at his chin. \\\"Really?\\\" he managed after a time. \\\"Kruppe hardly dares ask what for...?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"It was an accident-\\\" Scorch began.\\n\\n\\\"It was your fault!\\\" Leff cut in. \\\"You fired!\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"You grabbed it!\\\" Scorch yelled, nearly choking.\\n\\nNearby conversations stopped as people glanced over.\\n\\nKruppe raised his hands for quiet. \\\"Decorum in the bar, please, gentlemen. Now, what, exactly, are you two staggering blindly around?\\\"\\n\\nThe two exchanged stricken looks. \\\"We killed the Legate,\\\" they said together in a fierce whisper.\\n\\nKruppe slapped a hand to his mouth, choking again. Once the coughing fit had passed he took a quick sip of wine to clear his throat. \\\"Oh dear,\\\" he murmured. \\\"Most serious. I daresay you are in a great deal of trouble.\\\"\\n\\nLeff pulled his hood lower and glared about. \\\"You have to help! The whole city's after us! '\\n\\nKruppe stroked the slim beard once more, shaking his head. He sighed heavily. \\\"Kruppe is only one man... This may lie beyond even his astounding abilities.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You have to get us out of the city,\\\" Scorch pleaded. \\\"We'll do anything! '\\n\\nKruppe's hand paused upon the beard. His eyes darted once more.\\\"Anything...? '\\n\\nThe two shared a glance of utter desperation and together they jerked a nod.\\n\\nThe little man picked up a last crust and gave it an experimental nibble. \\\"It just so happens that Kruppe does know of a job outside the city that maybe admirably suited to your, ah, unique, talents...\\\"\\n\\nThe two sagged in relief. Leff cuffed Kruppe on the back. \\\"You're a true friend, Kruppe. Got no idea where we'd be without ya.\\\"\\n\\nKruppe took a dainty sip of his wine. \\\"You have no idea,\\\" he murmured.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Start Chapter\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"THE NEXT MORNING Antsy sat looking out of the still gaping doorway of K'rul's Temple and Bar and sipped his tea. Sadly, once more they were all out of liquor as last night the three gigantic friends of Fisher, the Heel brothers, had been up drinking and singing until every bottle and keg was bone dry. After the not-so-discreet glowers from Blend and Picker the bard was out now seeing them off.\\n\\nAntsy sipped the tea again and grimaced his disgust: damned cheap southern leaf.\\n\\nDuiker came down and sat with him. The old historian rubbed his face and sighed blearily. \\\"Didn't sleep a wink. '\\n\\n\\\"You'd think with Fisher with \\\"em they'd at least be able to carry a tune. '\\n\\n\\\"See the sigil on one's shield? Black mountain on a blue field? Know it? '\\n\\nAntsy shook his head. He poured Duiker some tea. \\\"Do you think he's still down there? ' And he inclined his head to the rear.\\n\\nThe historian shrugged. \\\"Don't know. Probably not. \\\"He looked to where the Claw sat at her own table staring out of an open window. She appeared pensive, somehow lost. He glanced around at the empty common room.\\\"So, Spindle's off?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Aye. We can breathe easily now.\\\" Antsy laughed. The laugh died away as he squinted at something outside. \\\"Look there,\\\" he murmured, and he lifted his chin to the open door. \\\"He's got some nerve showin'his face here.\\\" Duiker turned in his chair. Across the street a man loitered; but not just any man. Duiker recognized him. In fact, he suspected that every Malazan in the building would've recognized him: Topper, Clawmaster to the Empire.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"The woman appeared to have seen him now as well, as a hissed breath escaped her and she stood up. Antsy sent her a questioning look, which she answered with a sign: stand down. She picked up her stave and went to the door. On her way she paused at their table. \\\"Thanks for the room,\\\" she told Antsy. She inclined her head to Duiker. \\\"Historian.\\\" She crossed the road and the two appeared to talk fora time. Then they walked off more or less side by side.\\n\\nAntsy sighed his regret. She'd been a fine place to rest his eyes, what with her long legs sheathed in those tall leather boots, and that challenging dark gaze she had– almost made him think maybe he wasn't as old as he knew he was. Now she walks off with the Clawmaster like they was old acquaintances, which, he supposed, they must be. Which made him glad he didn't try sittin\\\" down next to her after all.\\n\\nThe streets were crowded that morning as all Darujhistan was out inspecting the aftermath of fallen Moranth munitions and the fires that followed. The damage was not nearly as severe as it might have been thanks to the neighbourhood fire-fighting volunteers and no shortage of pots.\\n\\nAs they walked the streets Topper told Kiska: \\\"I was surprised to sense your presence.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And I yours.\\\"\\n\\nHis gaze slid sideways to her. \\\"What, may I ask, drew you here– of all places?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"A job. All finished now. You?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"The same.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"What is it you wish to talk about, then?\\\"\\n\\nThe man studied his nails, then straightened the rings on all eight fingers. \\\"We're short personnel. Could always use an experienced hand. What say you? Ever considered teaching? The Academy at Unta perhaps? '\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She pushed the too-long fringe from her eyes while she considered. Need a damned haircut before I do anything– and a good scrubbing. \\\"I'll admit I'm interested. Have to think about it, though. Got one last errand to see to. Then I'll give you my answer. '\\n\\nTopper bowed, his smile sardonic as ever. \\\"Very good. Welcome back to the fold, Kiska.