The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (534 page)

Moroch reined in before them. ‘This road will be packed by dusk,' he said. ‘You will need at least four more squads to manage the flow.'

A sergeant scowled up at him. ‘And who in the Errant's name are you?'

‘Another deserter,' muttered a soldier.

Moroch's uniform was covered in dust and patches of old blood. He was bearded, his hair filthy and unbound. Even so, he stared at the sergeant, shocked that he had not been recognized. Then he bared his teeth, ‘There will be deserters, yes. They are to be pulled aside, and all those refugees of acceptable age and fitness are to be recruited. Sergeant, I am Finadd Moroch Nevath. I led the survivors from High Fort down to Brans Keep, where we were attached to the Artisan Battalion. I go now to report to the Preda.'

He was pleased at the sudden deference shown once he identified himself.

The sergeant saluted, then asked, ‘Is it true, then, sir? The prince and the queen are prisoners of the Edur?'

‘A miracle that they survived at all, sergeant.'

A strange expression flitted across the sergeant's features, quickly disguised, yet Moroch had understood it.
Why didn't you fall defending them, Finadd? You ran, like all the others
…

‘We will get them back, sir,' the sergeant said after a moment.

‘Send for your reinforcements,' Moroch said, kicking his horse into motion once more.
You're right. I should have died. But you were not there, were you?

He rode into the city.

 

Champion Ormly and Chief Investigator Rucket were sitting on the steps of the Rat Catchers' Guild, sharing a bottle of wine. Both scowled when they saw Bugg, who approached to stand before them.

‘We know all about you now,' Rucket said. She sneered, but added nothing more.

‘Well,' said Bugg, ‘that's a relief. What more have you heard from your agents in the occupied cities?'

‘Oh,' Ormly said, ‘and we're to reveal all our intelligence to you, simply because you ask for it?'

‘I don't see why not.'

‘He has a point, the bastard,' Rucket said to the Champion.

Who looked at her in disbelief. ‘No he doesn't! You're smitten, aren't you? Tehol and his manservant—both of them!'

‘Don't be absurd. It's in the contract, Ormly. We share information—'

‘Fine, but what's this man shared? Nothing. The Waiting Man. What's he waiting for? That's what I want to know?

‘You're drunk.'

Bugg said, ‘You haven't heard anything.'

‘Of course we have!' Ormly snapped. ‘Peace reigns. The shops are open once more. Coins roll, the sea lanes are unobstructed.'

‘Garrisons?'

‘Disarmed. Including local constabulary. All protection and enforcement is being done by the Edur. Empty estates have been occupied by Edur families—some kind of nobility exists with them, with those tribes. Not so different after all.'

‘Curious,' Bugg said. ‘No resistance?'

‘Their damned shades are everywhere. Even the rats don't dare cause trouble.'

‘And how close to Letheras are the Edur armies?'

‘That we don't know. Days away, maybe. The situation is pretty chaotic in the countryside north of here. I'm not answering any more questions and that's that.' Ormly took the bottle from Rucket and drank deep.

Bugg looked round. The street was quiet. ‘Something in the air…'

‘We know,' Rucket said.

The silence lengthened, then Bugg rubbed at the back of his neck. Without another word, he walked away.

A short time later, he approached the Azath tower. As he began crossing the street towards the front gate, a figure emerged from a nearby alley. Bugg halted.

‘Surprised to see you here,' the man said as he drew nearer to the manservant. ‘But a momentary surprise. Thinking on it, where else would you be?'

Bugg grunted, then said, ‘I wondered when you'd finally stir yourself awake. If.'

‘Better late than never.'

‘Here to give things a nudge, are you?'

‘In a manner of speaking. And what about you?'

‘Well,' Bugg considered, ‘that depends.'

‘On?'

‘You, I suppose.'

‘Oh, I'm just passing through,' the man said.

Bugg studied him for a long moment, then cocked his head and asked, ‘So, how much of you was at the heart of this mess, I wonder? Feeding the queen's greed, the prince's estrangement from his father. Did the notion of the Seventh Closure simply amuse you?'

‘I but watched,' the man replied, shrugging. ‘Human nature is responsible, as ever. That is not a burden I am willing to accept, especially from you.'

