Gardens Of The Moon And Deadhouse Gates Part 7

The pool lay in the centre of a garden. Pale undergrowth carpeted the cracked flagstones on the footpath, white and pink leaves like shreds of flesh, colourless globes of some kind of fruit depending from vines wrapping stone columns and fossilized tree trunks. A garden thriving in darkness.Eyeless white fish darted in the pool, seeking shadows as the sorcerous light pulsed bright.Felisin fell to her knees, reached trembling hands down, slipped them into the cool water. The sensation rushed through her with ecstasy.'Residue of alchemies,' Heboric said behind her.She glanced back. 'What do you mean?''There will be .. . benefits ... in drinking this nectar.''Is this fruit edible?' Kulp asked, hefting one of the pale globes.'It was when it was bright red, nine thousand years ago.'

The thick ash hung motionless in their wake for as far as Kalam could see, though distance in the Imperial Warren was not a thing easily gauged. Their trail had the appearance of being as straight as a spear shaft. His frown deepened.'We are are lost,' Minala said, leaning back in her saddle. lost,' Minala said, leaning back in her saddle.'Better than dead,' Keneb muttered, offering the a.s.sa.s.sin at least that much sympathy.Kalam felt Minala's hard grey eyes on him. 'Get us out of this Hood-cursed warren, Corporal! We're hungry, we're thirsty, we don't know where we are. Get us out!'I've visualized Aren, I've picked the place an un.o.btrusive niche at the end of the final twist of No Help Alley . . . in the heart of Dregs, that Malazan expatriate hovel close to the riverfront. Right down to the cobbles underfoot. So why can't we get there? What's blocking us? an un.o.btrusive niche at the end of the final twist of No Help Alley . . . in the heart of Dregs, that Malazan expatriate hovel close to the riverfront. Right down to the cobbles underfoot. So why can't we get there? What's blocking us? 'Not yet,' Kalam said. 'Even by warren, Aren is a long journey.' 'Not yet,' Kalam said. 'Even by warren, Aren is a long journey.' That makes sense, doesn't it? So why all this unease? That makes sense, doesn't it? So why all this unease?'Something's wrong,' Minala persisted. 'I can see it in your face. We should have arrived by now.'The taste of ash, its smell, its feel, had become a part of him, and he knew it was the same for the others. The lifeless grit seemed to stain his very thoughts. Kalam had suspicions of what that ash had once been the heap of bones they had stumbled onto when arriving had not proved unique yet he found himself instinctively shying from acknowledging those suspicions. The possibility was too ghastly, too overwhelming, to contemplate.Keneb grunted, then sighed. 'Well, Corporal, shall we continue on?'Kalam glanced at the captain. The fever from his head wound was gone, though a barely perceptible slowness to his movements and expressions betrayed a healing yet incomplete. The a.s.sa.s.sin knew he could not count on the man in a fight. And with the apparent loss of Apt, he felt his back exposed. Minala's inability to trust him diminished the reliance he placed in her: she would do what was necessary to protect her sister and the children that and nothing more.Better were I I alone. alone. He nudged the stallion forward. After a moment the others followed. He nudged the stallion forward. After a moment the others followed.The Imperial Warren was a realm with neither day nor night, just a perpetual dusk, its faint light sourceless a place without shadows. They measured the pa.s.sage of time by the cyclical demands imposed by their bodies. The need to eat and drink, the need to sleep. Yet, when gnawing hunger and thirst grew constant and unappeased, when exhaustion pulled at every step, the notion of time sank into meaninglessness; indeed, it revealed itself as something born of faith, not fact.'Time makes of us believers. Timelessness Timelessness makes of us unbelievers.' Another Saying of the Fool, another sly quote voiced by the sages of my homeland. Used most often when dismissing precedent, a derisive scoff at the lessons of history. The central a.s.sertion of sages was to believe nothing. More, that a.s.sertion was a central tenet of those who would become a.s.sa.s.sins. makes of us unbelievers.' Another Saying of the Fool, another sly quote voiced by the sages of my homeland. Used most often when dismissing precedent, a derisive scoff at the lessons of history. The central a.s.sertion of sages was to believe nothing. More, that a.s.sertion was a central tenet of those who would become a.s.sa.s.sins.'a.s.sa.s.sination proves the lie of constancy. Even as the upraised dagger is itself a constant, your freedom to choose who, to choose when, is the constant's constant's darker lie. An a.s.sa.s.sin is chaos unleashed, students. But remember, the upraised dagger can quench firestorms as easily as light them . . .' darker lie. An a.s.sa.s.sin is chaos unleashed, students. But remember, the upraised dagger can quench firestorms as easily as light them . . .'And there, plainly carved in his thoughts as if with a dagger-point, stretched the thin, straight track that would lead him to Laseen. Every justification he needed rode unerring within that fissure. Yet, while the track cuts through Aren, it seems all unknowing something's nudged me from it, left me wandering this plain of ash. Yet, while the track cuts through Aren, it seems all unknowing something's nudged me from it, left me wandering this plain of ash.'I see clouds ahead,' Minala said, now riding beside him.Ridges of low-hanging dust crisscrossed the area before them. Kalam's eyes narrowed. 'As good as footprints in mud,' he muttered.'What?''Look behind us we leave the selfsame trail. We've company in the Imperial Warren.''And any company's unwelcome,' she said.'Aye.'Arriving at the first of the ragged ruts only deepened Kalam's unease. More than one. b.e.s.t.i.a.l. No servants sworn to the Empress left these than one. b.e.s.t.i.a.l. No servants sworn to the Empress left these ... ...'Look,' Minala said, pointing.Thirty paces ahead was what appeared to be a sinkhole or dark stain on the ground. Suspended ash rimmed the pit in a motionless, semi-translucent curtain.'Is it just me,' Keneb growled behind them, 'or is there a new smell to this Hood-rotted air?''Like wood spice,' Minala agreed.Hackles rising, Kalam freed his crossbow from its binding on the saddle, cranked the claw back until it locked, then slid a quarrel into the slot. He felt Minala's eyes on him throughout and was not surprised when she spoke.'That particular smell's one you're familiar with, isn't it? And not from rifling some merchant's bolt-chest, either. What should we be on the lookout for, Corporal?''Anything,' he said, kicking his horse into a walk.The pit was at least a hundred paces across, the edges heaped in places with excavated fill. Burned bone jutted from those mounds.Kalam's stallion stopped a few yards from the edge. Still gripping the crossbow, the a.s.sa.s.sin lifted one leg over the saddlehorn, then slipped down, landing in a puff of grey cloud. 'Best stay here,' he told the others. 'No telling how firm the sides are.''Then why approach at all?' Minala demanded.Not answering, Kalam edged forward. He came to within two paces of the rim, close enough to see what lay at the bottom of the pit, although at first it was the far side that held his attention. Now I know what we're walking on and refusing to think on it didn't help at all. Hood's breath! Now I know what we're walking on and refusing to think on it didn't help at all. Hood's breath! The ash formed compacted layers, revealing past variations in the temperature and ferocity of the fires that had incinerated this land and everything on it. The layers varied in thickness as well. One of the thickest was an arm's length in depth and looked solid with compacted, shattered bone. Immediately below it was a thinner, reddish layer of what looked like brick dust. Other layers revealed only charred bones, mottled with black patches rimmed in white. Those few that he could identify looked human in size perhaps slightly longer of limb. The banded wall opposite him was at least six arm-spans deep. We The ash formed compacted layers, revealing past variations in the temperature and ferocity of the fires that had incinerated this land and everything on it. The layers varied in thickness as well. One of the thickest was an arm's length in depth and looked solid with compacted, shattered bone. Immediately below it was a thinner, reddish layer of what looked like brick dust. Other layers revealed only charred bones, mottled with black patches rimmed in white. Those few that he could identify looked human in size perhaps slightly longer of limb. The banded wall opposite him was at least six arm-spans deep. We stride ancient death, the remains of . . . millions. stride ancient death, the remains of . . . millions.His gaze slowly descended to the pit's floor. It was crowded with rusted, corroded mechanisms, all alike though strewn about. Each was the size of a trader's wagon, and indeed huge spoked iron wheels were visible.Kalam studied them a long time, then he swung about and returned to the others, unc.o.c.king the crossbow as he did so.'Well?'The a.s.sa.s.sin shrugged, pulling himself back into the saddle. 