\\\" And he cutaway suddenly to walk off down aside alley. She continued on alone. Let's not get ahead of ourselves...\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe tall iron-studded doors to the Varada estate hung open. Rallick entered to find that the two usual colourfully dressed guards had been joined by a third. All three now tossed dice together, arguing and grabbing at the bouncing pieces. Seeing him, one offered a faintly disturbing grin of gold and silver capped teeth. The second gave abroad lewd wink, while the third actually blushed and bowed deeply to hide his reaction.\\n\\nStudlock met him at the door. \\\"The Mistress awaits upstairs. Perhaps you wish to freshen up before ascending? Scented oils to disguise unwelcome bodily odours? Honey for offending breath?\\\"\\n\\nRallick paused to study the man in his gauze wrappings. \\\"Ah... no... thank you.\\\" He moved to go but paused again. \\\"Is my...\\\"\\n\\nStudlock hovered close, hands raised. \\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\nRallick backed away. \\\"Never mind. Thank you.\\\"\\n\\nThe bedroom was empty, the terrace doors open. He went out and leaned against the rail to look about, but saw nothing. Then his gaze lifted to the lattices and climbing vines that rose to the tiled roof. He took hold of one and gave it a strong pull. It held.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"He found her sitting on the peak looking out across the Estate District to Majesty Hall atop its hill.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"She wore a loose armless shirt and trousers, and was barefoot. Her hair blew brushed by the wind. He sat at her side. In the distance Majesty Hall appeared no different from before. From here only the smoke rising from the ragged woods gave any sign of last night's assault.\\n\\n\\\"I'm glad you stayed away, \\\"she said.\\\"Glad you weren't taken.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You could have told me more.\\\"\\n\\nShe tilted her head, thinking, her gaze still on Majesty Hall. \\\"No. If I'd told you more you would have been tempted to try some sort of work-around and would have failed. This way all that uncertainty forced you to keep your distance. '\\n\\n\\\"If you say so.\\\"\\n\\nShe turned a smile on him. \\\"I do.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And... the girl?\\\"\\n\\nThe smile overturned into a tight scowl. \\\"Sent to her room to think things over.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Some things are the same everywhere, it seems.\\\"\\n\\nVorcan nodded her slow agreement. \\\"That is so.\\\" She glanced to him sidelong, pushing back her thick hair. \\\"And you? What of you?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"I do not need to think anything over.\\\"\\n\\nHe leaned to her and they kissed.\\n\\nShe bumped him with her bare shoulder and together they took in the view fora time. \\\"So tell me,\\\" she said, after the silence, \\\"how did he escape us? What was his last trick?\\\"\\n\\nRallick's eyes narrowed and he studied her from their very edges. He slowly shook his head. She cast him one quick look then let go a wistful sigh and rested her shoulder against his.\\n\\n\\\"Well... had to try.\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nA knock brought Barathol to the door; this time he came without any reluctance as the tapping sounded hesitant, almost respectful. He opened the door to see a worker there, a teamster. The man jerked a nod. \\\"Was hired to deliver someone to this house,\\\" the fellow said.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh?\\\"\\n\\nThe man motioned to the wagon. Someone was sitting hunched in the rear bed. A great wide figure of a man; he appeared to be studying the space between his feet.\\n\\nBarathol's breath caught in his chest and he took one hesitant step out. He approached slowly, silently, until he stood right before the big man, who caught sight of his feet and raised his gaze all the way up Barathol's figure to his eyes, and a hugely wide smile broke thereon his face and he said, \\\"Thol!\\\"\\n\\nBarathol could not answer. He reached out to gently squeeze the man's arm. Finally, he succeeded in clearing his throat to say thickly,\\\"Chaur... welcome back. '\\n\\nSmiling, nodding, the big man slipped from the wagon bed. He peered around eagerly like a child.\\n\\nThe teamster coughed. Barathol looked at him. \\\"Got another job too,\\\" the man said.\\n\\n\\\"Another?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yessir. On my way here. Was stopped by an odd little fellow. He hired me to take you out to your villa, now. If you wish.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My... villa?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yessir. East of the city, up in the hills.\\\"\\n\\nHis hand still on Chaur's shoulder, Barathol turned to the row-house to yell,\\\"Scillara! Get the lad! We're going fora ride!\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the middle of the night south of the city on the Dwelling Plain Scorch and Leff fought to secure a heavy man-sized bundle to a tripod and barrel winch setup over an open well. They knocked each other's hands aside and fought and cursed one another as they wrestled with the heavyweight.\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}},{"rowIdx":99,"cells":{"conversations":{"kind":"list like","value":[{"from":"system","value":"Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 30"},{"from":"human","value":"> Continue"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Oh?\"\n\nThe man motioned to the wagon. Someone was sitting hunched in the rear bed. A great wide figure of a man; he appeared to be studying the space between his feet.