Memories of Ice

'But we've the high ground-'

'Aye, only those trenches and tunnels weren't meant to be defended — they were hiding places. Too many straight lines, no cul-de-sacs, no funnels, no chance for an enfilade — and too many Hood-damned trees!'

'The sappers are-'

'They ain't got the time!'

'So it seems,' Picker agreed. 'Mind you, do you see any of those condors gathering to join in the assault?'

'No, but that don't mean-'

'What it means, Sergeant, is the Seer is holding them back. He knows we're not the main punch. We messed up his ambush and knocked out a company, and no doubt that's irritated him enough to send out, what, a third of his army? Maybe a cadre of mages to guard the Septarch? And if they find out we're a bear in a den, I doubt they'll push-'

'Unless the Seer decides that killing six thousand of the Host is worth a third of his army, Picker. If I was him-'

The lieutenant grimaced. 'Aye, me too.' I'd annihilate us, stamp us out before the rest arrive. 'Still, I don't think the Seer's that sharp — after all, what does he know of the Malazans? Distant tales of wars far to the north … an invasion that's bogged down. He'd have no reason to know what we're capable of.'

'Picker, you're fishing with a bare hook. The Seer knows we've somehow jumped onto his entrenchments. Knows we slipped past those condors without tickling a single beak. Knows we knocked flat an entire company using Moranth munitions. Knows we're sitting here, watching this army assemble, and we ain't running. Knows, too, we ain't got any support — not yet — and maybe, just maybe, we jumped in the slough before the shit's settled.'

Picker said nothing for a time. The Pannion legions had settled, officers dispersing to take positions at the head of each one. Drums rattled. Pikes lifted skyward. Then before each arrayed legion, sorcery began to play.

Oh… 'Where's Blend?'

'Here.'

'Hightail it back to Dujek-'

'Aye, Lieutenant. We're in it, now.'

Squatting on the lead embankment above the slope, Quick Ben slowly straightened. 'Spindle, Bluepearl, Toes, Shank, to me, if you will.'

The four mages scrambled to his side and all were babbling. 'A dozen sorcerers!' 'Drawing from the same warren!' 'And it's clean and ugly!' 'They're weaving, Quick!' 'Working togeth-'

'Be quiet, all of you!'

'We're all going to die!'

'Dammit, Toes, shut up!'

He glared until the four men settled, surveyed the bleak expressions for a moment, then grinned. 'Twelve of the bastards, right? And who is this, standing here before you? Quick Ben. Right? Ben Adaephon Delat. Now, if any of you has already filled his breeches, go change, then rejoin the companies you've been attached to — whatever gets through me is for you to handle. Any way you can.' Glancing over, he saw Dujek, Paran and Blend approaching, the latter looking winded and somewhat wild-eyed. 'All right, Cadre, dismissed.'

The mages scurried away.

Dujek was wearing his full armour — the first time Quick Ben had seen that in years. The wizard nodded in greeting.

Paran spoke, 'Quick Ben, Blend here's delivered some bad-'

'I know, Captain. I've split up my cadre, so we won't get taken out in a clump. I'll draw their attention to me, right here-'

'Hold on,' Dujek growled. 'That cadre ain't a cadre, and worse: they know it. Secondly, you're not a combat mage. If we lose you early …'

The wizard shrugged. 'High Fist, I'm all you've got. I'll keep 'em busy for a while.'

Paran said, 'I'll assign the Bridgeburners to guard you — we've resupplied on munitions-'

'He's being generous,' Dujek cut in. 'Half a crate, and most of it close-in stuff. If the enemy gets near enough for them to have to use it, you're way too close to one stray arrow headed your way, Wizard. I'm not happy with this, not happy at all.'

'Can't say I am, either,' Quick Ben replied. He waited. He could hear the High Fist's molars grinding.

'Captain?' Dujek grunted.

'Aye, sir?'

'Are the cussers and crackers in place? Can we collapse this damned hillside?'

'Hedge says it's all rigged, High Fist. We can bury every tunnel and flatten every entrenchment.'

'So, we could just pull out and leave the Pannions to retake … a steaming mess of nothing.'

'We could, sir.'

'Meaning, we'll have travelled half the continent, only to retreat before our first engagement.'

'A temporary retreat, sir,' Paran pointed out.

'Or we can bloody their noses … maybe take out ten thousand Beklites, ten, twelve mages and a Septarch. At the possible cost of this army, including Quick Ben here. Gentlemen, is that a fair exchange?'

'That is for you to decide-' Paran began, but Dujek cut him off.

'No, Captain. It isn't. Not this time.'

Quick Ben met the High Fist's eyes. I made a promise to Burn. The captain and I had. plans. To keep all of that, I say no right now. And we blow the entrenchments and scamper. But then again, I'm a soldier. A Bridgeburner. And the brutal truth is, tactically, it's more than a fair exchange. We make it for Whiskeyjack. For the siege to come. We save lives. He glanced at Paran, saw the same knowledge in the captain's eyes. The wizard turned back to Dujek. 'High Fist, it is a fair exchange.'

Dujek reached up and lowered his helm's visor. 'All right, let's get to work.'

Quick Ben watched the two men leave, then he sighed. 'What do you want, Blend?'

'Sir?'

'Don't you 'sir' me, woman. Are you planning on rejoining your squad any time soon, or do you want a close look at my impending demise?'

'I thought I might … uh, give you a hand.'

He faced her, eyes narrowing. 'How?'

'Well…' She drew out a small stone from round her neck. 'I picked up this charm, a few years back.'

The wizard's brows rose. 'And what is it supposed to do, Blend?'

'Uh, makes me harder to focus on — seems to work pretty good.'

'And where did you come by it?'

'An old desert merchant, in Pan'potsun.'

Quick Ben smiled, 'Keep it, lass.'

'But-'

'If you weren't wearing it, you wouldn't be Blend any more, would you?'

'I suppose not. Only-'

'Return to your squad. And tell Picker to keep her lads and lasses tight and out of the scrap — you're to remain on that far flank, watching the city. If the condors suddenly show, get back to me as fast as possible.'

'Aye, sir.'

'Go on, then.'

She hurried off.

Well, damn me. The lass buys a worthless piece of stone from a Gral swindler and suddenly she's invisible. Raw but pure talent, right in her bones, and she doesn't even know it.

Hidden beneath fronds and brush, Picker and her squad had a clear view of the Pannion legions, the front lines reaching the base of the treeless ramp that led to the entrenchments. Grey sorcery spun a wall of tangled webbing before the chanting Beklites. The Seerdomin commanders were wreathed in the magic, advancing now on foot ahead of their companies, marching upslope with an air of inexorability.