Korlat thought to hide it away again, but then sighed and showed the black stone. ‘I thought…a gift. For the barrow. I have seen such practices before…’
‘Did you know them?’
After a moment, Korlat turned to retrace her steps. ‘No. I am sorry. I did not.’
But the woman took her arm. ‘Walk with me, then, and I will tell you about Mortal Sword Gesler and Shield Anvil Stormy.’
‘I was presumptuous—’
‘I doubt it,’ the woman replied. ‘But you can hold on to your tale, if you like. I am Kalyth.’
Korlat gave her own name.
‘They won free the heart of the Crippled God,’ said Kalyth as they drew closer. ‘But that is not how I remember them. They were stubborn. They snapped at each other like…like dogs. They mocked their own titles, told each other lies. They told me lies, too. Wild stories of their adventures. Ships on seas of fire. Dragons and headless Tiste Andii – whatever they are…’
Korlat turned at that, thought to speak, then decided to remain silent.
‘In the time I knew them,’ Kalyth went on, not noticing her companion’s reaction, ‘they pretty much argued without surcease. Even in the middle of terrible battle they bickered back and forth. And all the while, these two Malazans, they did all that needed to be done. Each and every time.’ She nodded towards the Spire.
‘Up there,’ she said, ‘they climbed through walls of fire, and at that moment I realized that all those wild tales they told me – they were probably all true.
‘Stormy died on the stairs, keeping a wild witch away from the heart. Those flames he could not in the end defeat. Gesler – we are told – died saving the life of a dog.’ She pointed. ‘That one, Korlat, the one guarding the barrow’s entrance. See how they await me now? It is because I am the only one the dog will let pass into the chamber. I dragged Gesler’s body in there myself.’
When the woman at her side stopped talking then, Korlat looked down and saw how her face had crumpled – with her own words, as if their meaning only now struck true. She very nearly collapsed – would have done so if not for Korlat’s arm, now flexing to take the woman’s weight.
Kalyth righted herself. ‘I – I am sorry. I did not mean – oh, look at me…’
‘I have you,’ Korlat said.
They went on.
This side of the small round barrow, the group of humans parted before them, as many eyes on Korlat as on Kalyth. She saw Hedge there, along with Quick Ben and Kalam, and the grey-bearded man she now knew to be Fiddler, Whiskeyjack’s closest friend. Their expressions were flat, and she weathered their regards with as much dignity as she could muster. Near them stood a mother and daughter, the latter, though little more than a child, pulling hard on a stick of rustleaf – and on this one’s other side stood an older woman doing the same with her own, beside a handsome young man. She saw a White Face Barghast chieftain grinning openly at herself – his desires made plain in the amused glint in his eyes.
Just beyond Whiskeyjack’s old squad stood a man and a woman – possibly siblings – in the company of an older man weighed down in the robes of a High Priest, the gold silk patterned in the sinewy forms of serpents. Behind this group stood a man picking at his teeth and beside him, seated on a stool, was an artist, sketching frantically on bleached lambskin with a wedge of charcoal. At his feet was a bloated toad.
Arrayed in a semicircle around this group was an honour guard of some sort, facing outward, but as Korlat and Kalyth approached they smartly turned round, gauntleted hands lifting to their chests in salute. And she saw that they were the soldiers who had fought at the Awakening.
Kalyth leaned close against Korlat and disengaged her arm. ‘I believe there are burial gifts,’ she said, nodding to a soldier’s chest waiting beside the barrow entrance. ‘I will take it inside.’ She looked up at Korlat. ‘I will take your gift, Korlat, if you like.’
She held up her hand, opened it to look at the gleaming stone in her hand.
There was a commotion from Whiskeyjack’s squad and Korlat faced them, ready to retreat – to flee this place.
‘Captain!’ snapped the plain woman behind the marines.
Korlat saw that the squad had reached for their weapons, swords now half drawn. At that woman’s bark they had halted their motions, and Korlat stared, frightened and dismayed by what she saw in their faces.
The plain woman stepped round to place herself between Korlat and the squad. Standing directly in front of Fiddler, she said, ‘What in Hood’s name do you think you’re doing?’
‘Forgive us, Adjunct,’ Fiddler replied, eyes still on Korlat.
‘Explain yourselves! High Mage! Kalam – one of you, speak!’