'Old ruins at the bottom. Odd ones the only time I've seen anything like them was in Darujhistan, within the temple that housed Icarium's Circle of Seasons, which was said to measure the pa.s.sage of time.'Keneb grunted.Kalam glanced at the man. 'Something, Captain?''A rumour, nothing more. Months old.''What rumour?''Oh, that Icarium was seen.' The man suddenly frowned. 'What do you know of the Deck of Dragons, Corporal?''Enough to stay away from it.'Keneb nodded. 'We had a Seer pa.s.s through around that time some of my squads chipped in for a reading, ended up getting their money back since the Seer couldn't take the field past the first card the Seer wasn't surprised, I recall. Said that'd been the case for weeks, and not just for him, but for every other reader as well.'Alas, that wasn't my luck the last time I saw a Deck. 'Which card?' 'Which card?''One of the Unaligned I think it was. Which are those?''Orb, Throne, Sceptre, Obelisk-''Obelisk! That's the one. The Seer claimed it was Icarium's doing, that he'd been seen with his Trell companion in Pan'potsun.''Does any of this matter?' Minala demanded.Obelisk . . . past, present, future. Time, and time has no allies ... 'Probably not,' the a.s.sa.s.sin replied. ... 'Probably not,' the a.s.sa.s.sin replied.They rode on, skirting the pit at a safe distance. More dust trails crossed their route, with only a few suggesting the pa.s.sage of a human. Athough it was hard to be certain, they seemed to be heading in the opposite direction to the one Kalam had chosen. If indeed we're travelling south, then the Soletaken and D'ivers are all travelling north. That might be rea.s.suring, except that if there're more shapes.h.i.+fters on the way, we'll run right into them. If indeed we're travelling south, then the Soletaken and D'ivers are all travelling north. That might be rea.s.suring, except that if there're more shapes.h.i.+fters on the way, we'll run right into them.

A thousand paces later, they came to a sunken road. Like the mechanisms in the pit, it was six arm-spans down. While dust filled the air above the cobbles, making them blurry, the steeply banked sides had not slumped. Kalam dismounted, tied a long, thin rope to his stallion's saddlehorn, then, gripping the rope's other end, began making his way down. To his surprise he did not sink into the bank. His boots crunched. The slope had been solidified somehow. Nor was it too steep for the horses.The a.s.sa.s.sin glanced up at the others. 'This can lead us in the direction we've been travelling along, more or less. I suggest we take it we'll make much better time.''Going nowhere faster,' Minala said.Kalam grinned.When everyone had led their mounts down, the captain spoke. 'Why not camp here for a while? We're not visible and the air's a bit cleaner.''And cooler,' Selv added, her arms around her all too quiet children.'All right,' the a.s.sa.s.sin agreed.The bladders of water for the horses were getting ominously light the animals could last a few days on feed alone, Kalam knew, though they would suffer terribly. We're running out of time. We're running out of time. As he unsaddled, fed and watered the horses, Minala and Keneb laid out the bedrolls, then a.s.sembled the meagre supplies that would make up their own meal. The preparations were conducted in silence. As he unsaddled, fed and watered the horses, Minala and Keneb laid out the bedrolls, then a.s.sembled the meagre supplies that would make up their own meal. The preparations were conducted in silence.'Can't say I'm encouraged by this place,' Keneb said as they ate.Kalam grunted, appreciating the gradual emergence of the captain's sense of humour. 'Could do with a good sweeping,' he agreed.'Aye. Mind you, I've seen bonfires get out of control before ...'Minala took a last sip of water, set the bladder down. 'I'm done,' she announced, rising. 'You two can discuss the weather in peace.'They watched her. stride to her bedroll. Selv repacked the remaining food, then led her children away as well.'It's my watch,' Kalam reminded the captain.'I'm not tired-'The a.s.sa.s.sin barked a laugh.'All right, I'm tired. We all are. Thing is, this dust has us all snoring so loud we'd drown out stags in heat. I end up just lying there, staring up at what should be sky but looks more like a shroud. Throat on fire, lungs aching like they were full of sludge, eyes drier than a forgotten luckstone. We won't get any decent sleep until we've cleared this place out of our bodies-''We have to get out of here first.'Keneb nodded. He glanced over to where the snores had already begun and lowered his voice. 'Any predictions on when that will be, Corporal?''No.'The captain was silent a long time, then he sighed. 'You've somehow crossed blades with Minala. That's an unwelcome tension to our little family, wouldn't you say?'Kalam said nothing.After a moment, Keneb continued. 'Colonel Tras wanted a quiet, obedient wife, a wife to perch on his arm and make pretty sounds-''Not very observant, was he?''More like stubborn. Any horse can be broken, was his philosophy. And that's what he set about doing.''Was the colonel a subtle man?''Not even a clever one.''Yet Minala is both what in Hood's name was she thinking?'Keneb's eyes narrowed on the a.s.sa.s.sin's, as if he'd suddenly grasped something. Then he shrugged. 'She loves her sister.'Kalam looked away with a humourless grin. 'Isn't the officer corps a wonderful life.'Tras wasn't long for that backwater garrison post. He used his messengers to weave a broad net. He was maybe a week away from catching a new commission right at the heart of things.''Aren.''Aye.''You'd get the garrison command, then.''And ten more Imperials a month. Enough to hire good tutors for Kesen and Vaneb, instead of that wine-addled old toad with the fiddling hands attached to the garrison staff.''Minala doesn't look broken,' Kalam said.'Oh, she's broken all right. Forced healing was the colonel's mainstay. It's one thing to beat a person senseless, then have to wait a month or more for her to mend before you can do it again. With a squad healer with gambling debts at your side, you can break bones before breakfast and have her ready for more come the next sunrise.''With you smartly saluting through it all-'Keneb winced, glanced away. 'Can't object to what you don't know, Corporal. If I'd had as much as a suspicion ...' He shook his head. 'Closed doors. It was Selv who found out, through a launderer we shared with the colonel's household. Blood on the sheets and all that. When she told me I went to call him out to the compound.' He grimaced. 'The rebellion interrupted me I walked into an ambush well under way, and then my only concern was in keeping us all alive.''How did the good colonel die?''You've just come to a closed door, Corporal.'Kalam smiled. 'That's all right. Times like these I can see through them well enough.''Then I needn't say any more.''Looking at Minala, none of this makes sense,' the a.s.sa.s.sin said.'There's different kinds of strength, I guess. And defences. She used to be close with Selv, with the children. Now she wraps herself around them like armour, just as cold and just as hard. What she's having trouble with is you, Kalam. You've wrapped yourself in the same way but around her and the rest of us.'And she's feeling redundant? Maybe that's how it would look to Keneb. 'Her trouble with me is that she doesn't trust me, Captain.' 'Her trouble with me is that she doesn't trust me, Captain.''Why in Hood's name not?'Because I'm holding daggers unseen. And she knows it. Kalam shrugged. 'From what you've told me, I'd expect trust to be something she wouldn't easily grant to anyone, Captain.' Kalam shrugged. 'From what you've told me, I'd expect trust to be something she wouldn't easily grant to anyone, Captain.'Keneb mused on this, then he sighed and rose. 'Well, enough of that. I've a shroud to stare up at and snores to count.'Kalam watched the captain move away and settle down beside Selv. The a.s.sa.s.sin drew a deep, slow breath. I expect your death was a quick one, Colonel Tras. Be fickle, dear Hood, and spit the b.a.s.t.a.r.d back out. I'll kill him again, and Queen turn away, I expect your death was a quick one, Colonel Tras. Be fickle, dear Hood, and spit the b.a.s.t.a.r.d back out. I'll kill him again, and Queen turn away, I'll I'll not be quick. not be quick.

