‘You would have me kill you?’
‘I applaud your swift comprehension, giant. More souls to crowd your shadow, Teblor-that’s how your kind see it, yes? Kill me, and I will walk with honour in your shadow.’
‘I am not interested in mercy, lowlander.’
‘How about trophies?’
‘I cannot reach you to take trophies.’
‘How well can you see in this gloom? I’ve heard that Teblor-’
‘I can see. Well enough to know that your right hand is closed in a fist. What lies within it?’
‘A tooth. Just fallen out. The third one since I’ve been chained down here.’
‘Throw it to me.’
‘I will try. I am afraid I’m somewhat… worse for wear. Are you ready?’
‘Throw.’
The man’s arm wavered as he lifted it.
The tooth flew high and wide, but Karsa’s arm shot out, chain snapping behind it, and he snatched the tooth from the air. He brought it down for a closer look, then grunted. ‘It’s rotted.’
‘Probably why it fell out. Well? Consider this, too. You will succeed in getting water right through the shaft, which should soften things up even more. Not that you’ve been up to anything down there.’
Karsa slowly nodded. ‘I like you, lowlander.’
‘Good. Now drown me.’
‘I will.’
Karsa slipped down to stand knee-deep in the foul muck, the fresh wounds around his ankles stinging at the contact.
‘I saw them bring you down, giant,’ the man said. ‘None of the Sunyd are as big as you.’
‘The Sunyd are the smallest among the Teblor.’
‘Must be some lowlander blood from way back, I’d imagine.’
‘They have fallen far indeed.’ Karsa lowered both arms, chains dragging, until his hands rested beneath the log.
‘My thanks to you, Teblor.’
Karsa lifted, twisted the log, then set it down once more, gasping. ‘This will not be quick, lowlander, and for that I am sorry.’
‘I understand. Take your time. Biltar slid right under in any case, and Alrute looks about to the next time. You’re doing well.’
He lifted the log once more, rolled it another half-twist. Splashes and gurgling sounds came from the other end.
Then a gasp. ‘Almost there, Teblor. I’m the last. One more-I’ll roll myself under it, so it pins me down.’
‘Then you are crushed, not drowned.’
‘In this muck? No worries there, Teblor. I’ll feel the weight, true, but it won’t cause me much pain.’
‘You lie.’
‘So what? It’s not the means, it’s the end that matters.’
‘All, things matter,’ Karsa said, preparing once more. ‘I shall twist it all the way round this time, lowlander. It will be easier now that my own chains are shorter. Are you ready?’
‘A moment, please,’ the man sputtered.
Karsa lifted the log, grunting with the immense weight pulling down on his arms.
‘I’ve had a change of heart-’
‘I haven’t.’ Karsa spun the log. Then dropped it.
Wild thrashing from the other end, chains sawing the air, then frantic coughing.
Surprised, Karsa looked up. A brown-smeared figure flailed about, sputtering, kicking.
Karsa slowly sat back, waiting for the man to recover. For a while, there was naught but heavy gasping from the other end of the log. ‘You managed to roll back over, then under and out. I am impressed, lowlander. It seems you are not a coward after all. I did not believe there were such as you among the children.’
‘Sheer courage,’ the man rasped. ‘That’s me.’
‘Whose tooth was it?’
‘Alrute’s. Now, no more spinning, if you please.’
‘I am sorry, lowlander, but I must now spin it the opposite way, until the log is as it was before I started.’
‘I curse your grim logic, Teblor.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Torvald Nom, though to my Malazan enemies, I’m known as Knuckles.’
‘And how came you to learn the Sunyd tongue?’
‘It’s the old trader language, actually. Before there were bounty hunters, there were Nathii traders. A mutually profitable trade between them and the Sunyd. The truth is, your language is close kin to Nathii.’
‘The soldiers spoke gibberish.’
‘Naturally; they’re soldiers.’ He paused. ‘All right, that sort of humour’s lost on you. So be it. Likely, those soldiers were Malazan.’