Gredfallan ale by dejan-delic ‘Tell me, Whiskeyjack,’ Rake said in a different tone,'do
Gredfallan ale by dejan-delic ‘Tell me, Whiskeyjack,’ Rake said in a different tone,'do you ever find the voice of a river unsettling?’ The Malazan frowned. 'To the contrary, I find it calming.’ 'Ah. This, then, points to the essential difference between us.’ Between mortals and immortals? Beru fend… Anomander Rake, I know precisely what you need. 'I’ve a small cask of Gredfallan ale, Lord. I would like to retrieve it, now, if you don’t mind waiting?’ 'A sound plan, Whiskeyjack.’ And by dawn, may you find the voice grown calm. The Malazan turned and made his way back to the encampment. As he approached the first row of tents, he paused and turned back to look at the distant figure, standing tall and motionless on the grassy ridge. The sword Dragnipur, strapped crossways on Anomander Rake’s back, hung like an elongated cross, surrounded in its own breath of preternatural darkness. Alas, I don’t think Gredfallan ale will be enough…Memories Of Ice / Steven Erikson Dejan Delic©2015, All Rights Reserved. -- source link
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