A dragon through fire, a ship riding flames-his first sight of a Tiste Edur: dead, pinned to his chair by a giant’s spear. Oar benches where sat decapitated rowers, hands resting on the sweeps, and their severed heads heaped in a pile round the mainmast, eyes blinking in the sudden light, faces twisting into appalling expressions-
So who built twelve wells in a forest? That’s what I want to know.
Maybe.
He recalled a knock at the door, and opening it to see, with absurd delight, a drenched T’lan Imass whom he recognized. Stormy, it’s for you. And aye, I dream of moments like this, you red-haired ox. And what did that say about Gesler himself? Wait, I’m not that curious.
‘There you are.’
Gesler looked up. ‘Stormy. I was just thinking of you.’
‘Thinking what?’
He waved at the well’s black hole. ‘If you’d fit, of course. Most of you would go, but not, alas, your head.’
‘You keep forgetting, Gesler,’ the corporal said as he drew nearer, ‘I was one of the ones who punched back.’
‘Got no recollection of that at all.’
‘Want me to remind you?’
‘What I want is to know why you’re bothering me.’
‘We’re all gettin’ ready to head out.’
‘Stormy.’
‘What?’
‘What do you think about all this?’
‘Someone liked building wells.’
‘Not this. I mean, the war. This war, the one here.’
‘I’ll let you know once we start busting heads.’
‘And if that never happens?’
Stormy shrugged, ran thick fingers through his knotted beard. ‘Just another typical Bonehunter war, then.’
Gesler grunted. ‘Go on, lead the way. Wait. How many battles have we fought, you and me?’
‘You mean, with each other?’
‘No, you damned idiot. I mean against other people. How many?’
‘I lost count.’
‘Liar.’
‘All right. Thirty-seven, but not counting Y’Ghatan since I wasn’t there. Thirty-eight for you, Gesler.’
And how many did we manage to avoid?’
‘Hundreds.’
‘So maybe, old friend, we’re just getting better at this.’
The huge Falari scowled. ‘You trying to ruin my day, Sergeant?’
Koryk tightened the straps of his bulky pack. ‘I just want to kill someone,’ he growled.
Bottle rubbed at his face then eyed the half-blood Seti.
‘There’s always Smiles. Or Tarr, if you jump him when he’s not looking.’
‘You being funny?’
‘No, just trying to deflect your attention from the weakest guy in this squad. Namely, me.’
‘You’re a mage. Sort of. You smell like one, anyway.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘If I kill you, you’d just curse me with your last breath, then I’d be miserable.’
‘So what would change, Koryk?’
‘Having a reason to be miserable is always worse than having no reason but being miserable anyway. If it’s just a way of life, I mean.’ He suddenly drew out the latest weapon in his arsenal, a long-knife. ‘See this? Just like the kind Kalam used. It’s a damned fast weapon, but I can’t see it doing much against armour.’
‘Where Kalam stuck them there wasn’t no armour. Throat, armpit, crotch-you should give it to Smiles.’
‘I grabbed it to keep it from her, idiot.’
Bottle looked over to where Smiles had, moments earlier, disappeared into the forest. She was on her way back, the placid expression on her face hiding all sorts of evil, no doubt. ‘I hope we’re not expected to stand against Edur the way heavies are,’ he said to Koryk while watching Smiles. ‘Apart from you and Tarr, and maybe Corabb, we’re not a big mailed fist kind of squad, are we? So, in a way, this kind of war suits us-subterfuge, covert stuff.’ He glanced over and saw the half-blood glaring at him. Still holding the long-knife. ‘But maybe we’re actually more versatile. We can be half mailed fist and half black glove, right?’
‘Anyway,’ Koryk said, resheathing the weapon, ‘when I said I wanted to kill someone I meant the enemy.’
Tiste Edur.’
‘Letherii bandits will do-there must be bandits around here somewhere.’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean, why? There’s always bandits in the countryside, Bottle. Led by moustached rogues with fancy names. Zorala Snicker, or Pamby Doughty-’
A loud snort from Smiles, who had just arrived. ‘I remember those stories. Pamby Doughty with the feather in his hat and his hunchback sidekick, Pomolo Paltry the Sly. Stealers of the Royal Treasure of Li Heng. Cutters of the Great Rope that held Drift Avalii in one place. And Zorala, who as a child climbed the tallest tree in the forest, then found he couldn’t get back down, so that’s where he lived for years, growing up. Until the woodsman came-’
‘Gods below,’ Cuttle growled from the blankets he remained under, ‘someone cut her throat, please.’
‘Well,’ Smiles said with a tight, eponymous curve of her mouth, ‘at least I started the night in a good mood.’
‘She means she had a most satisfying-’
‘Clack the teeth together, Koryk, or I’ll cut those braids off when you’re sleeping and trust me, you won’t like what I’ll use ‘em for. And you, Bottle, don’t let that give you any ideas, neither. I took the blame for something you did once, but never again.’
‘I wouldn’t cut off Koryk’s braids,’ Bottle said. ‘He needs them to sneeze into.’
‘Get moving, Cuttle,’ Fiddler said as he strode among them. ‘Look at Corabb-he’s the only one actually ready-’
‘No I’m not,’ the man replied. ‘I just fell asleep in my armour, Sergeant, and now I need somewhere to pee. Only-’
‘Never mind,’ Fiddler cut in. ‘Let’s see if we can’t stumble onto some Edur tonight.’
‘We could start a forest fire,’ Koryk said.
‘But we happen to be in it,’ Tarr pointed out.
‘It was just an idea.’
Corabb Bhilan Thenu’alas admitted to himself that these Malazans were nothing like the soldiers of the Dogslayers, or the warriors of Leoman’s army. He was not even sure if they were human. More like… animals. Endlessly bickering ones at that, like a pack of starving dogs.
They pretty much ignored him, which was a good thing. Even Bottle, to whom the sergeant had instructed Corabb to stay close. Guarding someone else’s back was something Corabb was familiar with, so he had no issue with that command. Even though Bottle was a mage and he wasn’t too sure about mages. They made deals with gods-but one didn’t have to be a mage to do that, he knew. No, one could be a most trusted leader, a commander whose warriors would follow him into the pit of the Abyss itself. Even someone like that could make deals with gods, and so doom his every follower in a fiery cataclysm even as that one ran away.
Yes, ran away.
He was pleased that he had got over all that. Old history, and old history was old so it didn’t mean anything any more, because… well, because it was old. He had a new history, now. It had begun in the rubble beneath Y’Ghatan. Among these… animals. Still, there was Fiddler and Corabb knew he would follow his sergeant because the man was worth following. Not like some people.
An army of fourteen seemed a little small, but it would have to do for now. He hoped, however, that somewhere ahead-further inland-they’d come to a desert. Too many trees in this wet, bad-smelling forest. And he’d like to get on a horse again, too. All this walking was, he was certain, unhealthy.
As the squad left the glade, slipping into the deeper darkness beyond, he moved alongside Bottle, who glanced over and grimaced. ‘Here to protect me from bats, Corabb?’