‘Work with that woman who was organizing their defence — she lives still.’ Her eyes rose to the heights, where some sort of lightning storm flickered and glowed behind the dense cloud cover. Jute could hear the rumblings of the thunder even from this distance. She returned her gaze to Tyvar, fierce. ‘This is my request of you, Tyvar. See them safe. I’m sure Togg would approve.’
He had been stroking his beard. His eyes now glittered with renewed passion. He bowed his head in assent. ‘Saving innocents,’ he answered. ‘Yes. Togg would approve. Thank you for reminding me of my purpose, my lady. We will go at once.’ He jogged down the ramp, shouting for his lieutenants.
‘And what of us?’ Jute asked. ‘Will we be safe here?’
She turned a warm gaze upon him. ‘You will return to Ieleen on board the Dawn and sail south, Jute of Delanss. You have lingered here too long.’
‘But will you be safe?’
‘Never mind about us. See the evacuees safe. Enjoy your life. Give your love to Ieleen. She is very worried for you.’
‘But what of you?’
‘Go. Now. Leave me here at the wall. I wish to … study the storm for a time.’
He was unwilling to abandon her, or Cartheron for that matter. She had arguably saved his life twice now. Thinking of the Malazan gave him an idea. He bowed his leave and went to find the old commander.
It took him a long time to track the man down. Eventually he was pointed to the cliff edge and there found the fellow peering down at the sea. He had the look of a man who’d forgotten something he suspected was important. He nodded a distracted greeting to Jute. ‘Damned thorough, those Imass,’ he muttered. ‘Took out our access to the water. Now I know what it’s like to be on the other end of their stone swords.’
‘Sir,’ Jute began, attempting to grab his attention, ‘you have to talk sense into Malle. Something tells me she wouldn’t ignore a direct command from you.’
The fellow lifted his chin in assent. ‘Once, aye. But there’s a new regime now, and I’m not welcome. In fact, I’m officially drowned.’
‘The sorceress has asked Tyvar to escort all the newcomers south. I believe he’ll do it.’
‘Sounds like an impossible task. I’m sure he’ll relish it.’
‘We can get the women and children into the vessels.’
Cartheron nodded approvingly. ‘And you go with them, Jute. But not the Ragstopper.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s full of water. Won’t sail no more. And I have to admit I’m kinda curious ’bout what’s coming. I have my suspicions.’
It took some time for Jute to accept what he was hearing. ‘So … you’re saying you’re going to stay?’
‘Aye. I believe it could be quite a sight.’
‘And the crew?’
He shrugged. ‘They can choose, o’ course.’
Jute let out a long breath. He didn’t know what to say. He discovered himself plucking at the edge of his shirt. ‘Well, then,’ he sighed. ‘I guess I’d best go help.’
Cartheron gave him the old salute of a hand to the chest, then waved him away. A few paces off, Jute turned back and called: ‘What was he like?’
‘Who?’
‘The old emperor.’
Cartheron pulled a hand down his greying jowls, nodded his understanding of Jute’s interest. ‘I could never make up mind if he was the biggest fool I’d ever met, or the most cunning bastard.’
The answer wasn’t what Jute had expected, but the commander, once a High Fist, turned away to stare out over the waters of the Sea of Gold, and so he went to find Tyvar.
The vessels, it turned out, were wisely allowing none to approach. Early in the morning, Jute went out alone in the battered old skiff that the invaders’ commander, Lyan, had sent out through the night to beg for berths. He arranged for the young and the wounded to be taken out to the Resolute and the Silver Dawn. Lady Orosenn also offered up the Supplicant. Jute was wary, but when he climbed a rope ladder, one-handed, and inspected the vessel, he found it completely empty of any crew. He did not know where the silent figures he’d glimpsed had gone now that the sorceress had no more use for them. He had his ideas, of course, but these he kept to himself.
The Genabackan pirate, Enguf, offered berths to the highest bidders, and in this manner did well out of the venture after all. He was the first to sail off, if rather sluggishly, with a perilously slim freeboard, as he’d taken on far too many passengers. Greed, Jute reflected, seemed immune to all setbacks.
Next went the Resolute. As passenger on board this vessel went a crippled youth who seemed to be family to the Genabackan shield-maiden officer. The woman, however, remained with the camp; she seemed satisfied with the protection that the Blue Shields offered, sending five of their number with the vessel, together with their pledge to reunite her and the boy in south Genabackis.
The Supplicant followed slowly, its crew of veteran sailors from among the invaders doing their best with the unfamiliar lines of the strange vessel.
This left the Ragstopper and the Silver Dawn. Jute clapped his hands on young Reuth’s shoulders and looked him up and down. The lad appeared to be prospering; gone were the bruises of his escape — at least those apparent in the flesh. He was eating well and even occasionally smiled. Jute had noticed that he asked almost every new passenger for news of Whiteblade, the ex-Malazan swordsman.
He waved the lad off and turned to Ieleen, who sat in her usual place next to the tiller arm, hands on her short walking stick, her head tilted to the wind. It seemed to him that she’d been watching him out of the edge of her snow-white orbs. He rubbed a hand over his unshaven cheeks and cleared his throat.
‘You’re staying, then,’ she said, and he jumped, startled.
‘How did you know?’
‘I know that throat-clearing.’
He continued to brush his fingers over a cheek. ‘I have to see this through to the end, love.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’ He gazed about the deck, now crowded with evacuees. ‘Curiosity, I guess. I have to see how it ends.’
She banged the stick to the deck. ‘It could end in your death!’
‘Don’t let’s fight, dear. Not during my leave-taking.’
‘I’m supposed to like it?’
‘Don’t worry. The Ragstopper remains. We can evacuate in that, if we must.’
She shook her head in a knowing negative. ‘That hulk sounds as full of water as a bathtub.’
‘Well … it’s still afloat. In any case, we can always run for it.’
She continued shaking her head. Her grey curls blew about in the wind. ‘I’ve always feared your curiosity will be the death of you.’
‘I’ll be careful, dearest.’
Her silver orbs narrowed, promising her wrath. ‘You’d better be.’
‘Of course I will. I’ll await your return. If not here, then further south down the coast. Yes?’
She tapped the stick to the deck thoughtfully. ‘I do not want you to go. But if you must …’ She shook her head. Sadly, this time.
‘Thank you, my chick.’ He pecked her on the cheek.
She urged him off with the stick. ‘Go on, then.’
He saluted the ship’s weapons master, Letita, who appeared miserable herself, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. He recalled that Lieutenant Jalaz was remaining with Cartheron. Then he climbed down one of the rope ladders to a waiting skiff.
The shore was now empty. Where a temporary encampment of thousands had arisen, only smoking fire pits and the trash of torn canvas, abandoned boots and broken tools and mining equipment remained. The unruly mob of civilians had been urged, cajoled, and plain browbeaten by Tyvar and his remaining Blue Shields, plus the Shieldmaiden and her Genabackan veterans, into marching south down the coast.
Walking back up the slope of the rise topped by Mantle, Jute noted the closing storm from the north. The cloud front had rolled down the upper heights of the Salt range and was now obscuring the vales immediately above. The constant roar of thunder shook the ground and the strong winds lashed the branches. He spotted elk and deer bounding along the treeline just above the fields. Flights of birds came peeling out of the fog: ravens, gulls, ducks, and apart from these, soaring higher, the outlines of prey-birds: eagles and falcons.