The captain frowned. «Who are you?»
Behind them conversations resumed, loud with rattled nerve «Ain't you guessed?» Kalam wagged his head. «Corporal Kalam, Ninth Squad, Bridgeburners. The last time I saw you, you was recovering from »
Paran's hands shot out and gripped Kalam's shirt. The assassin was too surprised to react and the cantain's words confused him all the more. «Is your squad's healer still alive, Corporal?»
«What? Alive? Yeah, sure, why not? What's-?»
«Shut up,» Paran snapped. «Just listen, soldier. Bring him here. Now! No questions. I'm giving you a direct order, Corporal.» He released
Kalam almost saluted, but caught himself in time. «As you command,» Paran glared at the corporal's back until the man disappeared through the front door. Then he surged to his feet. «Innkeeper!» he called, stepping around the table. «The black man will be showing up in a few minutes with company. Send them up to Coll's room on the double. Understood?» Paran strode to the stairs. As he reached them he glanced back at the sword «And nobody touch that sword,» he ordered, swinging a glare across everyone in the room. Nobody seemed inclined to challenge him.
With a sharp, satisfied nod, the captain ascended the stairs.
On the first floor, he strode down the hallway to the last room on the right. He entered without knocking to find Sulty and a local surgeon sitting at the room's lone table Coll's blanket-covered form a un. The surgeon rose. «It's no good,» he said, in a thin, reedy voice. «The «Aye,» the surgeon replied. «But it won't be for much longer. If the wound had been further down on his leg, I might have been able to cut it off. Even then, I'm afraid the poison's spread through all of him. I'm what do I owe you for the services,» the captain asked, remembering.
The surgeon frowned over at Sulty. «Why, nothing, sir. I failed.» He left. Sulty joined the captain at the bedside. She wiped her face as she looked down on Coll, but said nothing. A few minutes later she, too, left the room, unable to remain any longer.
Paran found a stool and pulled it over to the bed. He sat and leaned his forearms on his knees. He was not sure how long he sat there, staring down at the straw-littered floor, but the door slamming open behind him brought him to his feet.
A bearded man stood in the doorway, his slate-grey eyes hard and cold.
«Are you Mallet?» Paran demanded.
The man shook his head and strode inside. Behind him appeared Kalam and another man. The latter's gaze found Coll, and he walked quickly to the bed.
«I'm Sergeant Whiskeyjack,» the bearded man said quietly. «Pardon my directness, sir, but what the hell are you doing here?»
Ignoring the question, Paran joined the healer. Mallet laid a hand over the crusted bandages. He glared up at the captain. «Can't you smell the rot? He's gone.» Mallet frowned and leaned forward. «No, wait: Damn, I don't believe it.» The healer took a spoon-shaped blade from his pouch and removed the bandages. Then he began to dig into the wound with the blade. «Shedenul's Mercy, someone's stuffed this with herbs!» He drove his fingers into the wound.
Coll jerked and moaned.
Mallet grinned. «Hah, that got you going, did it? Good.» He probed deeper. «This cut's half-way through the bone,» he breathed in amazement. «Those damn herbs have poisoned his marrow. Who the hell treated this?» he asked, looking accusingly at Paran.
«I don't know,» Paran said.
«All right,» Mallet said, removing his hand and wiping it on the blankets. «Move back, everybody. Give me some room. A minute later, Captain, and this man would've been striding through Hood's Gate.» He pressed his hand down on Coll's chest and closed his eyes. «And be glad I'm as good as I am.»
«Now, Captain?»
Paran walked over to the table and motioned for the sergeant to join him. «First, has Adjunct Lorn contacted you yet?»
Whiskeyjack's blank look was sufficient answer.
«Good, I'm in time, then.» Paran glanced up at Kalam, who had stationed himself behind the sergeant. «You've been set up. The plan was to take the city, yes, but also to make certain you were all killed in the process.»
Whiskeyjack held up a hand. «A moment, sir. You and Tattersail worked this out?»
Paran closed his eyes briefly. «She's: dead. Chasing Hairlock out on the Rhivi Plain. Tayschrenn got to her. It was also her intent to find you and tell you all that I'm telling you. I'm afraid I won't be her equal as your ally once the Adjunct shows up, but at least I can prepare you somewhat.»
Kalam spoke. «I don't like the idea of Oponn's pawn supposedly helping us.»
Paran nodded. «I have it on good authority that I'm not Oponn's. That sword downstairs is, though. Your squad wizard should be able to confirm this.»
«The Adjunct's plan,» Whiskeyjack reminded him, the fingers of one hand tapping slowly on the tabletop.
«She'll have no trouble finding you. She has a talent in that area. But I fear she's not the major threat. There's a T'lan Imass with her. Maybe her mission is simply to lead him to you, then he'll handle the rest.»
Kalam cursed and began pacing behind the sergeant's chair.
Whiskeyjack reached a decision. «The satchel, Corporal.»
The assassin frowned, then picked up the sergeant's standard-issue supply satchel left beside the door. He returned and set it down on the tabletop.
Whiskeyjack released the straps and pulled out an object wrapped in burgundy silk. He removed the cloth, revealing twin yellowed bones of a human forearm. The elbow-end's ball joints were bound together with verdigrised copper wire; the wrist ends were wrapped as well, but as a misshapen knife grip, beyond which jutted a serrated blade.
«What is it?» the captain asked. «I've never seen its like before.»
