‘We were told to expect none.’
‘That’s true, Sergeant.’ The Adjunct’s gauntleted hand went to the bright ivory grip of his sword, as if the movement were an unconscious habit of his while thinking. ‘I’m told there’s only one kind here.’ He was gazing up the boulevard to a tall building, spired, its arched roof silver in the moonlight.
‘Shit,’ Keri murmured, aside.
‘What is it?’ Suth asked, low.
‘Their Hood-spawned local cult.’
‘You’re with me,’ the Adjunct told Goss. He signed to the Blue commander, who jerked a nod and waved to his marines. They spread out, advancing. Goss motioned for his squad to take the centre behind the Adjunct.
More Malazan dead littered the stairs leading up to the building’s open door. It looked as though a squad had come to investigate something and been cut down by magery. Not one corpse of a defender could be seen. The Adjunct drew his blade and entered first. Half the Blue squad followed, then Goss motioned his in, and the remaining Blues brought up the rear. Within, braziers on tripods and lamps hanging from the distant ceiling lit a broad open chamber. Pillars ran in double rows along a centre aisle. Some sort of bright ornament, shaped like a starburst, hung on the far wall. Dark tapestries hinted at scenes of storm-racked waters and a woman in white flowing robes.
Four men stepped out from behind pillars to meet the Adjunct. They wore long priestly robes, were bearded, and carried stout staves. ‘You are a fool to have entered here,’ said one.
‘Surrender, and you can keep your religion,’ the Adjunct answered.
‘Fool! You cannot take our faith! The Lady is with us now. All those who dare to invade are doomed.’
The four struck their staves to the polished stone floor. Suth felt something strike him like a hand at his chest, or a gust of wind. Blue marines on either side clutched at their throats and helms, gagging. They fell to their knees. All those near the Adjunct, including Goss’s squad, remained standing. The four priests gaped at them, astonished. It might have been a trick of the uncertain light but the young Adjunct’s blade seemed to shine more brightly then. The Adjunct stepped up and swung. The priest raised his stave and the sword sliced right through the iron-braced dark wood. The priest staggered back, then his eyes blazed with an inner light and his lips twisted back from his teeth. ‘I see you now,’ he grated, his voice changed, somehow torn from his throat. ‘The Bitch Queen would send her soldier. But it will take more than you. I will drink your heart-blood.’
The Adjunct swung again and the man’s head spun from his neck. At that the spell seemed to shatter and everyone charged, cutting down the priests in a frenzy of loathing. They hacked the corpses long after they’d fallen, then Suth crossed to where the Adjunct was on his haunches, his blunt tribesman features drawn down in a frown. The youth was examining the decapitated corpse. Not one drop of blood could be seen pooled at the severed neck. Suth’s heart lurched in his chest and his gorge rose sour in his mouth. He turned away, staggered outside the temple to suck deep the warm smoke-tinged air. Wess emerged, clapped him on the back. ‘Fucking butcher’s work, hey? Not proper soldiering.’
‘You’ve — seen — things like that before?’
He gave a curt nod. ‘Yeah. There’s nothing you can do. Either it gets you or you get it.’
Suth drew in a deep breath. Distant fighting still rumbled from the waterfront. ‘What now?’
‘What now?’ Wess adjusted his helmet. ‘Now the real fighting starts. We’re headed to one of the gate towers!’ and he laughed, spitting.
Goss came out, followed by the rest of the squad. ‘Form up. We’re for the east gate. Double-time.’
The Adjunct emerged as well. The remaining Blue marines took up positions around him. He signed to Goss, who shouted, ‘Move out!’
*
It was long past mid-night when Rillish’s two captured Marese galleys, one rammed and listing, limped down the coast. He was certain they must be the last vessels and would arrive too late for the assault. That they still floated at all was enough, of course, but still, he was disappointed.
