Paran's head snapped around. That fact had been thoroughly stripped from the annals. As far as Empire history was concerned, it had never happened.
«: back in the days when Dassern Ultor ran the military,» the Claw continued blithely. «It was Whiskeyjack's Seventh Company that ran down the Seven Cities» mage cabal out in the Pan'potsun Wastes. He ended the war then and there. Of course, everything went to hell after that, what with Hood taking Ultor's daughter. And not long after that, when Ultor died, all his men were pulled down fast. That's when the bureaucrats swallowed up the Army. Damn jackals. And they've been sniping at each other ever since and to hell with the campaigns.» The Claw sat forward, pushing the saddlehorn down, and spat past his horse's left ear.
Paran shivered, seeing that gesture. In the old days it had announced the beginning of tribal war among the Seven Cities. Now, it had become the symbol of the Malaz 2nd Army. «Are you suggesting,» he cut in, «that the story you've just told me is commonplace?»
«Not in detail,» the Claw admitted. «But some old veterans in the Second fought with Ultor, not just in Seven Cities but as far back as Falar.»
Paran thought for a time. The man riding beside him, though a Claw, was also 2nd Army. And he'd been through a lot with them. It made for an interesting perspective. He glanced at the man and saw him grinning.
«What's so funny?»
The man shrugged. «The Bridgeburners are a little hot, these days. They're getting chaff for recruits and that makes it look like they're about to be disbanded. You talk with whoever it is you talk with back in Malaz, you tell them they'd end up with a mutiny on their hands, they start messing with the Bridgeburners. That's in every report I send but no one seems to listen to me.» His grin broadened. «Maybe they think I've been turned or something, eh?»
Paran shrugged. «You were called in to meet me, weren't you?»
The Claw laughed. «You've really been out of touch, haven't you?
They called me in because I'm the last Active in the Second. And as for the Fifth and Sixth-forget it. Brood's Tiste And? could pick out a Claw from a thousand paces. None of them left, either. My own Claw Master was garotted two days back-that's something else, ain't it? You, I inherited, Captain. Once we hit the city, I send you on your way, and that's probably the last we'll ever see of each other. You deliver your mission details as Captain of the Ninth Squad, they either laugh in your face or they stick a knife in your eye-it's even betting what they'll do. Too bad, but there it is.»
Up ahead loomed the gates of Pale.
«One more thing,» the Claw said, his eyes on the merlons above the gate, «just a bone I'll throw you in case Oponn's smiling on you. The High Mage Tayschrenn's running things here. Dujek's not happy, especially considering what happened with Moon's Spawn. It's a bad situation between them, but the High Mage is relying on his being in close and constant communication with the Empress, and that's what's keeping him on top. A warning, then. Dujek's soldiers will follow him: anywhere. And that goes for the Fifth and Sixth Armies, too. What's been gathered here is a storm waiting to break.»
Paran stared at the man. Topper had explained the situation, but Paran had dismissed the man's assessment-it had seemed too much like a scenario devised to justify the Empress filling the gallows. Not a tangle I want to get involved in. Leave me to complete my single task-I desire no more than that.
ks *w-i VwSseA XT&wtvt UwN %'?6Ve- tverby, Tayschrenn just watched us arrive. Any chance he knows you, Captain?»
«No.» I hope not, he added silently.
As they trotted into the city proper and a wall of sound rose to meet them, Paran's eyes glazed slightly. Pale was a madhouse, buildings on all sides gutted by fire, the streets, despite being cobble-heaved in places and dented in others, were packed with people, carts, braying animals and marines. He wondered if he should start measuring his life in minutes.
Taking command of a squad that had gone through four captains in three years, then delivering a mission that no sane soldier would consider, coupled with a brewing firestorm of a large-scale insurrection possibly headed by the Empire's finest military commander, against a High Mage who looked to be carving his own rather big niche in the world-all of this had Paran feeling somewhat dismayed.
He was jolted by a heavy slap on his back. The Claw had moved his horse close and now he leaned over.
«Out of your depth, Captain? Don't worry, every damn person here's out of their depth. Some know it, some don't. It's the ones who don't you got to worry about. Start with what's right in front of you and forget the rest for now. It'll show up in its own time. Find any marine and ask direction to the Bridgeburners. That's the easy part.»
Paran nodded.
The Claw hesitated, then leaned closer. «I've been thinking, Captain. It's a hunch, mind you, but I think you're here to do some good. No, don't bother answering. Only, if you get into trouble, you get word to Toc the Younger, that's me. I'm in the Messenger Corps, outrider class, the Second. All right?»
Paran nodded again. «Thank you,» he said, just as a loud crash sounded behind them, followed by a chorus of angry voices. Neither rider turned.
«What's that you said, Captain?»
Paran smiled. «Better head off. Keep your cover-in case something happens to me. I'll find myself a guide, by the book.»
«Sure thing, Captain.» Toc the Younger waved, then swung his mount down a side-street. Moments later Paran lost sight of him. He drew a deep breath, then cast his gaze about, searching for a likely soldier.
Paran knew that his early years in the noble courts of his homeland had prepared him well for the kind of deception Adjunct Lorn demanded of him. In the past two years, however, he had begun to recognize more clearly what he was becoming. That brash, honest youth who had spoken with the Empress's Adjunct that day on the Itko Kanese coast now gnawed at him. He'd dropped right into Lorn's lap like a lump of unshaped clay. And she had proceeded to do what she did best.
What frightened Paran most, these days, was that he had grown used to being used. He'd been someone else so many times that he saw a thousand faces, heard a thousand voices, all at war with his own. When he thought of himself, of that young noble-born man with the overblown faith in honesty and integrity, the vision that came to him now was of something cold, hard and dark. It hid in the deepest shadows of his mind, and it watched. No contemplation, no judgement, just icy, clinical observation.
He didn't think that that young man would see the light of day again.
He would just shrink further back, swallowed by darkness, then disappear, leaving no trace.
And Paran wondered if he even cared any more.
He marched into the barracks that had once housed Pale's Noble Guard. One old veteran lounged on a nearby cot, her rag-wrapped feet jutting over the end. The mattress had been stripped away and tossed into a corner; the woman lay on the flat boards, her hands behind her head.
Paran's gaze held on her briefly, then travelled down the ward. With the lone exception of the veteran marine, the place was empty. He returned his attention to her. «Corporal, is it?» The woman didn't move. «Yeah, what?» «I take it,» he said drily, «that the chain of command has thoroughly disintegrated around here.»
Her eyes opened and managed a lazy sweep of the officer standing before her. «Probably,» she said, then closed her eyes again. «You looking for somebody or what?»
«I'm looking for the Ninth Squad, Corporal.»
«Why? They in trouble again?»