Orb Sceptre Throne

no better off now than where we were.’

Antsy pointed. ‘We have her.’

The Malazan sergeant peered about. ‘Who?’

‘Orchid — the girl!’ Antsy barked then held his head again, groaning.

Girth pulled at his beard. ‘Fine. So — question still stands. What’s the marching orders?’

‘Well … I don’t know quite yet,’ Antsy admitted. He rubbed his neck, feeling where the dagger had entered, and found only slit cloth and throbbing pain.

‘I would suggest Darujhistan,’ said a new voice, and Orchid gasped.

‘Morn! You escaped.’ She ran to him.

The hooded figure of dark wavered, translucent. ‘I am barely here at all, Orchid,’ he said, his voice hollow. ‘In truth I am very committed elsewhere.’

‘You’re fading!’

‘I’m sorry, child. This sending has done its duty. Now it must disperse. All I can say is that these men ought to go to Darujhistan. You have given me much hope, child. It was a pleasure, this time I spent with you. I found it … renewing.’

‘Don’t go!’

‘I must. I cannot stay. It is too … painful. May Night bless you. Farewell.’

The hooded figure faded away like smoke.

After a moment of silence, Girth complained, ‘Well — that was no damned help. And I still can’t see a Togg- farting thing!’

Antsy went to Orchid’s side, whispered, ‘We should go, lass. These Warrens are dangerous.’

‘I believe it may be too late,’ Corien said, pointing to the woods.

Some sort of party or procession was approaching through the trees. They carried torches on tall poles, but to Antsy’s eyes the torches burned with black flames that gave off black light that seemed to aid his mage-vision. The strange inversion made him dizzy.

The Malazan marines were linking up, he noticed, weapons out, sweeping the blades through what to them must be utter dark. ‘Form circle!’ Antsy barked, and set to helping organize them. When he reached for Cull Heel the man brushed his hand aside, making him jump. ‘You can see?’

‘Aye,’ the man ground out, his narrowed eyes on the approaching party. ‘We can see a little — someone’s coming.’

Antsy had no time to wonder about that at the moment. ‘Form up with the soldiers. Help them out.’

‘Aye.’

Aside, the Seguleh formed their own small circle round one of their number as if to protect him. His mask was mostly pale; only a handful of lines marred it. Three crossed the forehead and three each cheek. One crossed the bridge of the nose. While Antsy studied him the man’s hand strayed to a cloth-wrapped package thrust into his waist sash and rested there for a time as if making sure of it.

Antsy and Corien shifted to stand before Orchid at the centre of the circled marines and Heel mercenaries.

‘That’s close enough,’ Antsy shouted. The party halted. It consisted of a double file of female Tiste Andii. From their flowing dress and rich jewellery he thought them priestesses of some sort. One at the forefront advanced slightly closer. She held high a torch of the liquid pitch light.

‘There is no need for such suspicion,’ she called in accented Talian, perhaps making herself understood through magery.

‘What do you want?’ Antsy called.

She gestured towards him. ‘Our daughter.’

A gasped breath sounded from Orchid. ‘I think that’s up to her,’ Antsy said.

‘Indeed. Then let it be so.’ The Andii woman’s eyes, almost black as the night surrounding them, swept past him. ‘Child,’ she called, ‘we have been bereft, in mourning. For we have lost a Son of Darkness. Yet behold. We rejoice! For just as precious and rare are the Daughters of Tiam!’

Orchid’s weight fell on Antsy, and he grunted. The girl was much more solid than she looked. He clasped her arm. ‘What’s this, lass? What’s she goin’ on about?’

She steadied herself, blinking rapidly, a hand on Antsy’s shoulder. ‘If what she says is true-’

‘It is,’ the Andii woman asserted.

‘-then I am part Andii, yes. But also part — Eleint.’

Antsy jerked away a step. ‘Eleint! But that’s …’

‘Yes,’ the Andii woman shouted. ‘That is so. Child, whoever hid you and protected you all these years has taught you also, I see. Very good. Now join us. It is time to continue your education.’

‘Orchid,’ Corien murmured, ‘you don’t have to go with these witches …’

‘I need to know,’ she answered just as low, fierce. ‘I want to.’

Antsy nodded. ‘’Tis true — we can’t stop you. But what of us?’

She shot him an insulted look. ‘I’m not an utter fool, Bridgeburner.’ She raised her chin to the Andii woman. ‘I have terms!’

They barely made it to shore before the hide boat became too heavy with water to be manoeuvrable. Crouched, Yusek hugged her knees, warming herself, watching the flooded thing slowly drift away. It was no more than an oval rim now, like a squeezed ring laid on the smooth dark surface of the river. She was soaked and shivering but had to admit that she missed the damned thing. Beat walkin’, that was for sure.

The Seventh merely shouldered his meagre roll of gear, waterskin and such, and set off. Sall and Lo followed. Yusek bent her head back to send an entreating look to the sky and all the gods, but bit back any complaint knowing it would be entirely useless. Well, she suddenly realized, seem to have finally understood that lesson at least.

She pulled up her own roll and shoulder bag of wet gear and followed. It was many hours before dawn. She was exhausted. It had been almost impossible to sleep in the damned boat what with the constant bailing and the sloshing water. Now they were expected to march on? What was the rush? It wasn’t like the city was goin’ anywhere.

She pushed herself to reach Sall, and announced: ‘I’m beat! I ain’t going another step. We need to sleep.’

Sall hesitated, glanced ahead to the others. ‘They will not stop.’

Yusek sank to her knees. ‘Well — what’s the use of arriving on your last legs? Too tired to be of any use? Aw, fuck it,’ and she glared at the river making its sluggish way north, gleaming beneath bands of clouds.

Sall jogged ahead.

Some time later the three returned. They sat without a word. A few scraps of food were handed out and the waterskins made the rounds. Someone must have kept watch but Yusek didn’t know who because she immediately fell asleep.

Late in the morning they set off again, following the Maiten’s east shore. Here they climbed small hills and narrow gullies the sides of which seemed too steep to be natural. It occurred to Yusek that they were crossing the remains of large channels that might have once carried water from the river. The Maiten was far too low now even to reach these features, but at some time in the past it must have run much higher. And these channels, then, would have directed part of the flow eastward. To farms, no doubt. Yet now the Dwelling Plain was a dusty wasteland of dry hills and wind-scoured hardpan. Frankly that fitted quite well with her personal experience of what happened anywhere after people arrived. She’d seen it again and again as a refugee fleeing the Pannions. Their bands would come staggering into towns and settlements, and fighting would immediately break out over water and food. Homes were invaded, herds decimated, water sources bled dry. Then the whole stream would move on again, a swarm of locusts, consuming and destroying all it met. And the only way to have a hope of snatching anything, a handful of barley, or a crust of hard bread, was to be among the first to arrive. Thus the mad dash westward; the desperate effort to beat the mob; to be among the first to kick down the doors.

It had been a harrowing time. And it had left its mark upon her wiry lean limbs, her restless gaze and her constant, almost feverish, nerves. And what of the scars one couldn’t see? The marks upon psyche and spirit? Well,