\n\nBarathol's breath caught in his chest and he took one hesitant step out. He approached slowly, silently, until he stood right before the big man, who caught sight of his feet and raised his gaze all the way up Barathol's figure to his eyes, and a hugely wide smile broke thereon his face and he said, \"Thol!\"\n\nBarathol could not answer. He reached out to gently squeeze the man's arm. Finally, he succeeded in clearing his throat to say thickly,\"Chaur... welcome back. '\n\nSmiling, nodding, the big man slipped from the wagon bed. He peered around eagerly like a child.\n\nThe teamster coughed. Barathol looked at him. \"Got another job too,\" the man said.\n\n\"Another?\"\n\n\"Yessir. On my way here. Was stopped by an odd little fellow. He hired me to take you out to your villa, now. If you wish.\"\n\n\"My... villa?\"\n\n\"Yessir. East of the city, up in the hills.\"\n\nHis hand still on Chaur's shoulder, Barathol turned to the row-house to yell,\"Scillara! Get the lad! We're going fora ride!\"\n\n*\n\nIn the middle of the night south of the city on the Dwelling Plain Scorch and Leff fought to secure a heavy man-sized bundle to a tripod and barrel winch setup over an open well. They knocked each other's hands aside and fought and cursed one another as they wrestled with the heavyweight."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Every now and then the bundle, a contorted hunchbacked man wrapped in chains and gagged, exploded in a fit of writhing fury, struggling to escape and cursing them from behind the gag. His mismatched eyes bulged and his big mangled hands clawed at the chains. \"Shut up, ya evil fiend!\" Leff yelled at the bound man. Then the two ducked and peered round nervously.\n\n\"Quiet!\" Scorch hissed.\n\n\"I am being quiet,\" Leff answered. \"You be quiet.\" He yanked on the iron hook. \"Got that on secure?\"\n\n\"\"Course! '\n\n\"Okay, so, what we do is take hold of the handles-\"\n\nScorch pointed to the barrel. \"Have to flip the latch thing first.\"\n\n\"No– you don't have to do that. You just ease off on the handles slow like... '\n\n\"No. The latch thingy has to be over.\"\n\nThe bound man suspended over the well attempted to say something as he slowly spun. He repeated it louder and more urgently.\n\n\"No– I remember succinctly how it went-\"\n\n\"Dissinctly. You mean you remember dissinctly.\"\n\n\"Don't you pick apart my language– you just know I'm right.\"\n\nThe hanging man yelled something unintelligible through his gag.\n\nScorch gave him a savage push. \"Shut the Abyss up!\"\n\nThe man swung and hit the side of the mouth of the well. The jerk shook the chain. The barrel winch rocked and the latch in its teeth slipped with a metallic ping.\n\nThe hanging figure disappeared with a hissing of rope as the barrel spun. A smothered roar echoed from the well, ending in a splash."},{"from":"human","value":"The two men had thrown themselves to the ground and now hesitantly rose to peer down into the darkness of the well."},{"from":"gpt","value":"A weak groan sounded from below. They jumped to the handles and started rewinding the winch.\n\n\"Y'know, \"began Scorch,\"maybe one of us should go down first and the other lower \"im down to him.\"\n\n\"Sounds good,\" Leff grunted, heaving on the handle. \"You go.\"\n\n\"No– you.\"\n\n\"Should be you.\"\n\n\"Why's that? '\n\n\"Your idea.\"\n\nFora time Scorch chewed on that as he worked. Finally he grunted a curse under his breath. \"I hate bein\" the idea man. '\n\n*\n\nThe Seguleh established a camp on the coast just outside the city of Callows. The curious and the just plain gawkers from the city were so many that the mayor was forced to post guards at a respectful distance around the camp simply to keep the hordes away. The mayor was just thankful that so far no one had been killed and he hoped the vessels would be readied soon, for the disruption of the Seguleh's presence to the city's daily trade and business had been crippling.\n\nOn the third day Sall approached his father, Lo, where he stood facing the calm waters of the sheltered inlet. He bowed, requesting permission to speak.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Father... I have questions about what happened in the Great Hall...\"\n\nLo slowly turned to face him more directly. \"Oh?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Sall drew a breath to steel himself. \"Would you really have led us on a charge through the Moranth and on through the city– as you claimed?\"\n\nThe tall slim man, extraordinarily slim even for the Seguleh, nodded his masked head as he considered the question. Seven hatch marks still marred the pale oval of that mask, as the First had judged that all challenges must wait until they were once more on the testing grounds at Cant. \"It was a valid option. We would have finished the Moranth then passed on unharmed through the city, avoiding their fliers. Then we could have scattered into parties of two or three. Travelling only at night we would have reached the coast relatively unharmed. There was merit there.\""},{"from":"human","value":"\"It was only chance, then, that it was the very option the First least wished to pursue."},{"from":"gpt","value":"And because of that the mask did not come to you...\"\n\nLo nodded again. \"I merely presented the choice. Choices surround us everyday, son. The testis in the choosing.\"\n\nSall's breath caught.\"He passed your test. '\n\n\"Yes. Sall, the truth of it is that once you are competent enough in your technique, or your speed is as great as it can be– then what differentiates those at the highest levels? The truth is that unquantifiable ability to read others. To enter into their skin. To be able to understand them so completely that you know what they will do before they do it themselves. A sort of complete empathy. Jan possessed that. We could not help but love him for it. Gall worshipped him. But Gall was a traditionalist and would not have followed the road Jan had chosen. And so Jan did what he had to do to ensure that the mask would not come to him. And Palla? Well, those two might as well have been husband and wife. She may never recover.