The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (821 page)

He landed again, just short of the opposite timber wall this time, head ducking and shoulder seeming to barely brush the ground before he tumbled right over, touched one foot on a horizontal log and used it to twist round before landing balanced on the other foot now drawn tight beneath him. Facing the seven corpses he had just felled.

And facing two Malazan marines who, for once and just this once, had precisely nothing to say.

 

The marines of the 3rd and 4th Companies gathered in front of the tavern, stood or sat on the bloodstained cobbles of the main street. Wounds were tended to here and there, while others repaired armour or filed the nicks from sword edges.

Fiddler sat on the edge of a water trough near the hitching post to one side of the tavern entrance, taking stock. Since the coast, the three other squads of 4th Company had taken losses. Gone from Gesler's squad were Sands and Uru Hela. From Hellian's, Lutes and Tavos Pond, both of whom had died in this cursed village, while from Urb's both Hanno and now Bowl were dead, and Saltlick had lost his left hand. Fiddler's own squad had, thus far, come through unscathed, and that made him feel guilty.
Like one of Hood's minions, one in the row just the other side of the gate. Crow feathers in hand, or wilted roses, or sweetcakes, or any of the countless other gifts the dead were eager to hand their newly arrived kin – gods below, Smiles is turning me into another Kanese with all these absurd beliefs. Ain't nobody waiting other side of Hood's Gate, unless it's to jeer.

The two sergeants from the 3rd came over. Badan Gruk, whom Fiddler had met earlier, and the Quon, Primly. They made an odd pair, but that was always the way, wasn't it?

Primly gave Fiddler a strangely deferential nod. ‘We're fine with this,' he said.

‘With what?'

‘Your seniority, Fiddler. So, what do we do now?'

Grimacing, Fiddler looked away. ‘Any losses?'

‘From this scrap? No. Those Edur pulled out fast as hares in a kennel. A lot shakier than we'd expected.'

‘They don't like the shield to shield fighting,' Fiddler said, scratching at his filthy beard. ‘They'll do it, aye, especially when they've got Letherii troops with them. But of late they dropped that tactic, since with our munitions we made it a costly one. No, they've been hunting us, ambushing us, driving us hard. Their traditional way of fighting, I'd guess.'

Primly grunted. ‘Driving you, you said. So, likely there's a damned army waiting for us this side of Letheras. The anvil.'

‘Aye, which is why I think we should wait here a bit. It's risky, I know, since the Edur might return and next time there might be a thousand of them.'

Badan Gruk's thinned eyes grew yet thinner. ‘Hoping your Fist is going to catch up with a lot more marines.'

‘Your Fist now, too, Badan Gruk.'

A sharp nod, then a scowl. ‘We only got thrown into the mix because of the 4th's losses at Y'Ghatan.'

‘The Adjunct keeps making changes,' Primly said. ‘We don't have Fists in charge of nothing but marines – not since Crust's day—'

‘Well, we do now. We're not in the Malazan Army any more, Primly.'

‘Yes, Fiddler, I'm aware of that.'

‘That's my suggestion,' Fiddler repeated. ‘Wait here for a while. Let our mages get some rest. And hope Keneb shows and hope he's got more than a few dozen marines with him. Now, I'm not much for this seniority thing. I'd rather we sergeants just agreed on matters, so I'm not holding you to anything.'

‘Gesler agrees with you, Fiddler?'

‘Aye.'

‘What of Hellian and Urb?'

Fiddler laughed. ‘Tavern's still wet, Primly.'

 

The sun had gone down, but no-one seemed eager to go anywhere. Traffic in and out of the tavern occurred whenever another cask needed bringing out. The tavern's main room was a slaughterhouse no-one was inclined to stay in for very long.

Smiles walked over to where Koryk sat. ‘His name's Skulldeath, if you can believe that.'

‘Who?'

‘Nice try. You know who. The one who could kill you with his big toe.'

‘Been thinking about that attack,' Koryk said. ‘Only works if they're not expecting it.'

Smiles snorted.

‘No, really. I see someone flying at me I cut him in half. It's not like he can retreat or change his mind, is it?'

‘You're an idiot,' she said, then nudged him. ‘Hey, met your twin brother, too. His name is Vastly Blank and between you two I'd say he got all the brains.'

