Read Online A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1 by Steven Erikson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Erikson
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Paran's boots as he strode to the long dining table. Cats bolted across the floor, scattering at his approach. He unclasped his travelling cloak, tossed it across the back of a chair, then sat at a longbench and leaned his back against the panelled wall. He closed his eyes.
A few minutes passed, then a woman's voice spoke. 'I thought you were in Itko Kan.'
He opened his eyes. His sister Tavore, a year younger than him, stood close to the head of the table, one hand on the back of their father's chair. She was as plain as ever, a slash of bloodless lines comprising her features, her reddish hair trimmed shorter than was the style. She was taller than the last time he'd seen her, nearly his own height, no longer the awkward child. Her expression revealed nothing as she studied him.
'Reassignment,' Paran said.
'To here? We would have heard.'
Ah, yes, you would have, wouldn't you? AM the sly whisperings among the connected families.
'Unplanned,' he conceded, 'but done nevertheless. Not stationed here in Unta, though. My visit is only a few days.'
'Have you been promoted?'
He smiled. 'Is the investment about to reap coin? Reluctant as it was, we still must think in terms of potential influence, mustn't we?'
'Managing this family's position is no longer your responsibility, brother.'
'Ah, it's yours now, then? Has Father withdrawn from the daily chores?'
'Slowly. His health is failing. Had you asked, even in Itko Kan...'
He sighed. 'Still making up for me, Tavore? Assuming the burden of my failings? I hardly left here on a carpet of petals, you may recall. In any case, I always assumed the house affairs would fall into capable hands ...'
Her pale eyes narrowed, but pride silenced the obvious question.
He asked, 'And how is Felisin?'
'At her studies. She's not heard of your return. She will be very excited, then crushed to hear of the shortness of your visit.'
'Is she your rival now, Tavore?'
His sister snorted, turning away. 'Felisin? She's too soft for this world, brother. For any world, I think. She's not changed. She'll be happy to see you.'
He watched her stiff back as she left the hall.
He smelled of sweat – his own and the mare's – travel and grime, and of something else as well... Old blood and old fear. Paran looked around. Much smaller than I remembered.
CHAPTER TWO
With the coming of the Moranth
the tide turned.
And like ships in a harbour
the Free Cities were swept under
Imperial seas.
The war entered its twelfth year,
the Year of the Shattered Moon
and its sudden spawn
of deathly rain and
black-winged promise.
Two cities remained to contest
the Malazan onslaught.
One stalwart, proud banners
beneath Dark's powerful wing.
The other divided –
- without an army,
bereft of allies –
The strong city fell first.
Call to Shadow
Felisin (b.1146)
1163rd Year of Burn's Sleep (two years later)
105th. Year of the Malazan Empire
9th Year of Empress Laseen's Rule
Through the pallor of smoke ravens wheeled. Their calls raised a shrill chorus above the cries of wounded and dying soldiers. The stench of seared flesh hung un moving in the haze.
On the third hill overlooking the fallen city of Pale, Tattersail stood alone. Scattered around the sorceress the curled remains of burnt armour – greaves, breastplates, helms and weapons – lay heaped in piles. An hour earlier there had been men and women wearing that armour, but of them there was no sign. The silence within those empty shells rang like a dirge in Tattersail's head.
Her arms were crossed, tight against her chest. The burgundy cloak with its silver emblem betokening her command of the 2nd Army's wizard cadre now hung from her round shoulders stained and scorched. Her oval, fleshy face, usually parading an expression of cherubic humour, was etched with deep-shadowed lines, leaving her cheeks flaccid and pale.
For all the smells and sounds surrounding Tattersail, she found herself listening to a deeper silence. In some ways it came from the
A few minutes passed, then a woman's voice spoke. 'I thought you were in Itko Kan.'
He opened his eyes. His sister Tavore, a year younger than him, stood close to the head of the table, one hand on the back of their father's chair. She was as plain as ever, a slash of bloodless lines comprising her features, her reddish hair trimmed shorter than was the style. She was taller than the last time he'd seen her, nearly his own height, no longer the awkward child. Her expression revealed nothing as she studied him.
'Reassignment,' Paran said.
'To here? We would have heard.'
Ah, yes, you would have, wouldn't you? AM the sly whisperings among the connected families.
'Unplanned,' he conceded, 'but done nevertheless. Not stationed here in Unta, though. My visit is only a few days.'
'Have you been promoted?'
He smiled. 'Is the investment about to reap coin? Reluctant as it was, we still must think in terms of potential influence, mustn't we?'
'Managing this family's position is no longer your responsibility, brother.'
'Ah, it's yours now, then? Has Father withdrawn from the daily chores?'
'Slowly. His health is failing. Had you asked, even in Itko Kan...'
He sighed. 'Still making up for me, Tavore? Assuming the burden of my failings? I hardly left here on a carpet of petals, you may recall. In any case, I always assumed the house affairs would fall into capable hands ...'
Her pale eyes narrowed, but pride silenced the obvious question.
He asked, 'And how is Felisin?'
'At her studies. She's not heard of your return. She will be very excited, then crushed to hear of the shortness of your visit.'
'Is she your rival now, Tavore?'
His sister snorted, turning away. 'Felisin? She's too soft for this world, brother. For any world, I think. She's not changed. She'll be happy to see you.'
He watched her stiff back as she left the hall.
He smelled of sweat – his own and the mare's – travel and grime, and of something else as well... Old blood and old fear. Paran looked around. Much smaller than I remembered.
CHAPTER TWO
With the coming of the Moranth
the tide turned.
And like ships in a harbour
the Free Cities were swept under
Imperial seas.
The war entered its twelfth year,
the Year of the Shattered Moon
and its sudden spawn
of deathly rain and
black-winged promise.
Two cities remained to contest
the Malazan onslaught.
One stalwart, proud banners
beneath Dark's powerful wing.
The other divided –
- without an army,
bereft of allies –
The strong city fell first.
Call to Shadow
Felisin (b.1146)
1163rd Year of Burn's Sleep (two years later)
105th. Year of the Malazan Empire
9th Year of Empress Laseen's Rule
Through the pallor of smoke ravens wheeled. Their calls raised a shrill chorus above the cries of wounded and dying soldiers. The stench of seared flesh hung un moving in the haze.
On the third hill overlooking the fallen city of Pale, Tattersail stood alone. Scattered around the sorceress the curled remains of burnt armour – greaves, breastplates, helms and weapons – lay heaped in piles. An hour earlier there had been men and women wearing that armour, but of them there was no sign. The silence within those empty shells rang like a dirge in Tattersail's head.
Her arms were crossed, tight against her chest. The burgundy cloak with its silver emblem betokening her command of the 2nd Army's wizard cadre now hung from her round shoulders stained and scorched. Her oval, fleshy face, usually parading an expression of cherubic humour, was etched with deep-shadowed lines, leaving her cheeks flaccid and pale.
For all the smells and sounds surrounding Tattersail, she found herself listening to a deeper silence. In some ways it came from the
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