The Disavowed parted and Ardata, accompanied by K’azz, entered.
‘She’ll kill you,’ Shimmer whispered to Skinner.
He straightened and pushed back his dirty-blond hair. Leaning to her, he answered as if confiding a secret: ‘She cannot kill me – no one can.’ He tapped the black scales of his armour.
A surly ‘Don’t count on it’ was the best she could manage.
Shimmer knelt again at Lor’s side. The woman was unconscious, as were most of the rest of the mages: Gwynn, Mara, Petal and Red. Unconscious or weakly struggling, utterly incapacitated. She stood and peered about to catch the gaze of all the nearby Disavowed. None would meet her eye.
‘What has happened here?’ Skinner demanded of Ardata.
She was peering to the west and Shimmer was quite startled to see unguarded wonder, even amazement, upon her face. ‘A surprise. A great surprise. Something very strange and … unexpected.’ She seemed unable to wrest her gaze from that horizon.
‘A disruption in the Warrens?’ Shimmer asked.
‘Far more than a disruption,’ Ardata answered, distracted. ‘An impact. But over now. The ripples diminish even as we speak.’
Next to Ardata, K’azz lightly tilted his head in greeting to his one-time lieutenant. ‘Skinner.’
‘K’azz,’ Skinner answered. He bowed to Ardata. ‘My apologies, m’lady.’
‘Skinner,’ she answered. With a visible effort, she turned her troubled gaze from the west. ‘You may not believe me when I say this – but it is good to see you again.’
He bowed once more. Then he returned his attention to K’azz. He studied his old commander as if disappointed. ‘It was foolish of you to come. That is, unless …’ He raised one brow in an unspoken question.
Ardata’s already thin lipless mouth tightened even further. ‘You take much upon yourself, Skinner. Have a care.’
‘A care? Very well … just what did you talk about?’
‘We spoke of responsibilities,’ K’azz supplied.
‘Responsibilities? Really? Is that so. Well … I have responsibilities as well.’ He gestured about to the Disavowed. ‘To my people. To lead them to the most advantageous position I can gain for them. And so, in consideration of that, I ask that you stand aside as Commander of
the
Crimson Guard and allow me to ascend to that position. Really, K’azz. It would be for the best. I hear you do not seem very interested in any of this of late.’
Shimmer listened, horrified. Horrified because, in a ruthless light, the man’s words possessed an awful logic. They were a mercenary company that took no contracts despite an empty treasury. That desperately needed to recruit to strengthen their numbers, yet hardly admitted any new members. That had sworn opposition to the Malazans, yet had withdrawn from all such direct opposition. And the prince was a commander who seemed completely uninterested in command. What, then, were they?
K’azz shook his head. It seemed to Shimmer that remorse pulled the skin tight about his eyes. ‘No. I cannot stand aside. Nor can you remove me. We are stuck with each other. And so I ask you – and all those who chose to follow you – to return to the Guard.’
Skinner raised a hand for a moment’s pause. ‘Oh, I am thinking of returning to the Guard.’ He beckoned to Shijel, who handed over one of his longswords. Skinner hefted it, getting a feel for the long slim blade. He returned his attention to K’azz and his mouth quirked up in that way it did when he was indulging his savage side. ‘But I have a condition first.’
The light changed again and Shimmer could not help but glance to the west. Darkness now gathered there, rather prematurely. It was as if sunset had somehow crept in upon them, though she knew it was hours before twilight. Yet there it was, a swelling adumbral gloom, spreading to encompass the west, swallowing the sun.
K’azz did not move though he must know what the man intended. ‘Do not do this, Skinner.’ His tone was beseeching but Shimmer felt that it was not for his life that he feared. She thought that Skinner, however, would take it that way. And she knew she was right when she saw how his mouth twisted his disgust –
He thinks K’azz is pleading for his life. But if not that – then what
is
he doing?
He raised the longsword in both hands like a headsman’s axe. ‘I will make it quick, K’azz.’
Do something, K’azz!
Shimmer pleaded.
Why won’t you do something?
Ardata lifted a pale hand. ‘Before you act, Skinner, I have one final request of you.’
He let the blade slowly fall but did not shift his gaze from K’azz. ‘Oh?’
‘Yes. And you will consider carefully before answering, won’t you?’
Something in her tone warned him and he stepped back from K’azz
to
turn and give her his full attention. K’azz, for his part, merely lowered his gaze, his mouth clenched tight.
‘Yes?’ Skinner said.
‘I ask you, Skinner, one final time, that you reconsider my offer and stand here at my side.’
He took a long slow breath, pushed back his bunched hair. ‘We have been through this …’
‘Consider carefully,’ she warned him again.
‘Ardata – m’lady. This … place … is not for me. I have no wish to remain.’
‘No wish …’ she echoed faintly, her brows crimping.
A distant clatter of dry branches and a flurry of leaves announced the arrival of a strong wind out of the west. It blustered through the grounds stirring up clouds of dust that everyone waved from their faces. Leaves and broken branches gyred about. Shimmer brushed the dark dust, mixed with a scattering of ash, from her shoulders and sleeves.
Ardata’s dark eyes had been drawn again to the west, where they rested, full of puzzlement. A hand went to her white throat. ‘No wish …’ she repeated, as if to herself.
Skinner glanced about, uncertain. No one dared move as the goddess appeared to be approaching some decision that she seemed to dread. She turned back to Skinner. ‘If you must go, then I must take back my gift.’
Now Skinner frowned, even more wary. ‘You told me yourself,’ he answered, speaking very carefully, ‘that no one in the world would be able to do that. Not even you, should you wish it.’
‘That is true. No one can take my gift from you,’ she agreed. ‘However … I can
ask
that it return to me.’
She held out her slim hand and beckoned. A metallic shifting and grating sounded, coming from Skinner who spun, peering down at himself, his brows now clenched. ‘What is this …?’ he murmured.
Shimmer peered more closely as some sort of rippling gleamed from the long coat of mail. It was as if each link was moving of its own accord.
The scales were shifting, she was certain. Each seemed to wiggle individually. She thought she saw multiple legs unlocking as, in descending waves, each scale detached itself from its fellows.
Skinner spun faster. He slapped at himself. ‘
What is this
…?’ he shouted, panic in his voice.
‘I am sorry, Skinner,’ Ardata said, her voice sad, yet firm. ‘I gave you every chance. But you have chosen to reject my gifts.’
Skinner then threw his head back and howled. The scales, Shimmer saw, were scales no longer. Each was a thin black spider the size of a coin. They were digging themselves into his flesh, perhaps gnawing their way in, disappearing into him. He fell, thrashing and shrieking in agony. Shimmer turned her face, yet could not look entirely away. An arm reached out, beckoning to Ardata, who merely watched, her face immobile.
Inhuman
, Shimmer reminded herself, remembering K’azz’s warning.
Not human
.
Skinner was now no more than a writhing pile of wiggling black spiders. Here and there patches of wet white bone gleamed through the heap. More and more of the skeleton revealed itself. The heaving and twisting of the heap slowed, then halted. The swarm of spiders hissed and squirmed amid the pale bones. Then Ardata lowered her hand and the spiders – if they were indeed mere spiders – scuttled off the carcass in a flowing slurry of midnight that made its way across the dusty ground to slip beneath the lip of her robes and disappear.
Shimmer fought a shudder and a heave of revulsion that would have doubled her over. She saw Mara staring, her face sickly grey and frozen in shock and disbelief. Cole, Amatt and Turgal all stared, their faces hardening, though not in triumph or victory but in anger, and Shimmer thought she understood. He might have betrayed them, abandoned the Guard, but in the end they were not pleased to see him fall for he was one of them.
Oh, Skinner. I am so sorry. We all tried to warn you. Yet you would not be turned from your path. You betrayed everyone, didn’t you? And, in the end, so too were you
.
In the long silence that followed, K’azz cleared his throat and murmured: ‘Perilous indeed are the gifts of Ardata.’
‘As are all the gifts of the Azathanai,’ said a new voice.
Ardata spun. ‘Who are you?’
It was a middle-aged woman in dirty torn robes. She bowed. Behind her stood a file of soldiers who appeared to Shimmer to be Quon Talian, yet were painted and dressed in native fashion in loose loincloths. They did, however, still have their weapons, which they carried in their hands or on belts about their shoulders. Two of the soldiers carried bodies over their shoulders – more unconscious mages perhaps.
‘Just a sorceress,’ the woman murmured.
‘Yet you are not overcome in the … disturbance?’
‘I managed to protect myself in time.’
‘How very fortunate for you.’ Ardata pressed her hand to her
throat
once more. She tilted her head and her voice fell to a low whisper: ‘Do I know you …?’
Shimmer felt the hairs of her neck stirring in the sudden crackling of energy in the air.
What is this? A confrontation? Who is this woman?
‘It is …
possible
,’ the sorceress allowed.
‘And what is it you wish?’ Ardata asked, her attention full on the woman. Shimmer shivered upon seeing her robes stirring as if with a life of their own.
The newcomer was completely unruffled. ‘I wish a great deal,’ she answered offhandedly. ‘First, however, we really ought to speak of your daughter.’
Ardata laughed, yet her hand clutched at her throat. ‘You are mistaken. I have no daughter.’
The woman’s face stiffened. ‘That is a terrible thing to say, Ardata.’
The Queen of Witches threw her arms straight down, the fingers clawed. Dust swirled about her. Beneath Shimmer’s sandalled feet the ground shuddered as if drummed. Rocks tumbled down nearby ruined walls. The tall palms swayed.
K’azz gestured, his hand signing the imperative:
retreat!
Shijel darted forward to snatch his sword then ducked away, hunched. K’azz waved Shimmer back.
The sorceress beckoned aside, close to Shimmer. Backing away Shimmer bumped into someone. She spun to find the girl, or young woman, wrapped in her white robes. Yet for an instant she did not appear young. Rather, it was as if she were an aged crone, her face disfigured, the flesh swollen, grey and pebbled, the eyes clouded to blind white staring orbs. Shimmer reached out to steady her. At that moment she returned to the appearance of the young woman, her face pretty once more, elfin and heart-shaped. She peered up at Shimmer, searchingly. ‘It
is
you,’ she murmured, full of wonder. ‘The one I have seen so often. Even when I was a child. Why is that?’
Shimmer stared, stricken.
Unmerciful gods! It is her. One and the same. The child, woman, crone. Oh, the fate that awaits you
… She rested her hands gently on the young woman’s slim shoulders.
The girl, whose frightened gaze now peered at Ardata, jumped at the touch. She peered up, shivering, wary. She shuddered as if she were desperate to escape. ‘Be brave,’ Shimmer told her, her voice thick with emotion. ‘Be brave.’ The girl started in recognition, then gave a solemn determined nod.
Shimmer ached to hold her then but the sorceress beckoned again, calling, ‘Come.’
‘Strangers frighten her!’ Ardata called.
The sorceress took the young woman’s hand. She faced Ardata. ‘Or perhaps it is you who are frightened that others should see her?’
A wordless animal snarl escaped the Queen of Witches. Power now rose about her in glimmering tendrils like the lacing of webbing. She threw out an arm, pointing. ‘
Who are you? How dare you?
’
The sorceress held the girl before her, hands on her shoulders. The ground between her and Ardata erupted into flames. The thin grass blew away in rising ash and soot. Then the soil crackled and smoked as if dropped into a crucible. It slumped into a growing pool of glowing liquid rock.
K’azz, Shimmer, her companions, the Avowed and Disavowed, all flinched back then. They shielded their faces against the blasting heat. A lean woman had been hovering close to the sorceress all this time. She had one good arm, the other bound to her side. At that moment she darted forward and wrapped her one arm round the girl to pull her aside. The woman’s sandals, shirt and hair burst aflame as she did so. Soldiers rushed forward with a few tattered blankets to throw over her. Through the waves of heat and smoke it appeared to Shimmer that the girl was weeping.
‘Let her go, Ardata,’ the sorceress called through the crackling filaments. ‘It is time to let go.’