‘Your pardon, Adjunct,’ Fiddler ground out. ‘I would ask the Tiste Andii a question.’
‘By your threat,’ snapped the Adjunct, turning to Korlat, ‘should she refuse the courtesy, I will defend her decision.’
Korlat shook her head, drawing a deep, fortifying breath. ‘No, thank you, Adjunct. This soldier was Whiskeyjack’s closest friend. If he would ask me something, I shall answer as best I am able.’
The Adjunct stepped back.
Fiddler’s gaze fell to the stone in her hand. ‘You mean to give that up? Did you know Gesler and Stormy?’
Korlat shook her head.
‘Then…why?’
Her thoughts fumbled, words failing her, and her eyes fell from Fiddler’s.
‘Is it his?’
She looked back up, startled. Behind Fiddler the marines of the squad stared – but now she saw that what she had taken for rage in their expressions was in fact something else, something far more complicated.
‘Korlat, is it his?’
She faced the barrow entrance. ‘They were marines,’ she said in a weak voice. ‘I thought…a measure of respect.’
‘If you give that up, you will destroy him.’
She met Fiddler’s eyes, and at last saw the raw anguish in them. ‘I thought…he left me.’
‘No, he hasn’t.’
Hedge spoke. ‘He only found love once, Korlat, and we’re looking at the woman he chose. If you give up that stone, we’ll cut you to pieces and leave your bones scattered across half this world.’
Korlat stepped close to Fiddler. ‘How do you know this?’
His eyes flickered, were suddenly wet. ‘On the hill. His ghost – he saw you on the plain. He – he couldn’t take his eyes off you. I see now – you thought…through Hood’s Gate, the old loves forgotten, drifting away. Maybe you even began questioning if it ever existed at all, or meant what you thought it meant. Listen, they’ve told me the whole story. Korlat, he’s waiting for you. And if he has to, he’ll wait for ever.’
Her hand closed about the stone, and all at once the tension fell away, and she looked past Fiddler to the soldiers of the squad. ‘You would have killed me for forsaking him,’ she said. ‘I am reminded of the man he was – to have won such loyalty among his friends.’
Hedge said, ‘You’ve got centuries – well, who knows how long? Don’t think he expects you to be celibate or anything – we ain’t expectin’ that neither. But that stone – we know what it means to your kind. You just shocked us, that’s all.’
Korlat slowly turned to the barrow. ‘Then I should leave here, for I have nothing for these fallen soldiers.’
The Adjunct surprised her by stepping forward and taking her arm. She led her to the chest. ‘Open it,’ she invited.
Wondering, Korlat crouched down, lifted back the lid. The chest was empty. Baffled, she straightened, met the Adjunct’s eyes.
And saw a wry smile. ‘They were marines. Everything of value they’ve already left behind. In fact, Korlat of the Tiste Andii, if Gesler and Stormy could, they’d be the first ones to loot their own grave goods.’
‘And then bitch about how cheap we were,’ Fiddler said behind them.
‘We are here to see the barrow sealed,’ said the Adjunct. ‘And, if we can, get
that Wickan demon to yield, before it starves to death.’
A thousand paces away from this scene, a gathering of Jaghut warriors stood facing a barrow raised to embrace the fallen Imass.
They were silent, as befitted the moment – a moment filled with respect and that bone-deep loss for comrades fallen in a battle shared, a time lived to the hilt – but for all that, it was a silence riotous with irony.
After a time, a small creature looking like a burst pillow of rotted straw came up to lie down at the feet of one of the Jaghut. From the filthy tangle out came a lolling tongue.
One of the warriors spoke, ‘Varandas, our commander never tires of pets.’
‘Clearly,’ replied another, ‘he has missed us.’
‘Or does the once-Lord of Death return with alarming appetites?’
‘You raise disquiet in me,’ said Sanad.
‘You promised to never speak of that – oh, you mean my query on appetites. Humblest apologies, Sanad.’
‘She lies, Gathras, this I swear!’
‘The only one lying here is the dog, surely!’
The warriors all stared down at the creature.
And then roared with laughter. That went on, and on.
Until Hood whirled round. ‘Will you all shut up!’
In the sudden silence that followed, someone snorted.
When Hood reached for the sword at his hip, his warriors all found somewhere else to look. Until the ratty dog rose and lifted a leg.
