The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson Read Free Book Online Page B

flanks. She bolted, leaped into the void.
    Light and colors exploded outward, engulfing them. The mare’s hooves landed with a crunching thump, scattering something that might be gravel in all directions. Paran halted his horse, blinking as he took in the scene around them. A vast chamber, its ceiling glittering with beaten gold, its walls lined with tapestries, and a score of armored guards closing in on all sides.
    Alarmed, the mare sidestepped to send Topper sprawling. A hoof lashed out after him, missing by a handspan. More gravel crunched—only it was not gravel, Paran saw, but mosaic stones. Topper rolled to his feet with a curse, his eyes flashing as he glared at the lieutenant.
    The guardsmen seemed to respond to some unspoken order, slowly withdrawing to their positions along the walls. Paran swung his attention from Topper. Before him was a raised dais surmounted by a throne of twisted bone. In the throne sat the Empress.
    Silence fell in the chamber except for the crunch of semi-precious gems beneath the mare’s hooves. Grimacing, Paran dismounted, warily eyeing the woman seated on the throne.
    Laseen had changed little since the only other time he’d been this close toher; plain and unadorned, her hair short and fair above the blue tint of her unmemorable features. Her brown eyes regarded him narrowly.
    Paran adjusted his sword-belt, clasped his hands and bowed from the waist. “Empress.”
    “I see,” Laseen drawled, “that you did not heed the commander’s advice of seven years ago.”
    He blinked in surprise.
    She continued, “Of course, he did not heed the advice given him, either. I wonder what god tossed you two together on that parapet—I would do service to acknowledge its sense of humor. Did you imagine the Imperial Arch would exit in the stables, Lieutenant?”
    “My horse was reluctant to make the passage, Empress.”
    “With good reason.”
    Paran smiled. “Unlike me, she’s of a breed known for its intelligence. Please accept my humblest apologies.”
    “Topper will see you to the Adjunct.” She gestured, and a guardsman came forward to collect the mare’s reins.
    Paran bowed again then faced the Claw with a smile.
    Topper led him to a side door.
    “You fool!” he snapped, as the door was closed soundly behind them. He strode quickly down the narrow hallway. Paran made no effort to keep pace, forcing the Claw to wait at the far end where a set of stairs wound upward. Topper’s expression was dark with fury. “What was that about a parapet? You’ve met her before—when?”
    “Since she declined to explain I can only follow her example,” Paran said. He eyed the saddle-backed stairs. “This would be the West Tower, then. The Tower of Dust—”
    “To the top floor. The Adjunct awaits you in her chambers—there’s no other doors so you won’t get lost, just keep on until you reach the top.”
    Paran nodded and began climbing.
    The door to the tower’s top room was ajar. Paran rapped a knuckle against it and stepped inside. The Adjunct was seated at a bench at the far end, her back to a wide window. Its shutters were thrown open, revealing the red glint of sunrise. She was getting dressed. Paran halted, embarrassed.
    “I’m not one for modesty,” the Adjunct said. “Enter and close the door behind you.”
    Paran did as he was bidden. He looked around. Faded tapestries lined the walls. Ragged furs covered the stone tiles of the floor. The furniture—what little there was—was old, Napan in style and thus artless.
    The Adjunct rose to shrug into her leather armor. Her hair shimmered in the red light. “You look exhausted, Lieutenant. Please, sit.”
    He looked around, found a chair and slumped gratefully into it. “The trail’s been thoroughly obscured, Adjunct. The only people left in Gerrom aren’t likely to talk.”
    She fastened the last of the clasps. “Unless I were to send a necromancer.”
    He grunted. “Tales of pigeons—I think the possibility was