\"\n\n\"And so it came to you– but you never challenged him!\"\n\nLo's voice took on an edge.\"His entire life has been his test, Sall. That is my judgement. '\n\n\"Yes, Father.\"\n\nEach was silent fora time, facing the shore where an honour guard surrounded a canopy over a wrapped body on its stretcher. They were taking the Second home for burial at Cant. Burial in the soil of their new homeland. With the body was the Unmarred, the new First. The man stood with head bowed, his mask pure and shining in whatever light touched it. And it seemed to Lo that Jan had chosen well.\n\nLo tilted his mask aside, to where Yusek trained now with a group of the lesser ranks. \"As for you... She has demonstrated endurance, spirit, speed with her blade.\" He pressed a hand to Sall's shoulder.\"Good choice, son. You have my approval. ' And the Eighth, perhaps soon to be the next Third, walked away."},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"Sall watched Yusek practising and mused, I'm sorry to say this, Father, but I don't think I know who made the choice– which, I suppose, is perhaps the way it ought to be.\n\n*\n\nOn a hill of black stone on the shore of the glimmering Vitr sea, Leoman sat with the hulking soot-black figure of Maker.\n\n\"... and so after Lammala was Seuthess– or was it Cora? I'm not certain. In any case, Seuthess... now there was a beauty. And didn't she know it. Full of herself, she was. We fought like cat and dog.\"\n\nAnd Maker nodded his boulder-like head, a hand on his chin. \"So– these many women– this is how things work among you humans...\"\n\n\"No, no, no!\" Leoman waved his hands. \"That's what I'm tryin\" to make you understand. It's very unusual. Why, I'm one in a thousand, I am. They just can't stay away from me. Like a curse, it is. They just can't help it. '\n\nMaker turned his head and gestured. \"Indeed. You speak the truth, Leoman...\"\n\nLeoman leaned back to see a familiar figure all in dark clothes walking up. Her long black hair blew lightly in the thin wind off the Vitr sea and she strode with her hands tucked into her belt behind her back, her head cocked slightly as if to say: well, well... look who's here.\n\n\"By the Seven Holies...\" He climbed to his feet, dusted off his grimed robes. He set a hand on Maker's shoulder and gave him a wink and a grin.\"You see? It's all in the moustache, friend. All in the moustache.\" He went to meet Kiska."},{"from":"human","value":"> Next"},{"from":"gpt","value":"*\n\nIn his dream the short rotund man was drawn where he'd hoped he'd never need be drawn again. Out of the shaken, but recovering city. Out past the shacks leaning as they did against its too-short walls, to the road that curved southwards leading to endless plain upon endless beckoning plain. And hereto be waylaid into the stuttering light of a small fire in the dark next to a river where a single figure awaited.\n\nAnd this figure! Dire and dark. Hooded and hunched. Oh dear!\n\nKruppe sat to pull on his thin rat-tail beard. \"Kruppe admits to some trepidation. He believed himself free of mysterious lurkers at fires. To what does he owe this visitation?\"\n\nThe figure waved a hand– and a youthful fit-looking hand at that. \"Merely asocial call, friend Kruppe. If I may call you that. No need for alarm.\"\n\n\"Kruppe is reassured, he assures you. It is not in the least alarming that his social calls should now take the form of hooded figures in his dreams. He is positively cheered.\"\n\n\"You should be. I am hereto thank you– and to introduce myself.\" The figure pulled back the hood to reveal a tanned sharp-featured face, along blade of a nose, and hanging silvered dark hair.\n\nKruppe's brows rose.\"Fearsome High Mage Tayschrenn! I am... surprised. Are my dreams privy to everyone? '\n\nTayschrenn shook his head. \"You need no longer play the innocent with me.\"\n\n\"Nay! Kruppe must be Kruppe! But what of... the other... may Kruppe ask?\"\n\n\"Still with me. I have much to learn yet. These things can take centuries.\""},{"from":"human","value":"> Keep going"},{"from":"gpt","value":"\"Ah... Why, of course! Kruppe is no stranger to such things!\"\n\nThe man warmed his hands at the fire. Yet a man no longer. Near force of nature now! \"And that name,\" he began after a time. \"Old names must pass away.\"\n\n\"Absolutely– was about to suggest that selfsame thing. How then, pray, shall you be called upon?\"\n\nThe figure studied the fire, thinking. In his dark eyes the twinned flames danced just as brightly. Reaching a decision he crooked an amused smile and shifted those eyes to Kruppe. \"You may call me T'renn. '"}],"string":"[\n {\n \"from\": \"system\",\n \"value\": \"Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\\nChapter: 30\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Continue\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Oh?\\\"\\n\\nThe man motioned to the wagon. Someone was sitting hunched in the rear bed. A great wide figure of a man; he appeared to be studying the space between his feet.\\n\\nBarathol's breath caught in his chest and he took one hesitant step out. He approached slowly, silently, until he stood right before the big man, who caught sight of his feet and raised his gaze all the way up Barathol's figure to his eyes, and a hugely wide smile broke thereon his face and he said, \\\"Thol!\\\"\\n\\nBarathol could not answer. He reached out to gently squeeze the man's arm. Finally, he succeeded in clearing his throat to say thickly,\\\"Chaur... welcome back. '\\n\\nSmiling, nodding, the big man slipped from the wagon bed. He peered around eagerly like a child.\\n\\nThe teamster coughed. Barathol looked at him. \\\"Got another job too,\\\" the man said.\\n\\n\\\"Another?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yessir. On my way here. Was stopped by an odd little fellow. He hired me to take you out to your villa, now. If you wish.