On his belly, Fiddler wormed his way down the rock-tumbled slope, heedlessly sc.r.a.ping his knuckles as he held out his c.o.c.ked crossbow before him. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Servant's dissolving in a dozen stomachs by now. Either that or his head's riding a pike minus the ears now dangling from someone's hip. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Servant's dissolving in a dozen stomachs by now. Either that or his head's riding a pike minus the ears now dangling from someone's hip.All of Icarium's and Mappo's skills had been stretched to the limit with the simple effort of keeping everyone alive. The Whirlwind, for all its violence, was no longer an empty storm scouring a dead land. Servant's trail had led the group into a more focused mayhem.Another lance flew out from the swirling ochre curtain to his left and landed with a clatter ten paces from where the sapper lay. Your G.o.ddess's wrath leaves you as blind as us, fool! Your G.o.ddess's wrath leaves you as blind as us, fool!They were in hills crawling with Sha'ik's desert warriors. There was both coincidence and something else in this fell convergence. Convergence indeed. The followers seek the indeed. The followers seek the woman woman they're sworn to follow. Too bad that the they're sworn to follow. Too bad that the other other path happens to be here as well. path happens to be here as well.Distant screams rose above the wind's more guttural howl. ho, the hills are alive with beasts. Foul-tempered ones at that. ho, the hills are alive with beasts. Foul-tempered ones at that. Three times in the past hour Icarium had led them around a Soletaken or a D'ivers. There was some kind of mutually agreed avoidance going on the shapes.h.i.+fters wanted nothing to do with the Jhag. But Three times in the past hour Icarium had led them around a Soletaken or a D'ivers. There was some kind of mutually agreed avoidance going on the shapes.h.i.+fters wanted nothing to do with the Jhag. But Sha'ik's fanatics. . . ah, now they're fair game. Lucky for us. Sha'ik's fanatics. . . ah, now they're fair game. Lucky for us.Still, the likelihood that Servant still lived seemed, to Fiddler's mind, very small indeed. He worried for Apsalar as well, and found himself- ironically praying that a G.o.d's skills would prove equal to the task.Two desert warriors wearing leather armour appeared ahead and below, scampering with panicked haste down towards the base of the gorge.Fiddler hissed a curse. He was the group's flank on this side if they got past him ...The sapper raised his crossbow.Black cloaks swept over the two figures. They shrieked. The cloaks swarmed, crawled. Spiders, big enough to make out each one even at this distance. Fiddler's skin p.r.i.c.kled. You should have brought brooms, friends. You should have brought brooms, friends.He pushed himself up from the creva.s.se he had wedged himself into, angled right as he scrambled along the slope. And if I don't get back into Icarium's influence soon, I'll be wis.h.i.+ng I had as well. if I don't get back into Icarium's influence soon, I'll be wis.h.i.+ng I had as well.The screams of the desert warriors ceased, either with the distance the sapper put between him and them, or blissful release he hoped the latter. Directly ahead rose the side of the ridge that had thus far marked Apsalar and her father's trail.The wind tugged at him as he clambered his way to the top. Almost immediately he stumbled onto the spine and caught sight of the others, no more than ten paces ahead. The three were crouched over a motionless figure.Fiddler went cold. Oh, Hood, make it a stranger .. Oh, Hood, make it a stranger ...It was. A young man, naked, his skin too pale to make him one of Sha'ik's desert tribesmen. His throat had been cut, the wound gaping down to the vertebra's flattened inner side. There was no blood.As Fiddler slowly crouched down, Mappo looked over at the sapper. 'A Soletaken, we think,' he said.'That's Apsalar's work,' Fiddler said. 'See how the head was pushed forward and down, chin tucked to anchor the blade I've seen it before ...''Then she's alive,' Crokus said.'As I said,' Icarium rumbled. 'As is her father.'So far so good. Fiddler straightened. 'There's no blood,' he said. 'Any idea how long ago he was killed?' Fiddler straightened. 'There's no blood,' he said. 'Any idea how long ago he was killed?''No more than an hour,' Mappo said. 'As for the lack of blood ...' He shrugged. 'The Whirlwind is a thirsty G.o.ddess.'The sapper nodded. 'I think I'll stick closer from now on, if you don't mind I don't think we'll have any more trouble from Sha'ik's warriors call it a gut feeling.'Mappo nodded. 'For the moment, we ourselves walk the Path of Hands.'And why is that, I wonder?They resumed their journey. Fiddler mused on the half-dozen times he'd seen desert warriors in the past twelve hours. Desperate men and women in truth. Raraku was the centre of the Apocalypse, yet the rebellion was headless and had been for some time. What was going on beyond the Holy Desert's ring of crags?Anarchy, I'd wager. Slaughter and frenzy. Hearts of ice and the mercy of cold steel. Even if the illusion of Sha'ik is being maintained her ranking followers now issuing commands she's not led her army out to make it the rebellion's lodestone. Doesn't sit well proclaiming an uprising, then not showing up to lead it...Apsalar would have her hands full, should she accept the role. An a.s.sa.s.sin's skills might keep her alive, but they offered nothing of the intangible magnetism necessary to lead armies. Commanding Commanding armies was easy enough the traditional structures ensured that, as the barely competent Fists of the Malazan Empire clearly showed but armies was easy enough the traditional structures ensured that, as the barely competent Fists of the Malazan Empire clearly showed but leading leading was another thing entirely. was another thing entirely.Fiddler could think of only a handful of people possessing that magnetic quality. Da.s.sem Ultor, Prince K'azz D'Avore of the Crimson Guard, Caladan Brood and Dujek Onearm. Tattersail if she'd had the ambition. Likely Sha'ik herself. And Whiskeyjack. Tattersail if she'd had the ambition. Likely Sha'ik herself. And Whiskeyjack.As alluring as Apsalar was, the sapper had seen nothing of such force of personality. Competence, without a doubt. Quiet confidence as well. But she clearly preferred observing over partic.i.p.ating at least until the time came to draw the sticker. a.s.sa.s.sins don't bother honing their powers to persuade why bother? She'll need the right people around her . . . at least until the time came to draw the sticker. a.s.sa.s.sins don't bother honing their powers to persuade why bother? She'll need the right people around her . . .Fiddler scowled to himself. He'd already taken it as given that the la.s.s would a.s.sume the guise, twined to the central thread of this G.o.ddess-woven tapestry. And here we are, racing through the Whirlwind . . . to arrive in time to witness the prophetic rebirth. And here we are, racing through the Whirlwind . . . to arrive in time to witness the prophetic rebirth.Eyes narrowed against the blowing grit, the sapper glanced at Crokus. The lad strode half a dozen paces ahead, a step behind Icarium. Even leaning as he did into the biting wind, he betrayed something fraught and fragile in his posture. She'd said nothing to him before leaving she'd dismissed him and his concerns as easily as she did the rest of us. Pust offered her father to seal the pact. But sent him out here first. That suggested the old man was a She'd said nothing to him before leaving she'd dismissed him and his concerns as easily as she did the rest of us. Pust offered her father to seal the pact. But sent him out here first. That suggested the old man was a willing willing player in the scheme, a co'conspirator. If I was that la.s.s, I'd have some hard questions for ol' Dadda. player in the scheme, a co'conspirator. If I was that la.s.s, I'd have some hard questions for ol' Dadda...On all sides, the Whirlwind seemed to howl with laughter.