Weathering their raucous laughter and the steady stream tapping his ankle, Hood slowly closed his eyes. This is why Jaghut chose to live alone.
Brys Beddict turned at the sound of distant laughter. Squinted at the Jaghut warriors standing at the Imass barrow. ‘Errant’s nudge, but that’s hardly fitting, is it?’
Aranict frowned. ‘Theirs is an odd humour, my love. I do not think disrespect is the intention. Indifference would have managed that succinctly enough. Instead, they walked out there, and requested solitude.’
‘Ah,’ murmured Brys, taking her hand, ‘it is, I believe, time.’
He led her towards the Adjunct, where Queen Abrastal, Felash and Spax now joined Tavore. Just beyond them, Aranict saw, was Ganoes – not one to join in these moments, yet never far from his sister.
Brys spoke as soon as they drew near. ‘There was some tension at the barrow, Adjunct. I trust all is well?’
‘A misunderstanding, Prince.’
‘The cattledog—’
‘No – once the barrow was sealed, the beast joined Destriant Kalyth, and at her side I believe it will stay until its life is done.’
‘There is word,’ said Abrastal, ‘of a tribe on the plateau north of Estobanse, remote kin of Kalyth’s Elan. Bhederin herders.’
‘They will journey alone?’ Brys asked in concern.
‘With only a few hundred K’ell Hunters as escort, yes,’ replied the Bolkando queen.
‘Prince Brys,’ said Felash, ‘your brother the king’s fleet is only days away.’ Her languid gaze flicked to Aranict.
‘I’ve not yet told him,’ Aranict replied, lighting a stick. ‘Beloved,’ she now said, ‘your brother is with that fleet.’
‘Tehol hates the sea – are you certain of that?’
But Felash was coughing, her eyes wide on the prince. ‘Excuse me, King Tehol hates the sea? But – rather, I mean, forgive me. Bugg – his— Oh, never mind. My pardon, Prince Brys.’
Abrastal was regarding her daughter sidelong. ‘You’re as plump as you ever were,’ she said. ‘Smoke more, girl!’
‘Yes, mother. At once.’
‘And where is your handmaid?’
‘Down with Captain Elalle, Mother, shipshaping a boat or whatever they call it.’
Brys spoke to Tavore. ‘Adjunct…there were times when I…well, I doubted you. This seemed so vast – what you sought—’
‘Forgive me for interrupting, Highness,’ Tavore replied. ‘The deeds that have won us this victory belong to every soul on this journey, and it has been a rather long journey. A sword’s tip is nothing without the length of solid steel backing it.’ She hesitated. ‘There have been many doubts to weather, but this is a weakness we all share.’
‘You said you would be unwitnessed. Yet, that proved untrue, did it not?’
She shrugged. ‘For each moment recorded in the annals of history, how many more are lost? Highness, we shall be forgotten. All of this, it will fade into the darkness, as all things will. I do not regret that.’
‘In Letheras,’ said Brys, ‘there will be a statue of bronze raised in your likeness. I know, few will know what it means, what it signifies. But I will, Adjunct.’
‘A statue?’ Tavore cocked her head, as if considering the notion. ‘Will I be beautiful?’ she asked, and before Brys could answer she formally bowed before him and then Queen Abrastal. ‘I thank you both, for making my cause your own. For your losses, I grieve. Goodbye, Highnesses.’
They let her depart.
And only Aranict heard Boys say, ‘Of course you will.’
‘A Hood-damned dog,’ muttered Deadsmell as the marines and heavies walked from the barrow.
‘That’s Gesler for you,’ replied Throatslitter. ‘Brainless to the end.’
‘He wouldn’t have liked things without Stormy, anyway,’ observed Balm.
Bottle considered this brief exchange, and then nodded to himself. There’s a point when there’s nothing left to say. When every word does nothing more than stir the ashes. He glanced over at Smiles, and then Koryk, and finally Tarr. We finally took some losses, our squad. Cuttle – never thought he’d die, not like that. In some whore’s bed, maybe. Corabb – gods below, how that man could fight.
Limp says he saw him, there at the end – he’d blown his knee again, was looking over at the Crippled God – and there was Corabb, his face all lit with the glory of his last stand over the chained body of a god.