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"My... villa?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yessir. East of the city, up in the hills.\\\"\\n\\nHis hand still on Chaur's shoulder, Barathol turned to the row-house to yell,\\\"Scillara! Get the lad! We're going fora ride!\\\"\\n\\n*\\n\\nIn the middle of the night south of the city on the Dwelling Plain Scorch and Leff fought to secure a heavy man-sized bundle to a tripod and barrel winch setup over an open well. They knocked each other's hands aside and fought and cursed one another as they wrestled with the heavyweight.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Every now and then the bundle, a contorted hunchbacked man wrapped in chains and gagged, exploded in a fit of writhing fury, struggling to escape and cursing them from behind the gag. His mismatched eyes bulged and his big mangled hands clawed at the chains. \\\"Shut up, ya evil fiend!\\\" Leff yelled at the bound man. Then the two ducked and peered round nervously.\\n\\n\\\"Quiet!\\\" Scorch hissed.\\n\\n\\\"I am being quiet,\\\" Leff answered. \\\"You be quiet.\\\" He yanked on the iron hook. \\\"Got that on secure?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"\\\"Course! '\\n\\n\\\"Okay, so, what we do is take hold of the handles-\\\"\\n\\nScorch pointed to the barrel. \\\"Have to flip the latch thing first.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No– you don't have to do that. You just ease off on the handles slow like... '\\n\\n\\\"No. The latch thingy has to be over.\\\"\\n\\nThe bound man suspended over the well attempted to say something as he slowly spun. He repeated it louder and more urgently.\\n\\n\\\"No– I remember succinctly how it went-\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Dissinctly. You mean you remember dissinctly.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Don't you pick apart my language– you just know I'm right.\\\"\\n\\nThe hanging man yelled something unintelligible through his gag.\\n\\nScorch gave him a savage push. \\\"Shut the Abyss up!\\\"\\n\\nThe man swung and hit the side of the mouth of the well. The jerk shook the chain. The barrel winch rocked and the latch in its teeth slipped with a metallic ping.\\n\\nThe hanging figure disappeared with a hissing of rope as the barrel spun. A smothered roar echoed from the well, ending in a splash.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"The two men had thrown themselves to the ground and now hesitantly rose to peer down into the darkness of the well.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"A weak groan sounded from below. They jumped to the handles and started rewinding the winch.\\n\\n\\\"Y'know, \\\"began Scorch,\\\"maybe one of us should go down first and the other lower \\\"im down to him.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Sounds good,\\\" Leff grunted, heaving on the handle. \\\"You go.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No– you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Should be you.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Why's that? '\\n\\n\\\"Your idea.\\\"\\n\\nFora time Scorch chewed on that as he worked. Finally he grunted a curse under his breath. \\\"I hate bein\\\" the idea man. '\\n\\n*\\n\\nThe Seguleh established a camp on the coast just outside the city of Callows. The curious and the just plain gawkers from the city were so many that the mayor was forced to post guards at a respectful distance around the camp simply to keep the hordes away. The mayor was just thankful that so far no one had been killed and he hoped the vessels would be readied soon, for the disruption of the Seguleh's presence to the city's daily trade and business had been crippling.\\n\\nOn the third day Sall approached his father, Lo, where he stood facing the calm waters of the sheltered inlet. He bowed, requesting permission to speak.\\n\\n\\\"Yes?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Father... I have questions about what happened in the Great Hall...\\\"\\n\\nLo slowly turned to face him more directly. \\\"Oh?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Yes.\\\" Sall drew a breath to steel himself. \\\"Would you really have led us on a charge through the Moranth and on through the city– as you claimed?\\\"\\n\\nThe tall slim man, extraordinarily slim even for the Seguleh, nodded his masked head as he considered the question. Seven hatch marks still marred the pale oval of that mask, as the First had judged that all challenges must wait until they were once more on the testing grounds at Cant. \\\"It was a valid option. We would have finished the Moranth then passed on unharmed through the city, avoiding their fliers. Then we could have scattered into parties of two or three. Travelling only at night we would have reached the coast relatively unharmed. There was merit there.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"It was only chance, then, that it was the very option the First least wished to pursue.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"And because of that the mask did not come to you...\\\"\\n\\nLo nodded again. \\\"I merely presented the choice. Choices surround us everyday, son. The testis in the choosing.\\\"\\n\\nSall's breath caught.\\\"He passed your test. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes. Sall, the truth of it is that once you are competent enough in your technique, or your speed is as great as it can be– then what differentiates those at the highest levels? The truth is that unquantifiable ability to read others. To enter into their skin. To be able to understand them so completely that you know what they will do before they do it themselves. A sort of complete empathy. Jan possessed that. We could not help but love him for it. Gall worshipped him. But Gall was a traditionalist and would not have followed the road Jan had chosen. And so Jan did what he had to do to ensure that the mask would not come to him. And Palla? Well, those two might as well have been husband and wife. She may never recover.