Koryk glowered at her. ‘What is it you want with me, Smiles?'

She shrugged. ‘Skulldeath. I'm going to make him mine.'

‘Yours?'

‘Yes. Did you know he's saving himself for a woman of royal blood?'

‘That's not what the men inclined that way are saying.'

‘Where'd you hear that?'

‘Besides, you're hardly royal blood, Smiles. Queen of shell-shuckers won't cut it.'

‘That's why I need you to lie for me. I was a Kanese princess – sent into the Malazan Army to keep the Claw from finding me—'

‘Oh, for Hood's sake!'

‘Shh! Listen, the rest in the squad said they'd be happy to lie for me. What's wrong with you?'

‘Happy…ha, that's good. Very good.' He then turned to study her. ‘You're eager for Skulldeath to take one of those flying leaps straight between your legs? You want to get pregnant with some prince from some Seven Cities flying squirrel tribe?'

‘Pregnant? Aye, when dolphins walk and fish nest in trees. I won't get pregnant,' she pronounced. ‘Bottle's giving me some herbs to take care of that. My beloved Skulldeath can empty gallons of his seed into me for Hood-damned ever and there won't be any little jackrabbits jumping round.'

‘He's got the face of a girl,' Koryk said. ‘And the men say he kisses like one, too.'

‘Who's telling you all this?'

‘Saving his seed, that's a laugh.'

‘Listen, those men, they don't mean nothing. Now, am I a Kanese princess or not?'

‘Oh, aye. Rival to the empire's throne, in fact. Be the flying fish to the flying squirrel and make your nest in some tree, Smiles. When all's done what's needed doing.'

She surprised him with a bright smile. ‘Thanks, Koryk. You're a true friend.'

He stared after her as she hurried off. Poor lass.
The squirrel's saving his seed because he doesn't know what to do with it, is my guess.

A figure walked past in the gloom and Koryk squinted until he recognized the man's gait. ‘Hey, Bottle.'

The young mage halted, looked over, then, feet dragging, approached.

Koryk said, ‘You're supposed to be asleep.'

‘Thanks.'

‘So you're giving Smiles special herbs, are you. Why do you—'

‘I'm what?'

‘Herbs. So she won't get pregnant.'

‘Look, if she doesn't want to get pregnant, she should just stop straddling every—'

‘Hold on, Bottle! Wait. I thought she'd talked to you. About herbs which you promised to give her—'

‘Oh, those herbs. No, you got it all wrong, Koryk. Those aren't to keep her from getting pregnant. In fact, it's some concoction of my grandmother's and I've no idea if it even works, but anyway, it's got nothing to do with not getting pregnant. Why, if she'd asked me about that kind of stuff, sure, there's some very reliable—'

‘Stop! What – what does this concoction you're giving her do to her, then?'

‘She'd better not be taking it! It's for a man—'

‘For Skulldeath?'

‘Skulldeath? What…' Bottle stared down for a long moment. ‘Do you know what skulldeath is, Koryk? It's a plant that grows on Malaz Island and maybe Geni, too. You see, normally there's male plants and there's female plants and that's how you get fruit and the like, right? Anyway, not so with the sweet little skulldeath. There's only males – no females at all. Skulldeaths loose their – well, they spill it all out into the air, and it ends up somehow getting into the seeds of other plants and just riding along, hiding, until that seed sprouts, then it takes over and suddenly, another nice skulldeath with that grey flower that's not really a flower at all, just a thin sack filled with—'

‘So, that concoction Smiles asked for – what does it do?'

‘Supposed to change a man who prefers other men into one who prefers women. Does it work? I have no idea.'

‘Skulldeath may be a plant,' Koryk said, ‘but it's also the name for a soldier in Primly's squad. A pretty one.'

‘Oh, and that name…'

‘Is obviously very appropriate, Bottle.'

‘Oh. Poor Smiles.'

 

The Factor's house might have looked nice, but it might as well have been made of straw, the way it fell down. Astonishing that no-one had died beneath all that wreckage. Urb at the least was certainly relieved by that, though his mood wilted somewhat after Hellian was through yelling at him.

In any case, thereafter satisfied and pleasantly feeling…pleasant, Hellian was anything but pleased when Balgrid's appallingly unattractive face loomed into view directly in front of her. She blinked at him. ‘You're shorter than I'd thought.'

