CHAPTER III

See the little blackbird,

Dappled and grey.

See the fallen soldiers,

Dappled and grey.

It hunts a tasty morsel,

Dappled and grey.

It looks in eyes unseeing,

Dappled and grey. Children's rhyme,

Streets of Heng

AND SO THE SOLDIER OF LIGHT HAS DELIVERED HIMSELF. BUT JUST what does he herald? A hand gentle on the Kite's tiller, Ereko looked down at the calm face of the sleeping lad. His gaze travelled to the sword at his side wrapped in its sheath and belt. Even hidden away its power appalled him. A blade too great to be wielded by any being cognizant of its potential. And so an innocent youth carries it – or perhaps it only allows itself to be carried by such a one. Ereko knew only that he dared not touch it. Thinking back to that delicate meeting on the beach he breathed again a prayer of thanks to Goddess Mother that violence had not visited them. That blade is a match for Traveller's – if only in its singleness of purpose. And these clansmen from Assail, they carry secrets that should never have left that land. Rising, his eyes met the bright steady gaze of Traveller across the length of the vessel. And what of you, my friend? Why do I fear for you even more with every passing league? I suspect the full dregs of what you must endure yet await you. So why such a fell gathering of power and pregnant histories? Are we all here to escort you, my friend, or do you escort us? Who is to know save the Enchantress and Queen of Dreams, T'riss, in the arc of whose vision we all act?

The lad shifted, stretched and awoke blinking in the early light. ‘Sleep yet,’ Ereko told him.

Kyle rubbed his eyes. ‘It's all I seem to do these days, sleep.’ He rubbed his arm where Ereko's High Denul had mended torn ligament and ruptured flesh. ‘What of you? You man that tiller day and night. Won't you rest?’

Ereko lightly laughed the suggestion aside. ‘No, lad. I am so old now that sleeping and waking have melded together into one and I know not which I inhabit.’

Watching the lad struggle through that, Ereko shifted course slightly to avoid a looming ice-spire.

Truly? So old? As old as the mountains?’

Ereko raised his brows. ‘Goodness, no. Not that old. Only half so old, I should think.’

The lad pulled his blanket closer, eyed him sidelong as if gauging the degree of his sincerity. Unsure, he raised his chin to the ice-dotted waves. ‘What is that light to the south?’

Ereko did not turn his gaze. Even yet the power of that ritual bruises! ‘That pale bluish light?’

‘Yes.’

‘A great field of ice, Kyle. Quite perilous. To travel there is to risk wandering accidentally into another Realm. A place of eternal cold. The home of another race.’

‘And these ice mountains?’ Kyle indicated the largest one nearest them: a towering peak of deep sapphire blue, wind and water sculpted into sweeping arcs and blade-like curves.

‘Yes. Children of the ice field. They break off and wander the seas. Some say they each carry some small part of the power that binds the ice here in the world. And so does it diminish over the ages.’

‘Well, it's a good thing we have all this ice.’

‘Why?’

‘We're getting low on water.’

‘Burn Forefend, lad! We mustn't touch this ice.’

‘No? Why ever not?’

‘Why ever-’ Ereko ducked his head. Lowering his voice, he continued, ‘Haven't you been listening? Have your people forgotten everything, lad? Don't you know that such ice is the feat of the Jaghut?’

The lad looked away. ‘We know of them.’

‘Yes. Your people are their enemy though they are not yours. In any case, such ice fields on land and at sea are the highest accomplishment of their arts. Omtose Phellack crystallized here upon the world. Your people spread in great migrations over land and sea. Such fields of ice were raised as barriers against your expansion. We skirt now the remnants of one such.’

‘And how do you know this?’ the lad asked with the bluntness of youth.

‘Because I saw it happen.’

A snort confirmed the lad's disbelief. Ereko fully expected the reaction. He shifted into a more comfortable position, crossed his arms on the tiller. ‘I will tell you a story.’ Kyle said nothing but Ereko noted the Assail native, Stalker, shift to turn an ear to the stern. ‘Know you not that Elder Night, Kurald Galain, possesses its children, the Tiste Andii? Well, what of the world and its many races and beings? Who are its children? Are they what some name the “Founding Races”? Or can some other kind lay claim to being the true children of the earth? Myself, I believe the term “founding” refers to those races that established civilizations or societies complete with writing and tools, either flint knives or the complex mechanisms of the K'Chain Che'Malle. In any case, the question is, were any of those the children of the earth? Well, of course, all are to one degree or another. Any beings of bone, muscle and blood partake of Mother Earth. Only those of the Eldest, those of most ancient lineage, entities born of pure energy such as some believe the Elder Gods, or the Eleint, what you call “dragons”, may stand apart in that. Aside from such beings, what of the Thelomen, the Toblakai, the Teblor or Trell? What of their many kinds? Well, these are the varied descendants of one common ancestor. The first children of the earth. Those of my race, the Thel Akai. Those Who Speak.’

‘Quite the story,’ Kyle said, again with the unthinking innocence of youth.

Ereko gave an easy shrug. ‘Oh, yes. I may be lying, or more likely self-deluded by memories twisted over the ages. But I lived through those times. I was there when an isolated flowering of civilization of your people arose on Jacuruku. And I suppose it was my people's nurturing that helped things along – not that I say we gave you civilization as some Jaghut claim they have – no, we merely advised and supported. In any case, in time a warlord arose. One who showed a genius and a lust for conquering all his surrounding states. We were not a warlike people, not in the least, but we lent our support against him. We raised our voices in opposition, gave succour to his enemies. For that we earned his eternal enmity. He swore to wipe us from the face of the earth. And he almost succeeded. Of my people only I remain.’

‘I'm sorry,’ Kyle breathed. He was staring out over the waves, squinting against the glitter of dawn's light from the ice. Ereko thought him half-awake.

‘Thank you. Since then, for the most part, your race has been kind to me.’

‘Who was this warlord?’

‘Who was he? Ah, yes. He became King, of course. Eventually even his own people became so sickened by his cruelty that they attempted to rid themselves of him. And thereby they brought great misery to this world. But that is a story too long to be told now. Let us say he anointed himself with the name High King. Originally, his name was Kallor.’

Stalker sat up, draped his long forearms across his folded legs. ‘I've heard the name Kallor.’

Ereko shrugged. ‘No doubt there are others named such.’

‘He was mentioned among the Guard. An ally of Brood against the Malazans in Genabackis. They called him the “Warlord”.’

Again an easy shrug. ‘This world has seen too many warlords.’

Crouched on his haunches, Toc the Elder took up a handful of the dark rich prairie soil and rubbed it in his hands. He held it to his nose and inhaled the rich scent of humus. No matter what might come, success or failure of this toss of the bones, he was thankful that he would see it here in his adopted homeland. He would offer up a blessing for that gift to Wind, Earth and the ancient spirits of the land. At some point in his younger days – he wasn't sure when it had happened – but at some time he'd fallen in love with the plains landscape. Some he knew found it empty and desolate – the Great Central Desert, many called it in Tali and Unta, even Heng, here right upon its doorstep. Yet to him it was far from empty. To him it was in fact full of a grim yet enthralling grandeur. This, to his mind, was the key to why so many professed their dislike. The simple truth was that it was too big for those small people.