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"And so it came to you– but you never challenged him!\\\"\\n\\nLo's voice took on an edge.\\\"His entire life has been his test, Sall. That is my judgement. '\\n\\n\\\"Yes, Father.\\\"\\n\\nEach was silent fora time, facing the shore where an honour guard surrounded a canopy over a wrapped body on its stretcher. They were taking the Second home for burial at Cant. Burial in the soil of their new homeland. With the body was the Unmarred, the new First. The man stood with head bowed, his mask pure and shining in whatever light touched it. And it seemed to Lo that Jan had chosen well.\\n\\nLo tilted his mask aside, to where Yusek trained now with a group of the lesser ranks. \\\"As for you... She has demonstrated endurance, spirit, speed with her blade.\\\" He pressed a hand to Sall's shoulder.\\\"Good choice, son. You have my approval. ' And the Eighth, perhaps soon to be the next Third, walked away.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"Sall watched Yusek practising and mused, I'm sorry to say this, Father, but I don't think I know who made the choice– which, I suppose, is perhaps the way it ought to be.\\n\\n*\\n\\nOn a hill of black stone on the shore of the glimmering Vitr sea, Leoman sat with the hulking soot-black figure of Maker.\\n\\n\\\"... and so after Lammala was Seuthess– or was it Cora? I'm not certain. In any case, Seuthess... now there was a beauty. And didn't she know it. Full of herself, she was. We fought like cat and dog.\\\"\\n\\nAnd Maker nodded his boulder-like head, a hand on his chin. \\\"So– these many women– this is how things work among you humans...\\\"\\n\\n\\\"No, no, no!\\\" Leoman waved his hands. \\\"That's what I'm tryin\\\" to make you understand. It's very unusual. Why, I'm one in a thousand, I am. They just can't stay away from me. Like a curse, it is. They just can't help it. '\\n\\nMaker turned his head and gestured. \\\"Indeed. You speak the truth, Leoman...\\\"\\n\\nLeoman leaned back to see a familiar figure all in dark clothes walking up. Her long black hair blew lightly in the thin wind off the Vitr sea and she strode with her hands tucked into her belt behind her back, her head cocked slightly as if to say: well, well... look who's here.\\n\\n\\\"By the Seven Holies...\\\" He climbed to his feet, dusted off his grimed robes. He set a hand on Maker's shoulder and gave him a wink and a grin.\\\"You see? It's all in the moustache, friend. All in the moustache.\\\" He went to meet Kiska.\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Next\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"*\\n\\nIn his dream the short rotund man was drawn where he'd hoped he'd never need be drawn again. Out of the shaken, but recovering city. Out past the shacks leaning as they did against its too-short walls, to the road that curved southwards leading to endless plain upon endless beckoning plain. And hereto be waylaid into the stuttering light of a small fire in the dark next to a river where a single figure awaited.\\n\\nAnd this figure! Dire and dark. Hooded and hunched. Oh dear!\\n\\nKruppe sat to pull on his thin rat-tail beard. \\\"Kruppe admits to some trepidation. He believed himself free of mysterious lurkers at fires. To what does he owe this visitation?\\\"\\n\\nThe figure waved a hand– and a youthful fit-looking hand at that. \\\"Merely asocial call, friend Kruppe. If I may call you that. No need for alarm.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Kruppe is reassured, he assures you. It is not in the least alarming that his social calls should now take the form of hooded figures in his dreams. He is positively cheered.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"You should be. I am hereto thank you– and to introduce myself.\\\" The figure pulled back the hood to reveal a tanned sharp-featured face, along blade of a nose, and hanging silvered dark hair.\\n\\nKruppe's brows rose.\\\"Fearsome High Mage Tayschrenn! I am... surprised. Are my dreams privy to everyone? '\\n\\nTayschrenn shook his head. \\\"You need no longer play the innocent with me.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Nay! Kruppe must be Kruppe! But what of... the other... may Kruppe ask?\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Still with me. I have much to learn yet. These things can take centuries.\\\"\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"human\",\n \"value\": \"> Keep going\"\n },\n {\n \"from\": \"gpt\",\n \"value\": \"\\\"Ah... Why, of course! Kruppe is no stranger to such things!\\\"\\n\\nThe man warmed his hands at the fire. Yet a man no longer. Near force of nature now! \\\"And that name,\\\" he began after a time. \\\"Old names must pass away.\\\"\\n\\n\\\"Absolutely– was about to suggest that selfsame thing. How then, pray, shall you be called upon?\\\"\\n\\nThe figure studied the fire, thinking. In his dark eyes the twinned flames danced just as brightly. Reaching a decision he crooked an amused smile and shifted those eyes to Kruppe. \\\"You may call me T'renn. '\"\n }\n]","isConversational":true}}}],"truncated":false,"partial":false},"paginationData":{"pageIndex":0,"numItemsPerPage":100,"numTotalItems":2863,"offset":0,"length":100}},"jwt":"eyJhbGciOiJFZERTQSJ9.eyJyZWFkIjp0cnVlLCJwZXJtaXNzaW9ucyI6eyJyZXBvLmNvbnRlbnQucmVhZCI6dHJ1ZX0sImlhdCI6MTc3MzQyMTMxMSwic3ViIjoiL2RhdGFzZXRzL0RlbHRhLVZlY3Rvci9Pcmlvbi1QcmF4aXMtQ28tV3JpdGVyIiwiZXhwIjoxNzczNDI0OTExLCJpc3MiOiJodHRwczovL2h1Z2dpbmdmYWNlLmNvIn0.17MkP2yBq40bizD9dJbMEIXuvBXI1FtnANbrvTws7NfljO5UsJqFWiIQQylvrDtdplRvfx1N-rfqp1YZHI1PBA","displayUrls":true,"splitSizeSummaries":[{"config":"default","split":"train","numRows":2863,"numBytesParquet":103776793}]},"discussionsStats":{"closed":1,"open":0,"total":1},"fullWidth":true,"hasGatedAccess":true,"hasFullAccess":true,"isEmbedded":false,"savedQueries":{"community":[],"user":[]}}">
