‘Shake Brullyg? I really doubt that-and who in the Errant’s name are you anyway? You’re no Letherii, and you and those friends of yours hanging out at the tavern, well, none of you were prisoners here either. I asked around. You’re from that strange ship anchored in the bay.’
‘Why, Captain, it is simple. We comes to goes all the ice. So Brullyg he rewards us. Guests. Royal guests. Now we keep him company. He is smiles nice all the time. We nice too.’
‘Nice idiots, I think,’ the man outside-presumably the captain’s first mate-said in a growl. ‘Now, my arm’s getting tired-move aside and let me deliver this damned thing.’
Gait glanced back over a shoulder at Masan Gilani, who said in Malazan, ‘Why you looking at me? I’m just here to keep this man’s tongue hanging.’
Brullyg licked sweat from his lips. So even knowing that, why does it still work? Am 1 that stupid? ‘Let them in,’ he said in a low voice. ‘So I can ease their minds and send them away.’
Gait looked at Masan Gilani again, and though she said nothing, some kind of communication must have passed between them, for he shrugged and stepped back. ‘Comes the ale.’
Brullyg watched as the two figures entered the chamber. The one in the lead was Skorgen Kaban the Pretty. Which meant… yes. The would-be king smiled, ‘Shurq Elalle. You’ve not aged a day since I last saw you. And Skorgen-put the cask down, before you dislocate your shoulder and add lopsided to your list of ailments. Broach the damned thing and we can all have a drink. Oh,’ he added as he watched the two pirates take in the soldiers- Skorgen almost jumping when he saw Lobe in the corner, crossbow now cradled in his arms-‘these are some of my royal guests. At the door, Gait. In the corner, Lobe, and this lovely here with the one hand behind the back of my chair is Masan Gilani.’
Shurq Elalle collected one of the chairs near the door and dragged it opposite Brullyg. Sitting, she folded one leg over the other and laced her hands together on her lap. ‘Brullyg, you half-mad cheating miser of a bastard. If you were alone I’d be throttling that flabby neck of yours right now.’
‘Can’t say I’m shocked by your animosity,’ Shake Brullyg replied, suddenly comforted by his Malazan bodyguards. ‘But you know, it was never as bad or ugly as you thought it was. You just never gave me the chance to explain-’
Shurq’s smile was both beautiful and dark. ‘Why, Brullyg, you were never one to explain yourself.’
‘A man changes.’
‘That’d be a first.’
Brullyg resisted shrugging, since that would have opened a nasty slit in the flesh of his back. Instead, he lifted his hands, palms up, as he said, ‘Let’s set aside all that history. The Undying Gratitude rests safe and sound in my harbour. Cargo offloaded and plenty of coin in your purse. I imagine you’re itching to leave our blessed isle.’
‘Something like that,’ she replied. ‘Alas, it seems we’re having trouble getting, uh, permission. There’s the biggest damned ship I’ve ever seen blocking the harbour mouth right now, and a sleek war galley of some kind is making for berth at the main pier. You know,’ she added, with another quick smile, ‘it’s all starting to look like some kind of… well… blockade.’
The knife-point left Brullyg’s back and Masan Gilani, sliding the weapon into its scabbard, stepped round. When she spoke this time, it was in a language Brullyg had never heard before.
Lobe levelled the crossbow again, aiming towards Brullyg, and answered Masan in the same tongue.
Skorgen, who had been kneeling beside the cask, thumping at the spigot with the heel of one hand, now rose. ‘What in the Errant’s name is going on here, Brullyg?’
A voice spoke from the doorway, ‘Just this. Your captain’s right. Our waiting’s done.’
The soldier named Throatslitter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. He was smiling across at Masan Gilani. ‘Good news ain’t it? Now you can take your delicious curves and such and dance your way down to the pier-I’m sure Urb and the rest are missing ‘em something awful.’
Shurq Elalle, who had not moved from her chair, sighed loudly then said, ‘Pretty, I don’t think we’ll be leaving this room for a while. Find us some tankards and pour, why don’t you?’
‘We’re hostages?’
‘No no,’ his captain replied. ‘Guests.’
Masan Gilani, hips swaying considerably more than was necessary, sauntered out of the chamber.
Under his breath, Brullyg groaned.
‘As I said earlier,’ Shurq murmured, ‘men don’t change.’ She glanced over at Gait, who had drawn up the other chair. ‘I assume you won’t let me strangle this odious worm.’
‘Sorry, no.’ A quick smile. ‘Not yet anyway.’
‘So, who are your friends in the harbour?’
Gait winked. ‘We’ve a little work to do, Captain. And we’ve decided this island will do just fine as headquarters.’
‘Your skill with Letherii has noticeably improved.’
‘Must be your fine company, Captain.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Throatslitter said from the doorway. ‘Deadsmell says she’s standing on the wrong side of Hood’s gate, despite what you see or think you see.’
Gait slowly paled.
‘Not sure what he means by all that,’ Shurq Elalle said, her sultry eyes settling on Gait, ‘but my appetites are as lively as ever.’
‘That’s… disgusting.’
‘Explains the sweat on your brow, 1 suppose.’
Gait hastily wiped his forehead. ‘This one’s worse than Masan Gilani,’ he complained.
Brullyg shifted nervously in his chair. Timing. These damned Malazans had it by the bucketful. Freedom should’ ve lasted longer than this. ‘Hurry up with that ale, Pretty.’
Finding yourself standing, alone, cut loose, with an unhappy army squirming in your hands, was a commander’s greatest nightmare. And when you got them running straight into the wilderness of an ocean at the time, it’s about as bad as it can get.
Fury had united them, for a while. Until the truth started to sink in, like botfly worms under the skin. Their homeland wanted them all dead. There’d be no seeing family-no wives, husbands, mothers, fathers. No children to bounce on one knee while working numbers in the head-wondering which neighbour’s eyes you’re looking down at. No chasms to cross, no breaches to mend. Every loved one as good as dead.
Armies get unruly when that happens. Almost as bad as no loot and no pay.
We were soldiers of the empire. Our families depended on the wages, the tax relief, the buy-outs and the pensions. And a lot of us were young enough to think about signing out, making a new life, one that didn’t involve swinging a sword and looking in the eye of some snarling thug wanting to cut you in two. Some of us were damned tired.
So, what kept us together?
Well, no ship likes to sail alone, does it?
But Fist Blistig knew that there was more to it. Dried blood holding everyone in place like glue. The seared burn of betrayal, the sting of fury. And a commander who sacrificed her own love to see them all survive.
He had spent too many days and nights on the Froth Wolf standing no less than five paces from the Adjunct, studying her stiff back as she faced the surly seas. A woman who showed nothing, but some things no mortal could hide, and one of those things was grief. He had stared and he had wondered. Was she going to come through this?
Someone-might have been Keneb, who at times seemed to understand Tavore better than anyone else, maybe even Tavore herself-had then made a fateful decision. The Adjunct had lost her aide. In Malaz City. Aide, and lover. Now, maybe nothing could be done about the lover, but the role of aide was an official position, a necessary one for any commander. Not a man, of course-would have to be a woman for certain.
Blistig recalled that night, even as the eleventh bell was sounded on deck-the ragged fleet, flanked by the Perish Thrones of War, was three days east of Kartool, beginning a northward-wending arc to take them round the tumultuous, deadly straits between Malaz Island and the coast of Korel-and the Adjunct was standing alone just beyond the forecastle mast, the wind tugging fitfully at her rain cape, making Blistig think of a broken-winged crow. A second figure appeared, halting close to Tavore on her left. Where T’amber would stand, where any aide to a