‘All right. But here you are, about to take a far more active role…'

‘This goes back, old man. Edur or human, I do not want to see a revisiting of the T'lan Imass.'

After a moment, Bugg nodded. ‘The Pack. I see. I have never liked you much, but this time I am afraid I have to agree with you.'

‘That warms my heart.'

‘To be so benignly judged? I suppose it would at that.'

He laughed, then, with a careless wave, walked past Bugg.

The problem with gods, Bugg decided, was the way they ended up getting dragged along. Wherever their believers went. This one had vanished from memory everywhere else, as extinct as the Holds themselves.

So. T'lan Imass, the Pack, and the coming of the Jheck. Soletaken worshippers of their ancient lord, and, from the potential resurrection of that ancient cult, a possible return of the T'lan Imass, to expunge the madness.

What had driven him to act now, then? In this particular matter? The answer came to Bugg, and he smiled without humour.
It's called guilt.

 

A metallic tapping woke Tehol Beddict. He sat up, looked round. It was nearing late afternoon. The tapping was repeated and he glanced over to see his bodyguard, weapon drawn, standing at the roof's edge on the alley side. The man gestured him over.

Climbing gingerly from the rickety bed, Tehol tiptoed to the bodyguard's side.

Down in the alley below a shape was crawling along beneath a stained tarp of some sort. Slow but steady progress towards the corner.

‘I admit,' Tehol said, ‘it's a curious thing. But sufficient cause to wake me up? Ah, there I have doubts. The city is full of crawling things, after all. Well, on a normal day, that is. Here we are, however, so perhaps it might be amusing if we follow its tortured journey.'

The shape reached the corner, then edged round it.

Tehol and his companion tracked it from above. Along the wall, then into the aisle leading to the entrance to Tehol's house.

‘Ah, it is paying us a visit. Whatever it's selling, I'm not sure I want any. We are facing a conundrum, my friend. You know how I hate being rude. Then again, what if it is selling some horrible disease?'

It reached the doorway, slipped inside.

The bodyguard walked to the hatch and looked down. After a moment, Tehol followed. As he peered over he heard a familiar voice call up.

‘Tehol. Get down here.'

‘Shurq?'

A gesturing shape in the gloom.

‘Best wait here,' Tehol said to his guard. ‘I think she wants privacy. You can keep an eye on the entrance from up here, right? Excellent. I'm glad we're agreed.' He climbed down the ladder.

‘I have a problem,' she said when he reached the floor.

‘Anything I can do for you, Shurq, I shall. Did you know you have a spike of some sort in your forehead?'

‘That's my problem, you idiot.'

‘Ah. Would you like me to pull it out?'

‘I don't think that's a good idea, Tehol.'

‘Not worse, surely, than leaving it there.'

‘The issue is not as clear as it appears to be,' Shurq said. ‘Something is holding it. It's not nearly as loose as one would hope.'

‘Are you concentrating on it?'

She said nothing.

He hastily added, ‘Maybe it's bent or something.'

‘It goes through to the back of my skull. There may be a flange of some sort.'

‘Why not push it right through?'

‘And leave the back of my head in pieces?'

‘Well, the only other possibility I can think of at the moment, Shurq, is to pull it out a little bit, saw it off, then push what's left back in. Granted, you'd have a hole, but you could take to wearing a bandanna or head-scarf, at least until we visit Selush.'

‘Not bad. But what if it starts clunking around in my head? Besides, bandannas are pathetically out of date as far as fashion goes. I would be mortified to be seen in public.'

‘Selush might well have a solution to that, Shurq. A stopper with a diamond in it, or a patch of skin sewn over the hole.'

‘A diamond-studded plug. I like that.'

‘You'll launch a new trend.'

‘Do you think Ublala will like it, Tehol?'

‘Of course he will. As for the clunking, well, that's a definite problem. But it seems evident that you're not using your brain. I mean, that physical stuff in there. Your soul is simply making use of the body, right? Probably out of a sense of familiarity. Given that, maybe we
could
pull it out—'

‘No, I like the idea of sawing it. And the diamond stopper. That sounds good. Now, can you bring Selush here?'

