“He will be severely displeased, Anomander Rake. His plans extend far beyond Darujhistan, seeking to reach the Malazan throne itself.”
Anomander Rake: Paran recalled Tattersail's convictions after scrying her Deck of Dragons. The Knight of High House Dark, the Son of Darkness, the lord with the black sword and its deadly chains.
Ruler of Moon's Spawn, or so she thought. She saw this coming. This very moment, the clash between Shadow and Dark, the blood spilled:
“I fight my own battles,” Rake growled. “And I'd rather deal with Laseen on the Malazan throne than with a servant of Shadow. Recall him.”
“One last point,” Shadowthrone said, a giggle escaping him, “I am not responsible for whatever actions the Rope might take against you.”
A smile entered Rake's tone. “Convince him of the wise course, Shadowthrone. I have no patience for your games. If I am pushed, by either you, your Hounds, or by the Rope, I'll make no distinction. I will assail the Shadow Realm, and you are invited to try to stop me.”
“You lack all subtlety,” the god said, sighing. “Very well.” He paused and shadows swirled around him. “He has been recalled. Forcibly extracted, as it were. The field is yours once again, Anomander Rake. The Malazan Empire is all yours, as is Oponn,” Shadowthrone added.
“Oponn?” Rake's head turned slowly, and the captain once again looked into eyes of deep, cold blue. Paran's spirits sank. The Tiste And?” s gaze fell to the sword, then again to Shadowthrone. “Begone,” Rake said. “The matter is ended.”
Shadowthrone dipped his head. “For now.” The god raised his hands and shadows gathered around him. The surviving Hounds closed in, leaving their dead kin where they lay. The shadows thickened, became opaque, entirely hiding those within. When they dispersed, the lord and Paran eyed the Tiste And? who now faced him. After a moment the Rake's brows rose. “That's it?” he asked. “That's the extent of your comments? Do I speak with Oponn directly? I thought it I sensed a presence before, but when I looked more carefully: nothing.” Rake shifted grip on his sword, the point rising. “Do you hide within, Oponn?”
“Not as far as I'm aware,” Paran replied. “Apparently Oponn saved my life or, rather, brought me back to life. I've no idea why, but I've been told that I've become Oponn's tool.”
“You are journeying to Darujhistan?”
Paran nodded.
“May I approach?” Rake asked, sheathing his sword “Why not?”
The Tiste And? strode up to him and laid a hand against his chest. Paran felt nothing untoward. Rake stepped back. “Oponn may have been within you in the past, but it seems the Twins have hastily withdrawn. I see their signs, but no god controls you now, mortal.” He hesitated. “Their treatment of you was: unkind. If Caladan Brood was here he could heal that:”
“You're no longer Oponn's tool.” The Tiste's eyes remained blue, but they'd There was a squawk nearby and both turned to see a Great Raven alight on one of the Hound's bodies. It plucked out an eye and gobbled it down Paran fought back a wave of nausea. The huge battered bird “This man's sword, Master,” the raven said, “is not Oponn's only tool, Paran shook his head, his only surprise the realization that nothing surprised him any more. He sheathed his sword.
“Speak on, Crone,” Rake commanded.
Rake frowned. “Perhaps not.” He faced the captain again. “Hold on to that weapon until your luck turns. When that happens and if you're still alive, break it or give it to your worst enemy.” A grin crossed his features “Thus far, it seems your luck holds.”
Paran hesitated. “I'm free to go?”
Lord Anomander Rake nodded.
The captain looked around, then strode off in search of the
Minutes later, the shock came to Paran, driving him to his knees. Toc was gone. He'd dragged the man with him in his relentless, mindless pursuit across the plain. He looked up, eyes unseeing. He'd called Hairlock his enemy. He'd proclaimed Lorn's death his final goal. As if these two things would answer the anguish within him, would heal the pain of loss.
But the demon is within me.
Oponn had been unkind: What had Rake meant? Have any of these thoughts been my own? Look at me-my every move seems a desperate search for someone to blame, always someone else. I've made being a tool of a god an excuse, a justification for not thinking, for simply reacting. And others have died for it.
Rake had also said, “Finish what you start.” He would have to deal with his own demons later. There could be no turning back. But it had been wrong to think that what he planned would end the pain within him. Adding Lorn's blood to his stained hands would not achieve what he sought.