‘Sergeant, I'm kneeling. What are you doing under the bar?'

‘I'm not the one who keeps movin' it, Baldy.'

‘The other sergeants have agreed that we're staying here for a while. You with them on that, Sergeant?'

‘Why not?'

‘Good. Oh, did you know, in the new squads, there's another Kartoolii.'

‘Probbly a spy – they're still after me, y'know.'

‘Why would they be after you?'

‘Cause I did something, that's why. Can't 'member 'xactly what, but it was bad 'nough to get me sent here, wasn't it? A damned spy!'

‘I doubt he's anything—'

‘Yeah? Fine, make him come 'ere and kiss my feet, then! Tell 'im I'm the Queen of Kartool! An' I want my kissed feet! My feeted kiss, I mean. Go on, damn you!'

Less than six paces away, tucked beneath the bar at the other end, sat Skulldeath. Hiding from that pretty but way too lustful woman in Fiddler's squad. And at Hellian's words his head snapped round and his dark, almond-shaped eyes, which had already broken so many hearts, slowly widened on the dishevelled sergeant crouched in a pool of spilled wine.

Queen of Kartool.

On such modest things, worlds changed.

 

The women were singing an ancient song in a language that was anything but Imass. Filled with strange clicks and phlegmatic stops, along with rhythmic gestures of the hands, and the extraordinary twin voices emerging from each throat, the song made the hair on the back of Hedge's neck stand on end.
‘Eres'al,'
Quick Ben had whispered, looking a little ashen himself.
‘The First Language.'

No wonder it made the skin crawl, awakening faint echoes in the back of his skull – as if stirring to life the soft murmurings of his mother a handful of days after he'd been born, even as he clung by the mouth to her tit and stared stupidly up at the blur of her face. A song to make a grown man feel horribly vulnerable, weak in the limbs and desperate for comfort.

Muttering under his breath, Hedge plucked at Quick Ben's sleeve.

The wizard understood well enough and they both rose, then backed away from the hearth and all the gathered Imass. Out into the darkness beneath a spray of glittering stars, up into the sprawl of tumbled boulders away from the rock shelters of the cliff face.

Hedge found a flat stone the size of a skiff, lying at the base of a scree. He sat down on it. Quick Ben stood nearby, bending down to collect a handful of gravel, then pacing as he began examining his collection – more by feel than sight – flinging rejections off into the gloom to bounce and skitter. ‘So, Hedge.'

‘What?'

‘How's Fiddler these days?'

‘It's not like I'm squatting on his shoulder or anything.'

‘Hedge.'

‘All right, I catch things occasionally. Whiffs. Echoes. He's still alive, I can say that much.'

Quick Ben paused. ‘Any idea what the Adjunct's up to?'

‘Who? No, why should I – never met her. You're the one should be doing the guessing, wizard. She shackled you into being her High Mage, after all. Me, I've been wandering for what seems for ever, in nothing but the ashes of the dead. At least until we found this place, and it ain't nearly as far away from the underworld as you might think.'

‘Don't tell me what I think, sapper. I already know what I think and it's not what you think.'

‘Well now, you're sounding all nervous again, Quick. Little heart going pitterpat?'

‘She was taking them to Lether – to the Tiste Edur empire – once she managed to extricate them from Malaz harbour. Now, Cotillion says she managed that, despite my disappearing at the worst possible moment. True, some nasty losses. Like Kalam. And T'amber. Me. So, Lether. Pitching her measly army against an empire spanning half a continent or damn near, and why? Well, maybe to deliver some vengeance on behalf of the Malazan Empire and every other kingdom or people who got cut up by those roving fleets. But maybe that's not it at all, because, let's face it, as a motive it sounds, well, insane. And I don't think the Adjunct is insane. So, what's left?'

‘Sorry, was that actually a question? For me?'

‘Of course not, Hedge. It was rhetorical.'

‘That's a relief. Go on, then.'

‘Seems more likely she's set herself against the Crippled God.'

‘Oh yeah? What's this Lether Empire got to do with the Crippled God?'

‘A whole lot, that's what.'

‘Meaning me and Fiddler are back fighting the same damned war.'