She knows nothing of our prisoner. She is not omniscient.
Again the dead smile. ‘I allowed you Malazans to land because you brought a renewed vitality to the true faith. You have strengthened me in so many ways. There is nothing like a challenge to inspire and confirm a faith. And so I welcome you again.’
‘Yet the true enemy awaits. What of the Riders?’
The lips twisted, snarling. ‘I have no vision of them. She stymies me yet. That Queen bitch has ever stood in my way!’ The body eased beneath Ussu, the fit seeming to pass. ‘Kneel before me, Ussu. Embrace me as your Goddess.’
The corpse raised its head to whisper at his ear, intimately close: ‘Let me touch your heart.’
Revolted, Ussu threw himself from the body. Yurgen swung, the blade passing through the neck to slam into the table. Ussu pushed aside Seel and Temeth to stand swaying, his heart hammering as if brushed by ghostly fingers. Hood preserve them! What were they dealing with here? He crossed to a washbasin and rubbed the gore from his arms. Temeth passed him a towel and he dried himself then rolled down his sleeves.
He eyed the three. ‘A gag will be the order of the day, next time, Yurgen.’
All nodded, faces pale as snow.
They had been at sea for two weeks when Sergeant Goss came down to the jammed quarters below decks and crouched amid the hammocks. It was the beginning of their squad’s sleeping shift and some were bedding down while others were watching games of troughs and dice. Len gestured the squad close. Suth was lying in his hammock and he folded an arm under his head. Wess was snoring above him.
‘Guess you been hearing the rumours,’ Goss said when most had gathered round.
‘Which rumours? There’s been nothin’ but all this time,’ Pyke said.
Suth agreed. There was a plague of rumours aboard: that they would yet strike east for Genabackis; that they were headed for Stratem to pursue some mercenary company; that the expedition could not possibly succeed because the Empire had run out of cadre mages; that Greymane was commanding and he was bad luck; that the Emperor had struck a pact with the Stormriders; that Mare vessels had been sighted shadowing them and the sea would take them all. For his part Suth was unperturbed. To him this was just a particularly obvious example of how all talk was, in point of fact, useless.
‘First, it’s about Greymane. It’s official. He has command.’
‘Oponn’s luck!’ said Pyke. ‘Where’d they dig him up? I heard the man was so incompetent his own officers got rid of him. We’re better off without him.’
‘That’s not what I heard,’ Len growled. ‘The old veterans spoke well of him.’
‘Nothing we can do about it,’ Yana said from where she knelt, steadying herself on a hammock.
That observation struck Suth as extraordinarily wise and he nodded his sombre agreement.
‘The other’s about fighting alongside the Blues,’ Goss went on.
‘Yeah, we heard,’ Pyke said. ‘Some damn thing about volunteering to fight with them. Volunteer? What for? Not for damned honour ’n’ glory or any damned shit like that, I hope.’
‘Shut that anus you call a mouth,’ Yana murmured — she had less and less time for the man as the days wore on.
Unperturbed, Goss raised and let fall his shoulders. ‘There’s some as see it that way. But, no. This is for places on the Blues’ vessels that will lead the shore assault. So, you could say it’s a chance for some loot.’
‘Loot,’ Pyke snorted, scornful. ‘A gut full of iron more like.’
Fighting on land. To Suth that sounded preferable to fighting at sea. ‘How are they choosing? Do you just ask?’
Goss nodded, accepting the question. He leaned aside, clearing his throat into his fist. ‘Well, there’s to be what you might call tryouts. Them Blues is mighty selective. They won’t let just anybody on board.’
Lard looked up from juggling his dice. One eye was still black and his bald head still bruised from his last fit of brawling. ‘What’s that? Fighting?’
Pyke rolled his eyes. Goss rubbed the bristles at his cheeks, smiling. ‘Yeah. ’Gainst the Blues themselves.’
Blowing out a breath, Lard sat back down. Pyke’s laugh was a sneer. ‘Hard lumps. And for what? A chance to get yourself killed? No, the rule is don’t volunteer for nothin’.’
But Kyle leaned back to stare at the sweat-stained canvas hammock above. He’d been watching these armoured Moranth. Clearly worthy opponents. And he’d been too long without testing himself against anyone.
Far too long.
When the Lasana’s turn came and the volunteering squads were called to ready themselves for the next morning, the 17th was one of five named. Pyke was furious. Below decks he first pinned Lard: ‘Was you, wasn’t it? You Hood-damned fat fool.’ Lard waved the man away. He turned on Dim next: ‘Or you — dimwit?’
Dim just looked confused.
‘Shut up,’ said Yana from nearby. ‘Look to your kit.’
‘My kit? My kit! There’s no way I’m turning out for this! No way. You lot are the fools.’ And he stormed off.
‘Good riddance,’ Lard called after him, and aside, to Dim: ‘Was it you?’
Dim blinked at the man. ‘Was it me what?’
Lard caught Suth’s eye and raised his glance to the timbers above. ‘Never mind.’
Every soul on board the Lasana jammed the decks that morning. The sailors hung in the rigging, arms crossed under their chins. It was overcast, and a strong cold wind was blowing off the Strait of Storms. Two squads of Moranth Blue marines had come over by launch. The five Malazan squads had the stern deck to ready themselves while amidships was being cleared. The sergeants huddled together to draw lots to determine order. The 17th picked second. When Goss came back with the news Suth leaned close to his ear.
‘Swap for last.’
Goss eyed him. ‘What if they don’t want no swap?’ ‘Tell them we need time, we’re short, whatever you must.’ The sergeant grunted his agreement; you could say they were short. Faro, Pyke and Wess hadn’t shown. And it was clear from their usual plain leather jerkins that Len and Keri weren’t planning on fighting.
Yana joined them. She stood even taller and broader in her full shirt of thick padded scale, boots, broadsword at her wide leather belt, full helm under one arm. ‘Minimum is five,’ Goss said, as he rubbed his jaw and eyed the squads readying their arms. ‘If we can’t field five, we’re out.’
‘Where’s Pyke?’ Suth asked.
Goss’ jaws clenched. ‘Out. Says he fell down a companionway ladder. Twisted his knee.’
‘Dead-weight useless shit,’ Yana snarled. ‘We don’t need him. We have five with you anyway.’
‘No sergeants. Just regulars.’
‘Shit.’
‘And Wess?’ Suth asked.
‘I think he’s around here somewhere,’ Yana answered.
‘Dig him up — I’ll see what I can swing.’
Suth searched the crowds nearby. When he returned Goss was back. The sun was warming the decking and the wind had picked up. The sailors were busy trimming the canvas to steady the ship. ‘We’re fourth,’ Goss said.
‘Good.’
The sergeant eyed him; he brushed his fingers over his greying bristles. ‘You want to watch them fight…’
‘And they’ll be tired.’
Goss laughed. ‘Don’t count on that.’ He watched Suth again, a small tight smile pulling at his lips. ‘It was you, hey? Put our name in. I thought maybe Yana did it just to get Pyke’s goat.’
‘I’m bored.’
The sergeant leaned his elbows on the railing. ‘Well, you won’t be real soon.’
Suth motioned to the two squads of Moranth marines waiting amidships. The plates of their head-to-toe armour had taken on the iron-blue of the clouds, or were reflecting it. They were readying large oval shields and the weapons they’d brought: some sort of wooden shortswords. ‘They’re that good?’
‘These could be among their best. Veterans of years of warfare. I’ve even heard it said that alone among the Genabackan peoples the Moranth will fight the Seguleh. And it’s the Blues who meet them at sea. They’re good all right.’