*
A knock on the front pole of his tent woke Ussu. He rose, threw on his thick outer robes over his shirt and trousers, and called out, ‘Yes?’
‘Word from Borun, High Mage. A disturbance in the east.’
He raised the flaps; a Black Moranth trooper bowed. ‘Take me to him.’
Borun occupied a slight rise in the valley slope below the Three Sisters fort along the descent to the Ancy. The vantage offered a view of Three Sisters town, the bridge, and a slice of the far shore where the Roolian forces were dug in. Since it was night all Ussu could see were the dancing shadows and dots of light of torches moving far from the shore. ‘What is it?’ he asked the Moranth Commander.
‘Listen.’
Ussu slowed his breathing, worked on calming his pulse. He reached out to the east with his senses, though careful not to draw upon his Warren. Not yet, in any case. Then over the churning of the river as it charged south he heard it: the definite muted roar of contact. ‘I thought them at least a day away yet,’ he breathed, the air pluming in the chill night.
‘Could be an advance force sent ahead to probe us,’ Borun offered.
‘Why announce their presence before they’re fully assembled?’
The Moranth commander said nothing. It was his way of letting Ussu know that he had no idea.
‘The… ah… packets? They are in place?’
Borun nodded. ‘All set.’
‘Very good. You have sent someone, I assume?’
‘To ascertain the character of the contact, yes. She should be returning soon.’
‘Ah — of course.’
The matt-black helm turned to him. ‘High Mage, the Envoy has committed nearly fifteen thousand troops to the far shore. We cannot abandon them.’
Yet, Ussu added. ‘Very good, Commander.’ He peered round the position; Borun’s tent stood nearby. ‘You wouldn’t have a stool, would you?’
‘Of course, High Mage.’
Shortly afterwards a Moranth Black trooper came jogging up. He — she, Ussu corrected himself — saluted. ‘It appears to be a small force of no more than a few thousand probing the road defences, Commander. The Roolians are holding them off.’
‘Or are the Malazans not pressing as hard as they might?’ Ussu cut in.
The scout turned her helm to Borun, who gave a small wave, granting permission for the woman to answer. Why the permission, Ussu wondered. Ah, yes! He’d asked for an opinion.
‘Hard to say, High Mage,’ she began, slowly, ‘but if I must offer an interpretation, I would say that no, the invaders are not pressing as hard as they might. Though their small number would rule out advancing as they would be overwhelmed,’ she added.
Invaders. How odd to hear that from our mouths when we ourselves are invaders. Yet he nodded at the Moranth scout’s words. To Borun, he said, ‘Then why attack at all? A waste of men and women when they have no chance for reinforcements.’
The blunt bullet helm cocked slightly as Borun thought. ‘Could be an impetuous officer, or one hungering to make a mark for him or herself. New to combat.’
‘If I were Greymane I’d cashier the fool.’
‘Let us hope this officer’s uncle is far too important for that,’ Borun suggested, with the closest thing to humour Ussu had yet heard from the man.
‘You don’t know Greymane,’ Ussu said darkly.
*
They were given logs to grip for the trip downriver. As it was the winter season the Ancy was low. Great boulders thrust up amid its wide length and intermittent rapids foamed its surface. Suth was told he should be able to touch bottom most of the way down — if he reached for it. Their equipment they stashed in rolls and tied to the logs. In teams of three they slogged out through the shallows to the deeper, swift-flowing centre channel. The cold mountain water took his breath away and stung as if burning. The river stretched before him like churning night beneath the stars. It humped and hissed where rocks lurked just beneath its surface. It pulled at him as if eager to pin him under them.
One by one they lifted their legs and allowed the current to draw them along. Slowly at first, Suth was pulled around submerged boulders; then more swiftly, as if down a slick chute, he picked up speed. He tried to hold his feet out before him and the trick worked a number of times as hidden rocks merely drove his knees into his chest and barked his shins. He clenched his teeth against the pain and raised his head for a glimpse ahead of the dark span of the bridge: nothing yet. A curl turned him, and as he sped along backwards he used one hand to pull himself back round. As he did so he caught a glimpse of the timber undersides of the bridge almost overhead and the sight nearly made him let go of the log in shock. A small island of boulders lay ahead, the water cresting around them, and he reached down for bottom here to slow himself. The water slammed him into the rocks, crushing the breath from him. He hugged the log, mouth open and head down as water foamed over him. He hoped to all his Dal Hon gods that anyone peering over the side of the bridge would merely see a length of driftwood jammed among the rocks.
Now what? He was pressed here as tight as if strapped in. He tried to edge himself out but the current kept pushing him back into his hollow. Come sun-up he would be sure to be spotted — if he wasn’t dead from exposure by then!
Something struck him a blow and for an instant he thought he’d been hit by a crossbow bolt from the bridge. But it was a length of rope, pitifully thin, pressed up against him. Struggling, he wrapped the rope round one arm as many times as he could then gripped the log again.
A yank almost dislocated his shoulder. Ye gods, have a care! The pressure was steady and agonizing. The rope cut into the flesh and muscle of his arm. He felt a tingling as its circulation was cut off. Slowly, the excruciating pull overcame the water’s pressure and he popped free of the trap like a cork. He could only float limply, hardly able to keep a grip of the log one-handed. Hands drew him out of the water.
‘Who’s this guy?’ a voice whispered.
‘He’s with Goss’ bunch.’
‘Hunh.’ A cuff on his cheek. ‘Well, welcome to the 6th.’
Through numb lips Suth slurred, ‘Have to get to my squad.’
A dark shape over him snorted. ‘No way. You sit tight. We’re on the job now ’cause this bridge is mined to blow.’
*
Ussu jerked awake at a touch on his shoulder; he’d fallen asleep leaning forward against his staff. Those efforts earlier must have taken more out of me than I suspected. And I’m not getting any younger. It was nearly dawn; the eastern horizon held that same pink you could find inside a seashell. Ussu felt the chill of the winter night painfully in his hands and feet. He nodded to the Moranth trooper, and crossed to where Borun was in conversation with others of his command.
‘No sortie?’ Borun was asking.
‘None ordered. Just repair of the lines and retrenchment.’
Borun bowed to Ussu. ‘The day’s regards, High Mage.’
‘The engagement is over?’
‘Yes, some time ago. A slow withdrawal of the invaders.’
‘A slow withdrawal? And the Envoy did not press them, maintain contact?’
‘No. Orders forbade it.’
Ussu was astonished. ‘Why?’
‘Perhaps he fears an ambush or a counterattack.’
‘And so he hides behind his lines.’ The foolishness of it was dismaying. ‘We’ve abandoned all initiative. Given it to them.’
‘True,’ Borun granted. ‘But they do have to come to us. Perhaps you could say time is on our side.’
It was dawning upon Ussu that the Black commander had the annoying capacity of being able to see all sides of any tactical situation. ‘Let us hope so,’ he eventually replied. Then he cleared his throat; he was fading without his morning herbal infusion and hot spiced tea. ‘In the meantime, I will be in my tent. Send word of any development.’