A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

terrible pain, each
one thrust out from her in a welter of blood and pungent
fluid, had become irrelevant. Necessity, Kalyth well knew,
was the cruelest master of all.
    Neither soldier guarding the ramp impeded her as she
strode on to it, the flat stone underfoot pitted with holes
designed to hold claws, and from which cold air flowed up
around her – the plunge in ambient temperature on the
ramp evidently served to somehow quell the instinctive
fear the K'Chain experienced as the conveyance lifted
with squeals and groans, up past the levels of Heart, ending
at Eyes, the Inner Keep, Acyl Nest and home of the
Matron herself. Riding the ramp alone, however, the strain
of the mechanism was less pronounced, and she heard little
more than the rush of air that ever disorientated her with
a sense of falling, even as she raced upward, and the sweat
on her limbs and upon her brow quickly cooled. She was
shivering by the time the ramp slowed and then halted at
the base level of Eyes.
    J'an Sentinels observed her arrival from the foot of the
half-spiral stairs that led to the Nest. As with the Ve'Gath,
they were seemingly indifferent to her – no doubt aware
that she had been summoned. Even were that not so, they
would see in her no threat to the Matron they had been
bred to protect. Kalyth was not simply harmless; she was
useless.
    The hot, rank air engulfed her, cloying as a damp cloak,
as she made her way to the stairs and began the awkward
climb to the Matron's demesne.
    At the landing one last sentinel stood guard. At least a
thousand years old, Bre'nigan was gaunt and tall – taller
even than a Ve'Gath – and his multilayered scales bore a
silvered patina that made the creature seem ghostly, as if
hewn from sun-bleached mica. Neither pupil nor iris was
visible in his slitted eyes, simply a murky yellow, misshapen
with cataracts. She suspected the bodyguard was blind,
but in truth there was no way to tell, for when Bre'nigan
moved, the J'an displayed perfect surety, indeed, grace and
liquid elegance. The long, vaguely curved sword slung
through a brass ring at his hip – a ring half-embedded
in the creature's hide – was as tall as Kalyth, the blade a
kind of ceramic, bearing a faint magenta hue, although the
flawless edge gleamed silver.
    She greeted Bre'nigan with a nod that elicited no
reaction whatsoever, and then stepped past the Sentinel.
    Kalyth had hoped – no, she had prayed – and when
she set eyes upon the two K'Chain standing before the
Matron, and saw that they were unaccompanied, her spirits
plummeted. Despair welled up, threatened to consume her.
She fought to draw breath into her tight chest.
    Beyond the newcomers and huge on the raised dais,
Gunth'an Acyl, the Matron, emanated agony in waves
– and in this she was unchanged and unchanging, but now
Kalyth felt from the enormous queen a bitter undercurrent
of . . . something.
    Unbalanced, distraught, Kalyth only then discerned the
state of the two K'Chain Che'Malle, the grievous wounds
half-healed, the chaotic skein of scars on their flanks,
necks and hips. The two creatures looked starved, driven
to appalling extremes of deprivation and violence, and she
felt an answering pang in her heart.
    But such empathy was shortlived. The truth remained:
the K'ell Hunter Sag Churok and the One Daughter Gunth
Mach had failed.
    The Matron spoke in Kalyth's mind, although it was
not speech of any sort, simply the irrevocable imposition
of knowledge and meaning. 'Destriant Kalyth, an error in
choice. We remain broken. I remain broken. You cannot mend,
not alone, you cannot mend.'
    Neither knowledge nor meaning proved gifts to Kalyth.
For she could sense Gunth'an Acyl's madness beneath the
words. The Matron was undeniably insane. So too the
course of action she had forced upon her children, and
upon Kalyth herself. No persuasion was possible.
    It was likely that Gunth'an Acyl comprehended Kalyth's
convictions – her belief that the Matron was mad – but this
too made no difference. Within the ancient queen, there
was naught but pain and the torment of desperate need.
    'Destriant Kalyth, they shall try again. What is broken must
be mended.'
    Kalyth did not believe Sag Churok and the One
Daughter could survive another quest. And that was
another truth that failed in swaying Acyl's imperative.
    'Destriant Kalyth, you shall accompany this Seeking.
K'Chain Che'Malle are blind to recognition.'
    And so, at last, they had reached what she had known
to be inevitable,