‘Right now?'

‘Well, as soon as possible. I don't like walking around with it the way it is. Tell her I will pay for the inconvenience.'

‘I'll try.'

‘Needless to say, I'm miserable.'

‘Of course you are, Shurq.'

‘And I want Ublala. I want him now.'

‘I understand—'

‘No you don't. I said I want him now. But that's impossible. So you'll have to do.'

‘Me? Oh dear. Does it bite?'

‘Only one way to find out, Tehol Beddict. Get out of those stupid clothes.'

‘So long as you don't poke my eye out.'

‘Don't make me—oh, right. I'll be careful. I promise.'

‘Just so long as you understand, Shurq, I normally don't do this with my employees. Especially dead ones.'

‘I don't see why you had to bring that up. It's not like I can help it.'

‘I know. But it's, uh, well…'

‘Creepy?'

‘You're lovely and all that, I mean, Selush was brilliant—the best work she's ever done.'

‘Think how I feel, Tehol? Errant knows, you're no Ublala.'

‘Why, thank you.'

‘Now, take your clothes off. I'm sure it won't take long anyway.'

 

The street was mostly unobstructed, allowing Moroch Nevath to make good time on his approach to the old palace. His horse would probably never fully recover from the journey down from High Fort. There was a Bluerose trainer in the palace, he had heard—although he had never seen the man—who was said to heal horses. If he found the time, he might hunt him down.

A figure stepped into the street ahead.

Recognizing the man, Moroch reined in. ‘Turudal Brizad.'

‘Finadd. I barely recognized you.'

‘You're not alone in that, First Consort. Now, I am off to report to the Preda.'

‘You will find her in the throne room. Finadd, I may have need of you shortly.'

Moroch scowled. ‘For what?'

The man smiled. ‘Specifically, your skill with the sword.'

‘Who do you want me to kill, Brizad? Some irate husband, an outraged wife? I think Gerun Eberict would better suit your requirements in such matters.'

‘I wish it were that simple, Finadd. Ideally, I would seek out Brys Beddict, but he has other tasks before him—'

‘So do I.'

‘The Preda will assign you to protection of the Royal Household, such as it is—'

‘That is the task of the King's Champion.'

‘Yes. Meaning you will find yourself with some time on your hands.'

Moroch's scowl deepened. ‘I intend to accompany the Preda when she marches, First Consort.'

Turudal sighed. ‘You are no longer trusted, Finadd. You failed both the prince and the queen. It would have been preferable had you died in the endeavour at High Fort.'

‘I was injured. Separated from my charges. I could not even find them once the battle commenced—'

‘Tragic, Finadd, but such stones make no splash on a frozen lake. What I offer you is an opportunity for redemption, for your name to be hailed in history. I am certain, Moroch Nevath, that you will receive no comparable offer from anyone else.'

The Finadd studied the man standing before him. He'd always made Moroch's skin crawl. Too slick, too perfumed. Too smug. Now more than ever. ‘There is nothing you can offer me—'

‘Finadd, I want you to kill a god.'

Moroch sneered, said nothing.

Turudal Brizad smiled, then said, ‘The god of the Jheck. And where can you find this god? Why, here in the city. Waiting for the arrival of its savage worshippers.'

‘How do you know all this?'

‘Kill the god, Moroch Nevath, and the Tiste Edur will lose their allies.'

‘We will speak more on this,' the Finadd said in a growl. ‘But for now, I must go.'

‘Of course. You have my sympathies, by the way. I know you could have done nothing to save Quillas or Janall—

‘Save your breath, First Consort.' Moroch snapped the reins, sending his horse forward, forcing Turudal Brizad to step aside hastily to avoid being knocked down.

 

Bugg found Kettle hunched against the door of the tower. She was shivering, knees drawn up, her head down.

‘Child?'

A muffled reply. ‘Go away.'

He crouched beside her. ‘How bad is it?'

‘I'm hungry. My stomach hurts. The bites itch.'

‘You're alive, then.' He saw her head nod. ‘And you'd rather be dead.' Another nod. ‘We need to get you some new clothes. Some food, and water. We need to find you shelter—you can't stay here any longer.'