#samar dev

[chloristoflora]

And then he cried out, in a voice so filled with anguish that it seemed to tear a jagged hole in the night air. This unhuman scream was joined by a chorus of shrieks as the Great Ravens exploded into flight, lifting like a massive feathered veil that whirled above the street, and then began a spinning descent. Cultists flinched away and crouched against building walls, their wordless chant drowned beneath the caterwauling cacophony of this black, glistening shroud that swept down like a curtain.

Dassem staggered back, and then pitched drunkenly to one side, his sword dragging in his wake, point skirling a snake track across the cobbles. He was brought up short by a pitted wall, and he sagged against it, burying his face in the shelter of a crooked arm that seemed to be all that held him upright.

Broken. Broken. They are broken.

Oh, gods forgive them, they are broken.

Karsa Orlong shocked her then, as he twisted to one side and pointedly spat on to the street. "Cheated," he said. "Cheated!"

She stared at him, aghast. She did not know what he meant – but no, she did. Yes, she did. "Karsa, what just happened?" Wrong, it was wrong. "I saw – I saw—"

"You saw true," he said, baring his teeth, his gaze fixed upon that fallen body. "As did Traveller, and see what it has done to him."

Toll the Hounds, by Steven Erikson (Malazan Book of the Fallen #8)

[seamusquigley]

‘I have invented countless things that would prove of great value to many people. And that presents me with a dilemma. I must ask myself, with each invention, what possible abuses await such an object? More often than not, I conclude that those abuses outweigh the value of the invention. I call this Dev’s First Law of Invention.’

‘You are obsessed with laws.’

‘Perhaps. In any case, the law is simple, as all true laws must be—’

‘You have a law for that, too?’

‘Founding principle, rather than law. In any case, ethics are the first consideration of an inventor following a particular invention.’

‘You call that simple?’

‘The statement is, the consideration is not.’

‘Now that sounds more like a true law.’

The Bonehunters by Steven Erikson, book 6 of The Malazan Book of the Fallen

[malazansapper]

‘The Crippled God.’

‘Yes, Samar Dev.’

‘Do you actually think it can be healed?’

‘I do not know. There is physical damage and then there is spiritual damage. The former is more easily mended than the latter. He is sustained by rage, I suspect. His last source of power, perhaps his only source of power whilst chained in this realm.’

‘I doubt he’s in the negotiating mood,’ Samar Dev said, ‘And even if he was, he’s anathema to the likes of me.’

‘It is an extraordinary act of courage,’ said Tulas Shorn, ‘to come to know a stranger’s pain. To even consider such a thing demands a profound dispensation, a willingness to wear someone else’s chains, to taste their suffering, to see with one’s own eyes the hue cast on all things - the terrible stain that is despair.’ The Tiste Edur slowly shook its head. ‘I have no such courage. It is, without doubt, the rarest of abilities.’

None spoke then for a time. The fire ate itself, indifferent to witnesses, and in its hunger devoured all that was offered it, again and again, until night and the disinterest of its guests left it to starve, until the wind stirred naught but ashes.

Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson

[whiskeyjack-bridgeburner]

Like the Crippled God, the witch did not truly understand Karsa.

On the other hand, he understood her very well. Toll the Hounds The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson

[chloristoflora]

He bared his teeth. "Icarium. He is gone."

"What do you mean, gone? He's left? To go where?"

"It does not matter," the Toblakai replied, swinging round to settle his feet on the floor. He stared across her. "He knows."

"Knows what, Karsa Orlong?"

The warrior stood, his smile broadening, twisting the crazed tattoos on his face. "That he will not be needed."

"Karsa—"

"You will know when, woman. You will know."

Know what, damn you? "They wouldn't have just let him go," she said. "So he must have taken down all the guards. Karsa, this is our last chance. To head out into the city. Leave all this—"

"You do not understand. The Emperor is nothing. The Emperor, Samar Dev, is not the one he wants."

Who? Icarium? No – "Karsa Orlong, what secret do you hold? What do you know about the Crippled God?"

The Toblakai rose. "It is nearly dawn," he said. "Nearly time."

"Karsa, please—"

"Will you witness?"

"Do I have to?"

He studied her for a moment, and then his next words shocked her to the core of her soul: "I need you, woman."

"Why?" she demanded, suddenly close to tears.

"To witness. To do what needs doing when the time comes." He drew a deep, satisfied breath, looking away, his chest swelling until she thought his ribs would creak. "I live for days like these," he said.

And now she did weep.

Grandness, promise, potential. Fallen One, must you so share out your pain?

Reaper's Gale, by Steven Erikson (Malazan Book of the Fallen #7)

[malazansapper]

‘Leave him,’ said Karsa. ‘Leave him free to choose for himself.’

Whatever Cotillion was saying seemed to strike like physical blows, which Traveller absorbed one after another, still looking away - still clearly unable to meet the god’s eyes.

[. . .]

Cotillion was unrelenting.

For the god, for Traveller, and for Samar Dev and Karsa Orlong, the world beyond this scene had virtually vanished. A moment was taking portentous shape, hewn one piece at a time, like finding a face in the heart of a block of stone. A moment that spun on some kind of decision, on that Traveller must make, here, now, for it was obvious that Cotillion had placed himself in the warrior’s path, and would not step to one side.

[. . .]

An inhuman cry from Traveller cut through her words, cut through every thought, slashing like a knife. Such a forlorn, desperate sound - it did not belong to him, could not, but he had thrust out one arm, as if to shove Cotillion aside.

They stood too far apart for that. Yet Cotillion, now silent, simply stepped away from Traveller’s path.

And the warrior walked past, but now it was as if each boot needed to be dragged forward, as if Traveller now struggled against some terrible, invisible tide. That ferocious obsession seemed to have come untethered - he walked as would a man lost.

Cotillion watched him go, and she saw him lift a forearm to his eyes, as if he did not want the memory of this, as if he could wipe it away with a single, private gesture.

Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson

[malazansapper]

‘The choices you make,’ he replied, ‘must needs be entirely of your own accord, Samar Dev. Reasonably distinct from mine or anyone else’s. It is said that the history of human conflict resides exclusively in the clash of expectations.’

‘Is it now?’

‘Furthermore-’

‘Never mind your “furthermore”, Senior Assessor. Compromise is the negotiation of expectation. With your wayward notions we do not negotiate, and so all the compromising is mine.’

‘As you choose.’

She thought about hitting him, decided she didn’t want to make a scene.[...]

Reaper’s Gale by Steven Erikson

[dark5light]

The fate of the fated, oh, that sounds clumsy, and yet … what else can it be called? This force of inevitability, both willed and unwilling, both unnecessary and inexorable. The fate of the fated.

Samar Dev (Toll the Hounds by Steven Erikson)