A Skolati merchant caravel, fat and slow, crossed ahead of them, bows to the south. The Skolati were not alarmed; for all they knew they were crippled Marese struggling home. Rillish was willing to let them go. It had been a night of alarms and excursions, flight and chase, and they were all exhausted. A figure walked to the stern of the distant cargo vessel, set a foot on the low rail to peer back at them. He was armoured, and the orange pre- dawn light caught at bright silver filigree adorning his cuirass and headgear, and tracing the longsword sheath.
Rillish’s breath caught in his throat. Burn deliver them! He ran back to the sailing master. ‘Take that ship!’
The man blinked sleepily. ‘What?’
‘Come aside of it! Take it! Now!’
The sailing master squinted at the vessel. ‘It isn’t even a warship!’
‘Do it!’ Rillish gripped his sword. ‘Or I’ll force you.’
The man scowled behind his beard. ‘Very well!’ He leaned on the tiller arm and the galley began to heave to. Rillish faced the crowded vessel and shouted: ‘Row! Row now with all your strength! One last charge!’
The troopers groaned, protesting, but the galley picked up speed. The Malazan sailors with them adjusted the sail to cut closer to the weak wind. Rillish watched for a time then turned on the sailing master. ‘We’re barely gaining. Can’t you do more?’
‘Your soldiers row like retards. They are not in time. It takes years of training. Still,’ and he shrugged, ‘we are gaining.’
Rillish shaded his gaze to look behind. The other captured galley was following, but at a great distance. The sailing master saw his gaze. ‘He is cursing you very much right now, I think.’
‘Yes. I expect so.’
He found Captain Peles at the bows. She eyed him, puzzled. ‘A prize of war, Fist?’
‘A hunch. We’re going to board. Do not charge ahead. Form a line, shields out. Yes?’
She saluted. ‘As you order, sir.’
‘Very good.’
Their progress was agonizing. A pale pre-dawn glow gathered to the east. Arrow-fire flew from the cargo ship but it was thin and uninspired. As they drew aside, Rillish saw that he’d been right. Three men in dark armour, silver-detailed, awaited them at mid-deck. Three Korelri Chosen — veterans of the wall. He was glad to have more than a hundred heavy infantry backing him up.
Eventually, the sailing master was content with their relative positions and the bow of the galley swung over towards the bow of the cargo vessel, cutting it off. ‘Toss grapnels,’ he called. ‘Ship oars!’
Marines threw the pronged iron grapnels, heaved on the ropes. The vessels swung together. Oars that were slow to be drawn were snapped. Their ends swung, hammering troopers flat.
‘Board!’ Rillish yelled, stepping up on to the railing and leaping. The troopers followed, shields at their backs. Rillish fell, rolling, then jumped up to retreat to the infantry now lining the ship’s side. The sailors of the cargo vessel stood empty-handed, surrendering. The three armoured men calmly faced them alone, weapons undrawn. ‘Ready shields,’ Rillish ordered. The troopers complied, forming line. He drew his duelling swords, pointed to one of the Korelri Stormguard. ‘Surrender and you will be spared.’
‘Do you know who we are?’ the man asked from behind the narrow slit of his chased blue-black helm.
‘Yes. I know.’
‘Then you know our answer.’
‘Yes.’
‘We cannot allow you to boast of our defeat, invader. You will not have our swords or armour to spit upon as spoils of war. It would be an insult to Our Lady. That cannot be permitted. And so-’
Rillish took a breath to shout, lurched forward. ‘NO!’
The three turned and vaulted over the side. Rillish threw himself to the rail, staring down. Three dark shapes sinking from sight, blades drawn, glinting in the slanting light, held upright before their helms. Gods! It was inconceivable. Such fervour. Such dedication. Such waste. He found tears starting from his eyes and he turned away.
Captain Peles was there, peering down, troubled. ‘So those were Korelri, yes?’
Rillish cleared his throat. ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice thick.
‘And we are to invade their lands?’