The bruise was vaguely door-shaped and twice a man's height. Pearl paced before it, muttering to himself, while Lostara Yil watched in weary patience.Finally he turned, as if suddenly recalling her presence. 'Complications, my dear. I am ... torn.'The Red Blade eyed the portal. 'Has the a.s.sa.s.sin left the warren, then? This does not look the same as the other one ...'The Claw wiped ash from his brow, leaving a dusky streak. 'Ah, no. This represents a ... a detour. I'm the last surviving operative, after all. The Empress so despises idle hands ...' He gave her a wry smile, then shrugged. 'This is not my only concern, alas. We are being tracked.'She felt a chill at those words. 'We should double back, then. Prepare an ambush-'Pearl grinned, waved an arm. 'Choose us a likely place, then. Please.'She glanced around. Flat horizons in all directions. 'What of those raised humps we pa.s.sed a while back?''Never mind those,' the Claw said. 'Safe distance the first time and no closer now.''Then that pit...''Mechanisms to measure futility. I think not, my dear. For the moment, I fear, we must ignore that which stalks us-''What if it's Kalam?''It isn't. Thanks to you, we're keeping our eyes on him. Our a.s.sa.s.sin's mind wanders, and so therefore does his path. An embarra.s.sing lack of discipline for one so weighty. I admit I am disappointed in the man.' He swung to face the portal. 'In any case, we have digressed a rather vast distance here. A small measure of a.s.sistance is required not lengthy, I a.s.sure you. The Empress agrees that Kalam's journey suggests ... personal risks to her person, and so must take ultimate precedence. Nonetheless...'The Claw removed his half-cloak, carefully folding it before setting it down. Across his chest was a belt containing throwing stars. A brace of knives jutted pommel-forward under his left arm. Pearl went through a ritual of checking every weapon.'Do I wait here?''As you like. While I cannot guarantee your safety if you accompany me, I am for a skirmish.''The enemy?''Followers of the Whirlwind.'Lostara Yil unsheathed her tulwar.Pearl grinned, as if well aware of the effect his words would have. 'When we appear, it shall be night. Thick mists, as well. Our foes are Semk and t.i.thansi, and our allies-''Allies? This is a skirmish already underway?''Oh, indeed. Wickans and marines of the Seventh.'Lostara bared her teeth. 'Coltaine.'His grin broadening, Pearl drew on a pair of thin leather gloves. 'Ideally,' he continued, 'we should remain unseen.''Why?''If help appears once, the expectation is it will appear again. The risk is dulling Coltaine's edge, and by the Hidden Ones, the Wickan will need that edge in the weeks to come.''I am ready.''One thing,' the Claw drawled. 'There's a Semk demon. Stay away from it, for while we know virtually nothing of its powers, what we do know suggests an appalling ... temper.''I shall be right behind you,' Lostara said.'Hmm, in that case, once we're through, pull left. I'll go right. Not an auspicious entry my getting trampled, after all.'The portal flared. In a blur Pearl slid forward and vanished. Lostara jabbed her heels into her mount's flanks. The horse bolted through the portal--her hooves thumping hard soil. Fog twisted wildly around her, through a darkness that was alive with screams and detonations. She'd already lost Pearl, but that concern was quickly flung aside as four t.i.thansi warriors on foot stumbled into view.A sharper had chewed them up, and none was prepared as Lostara charged them, her tulwar flas.h.i.+ng. They scattered, but their wounds made them fatally slow. Two fell to her blade with the first pa.s.s. She spun her horse to ready a return charge.The other two warriors were nowhere to be seen, the mists closing in like slowly tumbling blankets. A flurry of sound to her left brought her wheeling her horse around, in time to see Pearl sprint into view. He spun in midstride and sent a star flas.h.i.+ng behind him.The huge, b.e.s.t.i.a.l man that lumbered into sight had his head rocked back as the iron star embedded itself in his forehead. It barely slowed him.Lostara snarled, quickly dropping the tulwar to swing wildly from the loop around her wrist as she brought her crossbow around.Her shot went low, the quarrel sinking in just below the Semk's sternum and above the odd thick leather belts protecting his midriff. It proved far more efficacious than Pearl's star. As the man grunted and buckled, she saw with shock that his mouth and nostrils had been sewn shut. He draws no breath! Here's our demon! no breath! Here's our demon!The Semk straightened, flinging his arms forward. The power that erupted from them was unseen, but both Pearl and Lostara were thrown, tumbling through the air. The horse screamed in mortal agony amidst a rapid crunching and cracking of bones.The Red Blade landed on her right hip, feeling the bone resound within her like a fractured bell. Then waves of pain closed taloned hands around her leg. Her bladder went, flooding her underclothes in a hot bloom.Moccasined feet landed beside her. A knife grip was thrust into her hand. 'Take yourself once I'm done! Here it comes!'Teeth clenched, Lostara Yil twisted around.The Semk demon was ten paces away, huge and unstoppable. Pearl crouched between them, holding knives that dripped red fire. Lostara knew he considered himself already dead.The thing that suddenly closed from the demon's left was a nightmare. Black, three-limbed, a jutting shoulder blade like a cowl behind a long-necked head, a grinning jaw crowded with fangs, and a single, flat black eye that glistened wetly.Even more terrifying was the humanoid figure that sat behind that shoulder blade, its face a mocking mimicry of the beast it rode, the lips peeled back to reveal daggerlike fangs as long as a toddler's fingers, its lone eye flas.h.i.+ng.The apparition struck the Semk demon like a runaway armoured wagon. The single forelimb snapped forward to plunge deep into the demon's belly, then pulled back in an explosion of spurting fluids. Clenched in that forelimb's grip was something that radiated fury in palpable waves. The air went icy.Pearl backed away until his heels struck Lostara, then he reached down one hand, eyes still on the scene, and gripped her weapon harness.The Semk's body seemed to fold in on itself as it staggered back. The apparition reared, still clutching the fleshy, dripping object.Its rider made a grab for it, but the creature hissed, twisting to keep it out of his reach. Instead it flung the object away into the mists.The Semk stumbled after it.The apparition's long head swung to face Lostara and Pearl with that ghastly grin.'Thank you,' Pearl whispered.A portal blossomed around them.Lostara blinked up at a dull, ash-laden sky. There was no sound but their breathing. Safe. A Safe. A moment later unconsciousness slipped over her like a shroud. moment later unconsciousness slipped over her like a shroud.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

