Whiskeyjack had travelled a warren only a few times, but his memories of those fraught journeys did little to prepare him for Kurald Galain. Taking him by the hand, Korlat drew him into the ancient realm of Mother Dark, and though he could feel the sure grip of her fingers, he stepped into blindness.
No light. Gritty flagstones under his boots, the air perfectly motionless, scentless, with an ambient temperature that seemed no different from that of his skin.
He was pulled forward, his boots seeming to barely touch the floor.
A sudden streak of grey assaulted his eyes, and he heard Korlat hiss: 'We are assailed even here — the Crippled God's poison seeps deep, Whiskeyjack. This does not bode well.'
He cleared his throat. 'No doubt Anomander Rake has recognized the threat, and if so, do you know what he plans to do about it?'
'One thing at a time, dear lover. He is the Knight of Darkness, the Son. Mother Dark's own champion. Not one to shy from a confrontation.'
'I'd never have guessed,' he replied wryly. 'What's he waiting for, then?'
'We're a patient people, us Tiste Andii. The true measure of power lies in the wisdom to wait for the propitious moment. When it comes, and he judges it to be so, then Anomander Rake will respond.'
'Presumably the same holds for unleashing Moon's Spawn on the Pannion Domin.'
'Aye.'
And, somehow, Rake's managed to hide a floating fortress the size of a mountain… 'You've considerable faith in your Lord, haven't you?'
He felt her shrug through the hand clasped in his. 'There is sufficient precedent to disregard notions of faith, when it comes to my Lord. I am comforted by certainty.'
'Glad to hear it. And are you comfortable with me, Korlat?'
'Devious man. The answer to every facet of that question is yes. Would you now have me ask in kind?'
'You shouldn't have to.'
'Tiste Andii or human, when it comes to males, they're all the same. Perhaps I shall force the words from you none the less.'
'You won't have to work hard. My answer's the same as yours.'
'Which is?'
'Why, the very word you used, of course.'
He grunted at the jab in his ribs. 'Enough of that. We've arrived.'
The portal opened to painful light — the interior of Dujek's command tent, shrouded in the gloom of late afternoon. They stepped within, the warren closing silently behind them.
'If all this was just to get me alone-'
'Gods, the ego!' She gestured with her free hand and a ghostly figure took form in front of Whiskeyjack. A familiar face — that smiled.
'What a charming sight,' the apparition said, eyeing them. 'Hood knows, I can't recall the last time I had a woman.'
'Watch your tongue, Quick Ben,' Whiskeyjack growled, disengaging his hand from Korlat's. 'It's been a while, and you look terrible.'
'Why, thanks a whole lot, Commander. I'll have you know I feel even worse. But I can traverse my warrens, now, more or less shielded from the Fallen One's poison. I bring news from Capustan — do you want it or not?'
Whiskeyjack grinned. 'Go ahead.'
'The White Faces hold the city.'
'We'd guessed that much, once Twist delivered the news of your success with the Barghast, and once the Pannion army stumbled into our laps.'
'Fine. Well, assuming you've taken care of that army, I'll add just one more thing. The Barghast are marching with us. South. If you and Dujek found things tense dealing with Brood and Kallor and company — your pardon, Korlat — now you've got Humbrall Taur to deal with as well.'
Whiskeyjack grunted at that. 'What's he like, then?'
'Too clever by half, but at least he's united the clans, and he's clear-eyed on the mess he's heading into.'
'I'm glad one of us is. How fare Paran and the Bridgeburners?'
'Reportedly fine, though I haven't seen them in a while. They are at the Thrall — with Humbrall Taur and the survivors of the city's defenders.'
Whiskeyjack's brows rose. 'There are survivors?'
'Aye, so it seems. Non-combatants still cowering in tunnels. And some Grey Swords. Hard to believe, isn't it? Mind you, I doubt there's much fight left in them. From what I've heard about Capustan's streets…' Quick Ben shook his head. 'You'll have to see it to believe it. So will I, in fact, which is what I'm about to do. With your leave, that is.'
'With caution, I trust.'
