Totsin regarded the corpse. Bravado? Empty threat? What was he to make of that last message? Pondering it, he used a stick to push the tiles back into their leather pouch then cinched it tight. Nothing, he decided. It meant nothing. Too vague and unreliable, this technique… he’d never trusted it. A method for lesser talents only. He kicked dirt over the smouldering embers.
Only two left now. The two most dangerous.
After departing the Ancy valley, word came to the Moranth column that Borun and Ussu were to travel ahead by mount as they had been summoned by the Overlord. They took messenger mounts and used the system of changing-posts to transfer to fresh horses as they travelled west. Though a Moranth, and unused to riding, Borun endured the endless pounding with his typical stoicism. Ussu, however, hadn’t ridden so hard in over two decades. The travel was a torture to him. His inner thighs were scraped raw; his back and neck ached as if struck all over by batons; and despite the constant agony he nearly fell off his mount as towards dawn he drifted into a fog of exhaustion.
At the next changing-post he lay down and threatened Borun with death should he disturb him. Prudently, the Moranth commander did not answer and withdrew. Ussu slept immediately, and seemingly just as immediately a knock came on the door. ‘What is it?’ he croaked.
‘I have given you four hours,’ Borun answered.
Ussu let his head fall back. Damn. ‘Very well. I am coming.’ Levering himself up he set his feet on the ground and straightened, groaning. Gods, and Lady, I am too old for this. This trip alone will be the death of me. He opened the door, leaned against the jamb. Borun grunted, seeing him.
‘Food and fresh mounts await.’
Ussu shook his head. ‘I cannot. You go ahead.’
‘That is not the arrangement. We travel together. Now come.’
Ussu raised a palsied, liver-spotted hand. ‘No. I haven’t the strength. It’s been too long.’
The featureless matt-black helm regarded him in silence, then Borun gathered the food into panniers which he threw over a shoulder. ‘You are a mage — do whatever it is you do.’ And he left the post’s main room.
Ussu stared after him. Damn if the man wasn’t right. He regarded the hand, drew on his Warren. Blue flame flickered to life around the flesh. Anneal me, he commanded. Flames shall nourish. Instantly the bone-weariness sloughed from him like slag in a furnace. He straightened, shocked and, frankly, rather terrified. Whence comes this power? There was nothing of the Lady in it; rather, she seemed to have stood aside and allowed it. Grudgingly, he accepted it.
My thanks, Blessed Lady.
At the changing-post beside the main crossroads for the road to Paliss, word came that they were to make for Lallit. Ussu took the orders from Borun’s hands. ‘Lallit? On the coast? Whatever for?’
‘It does not say. But it is authentic. The seals and codes are correct.’
Ussu threw it back at the messenger in frustration. He needed to speak to Yeull! Why this detour to the coast? It was insufferable — and yet more riding! ‘That’s another four days!’
‘Approximately. And we must go. There is no questioning this.’
‘Still no word from Ancy?’ Ussu asked the messenger.
‘No, sir. You are ahead of the news.’
Borun dismissed the messenger. ‘We’ll take the Paliss road for a time then strike west.’ He headed for the corral.
Ussu watched the man’s armoured back. Here I am complaining and this man has yet to hear any word on his command. Surely they must be a good two or three days ahead of any Malazan advance — even if they broke through immediately. Still, he would do well to dwell less on his own troubles and think of those of others for a change.
Resigning himself to the shift in destination, he went to join Borun.
Three days’ riding, plus the better part of three nights’, brought Ussu and Borun near Lallit on the coast of an arm of Sender’s Sea which many named the Pirate’s Sea. These last few days they’d come across signs of the passage of many men and wagons and carts of equipment. It looked as if an army had been brought to the coast. All this further troubled Ussu. Could Yeull actually be here and not at Paliss? If so, what of the capital? Whatever was he planning? The Malazans were advancing; the reorganized Roolian Army ought to be massing and heading east to confront them.
Turning a last hillside in the long sloping descent to the coast brought the iron-blue expanse of the sea into view and the modest town of Lallit as well. Ships choked its narrow harbour and an encamped army surrounded the town. It looked like the assemblage of an invasion force. For an instant Ussu wondered whether they were looking at another Malazan force just landed on their west coast. But the dark brown of Rool flew everywhere, reassuring him. He and Borun exchanged a wordless look and continued on.
Sentries met them, and an escort was assembled to guide them to the Overlord. All the rest of the Sixth appeared to have been brought together from all frontiers. Elite native Roolian and Skolati forces fleshed out the numbers. Their escort brought them to the wharf and the gangway of a large man-of-war bearing Roolian pennants, plus the personal pennant of the Overlord, the old standard of the Sixth.
Here on the coast snow fell, driven inland by strong south-westerlies off the Ocean of Storms. The air was noticeably colder — the damp, Ussu told himself, nothing more. The Overlord’s personal guard waved them up the gangway. Within the dim sweltering main cabin they found the Overlord awaiting them. They drew off their thick travelling cloaks and Ussu knelt to offer obeisance to the shadowy figure behind the great desk piled with sheets of vellum, scrolls, and battered ledgers.
‘Overlord. You ordered us to report.’
‘And here you are,’ the figure grumbled. ‘Feed the fire. You’ve brought the frigid air with you.’
A guard set more wood on the iron brazier even though sweat now beaded Ussu’s brow and steam rose from their travelling cloaks.
‘You ordered our withdrawal…’ Borun said, his voice sounding more hoarse than usual.
The figure leaned forward, arms on the desk. His vision adjusting, Ussu saw that Yeull sat wrapped in his usual layers. His black hair gleamed wet with sweat and his face held a pale fevered look. ‘Is that an accusation?’ he demanded.
‘It is a question.’
The man grunted, sinking back into his tall-backed chair. ‘You may have stalled the Betrayer a week or more but he would have crossed eventually. If not there, then elsewhere. Or divided his forces in multiple crossings. Yes?’
Borun grated, ‘Possibly…’
The Overlord sneered. ‘It would have happened. The Betrayer is determined to win through to the coast. He must. It is his strategy. His throw for all or nothing.’
‘The coast?’ Ussu asked.
Yeull’s hot gaze shifted to him. ‘You did not stop for news during your ride here, did you? Else you would have heard. Tell me, this second invasion force arrived in more than four hundred ships. What do you think happened to those once the Betrayer landed?’
Ussu shrugged. ‘I imagine that in due course the Marese sank them. As before.’
Yeull seemed to growl his disgust. ‘Hot tea!’ he barked aside to a guard, and the man set about pouring a dark brew. ‘No, my too-trusting adviser. In due course the Marese acknowledged defeat and sued for peace!’ Yeull slammed a fist to the table, scattering vellum sheets. ‘So much for them.’ He pulled at the layered jackets and padded quilted jerkins he wore draped about his shoulders. ‘And now we are flanked.’
Flanked? Ah, the coast! Gods forfend! They are here?
‘You are abandoning Rool,’ Borun judged, far ahead of Ussu in matters of strategy.
The Overlord nodded. ‘Yes.’
Ussu was completely confused. Abandon Rool? To go where? Why won’t he stand and fight? ‘You too are capitulating?’ he blurted and instantly regretted it.