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‘Surely you do not suspect either of them of being part of the conspiracy.’
‘No, but I am coming to believe that other forces are at play here. We are at the heart of a convergence, Chosen One, and not just between us and the Malazans.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Ghost Hands is not as he once was. He is a priest once more.’
Sha’ik’s brows lifted in frank disbelief. ‘Fener is gone, Bidithal-’
‘Not Fener. But consider this. The god of war has been dethroned. And another has risen in its place, as necessity demanded. The Tiger of Summer, who was once the First Hero, Treach. A Soletaken of the First Empire… now a god. His need will be great, Chosen One, for mortal champions and avatars, to aid him in establishing the role he would assume. A Mortal Sword, a Shield Anvil, a Destriant-all of the ancient titles… and the powers the god invests in them.’
‘Ghost Hands would never accept a god other than Fener,’ Sha’ik asserted. ‘Nor, I imagine, would a god be foolish enough to embrace him in turn. You know little of his past, Bidithal. He is not a pious man. He has committed… crimes-’
‘None the less, Chosen One. The Tiger of Summer has made his choice.’
‘As what?’
Bidithal shrugged. ‘What else could he be but Destriant.’
‘What proof have you of this extraordinary transformation?’
‘He hides well… but not well enough, Chosen One.’
Sha’ik was silent for a long moment, then she replied with a shrug of her own. ‘Destriant to the new god of war. Why wouldn’t he be here? We are at war, after all. I will think of this… development, Bidithal. At the moment, however, I cannot-assuming it is true-see its relevance.’
‘Perhaps, Chosen One, the most significant relevance is also the simplest one: Ghost Hands is not the broken, useless man he once was. And, given his… ambivalence to our cause, he presents us with a potential threat-’
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‘Surely you do not suspect either of them of being part of the conspiracy.’
‘No, but I am coming to believe that other forces are at play here. We are at the heart of a convergence, Chosen One, and not just between us and the Malazans.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Ghost Hands is not as he once was. He is a priest once more.’
Sha’ik’s brows lifted in frank disbelief. ‘Fener is gone, Bidithal-’
‘Not Fener. But consider this. The god of war has been dethroned. And another has risen in its place, as necessity demanded. The Tiger of Summer, who was once the First Hero, Treach. A Soletaken of the First Empire… now a god. His need will be great, Chosen One, for mortal champions and avatars, to aid him in establishing the role he would assume. A Mortal Sword, a Shield Anvil, a Destriant-all of the ancient titles… and the powers the god invests in them.’
‘Ghost Hands would never accept a god other than Fener,’ Sha’ik asserted. ‘Nor, I imagine, would a god be foolish enough to embrace him in turn. You know little of his past, Bidithal. He is not a pious man. He has committed… crimes-’
‘None the less, Chosen One. The Tiger of Summer has made his choice.’
‘As what?’
Bidithal shrugged. ‘What else could he be but Destriant.’
‘What proof have you of this extraordinary transformation?’
‘He hides well… but not well enough, Chosen One.’
Sha’ik was silent for a long moment, then she replied with a shrug of her own. ‘Destriant to the new god of war. Why wouldn’t he be here? We are at war, after all. I will think of this… development, Bidithal. At the moment, however, I cannot-assuming it is true-see its relevance.’
‘Perhaps, Chosen One, the most significant relevance is also the simplest one: Ghost Hands is not the broken, useless man he once was. And, given his… ambivalence to our cause, he presents us with a potential threat-’
‘I think not,’ Sha’ik said. ‘But, as I said, I will give it some thought. Now, your vast web of suspicions has snared L’oric as well? Why?’
‘He has been more elusive of late than is usual, Chosen One. His efforts to disguise his comings and goings have become somewhat extreme.’
‘Perhaps he grows weary of your incessant spying, Bidithal.’
‘Perhaps, though I am certain he remains unaware that the one ever seeking to maintain an eye on his activities is indeed me. Febryl and the Napan have their own spies, after all. I am not alone in my interests. They fear L’oric, for he has rebuffed their every approach-’
‘It pleases me to hear that, Bidithal. Call off your shadows, regarding L’oric. And that is a command. You better serve the Whirlwind’s interests in concentrating on Febryl, Korbolo Dom and Kamist Reloe.’
He bowed slightly. ‘Very well, Chosen One.’
Sha’ik studied the old man. ‘Be careful, Bidithal.’
She saw him pale slightly, then he nodded. ‘I am ever that, Chosen One.’
A slight wave of her hand dismissed him.
Bidithal bowed once more, then, gripping his walking stick, he hobbled from the chamber. Out through the intervening chambers, past a dozen of Mathok’s silent desert warriors, then out, finally into the cool night air.
Call off my shadows, Chosen One? Command or no, I am not so foolish as to do that.
Shadows gathered around him as he strode down the narrow alleyways between tents and huts. Do you remember the dark ?
Bidithal smiled to himself. Soon, this fragment of shattered warren would become a realm unto itself. And the Whirlwind Goddess would see the need for a priesthood, a structure of power in the mortal world. And in such an organization, there would be no place for Sha’ik, except perhaps a minor shrine honouring her memory.
For now, of course, the Malazan Empire must be dealt with, summarily, and for that Sha’ik, as a vessel of the Whirlwind’s power, would be needed. This particular path of shadows was narrow indeed. Bidithal suspected that Febryl’s alliance with the Napan and Kamist Reloe was but temporary. The mad old bastard had no love for Malazans. Probably, his plans held a hidden, final betrayal, one concluding in the mutual annihilation of every interest but his own.
And I cannot pierce to the truth of that, a failure on my part that forces my hand. I must be… pre-emptive. I must side with Sha’ik, for it will be her hand that crushes the conspirators.
A hiss of spectral voices and Bidithal halted, startled from his dark musings.
To find Febryl standing before him.
