The Malazan Empire Series: (Night of Knives, Return of the Crimson Guard, Stonewielder, Orb Sceptre Throne, Blood and Bone, Assail) (Novels of the Malazan Empire)

by Ian C. Esslemont

  Mallick’s lips pursed. His fingertips tapped one another across his stomach. ‘Details to be negotiated in treaty, of course.’

  Su inclined her head. ‘Of course.’

  Mallick waved negligently. ‘Very well. We are done. You may withdraw.’

  ‘Your honesty and compassion are a lesson to us all,’ Su crooned, bowing. Ho sent the old witch a wink as the twins helped her away.

  ‘M’Lord Councillor,’ Bala called from her palanquin.

  ‘Yes, High Mage?’

  High Mage. Ho shot Heuk a sharp glance – the old mage looked skyward once more.

  ‘Multiple Warrens have been accessed on the hilltop.’

  Nodding thoughtfully, Mallick faced the assembled officers. ‘Send word to the Guard that it is our belief that enough of our good honest soldiers have died today. Enough blood has been shed in this useless vendetta. Speaking – unofficially – for the Empire, our leave is given them to withdraw.’

  ‘Convenient, that,’ Heuk muttered aside, ‘since they’re already withdrawing.’

  Ho bent down to answer, ‘It’ll look good in the histories.’

  Heuk motioned aside. ‘C’mon. I’ve had a bellyful of this. One more pronouncement from him and I’ll puke. Let’s have a drink with those good honest soldiers.’

  ‘I can just see those history books, too,’ Ho said as they walked along. ‘Kellanved the Terrible. Laseen the Bloody. And Mallick the Benevolent.’

  ‘Mallick the Just,’ Heuk offered.

  A voice bellowed after them. ‘Cadre mage!’

  They turned. Bala’s palanquin was following, led by the bald, sweating, giant Dal Hon. ‘The High Mage requires your attendance,’ he commanded.

  ‘This is enough to drive me to an early retirement,’ Heuk murmured.

  They waited while the palanquin closed. ‘Groten,’ Bala called through the flimsy white cloth hangings, ‘allow them to approach.’

  The guard, Groten, bowed. ‘Yes, mistress.’ He curtly waved them closer.

  Sighing, Heuk stepped up, followed by Ho. ‘Yes, Bala.’

  ‘That’s High Mage – please remember henceforth.’ The High Mage, Bala, lay reclined upon pillows, sheer silks arranged decorously. She was a voluptuous Dal Hon woman; Ho noted her six sturdy bearers were sweating furiously. She slowly fanned her face. ‘Since I am now High Mage to all the Empire, I cannot deal with the trivialities of the mage cadre in any one army. Therefore you are now in charge of the cadre for the Fourth. You report to me. And you…’ the fan pointed to Ho. ‘You are not welcome in the cadre. We do not want the likes of you.’

  Ho bit down on laughter. He waved his assent.

  ‘Too much a threat, hey, Bala?’ Heuk said.

  ‘Do not bore me with your meaningless talk, Heuk. Good day. Our audience is over. Groten!’

  The bodyguard loomed over them. ‘Out of the way!’

  Ho allowed himself to be edged aside. He watched the palanquin lumber away.

  ‘I know a soldier,’ Heuk said musingly, ‘who, if he’d seen her just now, would’ve fainted dead away.’ Gesturing, he invited Ho on.

  ‘What of Laseen?’ Ho asked.

  ‘Mallick will probably spare no expense on her mausoleum in Unta. How it would gall her.’

  ‘All the more reason from his point of view, I suppose.’

  ‘And what of you?’ Heuk asked.

  ‘Retirement in Heng. I have a lot of catching up to do there. A lot.’

  Heuk eyed him sidelong, scratched at his scraggly stained beard. ‘Really…’

  ‘Yes, really…Yes!’

  Heuk straightened the earthenware jug he held under one arm. ‘Un-huh.’

  Kyle and the Lost brothers had waited while the Guard filed through the opened gates to march away through the Imperial Warren. The last to leave were K’azz, Shimmer, Shell and two very battered and bruised Avowed mages named Blues and Fingers.

  Throughout the withdrawal, the lines of Malazan infantry and assembled cavalry from Kan and Cawn had watched, shields readied but swords sheathed and lances raised. K’azz approached Kyle who motioned to the surrounding ranks of Imperial soldiery. ‘They let you go.’