«Be surprised if you had,» Whiskeyjack said. «Back in the days of the Emperor, the inner ring of military commanders each possessed one of these, the booty of a looted K'Chain Che'Malle tomb.» He grasped the bones with both hands. «It was the source of much of our success, Captain.» He rose and drove the point into the table.
A flash of white light erupted from the bones, then contracted to a swirl spinning thread-like between them. Paran heard a voice he knew.
«I was getting worried, Whiskeyjack,» High Fist Dujek growled.
«Unavoidable,» the sergeant replied, frowning at Paran. «We've had little to report: until now. But I need to know the situation in Pale, High Fist.»
'You want an update before you spill the bad news, eh? Fair enough,» Dujek said. «Tayschrenn's stumbling in circles. He was last happy when Bellurdan was killed along with Tattersail. Two more of the Old Guard gone in one fell swoop. Since then, all he's got is questions. What game is Oponn playing? Was there truly a clash between the Knight of Darkness and Shadowthrone? Did a soul-shifted puppet kidnap, torture then murder a Claw officer in Nathilog and what truths were revealed by the poor man?»
«We were not aware that Hairlock had done that, High Fist.»
«I believe you, Whiskeyjack. In any case, enough of the Empress's plans have been discovered and, indeed, she seems convinced that the dismantling of my army will pull me back under her wing, in time to saddle me with the command of the Seven Cities» garrisons and put a bloody stop to the rebellion that's brewing. She seriously miscalculated there-if only she'd paid attention to Toc the Younger's reports. Well: Laseen's intentions now seem to be riding on Adjunct Lorn and Onos T'oolan. They've reached the Jaghut barrow, Whiskeyjack.»
Mallet joined them and met Kalam's stunned gaze. Clearly, even they'd had no idea that their sergeant was so well informed. Suspicion dawned in the assassin's eyes, and Paran nodded to himself. It was happening, after all.
Dujek continued, «The Moranth Black are ready to march, but it's only for show, and to get them out of the city. So, what are we looking at, friend? The balance of the world is with you, in Darujhistan. If Lorn and Onos T'oolan succeed in unleashing the Tyrant on the city, you can be certain that you and your squad are intended to be on the casualty list.
«Closer to home, here's what you want: we're ready to move. Tayschrenn himself will trigger events when he announces the disbanding of the Bridgeburners-the blind idiot. Now, I'm waiting.»
«High Fist,» Whiskeyjack began, «Captain Paran's made it. He's sitting across from me right now. His story is that Oponn's working through his sword, not him.» He met the captain's eyes. «I believe him.»
Dujek spoke. «Captain?»
«Yes, High Fist?»
«Was Toc any help?»
Paran winced. «He gave his life for this, High Fist. The puppet Hairlock ambushed us, tossed Toc into a-a rent or something.»
There was silence, then Dujek said, his voice hoarse, «I'm sorry to hear that, Captain. More than you know. His father: Well, enough of that. Go on, Whiskeyjack.»
«No success yet in contacting the local Assassins» Guild, High Fist. We've mined the intersections, though. I'll be explaining everything to my men tonight. The question remains what to do about Captain Paran., «Understood,» Dujek replied. «Captain Paran?»
«Sir?»
«Have you come to any conclusions?» Paran glanced at Whiskeyjack. «Yes, sir. I think so.»
«So? What choice will you make, Captain?»
He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in the chair. «High Fist,» he said slowly, «Tayschrenn killed Tattersail.» And failed, but that is a secret I will keep to myself. «The Adjunct's plan included betraying her word to me, and probably killing me in the process. But, I admit, that's secondary to what Tayschrenn did.» Looking up, he met Whiskeyjack's steady gaze. «Tattersail took care of me, and I her after that Hound. It:» he hesitated «: it meant something, High Fist.» He straightened.
«So, I gather you intend to defy the Empress. But what then? Do we challenge the Empire's hundred legions with ten thousand men? Do we proclaim an independent kingdom and wait for Laseen to make an example of us? I need more details, High Fist, before I decide whether I join you. Because, sir, I want vengeance.»
Dujek responded, «The Empress loses Genabackis, Captain. We've got the support for that. By the time the Malazan Marines arrive to reinforce the campaign, it'll already be over. The Crimson Guard won't even let them disembark. Expect Nathilog to rise up and Genabaris to follow. The Moranth alliance is about to lose its punch-though I'm afraid I can't give you the details on that.
«My plans, Captain? They might not make sense, because I don't have time to explain. But we're readying ourselves to take on a new player in the game-someone completely outside all of this, and that someone is damn nasty. He is called the Pannion Seer, who even now prepares his armies for a holy war. You want vengeance? Leave Tayschrenn to enemies closer to home. As for Lorn, she's all yours, if you can manage it. I can't offer you anything more, Captain. You can say no. Nobody will kill you for that.»
Paran stared at his hands. «I want to know when High Mage Tayschrenn gets what he deserves.»
«Agreed.»
«Very well, High Fist. As far as this present situation is concerned, however, I'd rather Sergeant Whiskeyjack remained in command.»
Dujek asked, a grin in his voice, «Whiskeyjack?»
«Accepted,» the sergeant answered. He smiled at Paran. «Welcome aboard, Captain.»
«Enough?» Dujek asked.
«We'll speak again after it's all done,» Whiskeyjack said. «Until then, High Fist, success.»
«Success, Whiskeyjack.»
The threads of light faded. As soon as they were gone Kalam rounded on his sergeant. «You old bastard! Fiddler told me Dujek wouldn't hear any talk of revolt! Not only that, the High Fist told you to walk after this mission.»
