The Crippled God

‘Sergeant? Oh, aye. None at all. These Fid’s questions?’

‘So it’s dead as dead can be.’

‘Aye. Like a sucked bone.’

‘Meaning,’ Tarr resumed, ‘no one can find us out here. Right?’

Bottle blinked, and then scratched at the stubble on his jaw. His nails came away flecked with burnt skin and something that looked like salt crystals. He frowned. ‘Well, I suppose so. Unless, of course, they’ve got eyes. Or wings,’ and he nodded upward.

Breath gusted from Tarr’s nostrils, making a faint whistling sound. ‘For that, they’d have to be out here, doing what we’re doing. But this desert’s supposed to be impassable. No one in their right minds would ever try and cross it. That’s the view, isn’t it?’

The view? It ain’t opinion, Tarr. It’s a fact. No one in their right minds would try and cross it. ‘Is there someone in particular, Sergeant, who might be trying to find us?’

Tarr shook his head. ‘Captain’s the one with the Deck, not me.’

‘But they’ll be cold here, those cards. Lifeless. So, what we’re talking about is a reading he did before we crossed over. Was someone closing in, Sergeant?’

‘No point in asking me that, Bottle.’

‘Listen, this is ridiculous. If Fiddler wants to ask me stuff, he can just hump down here and do it. That way, I can ask stuff back.’

‘Are they blind, Bottle, is what Fid wanted to know. Not us. Them.’

Them. ‘Aye. Wide-Eyed Blind.’

Tarr grunted. ‘Good.’

‘Sergeant … can you remember who came up with our name? Bonehunters?’

‘Might have been the Adjunct herself. The first time I heard it was from her. I think.’

But this is impossible. Aren. She couldn’t have known. Not then.

‘Why, Bottle?’

‘No reason, just wondering. Is that it? Can me and the corporal switch round again?’

‘One more question. Is Quick Ben alive?’

‘I already told Fid-’

‘This question ain’t his, Bottle. It’s mine.’

‘Listen, I don’t know — and I told Fid the same thing. I got no sense with those people-’

‘Which people?’

‘Bridgeburners. Those people. Dead Hedge, Quick Ben — even Fiddler himself. They aren’t the same as us. As you and me, Sergeant, or Corabb back there. Don’t ask me to explain what I mean. The point is, I can’t read them, can’t scry for them. Sometimes, it’s like they’re … I don’t know … ghosts. You poke and you go right through. Other times, they’re like a solid mountain, so big the sun itself can’t climb over them. So I don’t know, is my answer.’

Tarr was squinting across at him. ‘You say all that to the captain?’

‘I don’t know if Quick Ben’s dead or alive, Sergeant, but if I was to wager on it, well, I can think of a few hundred Bonehunters happy to go against me, more than a few hundred, in fact. But if I was to take that bet to Hedge, or Fiddler …’ Bottle shook his head, slapped at something biting his neck.

‘You’re wagering that he’s dead?’

‘No, I’m betting he’s alive. And I’m betting more than that. I’m betting he’s still in this game.’

The sergeant suddenly grinned. ‘Great to have you back, Mage.’

‘Not so fast, Tarr — Sergeant, I mean. Don’t forget, I didn’t see him at the end there. And from what I’ve heard, it was ugly.’

‘The ugliest.’

‘So … that’s why I’m not making any wagers.’

‘Hood knows what Fid ever saw in you, soldier. Go on, get out of my sight.’

When he’d exchanged places in the line with Corabb, Cuttle fell in on his left. ‘Listen-’

‘Who in Hood’s name am I these days, Fisher himself?’

‘What? No. It’s something Koryk said-’

‘Which thing? The thing about the Piss Drinker? Fid doesn’t make his own cards, Cuttle. He’s not that kind of Deck monger. So-’

‘About booty, soldier. That thing about booty.’

‘I think that was sarcasm.’

On his right, Smiles grunted, but offered nothing more.

‘That’s just it,’ Cuttle said. ‘Now, it was Dassem Ultor who really came down on the whole pillaging stuff-’

‘We were conquering, not raiding. When you occupy a city, it’s bad practice to loot and rape the citizens. Riles them, and before you know it your occupying garrison soldiers start getting murdered on night patrol.’

‘So, we weren’t in the habit of it anyway, but even then we still had a chance to get rich. Every company got itself a scribe and everything was portioned out. Collected weapons and armour. Horses, all that. Winning a battle meant bonuses.’

‘All very well, Cuttle,’ nodded Bottle. ‘But we here got us a temple treasury. The pay rolls are still being maintained. The fact is, sapper, we’re all stinking rich.’

‘Assuming we live to get it.’

‘That’s always how it is. I don’t see your point.’

The sapper’s small eyes glittered. ‘Tell me,’ he said in a rough voice, ‘do you give a Nacht’s ass about it? Do you, Bottle?’

He considered. Four, five, seven strides. ‘No,’ he admitted, ‘but then, I never did care much. Not in it for wealth.’

‘You’re young, aye. It’s the adventure that tugs you along. But you see, get to a certain age, seen enough of all that’s out there, and you start thinking about your life when it’s all done with. Y’start thinking about some cosy cottage, or maybe a decent room above a decent tavern. Aye, you know it’ll probably never be, but you dream about it anyway. And that’s where all the coin comes in.’

‘And?’

His voice dropped lower. ‘Bottle, I ain’t thinking past next week. I ain’t thought about my pay in months. You hearing me? No cottage, no tavern. No nice little fisher boat or, gods forbid, a garden. None of it.’

‘That’s because we’re the walking dead, right?’

‘I thought so, what with what Fid said the other night, but now I don’t.’

Curious, Bottle eyed the sapper. ‘Go on, then.’

Cuttle shrugged, as if suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Something’s happened to us, that’s all. The Bonehunters. Maybe it was invading Lether. Maybe it was Malaz City, or even Y’Ghatan, I don’t know. Look at us. We’re an army not thinking about loot. Why do you think Koryk went and mocked Smiles here about charging for her piss?’

‘Because he’s broke,’ Smiles answered. ‘And jealous.’

‘It’s because no one cares about silver and gold, or buying stinking estates, or breeding horses or taking up sea trades. We’re probably the only army in the world that doesn’t.’

Smiles snorted. ‘Hold on, sapper. You don’t think that when we’ve chopped up whoever and we’re standing there on that battlefield — don’t you think we’re gonna start cutting off fingers and all the rest? Loading up on torcs and rings and decent swords and whatever?’

‘No. I don’t, Smiles.’

‘I think I agree with Cuttle on this one,’ said Bottle. ‘Then again, maybe you will-’

‘Why should I?’ she retorted. ