“Something like that.”
“What is your name?”
“Gamet,” the guard answered, as he followed behind the horse after shutting and locking the door. “In service to your father these last three years.”
“And before that, Gamet?
“Not a question asked.”
They came to the courtyard. Paran paused to study the guardsman “My father's usually thorough in researching the histories of those enter” Gamet grinned revealing a full set of white teeth.” h that he did.” Paran passed over the reins. He swung about and looked round the courtyard. It seemed smaller than he remembered. The old well, made by the nameless people who'd lived here before even the Kanese looked ready to crumble into a heap of dust. No craftsman would reset those ancient carved stones, fearing the curse of awakened ghosts. Under the estate house itself were similarly unmortared stones in the deepest reaches the many rooms and tunnels too bent, twisted and uneven to Servants and groundskeepers moved back and forth in the yard. None Gamet cleared his throat. “Your father and mother aren't here.”
He nodded. There'd be foals to care for at Emalau the count “Your sisters are though,” Gamet continued. “I'll have the house servants freshen up your room.”
“It's been left as it was, then?”
Gamet grinned again. “Well, clear out the extra furniture and casks.”
“As always.” Paran sighed and, without another word, made his way to the house entrance.
The feast hall echoed to Paran's boots as he strode to the long dining table. Cats bolted across the floor, scattering at his approach. He unclasped his travelling cloak, tossed it across the back of a chair, then sat at a longbench and leaned his back against the panelled wall. He closed his eyes.
A few minutes passed, then a woman's voice spoke. “I thought you were in Itko Kan.”
He opened his eyes. His sister Tavore, a year younger than him, stood close to the head of the table, one hand on the back of their father's chair.
She was as plain as ever, a slash of bloodless lines comprising her features, her reddish hair trimmed shorter than was the style. She was taller than the last time he'd seen her, nearly his own height, no longer the awkward child. Her expression revealed nothing as she studied him.
“Reassignment,” Paran said.
“To here? We would have heard.”
Ah, yes, you would have, wouldn't you? All the sly whisperings among the connected families.
“Unplanned,” he conceded, “but done nevertheless. Not stationed here in Unta, though. My visit is only a few days.”
“Have you been promoted?”
He smiled. “Is the investment about to reap coin? Reluctant as it was, we still must think in terms of potential influence, mustn't we?”
“Managing this family's position is no longer your responsibility, brother.”
“Ah, it's yours now, then? Has Father withdrawn from the daily chores?”
“Slowly. His health is failing. Had you asked, even in Itko Kan. .”
He sighed. “Still making up for me, Tavore? Assuming the burden of my failings? I hardly left here on a carpet of petals, you may recall. In any case, I always assumed the house affairs would fall into capable hands.” Her pale eyes narrowed, but pride silenced the obvious question. “At her studies. She's not heard of your return. She will be very excited.” His sister snorted, turning away. Telisin? She's too soft for this world, brother. For any world, I think. She's not changed. She'll be happy to see you.” He watched her stiff back as she left the hall.
He smelled of sweat-his own and the mare's-travel and grime, and of something else as well: Old blood and old fear. Paran looked around. Much smaller than I remembered.
CHAPTER TWO
With the coming of the Moranth the tide turned.
And like ships in a harbour the Free Cities were swept under Imperial seas.
The war entered its twelfth year, the Year of the Shattered Moon and its sudden spawn of deathly rain and black-winged promise.
Two cities remained to contest the Malazan onslaught.
One stalwart, proud banners beneath Dark's powerful wing.
The other divided-
— without an army, bereft of allies-
The strong city fell first.
Call to Shadow Felisin (b.1146)
63rd Year of Burn's Sleep (two years later)
105th Year of the Malazan Empire 9th Year of Empress Laseen's Rule
Through the pallor of smoke ravens wheeled. Their calls raised a shrill chorus above the cries of wounded and dying soldiers. The stench of seared flesh hung unmoving in the haze.