  The old man nodded. ‘Yes. This Mallick no doubt intends to blame all this bloodshed on Laseen’s policies, so he could hardly add to it. But what of you? You’re sure you won’t come along? You are very welcome.’

  ‘No, thank you. But if you could move us a touch, though, we’d appreciate it.’

  ‘I see. Where will you go?’

  Kyle shrugged. ‘Not sure. We have to talk it over.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll leave things to Shell here. In any case,’ he held Kyle’s shoulders, ‘I owe you more than I can say. You can always call on the Guard. Yes?’

  Embarrassed, Kyle just waved all that aside, but nodded his thanks.

  K’azz went to the portal, turned and waved. Kyle and the Lost brothers raised their hands in farewell. Shimmer waved then also, bowing, and stepped through. Blues and Fingers followed and that gate snapped shut with a whoosh of displaced air. Shell waited next to hers. She waved them over. ‘I have instructions on where to take you.’

  Kyle exchanged looks with Stalker, Badlands and Coots, cocked a brow. Coots stepped up, rubbing his hands together. ‘Where’re we off to, lass? Darujhistan? Korel? Aren?’

  She just smiled, the lines around her mouth tight. ‘After you.’

  Kyle had only the briefest sensation of disorientation then his moccasins touched down on a dusty dirt floor in an empty, long-abandoned room. He spun, taking in the dusty quarters – what was this? Stalker and the brothers joined him, stepping out of nowhere, to flinch as well, hands going to weapons.

  ‘Where are we?’ Stalker breathed the question aloud for all of them.

  Badlands crouched at a gaping window. ‘Eternal Ice take it! We’re still here!’

  ‘What?’ Everyone joined him.

  ‘There’s the battlefield!’

  ‘I see Cawn pennants.’

  Stalker stepped away from the window. ‘What is this…’

  ‘The Sanctuary…’ Kyle murmured, peering around. ‘In the east – the butte. What did Shimmer call it?’

  ‘The Sanctuary of Burn,’ Coots supplied.

  ‘So why here?’ Stalker asked.

  ‘ ’Cause someone else is here,’ said a new voice.

  They spun, weapons hissing from sheaths, to see one of the Crimson Guard Brethren. ‘Stoop!’ Kyle exclaimed.

  ‘Aye, lad.’

  ‘What in the Wind King’s name are you doing here?’

  The shade walked up, grinning, dressed in his vest, ragged hanging shirt and tattered trousers as he had been in life. ‘I’m with you, lad.’

  Everyone shoved their weapons away. ‘With me?’

  ‘I’ll be taggin’ along with you for a time. K’azz’s dispensation.’

  ‘Really? Just as those other Brethren come to K’azz?’

  ‘Yeah – for a while. Till the Vow pulls me back, I s’pose.’

  ‘Just like back home,’ Badlands said aside to Coots, who glared for silence.

  ‘So, why can we see and hear you then?’ Stalker demanded, ever sceptical.

  A translucent shrug. ‘I guess because you was Guardsmen for a time.’

  ‘So no one else would see or hear you?’ Badlands asked.

  ‘I dunno. I ain’t no mage. Unless they’re priests o’ Hood or mages, I s’pose.’

  ‘Too much like back home,’ Badlands commented behind a raised hand.

  ‘Shut it,’ Coots answered, and he shook himself, brushing dust from his thick mane of hair.

  Kyle went to the window, leaned against the ledge. Out on the plain fires glowed in the gathering twilight. So many. Where had they all come from? ‘Are we here because you are here?’

  Stoop scratched his temple with his shortened arm just as he used to in life. ‘Naw. I go wherever you go. There’s someone else here. C’mon, I’ll take you to him.’

  Kyle and
the Lost brothers exchanged looks as the shade walked out of the room through one of the open portals. A moment later he reappeared, waved them on. ‘C’mon. This way.’ Stalker motioned Kyle to lead. Kyle opened his hands as if to deny any part in this but he went out first.

  Stoop led them through a jumbled labyrinth of tumbled, fallen-down rooms and halls. Some were no more than canted walls open to the sky, others as dark as collapsed mines. The dust and litter of years lay thick upon everything.

  After a time Kyle smelled wood smoke and cooking animal fat. Pausing, he turned back to the brothers and touched the side of his nose. They nodded, carefully eased weapons from sheaths. Crouched, he slowly advanced through the thick shadows of a nest of small chambers. The crackling and snapping of a wood fire led him on until he saw the glow ahead. He paused, waited for the brothers to catch up. The shade of Stoop had gone on ahead. Once they were all together Stalker signed for Kyle and himself to take the right and the left while Coots and Badlands would cover the centre. Everyone nodded.

