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The gateway snapped away with a rush of air. Bars lay writhing at the water’s edge, snarling, striking the stones. They joined him there, weapons bared, Shell’s heart hammering. Skinner! From her Warren the man’s aura had appeared even stronger than the last time. As for the chest… the quickest snatched glimpse of the astounding potency carried within still left glowing afterimages in her vision.

‘What damned Warren was that?’ Bars snarled from where he lay.

‘The Crippled God’s,’ Shell said. ‘Skinner’s thrown in with him. The Dragons Deck readers claim that the Fallen God has made him King of his new house, the House of Chains.’

Bars pushed himself up, hugging his chest, anguish twisting his face. ‘He’s his errand boy too.’

‘What’s with the chest?’ Lazar asked.

‘A fragment of the entity charading as the Lady,’ said Shell.

‘A fragment?’ Blues repeated, alarmed. ‘As in the other name for the Crippled God… the Shattered God?’

Fingers sat heavily on a boulder. ‘Shit!’

Shell stared across the dark waters of the small crater lake surrounding this isle, to the near-black cloud cover obscuring the night sky, without seeing any of it. All that strength collected by the Crippled God. Added to him! What have they allowed here? What further catastrophes may very well be laid at their feet? She shook her head in mute denial.

Lazar cleared his throat. ‘We should go.’

Blues blinked, shaking off his thoughts. ‘Yeah. We’ll go get Corlo and Jemain.’

‘K’azz must be told of this,’ Shell said.

But Bars waved a negative. ‘Not our fight. We just want Skinner.’

‘K’azz will decide,’ Blues said, finishing the matter, and he waved everyone to him.

Moments later the isle was empty but for the hundreds of corpses, silent but for the ragged surf surging over the rocks. Then kites and crows assembled wheeling overhead, gathering from all around, while an army of white crabs came scrabbling and feeling their way up among the rocks.

EPILOGUE

Suthlay in his hammock and luxuriated in three consecutive days of relative inactivity — other than repairing his gear, and the usual make-work of cleaning the vessel. He was on board the Velenth, a Roolian merchantman commandeered for transport. The reassembled Malazan expeditionary force was returning to Quon Tali, and Command had yet to get round to formally reassigning him, Goss, Keri and Wess. He lay, an arm over his eyes, and tried to sleep while the great mass of vessels slowly made its way back through Black Water Strait.

He’d almost succeeded when Sergeant Goss’ voice rumbled: ‘Your presence is requested up top,’ and the man yanked his leg.

Suth fumbled to regard his sergeant: the man was up again now that the few healers they had could access their Warrens. ‘What? Not more damned scrubbing, please.’

But the sergeant looked more serious that he had in days. ‘The High Mage is here. She has some questions for you.’

Suth stilled, knowing the instinctive nervousness every trooper feels when the high and mighty take an interest. ‘What about?’

‘Can’t say.’

‘Did she question you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

The man gave a negative shake of the head. ‘Don’t think I’m stupid enough to dick with a High Mage’s inquiry. Now let’s go.’

Suth pulled on his boots and, hunched over in the cramped quarters, made his way through the maze of hammocks to the companionway. Up top it was still cold, but the air did not have the ruthless bite it used to. It was the wind that made one shiver. The massed cloud cover was still thick, but breaks were appearing, widening the farther south they went. Goss walked Suth to where the High Mage waited next to the ship’s side. With her was the unmistakable figure of the tall and broad Captain Peles, unarmoured in her long padded aketon and leather trousers.

The two were in plain view as all the troopers crammed on to the undersized vessel kept a respectful distance, as did all the sailors passing to and fro in their running of the ship. Suth was quite tense; everyone was full of the High Mage’s accomplishments: single-handedly breaking the shore defences during the landing, saving the fleet from the titanic sea-wave. It seemed the Empire had finally once more found a mage worthy of the title.

Suth saluted them both. ‘High Mage. Captain.’

‘At ease,’ the High Mage said. She invited him to stand with her next to the side of the vessel and turned to face outwards, looking over the water. ‘Only private place on any crowded ship,’ she said with a wink.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Now, firstly, be assured this is no official inquiry… no effort is being made to assign blame or censure. Is that clear?’

Somehow that failed to reassure him. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I merely want a clearer picture of the events at Thol. That is understandable, yes?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

The woman let out a long exasperated breath. She pushed the unkempt mousy curls of her greying hair from her face. ‘Relax, marine. That’s an order.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

A hard one-eyed glare from her. ‘Now, I’ve questioned your squad-mate, Keri — she’s recovering quite well, by the way…’

‘Glad to hear that, ma’am.’

‘And to your best recollection did no one touch this chest after the young child dropped it?’

‘No one, ma’am. Ipshank was most insistent.’

‘Not even Manask when he threw it into the inland sea?’

‘No, ma’am. He used a spear.’

‘I see. And you are sure you saw it fall into the sea?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Quite sure. I saw it thrown and fly out and then the sea foamed like boiling soup. Why, do you sense her?’

The High Mage chose not to take offence at the question. She shook her head. ‘No. It’s just Manask… the man’s notorious…’

‘Ipshank was watching.’

She turned to put her back to the side, nodding. ‘Yes, well, thank the gods for that. He seems to be the only one who can exert any control over the man… And finally, Kyle, the Adjunct. Did you overhear anything from him before he went his own way?’

Suth thought back to the confusion and upheaval of their arrival back in that flood-panicked town. He and Wess rejoined the garrison — he never saw the Adjunct again. But before they went their separate ways he did overhear him and Ipshank talking. ‘I believe he said something about heading back home.’

‘I see. Thank you, trooper. Now, you accompanied Fist Rillish on a number of missions, did you not?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Well, before you go, and I have told this to Captain Peles here already… But I was the last to see Greymane, and I just want you to know that he spoke well of the Fist before he went. Since you served under him I wanted you to know that.’

‘Thank you, High Mage.’

‘That is all.’

Suth saluted and rejoined Goss.

The rest of the afternoon was spent reordering stores. All that time the High Mage and Captain Peles had the side of the vessel to themselves. They were there long into the evening as well.

Down in the hold, while Wess slept as usual, Goss and Suth watched the crowd gathered around a square of wood inscribed with a circle where cockroaches, released from a bowl in the centre, raced for the edges. The crowd of troopers let go huge roars with every race but they spent most of their time attempting to snatch up the escapees.

Uncrossing his arms, Goss winced and loosened his shoulders. ‘It’ll be a sergeancy for you, certain.’

‘I don’t particularly want it.’

Goss let go an irritated snort. ‘Haven’t you learned anything yet, man? The army doesn’t care what you think. What you think doesn’t matter. You’ll take what they give you even if it’s a dead dog and you’ll say yes, sir, thank you, sir!’