Kellanved's Reach

Prologue

As it did every time, the odious Idryn mud sucked at his boots – touching, even, the hem of his fine midnight blue (not black, mind you!) silk trousers, though he’d pulled them up as high as he could as he tramped the river shore to find Liss. Halfway, amid the stink and disgusting sewer filth, he paused, and he raised his eyes to the sky to entreat the gods. Why must you punish me so? Where did I transgress? Was it those curvy Leparia twins? If so, have I not endured enough?

Silk, city mage of Li Heng, lowered his gaze. Perhaps not. Those two had been so very delicious.

He spotted her then, in her dirty rags, among the pilings where they stood exposed, for this had been a dry summer, and the Idryn was low.

Once again Silk reflected that were it not for his strong suspicion that this hag was far more than a mere crazy witch, he would most certainly not be here.

Sighing, he slogged onward until he was within hailing distance, and he set a hand to his mouth. ‘Hello! Crazy catfish lady? You called?’

She straightened and turned his way, pushed snaggled tangled hair from her dirty face – which brightened. ‘Pretty boy! Decided to grow up, have you?’

Silk rolled his eyes. ‘What is it you want, Liss? I’m a busy man.’

‘Oh yes! So much posturing and self-indulgence to pursue! Where indeed to start?’

Silk peered about at the northern waterfront, the raised boardwalk and the inns and bars that fronted it. ‘You know, I could leave in any direction. Shall I choose?’

Liss straightened among the rags heaped over her shoulders, her mocking smile falling, and Silk was momentarily taken aback to see that she was even taller than he – and he was considered a rather tall fellow. ‘I see a storm approaching, Silk. One you may not weather well.’

‘Really? A storm? You can’t do better than that? A storm?’ He laughed, shaking his head. ‘Any cheap Dragons Deck reader on any street corner could do better than that! You do realize that’s a cliché, don’t you?’ He slapped at the drying mud marring his fine trousers. ‘I can’t believe you dragged me here for this.’

The old hag’s pinched mouth drew down and she cut a hand through the air as if to say, Very well! ‘I see a time of great upheaval approaching. One that may cost you in particular a great deal.’ She cocked a brow. ‘Dismiss that – if you will.’

Silk crossed his arms. ‘Fine. Brass tacks, as they say. What sort of upheaval?’

The old witch turned away, hunching once more. She probed the mud before her. ‘Ancient,’ she murmured. ‘Very ancient. That is all I can say, to my peril.’

‘Peril? You mean whatever this is – it threatens even you?’

She turned upon him, suddenly, peering about. ‘Oh yes. Everyone. Even the Elders. None can escape this.’

Despite his scepticism, Silk retreated a short distance from the woman. ‘Elders? You mean, even the … Tiste?’

The hag shambled off. ‘I can say no more. It may come. Beware. That is all I dare say.’

Silk remained – ankle-deep in the muck – watching the old witch as she wandered off. Madness perhaps? A sad need for attention? Nothing more? Or so much more than that? Who could say?

He set his hands to his hips and let out a great breath, nodding to himself.

Fine! Time to talk to Ho …