An exquisite match of dog to master, the Wickan cattle-dog is a vicious, unpredictable breed, compact yet powerful, though by far its most notable characteristic is its stubborn will.Lives of the Conquered Ilem Trauth As Duiker strode between the large, s.p.a.cious tents, a chorus of shouts erupted ahead. A moment later one of the Wickan dogs appeared, head low, a surging rush of muscle, heading straight for the historian.Duiker fumbled for his sword, already knowing it was far too late. At the last instant the huge animal dodged lithely around him, and the historian saw that it held in its mouth a lapdog, its eyes dark pools of terror.The cattle-dog ran on, slipping between two tents and disappearing from sight.Ahead of the historian, a number of figures appeared, armed with large rocks and bizarrely Kanese parasols. One and all, they were dressed as if about to attend a royal function, although in their expressions Duiker saw raw fury.'You there!' one yelled imperiously. 'Old man! Did you see a mad hound just now?''I saw a running cattle-dog, aye,' the historian quietly replied.'With a rare Hengese roach dog in its mouth?'A dog that eats c.o.c.kroaches? dog that eats c.o.c.kroaches? 'Rare? I a.s.sumed it was raw.' 'Rare? I a.s.sumed it was raw.'The n.o.bles grew quiet as gazes focused on Duiker.'A foolish time for humour, old man,' the spokesman growled. He was younger than the others, his honey-coloured skin and large eyes denoting his Quon Talian lineage. He was lean, with the physical a.s.surance of a duellist the identification confirmed by the basket-hiked rapier at his belt. Moreover, there was something in the man's eyes that suggested to Duiker that here was someone who enjoyed killing.The man approached, his walk becoming a swagger. 'An apology, peasant though I'll grant it won't save you from a beating, at least you'll stay breathing ...'A horseman approached from behind at a canter.Duiker saw the duellist's eyes dart over the historian's shoulder.Corporal List reined in, ignoring the n.o.bleman. 'My apologies, sir,' he said. 'I was delayed at the smithy. Where is your horse?''With the main herd,' Duiker replied. 'A day off for the poor beast long overdue.'For a young man of low rank, List managed an impressive expression of cold regard as he finally looked down at the n.o.bleman. 'If we arrive late, sir,' he said to Duiker, 'Coltaine will demand an explanation.'The historian addressed the n.o.bleman. 'Are we done here?'The man gave a curt nod. 'For now,' he said.Escorted by the corporal, Duiker resumed his journey through the n.o.bles' camp. When they had gone a dozen paces, List leaned over his saddle. 'Alar looked ready to call you out, Historian.''He's known, then? Alar.''Pullyk Alar-''How unfortunate for him.'List grinned.They came to a central clearing in the encampment and discovered a whipping underway. The short, wide man with the leather cat-tail in one heat-bloated hand was familiar. The victim was a servant. Three other servants stood off to one side, their eyes averted. A few other n.o.ble-born stood nearby, gathered around a weeping woman and voicing murmurs of consolation.Lenestro's gold-brocaded cloak had lost some of its brilliant sheen, and in his red-faced frenzy as he swung the cat-tail he looked like a frothing ape performing the traditional King's Mirror farce at a village fair.'I see the n.o.bles are pleased by the return of their servant-folk,' List said dryly.'I suspect this has more to do with a s.n.a.t.c.hed lapdog,' the historian muttered. 'In any case, this stops now.'The corporal glanced over. 'He'll simply resume it later, sir.'Duiker said nothing.'Who would steal a lapdog?' List wondered, staying alongside the historian as he approached Lenestro.'Who wouldn't? We've water but we're still hungry. In any case, one of the Wickan cattle-dogs thought it up before the rest of us to our collective embarra.s.sment.''I blame preoccupation, sir.'Lenestro noted their approach and paused his whipping, his breath loud as a bellows.Ignoring the n.o.bleman, Duiker went to the servant. The man was old, down on his elbows and knees, hands held protectively behind his head. Red welts rode his knuckles, his neck and down the length of his bony back. Beneath the ruin were the tracks of older scars. A jewel-studded leash with a broken collar lay in the dust beside him.'Not your business, Historian,' Lenestro snapped.'These servants stood a t.i.thansi charge at Sekala,' Duiker said. 'That defence helped to keep your head on your shoulders, Lenestro.''Coltaine stole property!' the n.o.bleman squealed. 'The Council so judged him, the fine has been issued!''Issued,' List said, 'and duly p.i.s.sed on.'Lenestro wheeled on the corporal, raised his whip.'A warning,' Duiker said, straightening. 'Striking a soldier of the Seventh or, for that matter, his horse will see you hung.'Lenestro visibly struggled with his temper, his arm still raised, the whip quivering.Others were gathering, their sympathy clearly united with Lenestro. Even so, the historian did not antic.i.p.ate violence. The n.o.bles might well possess unrealistic notions, but they were anything but suicidal.Duiker spoke, 'Corporal, we'll take this man to the Seventh's healers.''Yes, sir,' List replied, briskly dismounting.The servant had pa.s.sed out. Together they carried him to the horse and laid him belly-down across the saddle.'He shall be returned to me once healed,' Lenestro said.'So you can do it all over again? Wrong, he'll not be returned to you.' And if you and your comrades are outraged, wait till an hour from now. And if you and your comrades are outraged, wait till an hour from now.'All such acts contrary to Malazan law are being noted,' the n.o.bleman said shrilly. 'There shall be recompense, with interest.'Duiker had heard enough. He suddenly closed the distance to grasp Lenestro's cloak collar with both hands, and gave the man a teeth-rattling shake. The whip fell to the ground. The n.o.bleman's eyes were wide with terror reminding the historian of the lapdog's as it rode the hound's mouth.'You probably think,' Duiker whispered, 'that I'm about to tell you about the situation we're all in. But it's already quite evident that there'd be little point. You are a small-brained thug, Lenestro. Push me again, and I'll have you eating pigs.h.i.+t and liking it.' He shook the pathetic creature again, then dropped him.Lenestro collapsed.Duiker frowned down at the man.'He's fainted, sir,' List said.'So he has.' Old man scared you, did he? Old man scared you, did he?'Was that really necessary?' a voice asked plaintively. Nethpara emerged from the crowd. 'As if our ongoing pet.i.tion is not crowded enough, now we have personal bullying to add to our grievances. Shame on you, Historian-''Excuse me, sir,' List said, 'but you might wish to know before you resume berating the historian that scholars.h.i.+p came late to this man. You will find his name among the Noted on the First Army's Column at Unta, and had you not just come late to this scene, you would have witnessed an old soldier's temper. Indeed, it was admirable restraint that the historian elected to use both hands to grip Lenestro's cloak, lest he use one to unsheathe that well-worn sword at his hip and drive it through the toad's heart.'Nethpara blinked sweat from his eyes.Duiker slowly swung to face List.The corporal noted the dismay in the historian's face and answered it with a wink. 'We'd best move on, sir,' he said.They left behind a gathering in the clearing that broke its silence only after they'd entered the opposite aisle.List walked alongside the historian, leading his horse by the reins. 'It still astonishes me that they persist in the notion that we will survive this journey.'Duiker glanced over in surprise. 'Are you lacking such faith, then, Corporal?''We'll never reach Aren, Historian. Yet the fools compile their pet.i.tions, their grievances against the very people keeping them alive.''There's great need to maintain the illusion of order, List. In us all.'The young man's expression turned wry. 