Still, she would not permit any ambivalence to threaten the mission. In this she was Laseen's arm, and it was directed not of Lorn's own accord but by the Empress. Dujek and Tayschrenn had well reminded her of that truth. Thus, she played no role in all this-not as the woman named Lorn. How could she be held responsible for anything?
«In my years among humans,» Tool said, beside her, I have come to recollect the passing of emotions in body and expressions. Adjunct, you have worn a frown the past two days. Is this significant?»
«No,» she snapped. «It isn't.» Purging her thoughts of personal feelings had never been so difficult as it was now-was this a lasting effect of Oponn's meddling? Perhaps Tool could rid her of it. «Tool,» she said, «What is significant, as you put it, is that I don't know enough about what we're doing. We are seeking a standing stone, the barrow's marker. Well, assuming it can be found, why was it not so long ago? Why could not three thousand years of hunting find this barrow?»
«We will find the standing stone,» Tool replied calmly. «It marks the barrow in truth, but the barrow is not there.»
The Adjunct scowled. More riddles. «Explain.»
The Imass was silent for a minute, then he said, «I am born of an Elder Warren, Adjunct, known as Tellann. It is more than a source of magic, it is also a time.»
«Are you suggesting that the barrow exists in a different time? Is that how you plan to reach it-by using your Tellann Warren?»
«No, there is no parallel time any different from the one we know. That time is gone, past. It is more a matter of: flavour. Adjunct, may I continue?»
Lorn's mouth thinned into a straight line.
«The Jaghut who entombed the Tyrant were born of a different Elder Warren. But the term «Elder» is relative only to the existing Warrens of this age. The Jaghut Omtose Phellack is not «Elder» when compared to Tellann. They are the same, of the same flavour. Do you understand thus far, Adjunct?»
«Patronizing bastard,» she muttered to herself. «Yes, Tool.»
The Imass nodded, his bones creaking. «The barrow has not been found before, precisely because it is Omtose Phellack. It lies within a Warren now lost to the world. Yet, I am Tellann. My Warren touches Omtose Phellack. I can reach it, Adjunct. Any T'lan-Imass could. I was chosen because I am without a Clan. I am alone in every way.»
«Why should that be important?» Lorn asked, her stomach twisting.
Tool looked at her. «Adjunct. What we seek to accomplish is the freeing of a Jaghut Tyrant. Such a being, should it escape our control, or defy our predictions, is capable of destroying this continent. It can enslave all living upon it, and it would do so if permitted. If, instead of me, Logros had selected a Bone Caster; and if the Tyrant was freed, that Bone Caster would become enslaved. A Jaghut Tyrant is dangerous alone. A Jaghut Tyrant with an Imass Bone Caster at its side is unstoppable. They would challenge the gods, and they would kill most of them. Also, I am without a Clan, thus my enslavement-should that event befall-would not enslave blood kin.»
Lorn stared at the Imass. What were the Empress and Tayschrenn thinking of? How could they hope to control this thing? «You are saying, Tool, that you're expendable.»
«Yes, Adjunct.»
And so, she realized, am I. «What,» she asked, «will stop the Tyrant? How do we control it?»
«We don't, Adjunct. That is the gamble we take.»
«And what does that mean?»
Tool shrugged, an audible lifting and dropping of bones beneath the rotted furs. «The Lord of Moon's Spawn, Adjunct. He will have no choice but to intervene.»
«He's capable of stopping the Tyrant?»
«Yes, Adjunct. He is, although it will cost him dearly, weaken him. More, he is capable of delivering the single punishment that a Jaghut Tyrant fears most.» A faint gleam of light rose in Tool's eye sockets as the Imass stared at Lorn. «Enslavement, Adjunct.»
Lorn stopped in her tracks. «You mean the Moon's lord will have the Tyrant working on his side?»
«No, Adjunct. The enslavement is by the lord's hand, but it is beyond him as well. You see, the Empress knows who the lord is, and what he possesses.»
Lorn nodded. «He's Tiste And? and a High Mage.»
A rasp of laughter came from Tool. «Adjunct, he is Anomander Rake, the Son of Darkness. Bearer of Dragnipur.»
Lorn frowned.
Tool seemed to have noticed her confusion, for the Imass elaborated.
«Dragnipur is a sword, born of the Age before Light. And Darkness, Adjunct, is the Goddess of the Tiste And?.»
A few minutes later, Lorn found her voice. «The Empress,» she said quietly, «knows how to pick her enemies.»
And then Tool hit her with another stunning revelation. «I am sure,» the Imass said, «the Tiste And? regret their coming to this world.»
«They came to this world? From where? How? Why?»
«The Tiste And? were of Kurald Galain, the Warren of Darkness. Kurald Galain stood alone, untouched. The Goddess, their mother, knew loneliness:» Tool hesitated. «There is probably little truth in this story, Adjunct.»
«Go on,» Lorn said quietly. «Please.»
«In her loneliness, the Goddess sought something outside herself. Thus was born Light. Her children the Tiste And? saw this as a betrayal. They rejected her. Some hold they were cast out, others that they departed their mother's embrace by choice. While Tiste And? mages still use the Warren of Kurald Galain they are no longer of it. And some have embraced another Warren, that of Starvald Demelain.»
«The First Warren.»
Tool nodded.
«Whose Warren did Starvald Demelain belong to?»
«It was the home of Dragons, Adjunct.»
Murillio turned in his saddle and brought the mule to a halt on the dusty road. He glanced ahead. Kruppe and Crokus had already reached the Worry Crossroads. He patted his brow with the soft satin of his burnous, then looked back again. Coll leaned hunched over in his saddle, losing the rest of his breakfast.
Murillio sighed. It was a wonder to see the man sober, but that he'd insisted on accompanying them bordered on miraculous. Murillio wondered if Coll suspected anything of Rallick's plans-but no, he would've brought a fist down on his and Rallick's head in short order if he'd so much as caught a hint of what they were doing.
It had been Coll's pride that had got him into his present mess, and drink did nothing to diminish it. To the contrary, in fact. Coll had even donned his brigandine armour, replete with arm and leg greaves. A bastard sword hung at the large man's hip and, with his mail coif and helmet, he looked every inch a noble knight. The only exception was the green tinge to his rounded face. He was also the only one of them to have found a horse instead of these damned mules Kruppe had scrounged.
Coll straightened in his saddle and smiled wanly at Murillio, then spurred his horse alongside. They resumed the journey without a word, nudging their mounts into a canter until they'd caught up with the others.
As usual, Kruppe was pontificating. «No more than a handful of days, assures Kruppe, wizened traveller of the wastes beyond glittering Darujhistan. No reason to be so glum, lad. Consider this a mighty adventure.»
Crokus looked to Murillio and threw up his hands. «Adventure? I don't even know what we're doing out here! Won't anybody tell me anything? I can't believe I agreed to this!»
Murillio grinned at the boy. «Come now, Crokus. How many times have you expressed curiosity about our constant travels outside the city? Well, here we are-all your questions are about to find answers.»