  On a silent count, they crashed into the room, weapons raised. A big man sat against the wall of a littered chamber, a small cookfire burning.

  ‘Is that you, Kyle?’ the man exclaimed, surprised. ‘What’re you doing here?’

  Kyle straightened, his weapon falling. ‘Greymane!’

  One of his eyes was swollen shut. His upper lip split and swollen. The entire side of his face was blossoming dark purple while his hair was clotted with dried blood. His armour lay piled in a corner. He gestured to Stoop’s grinning shade. ‘I knew it would be a Guardsman, but I wasn’t expecting you.’

  Kyle crouched at the fire. ‘What’re you doing hiding here?’

  The man looked uncomfortable, lowered his gaze. ‘Well…the Imperials still have a price on my head, you know.’

  And Kyle remembered. Head worth a barrel of black pearls. He waved to the brothers. ‘Well, we’ll help get you out – won’t we, Stalker?’

  The eldest of the Lost brothers pressed a hand to his brow, sighed. ‘Sure. Of course. Seems that’s all we do.’

  Badlands crouched at the fire. ‘What’s that you got roasting there?’

  ‘Rabbit.’

  ‘Looks done. C’n I?’

  Greymane gestured for the man to help himself.

  ‘We should go south,’ Badlands said, pulling off a tear of flesh and licking his fingers. He rested his great hairy arms on his knees.

  ‘North,’ Coots immediately said.

  ‘I was kinda thinking west,’ Greymane offered, somewhat bewildered.

  ‘I like north,’ Stalker said, nodding to himself.

  Chewing, Badlands raised a hand for silence. ‘But you know – south would really be better.’

  Kyle just grinned, sat down next to the fire and started untying his leggings. This could take all night.

  ‘You’re shittin’ me, aren’t you?’ Nait told Heuk.

  ‘No – it’s true. I’ve heard it from all kinds of people.’

  ‘People like who?’

  ‘Like all kinds.’

  ‘Damn.’ Nait sat back into the cool of the trench. ‘Dammit!’

  A cavalry officer bearing Cawn colours rode up next to the trench. He squinted down into the dark of the deepening afternoon shadows. ‘I’m looking for a Sergeant Jumpy.’

  Urfa stood, goggled up at the man and smiled her uneven teeth. ‘Nice horse.’

  Jawl, Stubbin and Kibb came walking up carrying broken timbers and slats that they dropped next to a pile. The officer eyed what looked like a large bonfire in the making. ‘You’re not going to sit out here tonight, are you?’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Nait said, standing. ‘What of it?’

  ‘I understand orders are to marshal east along the trader road. This is one broad killing field. It’s unhealthy. And dangerous. There’ll be jackals.’

  ‘Jackals don’t like fire,’ Nait said, deadly serious.

  The cavalry officer blinked, uncertain. ‘So…there’s no Sergeant Jumpy then?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Nait answered. He waved to Least who, passing, raised a hand in salute. ‘Lim?’ Nait called. Least gave a thumbs-up.

  ‘Try third company,’ Urfa suggested.

  ‘What company is this?’

  Urfa’s eyes crossed as she frowned. ‘Don’t know, sir.’ She turned to the trench. ‘Hey, you useless lot! What company are we?’

  Voices muttered from the shadows. ‘I thought we was first.’

  ‘Fourth.’

  ‘Naw, I think it was first.’

  Smiling raggedly, Urfa winked. ‘There you are, sir. We’re either first or fourth. Sure you won’t stay? Got a fire. Got a big ol’ fish to fry. We’re gonna get drunk and say goodbye to all our friends.’

  ‘Sounds enchanting,’ the Cawn officer observed drily. He gave his reins a gentle pull. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’

  Urfa fell back down into the trench. ‘Damn. He was cute. I like cavalry officers.’

  ‘He’ll find the cap’n,’ May warned from where she lay in the last of the sun next to the trench.

  ‘Eventually,’ Nait said. He crouched again next to Heuk, who sat hugging his jug to his chest. ‘So – they can’t take it off? Really?’

  Eyes shut, Heuk gave an exaggerated nod. ‘Never. Doesn’t come off.’

  ‘Shit.’ Nait stood, examined the wood pile. ‘Call this fuel for a bonfire? I want twice this! C’mon, another trip to the wreck. Let’s go!’