Really, what could be more perfect than that?
Well done, Corabb Bhilan Thenu’alas.
‘Heard she’s retiring us,’ ventured Sinter. ‘Priest’s paying us out – a damned fortune for each and every one of us.’
‘Where’en ne faareden? Eh? War bit ana dem?’
‘To the families if they got any, Nep. That’s how it’s done. Stand or fall, you still get paid.’
‘G’han nered pah vreem!’
Sinter made a startled sound, and beside her Kisswhere leaned forward to shoot Nep Furrow a shocked look.
‘Really, Nep?’ Kisswhere asked.
‘Nepel!’
‘Gods below,’ Sinter whispered. ‘I never…’
Reaching the road, they came within sight of the Bonehunter regulars. Glancing back, Bottle saw the Adjunct on her way up, with Banaschar at her side. Behind these two walked Lostara Yil, Henar Vygulf, the three Fists, Skanarow and Ruthan Gudd.
‘She wants a last word with them,’ Tarr said, evidently noticing Bottle’s backward look. ‘But we’re not going to be there for that. Between her and them – you others all hear that? We walk through.’
‘We walk through,’ Hellian echoed. ‘Crump, go back and help Limp – he’s lagging. Let’s just get this over with.’
They strode into the loose ranks of the regulars.
‘Wish we had it as easy as you did!’ someone shouted.
Koryk yelled back, ‘You never would’ve hacked it, Ffan!’
‘Hey, Hellian, found me this big spider here – wanna see it?’
‘Call it whatever you want, soldier, it’s still small.’
Bottle shook his head. Aw, fuck. They’re soldiers – what did you expect?
It was dark by the time Korlat returned to the small Tiste Andii camp. They were seated round a fire, like hunters out from the wood, or harvesters at day’s end. A fresh rain had cleansed the air, but its passage had been brief and now overhead tracked the Jade Strangers – as she had learned to call them – casting down a green light.
Nimander looked up, made room
for her on the Kolansii workbench they had found in one of the work camps. ‘We were wondering if you would ever return,’ he said.
She drew her cloak about her shoulders. ‘I watched the Bonehunters depart,’ she said.
‘Have ships arrived, then?’
Korlat shook her head. ‘They’re moving to a camp at this end of the Estobanse Valley. The Adjunct spoke to her regulars. She thanked them. That and nothing more. She was the last to leave – she bade the others go ahead, even her brother, and she walked alone. There was something…something…’ She shook her head. ‘It broke my heart.’
A voice spoke from the darkness behind her. ‘She does that, does Tavore.’
They turned to see Fiddler stepping into the firelight, carrying something wrapped in skins. Behind, arrayed but drawing no closer, Korlat saw the rest of Whiskeyjack’s old squad. They seemed to be muttering to each other in low tones, and then Quick Ben pointed up past the road, and in a sharp voice said, ‘There, that hilltop. Not too far, but far enough. Well?’ He looked at his companions, and both men grunted their assent.
Returning her attention to Fiddler, she saw that he had been watching, and now he nodded, faced Korlat. ‘It’s not far – in this air it’ll carry just fine.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Korlat, ‘what are you doing?’
‘See the hill they indicated, other side of the road? Go there, Korlat.’
‘Excuse me?’
Nimander made to rise, but a look from Fiddler stilled him. ‘Just her,’ he said. ‘I’ll take that stump there – mind, sir?’
Silchas Ruin, seated on that stump, rose, shaking his head and then gesturing an invitation.
Fiddler went over and settled down on it. He began unwrapping the object on his lap, and then looked up and met Korlat’s eyes. ‘Why are you still here?’
‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded.
He sighed. ‘Said it was the last time for him. Said it like it was an order. Well, he should know by now, we’re lousy with taking orders.’ He slipped away the final layer of skin, revealing a fiddle and bow. ‘Go on now, Korlat. Oh, and tell him, this one’s called “My Love Waits”. I won’t take credit for it – one of Fisher’s.’ Then he looked round at the gathered Tiste Andii. ‘There’s another one that I can slide into it easily enough, a bit sadder but not too sad. It’s from Anomandaris. You’ll forgive me, please, if I get the title wrong – it’s been a long time. “Gallan’s Hope”? Does that sound right to you all?… Seems it does.’
The Malazan Empire Page 1058