'I missed your moment of sympathy back there, sir.''Obviously.'They left the n.o.bles' encampment and entered the mayhem of the wagons bearing wounded. Voices moaned a constant chorus of pain. A chill crept over Duiker. Even wheeled hospitals carried with them that pervasive atmosphere of fear, the sounds of defiance and the silence of surrender. Mortality's many comforting layers had been stripped away, revealing wracked bones, a sudden comprehension of death that throbbed like an exposed nerve.Awareness and revelations thickened the prairie air in a manner priests could only dream of for their temples. To fear the G.o.ds is to fear death. In places where men and women are dying, the G.o.ds no longer stand in the s.p.a.ces in between. The soothing intercession is gone. They've stepped back, back through the gates, and watch from the other side. Watch and wait. fear the G.o.ds is to fear death. In places where men and women are dying, the G.o.ds no longer stand in the s.p.a.ces in between. The soothing intercession is gone. They've stepped back, back through the gates, and watch from the other side. Watch and wait.'We should've gone around,' List muttered.'Even without that man in need on your horse,' Duiker said, 'I would have insisted we pa.s.s through this place, Corporal.''I've learned this lesson already,' List replied, a tautness in his tone.'From your earlier words, I would suggest that the lesson you have learned is different from mine, lad.''This place encourages you, Historian?''Strengthens, Corporal, though in a cold way, I admit. Never mind the games of Ascendants. This is what we are. The endless struggle laid bare. Gone is the idyllic, the deceit of self-import as well as the false humility of insignificance. Even as we battle wholly personal battles, we are unified. This is the place of level earth, Corporal. That is its lesson, and I wonder if it is an accident that that deluded mob in gold threads must walk in the wake of these wagons.''Either way, few revelations have bled back to stain n.o.ble sentiments.''No? I smelled desperation back there, Corporal.'List spied a healer and they delivered the servant into the woman's blood-smeared hands.The sun was low on the horizon directly ahead by the time they reached the Seventh's main camp. The faint smoke from the dung fires hung like gilded gauze over the ordered rows of tents. Off to one side two squads of infantry had set to in a contest of belt-grip, using a leather-strapped skullcap for a ball. A ring of cheering, jeering onlookers had gathered. Laughter rang in the air.Duiker remembered the words of an old marine from his soldiering days. Some times you just have to grin and spit in Hood's face. Some times you just have to grin and spit in Hood's face. The contesting squads were doing just that, running themselves ragged to sneer at their own exhaustion besides, and well aware that t.i.thansi eyes watched from a distance. The contesting squads were doing just that, running themselves ragged to sneer at their own exhaustion besides, and well aware that t.i.thansi eyes watched from a distance.They were a day away from the River P'atha, and the impending battle was a promise that thickened the dusk.Two of the Seventh's marines flanked Coltaine's command tent, and the historian recognized one of them.She nodded. 'Historian.'There was a look in her pale eyes that seemed to lay an invisible hand against his chest, and Duiker was stilled to silence, though he managed a smile.As they pa.s.sed between the drawn flaps, List murmured, 'Well now, Historian.''Enough of that, Corporal.' But he did not glance over to nail the young man's grin, as he was tempted to do. A man gets to an age where he's wise not to banter on desire with a comrade half his age. Too pathetic by far, that illusion of compet.i.tion. Besides, that look of hers was likely more pitying than anything else, no matter what my heart whispered. Put an end to your foolish thoughts, old man. man gets to an age where he's wise not to banter on desire with a comrade half his age. Too pathetic by far, that illusion of compet.i.tion. Besides, that look of hers was likely more pitying than anything else, no matter what my heart whispered. Put an end to your foolish thoughts, old man.Coltaine stood near the centre pole, his expression dark. Duiker and List's arrival had interrupted a conversation. Bult and Captain Lull sat on saddle-chairs, looking glum. Sormo stood wrapped in an antelope hide, his back to the tent's far wall, his eyes hooded in shadow. The air was sweltering and tense.Bult cleared his throat. 'Sormo was explaining about the Semk G.o.dling,' he said. 'The spirits say something damaged it. Badly. The night of the raid a demon walked the land. Lightly, I gather, leaving a spoor not easily sniffed out. In any case, it appeared, mauled the Semk, then left. It seems, Historian, that the Claw had company.''An Imperial demon?'Bult shrugged and swung his flat gaze to Sormo.The warlock, looking like a black vulture perched on a fence pole, stirred slightly. 'There is precedent,' he admitted. 'Yet Nil believes otherwise.''Why?' Duiker asked.There was a long pause before Sormo answered. 'When Nil fled into himself that night . . . no, that is, he believed believed that it was his own mind that sheltered him from the Semk's sorcerous attack . ..' It was clear that the warlock was in difficulty with his words. 'The Tano Spiritwalkers of this land are said to be able to quest through a hidden world not a true warren, but a realm where souls are freed of flesh and bone. It seems that Nil stumbled into such a place, and there he came face to face with... someone else. At first he thought it but an aspect of himself, a monstrous reflection-' that it was his own mind that sheltered him from the Semk's sorcerous attack . ..' It was clear that the warlock was in difficulty with his words. 'The Tano Spiritwalkers of this land are said to be able to quest through a hidden world not a true warren, but a realm where souls are freed of flesh and bone. It seems that Nil stumbled into such a place, and there he came face to face with... someone else. At first he thought it but an aspect of himself, a monstrous reflection-''Monstrous?' Duiker asked.'A boy of Nil's own age, yet with a demonic face. Nil believes it was bonded with the apparition that attacked the Semk. Imperial demons rarely possess human familiars.''Then who sent it?''Perhaps no-one.'No wonder Coltaine's had his black feathers ruffled.After a few minutes Bult sighed loudly, stretching out his gnarled, bandy legs. 'Kamist Reloe has prepared a welcome for us the other side of the River P'atha. We cannot afford to go around him. Therefore we shall go through him.''You ride with the marines,' Coltaine told Duiker.The historian glanced at Captain Lull.The red-bearded man grinned. 'Seems you've earned a place with the best, old man.''Hood's breath! I'll not last five minutes in a line of battle. My heart nearly gave out after a skirmish lasting all of three breaths the other night-''We won't be front line,' Lull said. 'There ain't enough of us left for that. If all goes as planned we won't even get our swords nicked.''Oh, very well.' Duiker turned to Coltaine. 'Returning the servants to the n.o.bles was a mistake,' he said. 'It seems the n.o.ble-born have concluded that you'll not take them away again if they're not fit to stand.'Bult said, 'They showed spine, those servants, at Sekala Crossing. Just holding s.h.i.+elds, mind, but hold is what they did.''Uncle, do you still have that scroll demanding compensation?' Coltaine asked.'Aye.''And that compensation was calculated based on the worth of each servant, in coin?'Bult nodded.'Collect the servants and pay for them in full, in gold jakatas.''Aye, though all that gold will burden the n.o.bles sorely.''Better them than us.'Lull cleared his throat. 'That coin's the soldiers' pay, ain't it?''The Empire honours its debts,' Coltaine growled.It was a statement that promised to grow in resonance in the time to come, and the momentary silence in the tent told Duiker that he was not alone in that recognition.