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"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: sci-fi, dystopian, dark humor, societal critique, human nature\nAuthor: Phil Elwood\nTitle: All the Worst Humans\nChapter: 3"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"va... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's co-author, extend the plot.\nTags: sci-fi, dystopian, dark humor, societal critique, human nature\nAuthor: Phil Elwood\nTitle: All the Worst Humans\nChapter: 9"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"It could throw sand in their gears,\" my manager says."... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the story as the author's writing assistant.\nTags: sci-fi, dystopian, dark humor, societal critique, human nature\nAuthor: Phil Elwood\nTitle: All the Worst Humans\nChapter: 13"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"va... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 7"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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"... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 9"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"value... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 11"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"valu... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gpt",
"value"... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Help keep the tale going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 17"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "The... |
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{
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"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 20"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"value": "... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Serve as the author's scribe, continue the tale.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 22"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 25"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"valu... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: fantasy, historical, mythology, Atlantis, reincarnation\nAuthor: Marion Zimmer Bradley\nTitle: Ancestors of Avalon\nChapter: 27"
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"from": "human",
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"value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 0"
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"from": "human",
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... |
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"value": "Continue the tale as the plot helper for the writer.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 1"
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "Heboric sai... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 3"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Apt spoke i... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 4"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "For all that... |
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"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 5"
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"from": "human",
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"from": "gpt",
"value": "A small wound, nau... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author by keeping the plot going.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 13"
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"from": "human",
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"value": "Icarium, a mixe... |
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"value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: epic fantasy, war, sacrifice, journey, rebellion\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Deadhouse Gates\nChapter: 19"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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"value": "\"He's–... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the story as the writer's narrative assistant.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 11"
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"from": "human",
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... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-writing with the writer, continue the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 13"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"f... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's helper, keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 15"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 16"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 17"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from": "gp... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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"from... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's narrative assistant, advance the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 20"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"f... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 21"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 23"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's assistant, please continue the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 25"
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"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
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... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling and proceed with the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 28"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 31"
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"from": "human",
"value": "\"And I saw something else."
