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He lifted his gaze. Monok Ochem stood before him. ‘Yes, Bonecaster. I am closed to you. Do you doubt me?’
‘I would know your thoughts.’
‘They are… insubstantial.’
Monok Ochem cocked his head. ‘None the less.’
Onrack was silent for a long moment. ‘Bonecaster. I remain bound to your path.’
‘Yet you are severed.’
‘The renegade kin must be found. They are our… shadows. I now stand between you and them, and so I can guide you. I now know where to look, the signs to seek. Destroy me and you shall lose an advantage in your hunt.’
‘You bargain for… persistence?’
‘I do, Bonecaster.’
‘Tell us, then, the path the renegades have taken.’
‘I shall… when it becomes relevant.’
‘Now.’
‘No.’
Monok Ochem stared down at the warrior, then swung away and returned to the circle.
Tellann commanded that place now. Tundra flowers had erupted from the mud, along with lichen and mosses. Blackflies swarmed at ankle height. A dozen paces beyond stood the four Tiste Liosan, their enamel armour glowing in the strange magenta light.
Trull Sengar watched from a position fifteen paces to Onrack’s left, his arms tightly crossed about himself, a haunted expression on his lean face.
Monok Ochem approached the seneschal. ‘We are ready, Liosan.’
Jorrude nodded. ‘Then I shall begin my prayers, Undead Priest. And there shall be proof that our Master, Osric, is far from lost to us. You shall know his power.’
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He lifted his gaze. Monok Ochem stood before him. ‘Yes, Bonecaster. I am closed to you. Do you doubt me?’
‘I would know your thoughts.’
‘They are… insubstantial.’
Monok Ochem cocked his head. ‘None the less.’
Onrack was silent for a long moment. ‘Bonecaster. I remain bound to your path.’
‘Yet you are severed.’
‘The renegade kin must be found. They are our… shadows. I now stand between you and them, and so I can guide you. I now know where to look, the signs to seek. Destroy me and you shall lose an advantage in your hunt.’
‘You bargain for… persistence?’
‘I do, Bonecaster.’
‘Tell us, then, the path the renegades have taken.’
‘I shall… when it becomes relevant.’
‘Now.’
‘No.’
Monok Ochem stared down at the warrior, then swung away and returned to the circle.
Tellann commanded that place now. Tundra flowers had erupted from the mud, along with lichen and mosses. Blackflies swarmed at ankle height. A dozen paces beyond stood the four Tiste Liosan, their enamel armour glowing in the strange magenta light.
Trull Sengar watched from a position fifteen paces to Onrack’s left, his arms tightly crossed about himself, a haunted expression on his lean face.
Monok Ochem approached the seneschal. ‘We are ready, Liosan.’
Jorrude nodded. ‘Then I shall begin my prayers, Undead Priest. And there shall be proof that our Master, Osric, is far from lost to us. You shall know his power.’
The bonecaster said nothing.
‘And when,’ Trull asked, ‘shall I start spraying blood around? Which one of you has the pleasure of wounding me?’
‘The choice is yours,’ Monok Ochem replied.
‘Good. I choose Onrack-he’s the only one here I’m prepared to trust. Apologies to those of you who might take offence at that.’
‘That task should be mine,’ Seneschal Jorrude said. ‘Blood lies at the heart of Osric’s power-’
Onrack was alone noting the slight start from the bonecaster at that, and the warrior nodded to himself. Much answered with those words. ‘-and indeed,’ Jorrude continued, ‘I shall have to spill some of my own as well.’
But Trull Sengar shook his head. ‘No. Onrack… or no-one.’ And he then uncrossed his arms, revealing a clay ball in each hand.
There was a snort from Jorrude, and the Liosan named Enias growled, ‘Grant me leave to kill him, Seneschal. I shall ensure that there is no shortage of Edur blood.’
‘Do so, and I guarantee the same lack of shortage,’ Trull responded, ‘concerning Liosan blood. Bonecaster, do you recognize these munitions?’
‘They are known by the Malazans as cussers,’ answered Ibra Gholan, the clan leader. ‘One will suffice, given our collective proximities.’
Trull grinned over at the T’lan Imass warrior. ‘Even that dhenrabi skin on your shoulders won’t help much, will it?’
‘True,’ Ibra Gholan replied. ‘While armour is not entirely ineffectual, such value invariably proves wanting.’
Monok Ochem turned to the seneschal. ‘Agree to the stipulation,’ he said. ‘Begin your prayers, Liosan.’
‘Such commands are not for you to utter,’ Jorrude snarled. He glared at Trull. ‘You, Edur, have much to learn. We shall create this gate, and then there will come a reckoning.’
Trull Sengar shrugged. ‘As you like.’
Adjusting his bloodstained cloak, the seneschal strode into the centre of the circle. Then he lowered himself onto his knees, chin settling onto his chest, closing his gleaming, silver eyes.
Blackflies formed a humming cloud around him. Whatever link existed between Jorrude and his god proved both strong and swift. Gold fire flickered into life here and there beyond the circumference of the circle. The remaining three Tiste Liosan returned to their own camp and began packing.
Monok Ochem strode into the circle, followed by the two clansmen Haran Epal and Olar Shayn. The clan leader faced Onrack and said, ‘Guard your companion close, if you would he survive. Cleave to that singular concern, Onrack. No matter what you might witness.’
‘I shall,’ Onrack replied. In many essential matters, the warrior realized, he had no need for a binding of souls with his kin… to know their minds. He strode to Trull Sengar. ‘Follow me,’ he instructed. ‘We must now enter the circle.’
The Tiste Edur scowled, then nodded. ‘Take the box of munitions, then. My hands are full.’