Capemoths swarmed across the face of the moon. Duiker sat beside the flaked embers of a cooking fire. A nervous energy had driven the historian from his bedroll. On all sides the camp slept, a city exhausted. Even the animals had fallen silent.Rhizan swept through the warm air above the hearth, plucking hovering insects on the wing. The soft crunch of exoskeletons was a constant crackle.A dark shape appeared at Duiker's side, lowered itself into a squat, held silent.After a while, Duiker said, 'A Fist needs his rest.'Coltaine grunted. 'And a historian?''Never rests.''We are denied in our needs,' the Wickan said.'It was ever thus.''Historian, you joke like a Wickan.''I've made a study of Bult's lack of humour.''That much is patently clear.'There was silence between them for a time. Duiker could make no claim to know the man at his side. If the Fist was plagued by doubts he did not show it, nor, of course, would he. A commander could not reveal his flaws. With Coltaine, however, it was more than his rank dictating his recalcitrance. Even Bult had occasion to mutter that his nephew was a man who isolated himself to levels far beyond the natural Wickan stoicism.Coltaine never made speeches to his troops, and while he was often seen by his soldiers, he did not make a point of it as many commanders did. Yet those soldiers belonged to him now, as if the Fist could fill every silent s.p.a.ce with a physical a.s.surance as solid as a gripping of forearms.What happens the day that faith is shattered? What if we are but hours from that day?'The enemy hunts our scouts,' Coltaine said. 'We cannot see what has been prepared for us in the valley ahead.''Sormo's allies?''The spirits are preoccupied.'Ah, the Semk G.o.dling.'Can'eld, Debrahl, t.i.than, Semk, Tepasi, Halafan, Ubari, Hissari, Sialk and Guran.'Four tribes now. Six city legions. Am I hearing doubt? tribes now. Six city legions. Am I hearing doubt?The Fist spat into the embers. 'The army that awaits us is one of two holding the south.'How in Hood's name does he know this? 'Has Sha'ik marched out of Raraku, then?' 'Has Sha'ik marched out of Raraku, then?''She has not. A mistake.''What holds her back? Has the rebellion been crushed in the north?''Crushed? No, it commands all. As for Sha'ik ...' Coltaine paused to adjust his crow-feather cape. 'Perhaps her visions have taken her into the future. Perhaps she knows the Whirlwind shall fail, that even now the Adjunct to the Empress a.s.sembles her legions Unta's harbour is solid with transports. The Whirlwind's successes will prove but momentary, a first blood-rush that succeeded only because of Imperial weakness. Sha'ik knows... the dragon has been stirred awake, and moves ponderously still, yet when the full fury comes, it shall scour this land from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.''This other army, here in the south ... how far away?'Coltaine straightened. 'I intend to arrive at Vathar two days before it.'Word must have reached him that Ubaryd has fallen, along with Devral and Asmar. Vathar the third and last river. If we make Vathar, it's a straight run south to Aren through the most forbidding wasteland on this Hood-Cursed continent. the third and last river. If we make Vathar, it's a straight run south to Aren through the most forbidding wasteland on this Hood-Cursed continent. 'Fist, the River Vathar is still months away. What of tomorrow?' 'Fist, the River Vathar is still months away. What of tomorrow?'Coltaine pulled his gaze from the embers and blinked at the historian. 'Tomorrow we crush Kamist Reloe's army, of course. One must think far ahead to succeed, Historian. You should understand that.'The Fist strolled away.Duiker stared at the dying fire, a sour taste in his mouth. That taste is fear, old man. You've not got Coltaine's impenetrable armour. You cannot see past a few hours from now, and you await the dawn in the belief that it shall be your last, and therefore you must witness it. Coltaine expects the impossible, he expects us to share in his implacable confidence. To share in his madness. taste is fear, old man. You've not got Coltaine's impenetrable armour. You cannot see past a few hours from now, and you await the dawn in the belief that it shall be your last, and therefore you must witness it. Coltaine expects the impossible, he expects us to share in his implacable confidence. To share in his madness.A rhizan landed on his boot, delicate wings folding as it settled. A young capemoth was in the winged lizard's mouth, its struggles continuing even as the rhizan methodically devoured it.Duiker waited until the creature had finished its meal before a twitch of his foot sent it winging away. The historian straightened. The sounds of activity had risen in the Wickan encampments. He made his way towards the nearest one.The horsewarriors of the Foolish Dog Clan had gathered to ready their equipment beneath the glare of torch poles. Duiker strode closer. Ornate boiled leather armour had appeared, dyed in deep and muddy shades of red and green. The thick, padded gear was in a style the historian had never seen before. Wickan runes had been burned into it. The armour looked ancient, yet never used.Duiker approached the nearest warrior, a peach-faced youth busy rubbing grease into a horse's brow-guard. 'Heavy armour for a Wickan,' the historian said. 'And for a Wickan horse as well.'The young man nodded soberly, said nothing.'You're turning yourselves into heavy cavalry.'The lad shrugged.An older warrior nearby spoke up. 'The warleader devised these during the rebellion . . . then agreed peace with the Emperor before they could be used.''And you have been carrying them around with you all this time?''Aye.''Why didn't you use this armour at Sekala Crossing?''Didn't need to.''And now?'Grinning, the veteran raised an iron helm with new bridge and cheek-guards attached. 'Reloe's horde hasn't faced heavy cavalry yet, has it?'Thick armour doesn't make heavy cavalry. Have you fools ever trained for this? Can you gallop in an even line? Can you wheel? How soon before your horses are winded beneath all that extra weight? armour doesn't make heavy cavalry. Have you fools ever trained for this? Can you gallop in an even line? Can you wheel? How soon before your horses are winded beneath all that extra weight? 'You'll look intimidating enough,' the historian said. 'You'll look intimidating enough,' the historian said.The Wickan caught the scepticism and his grin broadened.The youth set down the brow-guard and began strapping on a sword belt. He slid the blade from the scabbard, revealing four feet of blackened iron, its tip rounded and blunt. The weapon looked heavy, oversized in the lad's hands.Hood's breath, one swing'll yank him from his saddle. breath, one swing'll yank him from his saddle.The veteran grunted. 'Limber up there, Temul,' he said in Malazan.Temul immediately launched into a complex ch.o.r.eography, the blade blurring in his hand.'Do you intend to dismount once you reach the enemy?''Sleep would have done much for your mind's cast, old man.'Point taken, b.a.s.t.a.r.d.Duiker wandered away. He'd always hated the hours before a battle. None of the rituals of preparation had ever worked for him. A check of weapons and gear rarely took an experienced soldier more than twenty heartbeats. The historian had never been able to repeat that check mindlessly, again and again, as did so many soldiers. Keeping the hands busy while the mind slowly slid into a sharp-edged world of saturated colours, painful clarity and a kind of l.u.s.tful hunger that seized body and soul.Some warriors ready themselves to live, some ready themselves to die, and in these hours before the fate unfolds, it's d.a.m.ned hard to tell one from the other. The lad Temul's dance a moment ago might be his last. That d.a.m.ned sword may never again leap from its sheath and sing on the end of his hand.The sky was lightening in the east, the cool wind beginning to warm. The vast dome overhead was cloudless. A formation of birds flew high to the north, the pattern of specks almost motionless.The Wickan camp behind him, Duiker entered the regimental rows of tents that marked the Seventh. The various elements maintained their cohesion in the encampment's layout, and each was clearly identifiable to the historian. The medium infantry, who formed the bulk of the army, were arranged by company, each company consisting of cohorts that were in turn made up of squads. They would go into battle with full-body s.h.i.