}... |
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"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 31"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 36"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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"from": "gpt"... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 36"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
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{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 37"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
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{
"from": "gp... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 38"
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"from": "human",
"value": "He caught... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: epic fantasy, complex plot, multiple characters, dark themes, intricate world-building\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Dust of Dreams\nChapter: 39"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Co-write with the author and continue the story.\nTags: urban fantasy, detective, werewolves, magic, action\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Fool Moon\nChapter: 36"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The weird thing was... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: techno-thriller, AI, revolution, cyber warfare, dystopian\nAuthor: Daniel Suarez\nTitle: Freedom\nChapter: 45"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 4"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
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{
"from": "gpt",
"v... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 9"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "Areal-world version of this experiment was performed in 18... |
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{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 11"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "PRE... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "So you'd ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 15"
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{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "When a physical proce... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping the author, keep the tale going.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 19"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "BLACK HOL... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Partnering with the author, carry on with the tale.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: science, cosmology, time, entropy, theoretical physics\nAuthor: Sean Carroll\nTitle: From Eternity to Here\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Even if we do allow ourselves to contemplate the possibilit... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: urban fantasy, detective, ghosts, magic, action\nAuthor: Jim Butcher\nTitle: Grave Peril\nChapter: 37"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Come along, sister,\" K... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's assistant, please continue the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 7"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt",... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 9"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Delum turned to face Bairoth."
},
{
"from":... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value":... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 11"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"What ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's helper, keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 15"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "F... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Scribe for the author and continue the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Sh... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"v... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's assistant, please continue the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "And all of it was aswarm in ants."
},
{... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The Tiste Edur scowled, then nodded."
},
{
"fr... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the narrative as the plot partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 23"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value":... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Extend the plot as the writer's co-author.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I think not."
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer, proceed with the storyline.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 29"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 31"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"v... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer, proceed with the storyline.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 33"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the author's co-writer, advance the plot.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 35"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborating with the writer, advance the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 36"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, character study, power struggles, resilience, destiny\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: House of Chains\nChapter: 37"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Some... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Advance the storyline as the writer's tale partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Antsy's red face paled.\""
},
{
"from... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Carry on with the plot as the author's writing partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 14"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate on the narrative and advance it.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Keep the narrative going for the author.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "\"Y... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward in your role as narrative aide.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 21"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"f... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Partner with the writer, carry on with the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"val... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Scribe for the author and continue the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, alliance, ancient threats, camaraderie, tragic events\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Memories of Ice\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"I did, Anaster."
},
{
"from": "... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot in your role as storytelling partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 3"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Start Chapter"
},
{
"from": "gpt... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 6"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 9"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Collaborate with the author and advance the plot.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 11"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value":... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "As the writer's tale assistant, advance the plot.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value":... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 20"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": ... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Aid the author, keep the plot going.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 21"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "The warrior al... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer by carrying on with the story.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 22"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "\"Because you ain't blind, Seren Pedac."
},
{
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist in storytelling, proceed with the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 28"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "R... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help to continue the narrative for the writer.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 31"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "The west gate was open and unguarded."
},
{
"f... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Help the author by continuing the tale.\nTags: epic fantasy, new characters, commerce, betrayal, cultural clash\nAuthor: Steven Erikson\nTitle: Midnight Tides\nChapter: 32"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "Tehol g... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In partnership with the author, move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 5"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from":... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 7"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the story forward as the writer's assistant.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 8"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist with the plot and keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 10"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Outside the hall, Fist K'ess turned to the... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take on the role of the writer's aide and proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 11"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Move the narrative forward in collaboration with the writer.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 13"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "They had found Tayschrenn."
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Assist the writer, move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 14"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"va... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Work to move the story forward.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 17"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
"value": "He l... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Take the role of the writer's aide, proceed with the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 18"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Next"
},
{
"fro... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "In your capacity as the author's assistant, extend the narrative.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 21"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Proceed with the plot as the storytelling partner.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 23"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Proceed"
},
{
"from": "gpt",... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Continue the tale as the writer's plot helper.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 26"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Keep going"
},
{
"from": "gpt",
... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Helping with the plot, keep the story going.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 27"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "Ashe passed through the ranks some reached o... |
[
{
"from": "system",
"value": "Support the writer by proceeding with the storyline.\nTags: epic fantasy, ancient city, magic, power dynamics, hidden secrets\nAuthor: Ian Cameron Esslemont\nTitle: Orb Sceptre Throne\nChapter: 30"
},
{
"from": "human",
"value": "> Continue"
},
{
"from": "gp... |
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