  Groaning, his squad slowly climbed to their feet, ambled off.

  ‘I thought that, from what she said…that maybe, y’know – it was possible.’

  Heuk mouthed a silent ‘No.’

  ‘Then how do they do it?’

  A lift and drop of the shoulders from Heuk. Cursing, Nait threw down a handful of dirt and stalked off. Heuk cracked open an eye to watch him go and smiled. Good. Tourmaline – you owe me three kegs of Moranth distilled spirits. And you better come through else ol’ Nait will discover that armour does come off after all.

  Chapter V

  THE SLAUGHTER SPREAD FOR NEARLY A LEAGUE IN ALL DIRECTIONS. Hurl walked her uneasy mount gently around the field of picked-clean Seti dead. Two days and nights old they looked to her; stench beginning to thin; clouds of carrion drifting away but for the odd fat kite or crow too befuddled with food to bother flying from them; jackals and their rival wolves trotting slunk low across the gentle hillsides.

  The column was quiet behind her and Rell and Liss. Many rode two to a mount as the journey had proven too hard for the weaker, sicker horses. As every sign pointed to a long pursuit Hurl considered more seriously sending most of them back. After all, she’d seen Ryllandaras, knew what he could do. Why throw these troopers against him when really, in the end, it would come down to Rell and the burden slung on the back of her mount?

  And Ryllandaras was not one to challenge such a large column. He was a scavenger, an opportunist, a predator of humans. No doubt he would merely run and run, on and on across this seemingly endless plain dominating the centre of Quon Tali until they gave up the chase. Or became so weakened as to prove a tempting target. If she sent the column back leaving, perhaps, ten…that might, as they say,…sweeten the offer.

  They came upon the main Seti encampment: tattered, abandoned wikiups, trampled cookfires, abandoned equipment, and dead. Many dead. Men, women and infants. A camp massacred and abandoned. Mounted, Liss pointed ahead and Hurl squinted, a hand pressed to her nose and mouth against the flies. A horse and rider waiting ahead. Hurl angled the column towards the man. He was a large fellow, tall and broad, dark bluish-black Napan, wearing an expensive coat of blackened mail. Old as well, his tightly curled hair going grey. Hurl raised a fist in a halt. The men and women of her column dismounted. She heard Sergeant Banath ordering a search for survivors – and food and water.

  She stopped in front of the man, who inclined his head in greeting. From his appearance she was afraid he would be who she suspected he might be. His wary, almost resigne
d expression only supported her suspicions. He directed her attention to a pole stuck into the ground beside a large fire-pit. A grisly object decorated the pole, a man’s head gnawed by scavengers, eyes gone, tongue gone from slack jaws.

  ‘Imotan,’ the man said, ‘Shaman of the Jackal warrior society.’

  ‘Did you have any part in this?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I came to do it. But Ryllandaras beat me to it.’

  ‘Ryllandaras? Why?’

  ‘Imotan tried to compel him,’ Liss said, stopping next to Hurl. She tilted her head in wary greeting. ‘Amaron.’

  Laugh, Hood! It is him. The man who’d tried to have her killed; who, along with his Old Guard cronies, was responsible for all those dead at Heng. Including Shaky. Hurl turned away, looked to the sky, blinking to clear her eyes.

  Rell arrived to stand close to Hurl, watching Amaron warily.

  ‘Why did you come?’ Liss asked, tired and rather curt.

  ‘I came to answer a murder.’

  High-pitched laughter burst from Hurl. ‘What? A murder? One murder?’ She opened her arms wide. ‘Take a good look around!’

  ‘You’re not one to talk, Hurl,’ he answered, his voice as unforgiving as iron.

  She stopped laughing as if slapped, clutched at her throat.

  ‘In any case,’ he continued, ‘he was a good friend and a good man. He had befriended the Seti. He should not have died the way he did.’

  Liss nodded, accepting that. She pushed back the matted curls of her greasy hair. ‘And now…?’

  Amaron lowered his gaze, let go a long slow exhalation. ‘I ask to join your party.’

  Hurl laughed anew, either at his staggeringly brazen request, her glaring culpability behind it all, or at both of them. Even she wasn’t sure. Liss said nothing, only looking between her and Rell, her face held carefully neutral.

  Rell crossed his arms, saying flatly, ‘We could use him.’

  They camped upwind a short distance from the slaughter. As dusk gathered the barking of jackals and calls of wolves closed. Hurl doubled the perimeter guard.