+elds of bronze, pikes and short swords. They wore bronze scale hauberks, greaves and gauntlets, and bronze helmets reinforced with iron bars wrapped in a cage around the skullcap. Chain camails protected their necks and shoulders. The other footmen consisted of marines and sappers, the former a combination of heavy infantry and shock troops the old Emperor's invention and still unique to the Empire. They were armed with crossbows and short swords as well as long swords. They wore blackened chain beneath grey leathers. Every third soldier carried a large, round s.h.i.+eld of thick, soft wood that would be soaked for an hour before battle. These s.h.i.+elds were used to catch and hold enemy weapons ranging from swords to flails. They would be discarded after the first few minutes of a fight, usually studded with an appalling array of edged and spiked iron. This peculiar tactic of the Seventh had proved effective against the Semk and their undisciplined, two-handed fighting methods. The marines called it puffing teeth. teeth.The sappers' encampment was set somewhat apart from the others as far away as possible when they carried Moranth munitions. Though he looked, Duiker could not see its location, but he knew well what he'd find. Look for the most disordered collection of tents and foul-smelling vapours aswarm with mosquitoes and gnats and you'll have found Malazan Engineers. And in that quarter you'll find soldiers shaking like leaves, with splash-b.u.m pockmarks, singed hair and a dark, manic gleam in their eyes. Look for the most disordered collection of tents and foul-smelling vapours aswarm with mosquitoes and gnats and you'll have found Malazan Engineers. And in that quarter you'll find soldiers shaking like leaves, with splash-b.u.m pockmarks, singed hair and a dark, manic gleam in their eyes.Corporal List stood with Captain Lull at one end of the Marine encampment, close to the attachment of loyal Hissari Guards whose soldiers were readying their tulwars and round s.h.i.+elds in grim silence. Coltaine held them in absolute trust, and the Seven Cities natives had proved themselves again and again with fanatic ferocity as if they had a.s.sumed a burden of shame and guilt and could only relieve it by slaughtering every one of their traitorous kin.Captain Lull smiled as the historian joined them. 'Got a cloth for your face? We'll be eating dust today, old man, in plenty.''We will be the back end of the wedge, sir,' List said, looking none too pleased.'I'd rather swallow dust than a yard of cold iron,' Duiker said. 'Do we know what we're facing yet, Lull?''That's "Captain" to you.''As soon as you stop calling me "old man", I'll start calling you by your rank.''I was jesting, Duiker,' Lull said. 'Call me what you like, and that includes pig-headed b.a.s.t.a.r.d if it pleases you.''It just might.'Lull's face twisted sourly. 'Didn't get any sleep, did you?' He swung to List. 'If the old codger starts nodding off, you've my permission to give him a clout on that bashed-up helmet of his, Corporal.''If I can stay awake myself, sir. This good cheer is wearing me out.'Lull grimaced at Duiker. 'The lad's showing spark these days.''Isn't he just.'The sun was burning clear of the horizon. Pale-winged birds flitted over the humped hills to the north. Duiker glanced down at his boots. The morning dew had seeped through the worn leather. Strands of snagged spiderwebs made a stretched, glittering pattern over the toes. He found it unaccountably beautiful. Gossamer webs . . . intricate traps. Yet it was my thoughtless pa.s.sage that left the night's work undone. Will the spiders go hungry this day because of it? Gossamer webs . . . intricate traps. Yet it was my thoughtless pa.s.sage that left the night's work undone. Will the spiders go hungry this day because of it?'Shouldn't dwell on what's to come,' Lull said.Duiker smiled, looked up at the sky. 'What's the order?''The Seventh's marines are the spear's point. Crow riders to either side are the flanking barbs. Foolish Dog now a Toggthundering heavy cavalry are the weight behind the marines. Then come the wounded, protected on all sides by the Seventh's infantry. Taking up the tail are the Hissari Loyals and the Seventh's cavalry.'Duiker was slow to react, then he blinked and faced the captain.Lull nodded. 'The refugees and herds are being held back, this side of the valley but slightly south, on a low shelf of land the maps call the Shallows, with a ridge of hills south of that. The Weasel Clan guards them. It's the safest thing to do that clan's turned dark and nasty since Sekala. Their horse-warriors have all filed their teeth, if you can believe that.''We go to this battle unenc.u.mbered,' the historian said.'Excepting the wounded, aye.'Captains Sulmar and Chenned emerged from the infantry encampment. Sulmar's posture and expression radiated outrage, Chenned's was mocking if slightly bemused.'Blood and guts!' Sulmar hissed, his greased moustache bristling. 'Those d.a.m.ned sappers and their Hood-sp.a.w.ned captain have done it this time!'Chenned met Duiker's gaze and shook his head. 'Coltaine went white at the news.''What news?''The sappers lit out last night!' Sulmar snarled. 'Hood rot the cowards one and all! Poliel bless them with pestilence, pox their illegitimate brood with her pus-soaked kiss! Togg trample that captain's ba-'Chenned was laughing in disbelief. 'Captain Sulmar! What would your friends in the Council say to such foul-mouthed cursing?''Burn take you, too, Chenned! I'm a soldier first, d.a.m.n you. A trickle to a flood, that's what we're facing-''There won't be any desertions,' Lull said, his battered fingers slowly raking through his beard. 'The sappers ain't run away. They're up to something, I'd hazard. It's not easy reining in that unwashed, motley company when you can't even track down its captain but I don't imagine Coltaine will make the same mistake again.' but I don't imagine Coltaine will make the same mistake again.''He'll not have the chance,' Sulmar muttered. 'The first worms will crawl into our ears before the day's done. It's the oblivious feast for us all, mark my words.'Lull raised his brows. 'If that's as encouraging as you can manage, Sulmar, I pity your soldiers.''Pity's for the victors, Lull.'A lone horn wailed its mournful note.'Waiting's over,' Chenned said with obvious relief. 'Save me a patch of gra.s.s when you go down, gentlemen.'Duiker watched the two Seventh captains depart. He'd not heard that particular send-off in a long time.'Chenned's father was in Da.s.sem's First Sword,' Lull said.'Or so goes the rumour even when names are swept from official histories, the past shows its face, eh, old man?'Duiker was in no mood to rise to either jibe. 'Think I'll check my gear,' he said, turning away.

It was noon before the final positioning was completed. There had been a near riot when the refugees finally understood that the main army was to make the crossing without them. Coltaine's selection of the Weasel Clan as their escort the horsewarriors presented a truly terrifying visage with their threaded skin, black tattooing and filed teeth proved his cunning yet again, although the Weasel riders almost took it too far with their bloodthirsty taunts flung at the very people they were sworn to protect. Desultory calm was established, despite the frenzied, fear-stricken efforts of the n.o.ble-born's Council and their seemingly inexhaustible capacity to deliver protests and writs.With the main force finally a.s.sembled, Coltaine issued the command to move forward.The day was blisteringly hot, the parched ground rising in clouds of dust as soon as the brittle gra.s.s was worn away by hooves and tramping boots. Lull's prediction of eating dust proved depressingly accurate, as Duiker once more raised his tin belt-flask to his lips, letting water seep into his mouth and down the dry gully of his throat.Marching on his left was Corporal List, his face caked white, helmet sliding down over his sweat-sheened forehead. On the historian's right strode the veteran marine he did not know her name, nor would he ask. Duiker's fear of what was to come had spread through him like an infection. His thoughts felt fevered, spinning around an irrational terror of ... of knowledge. Of the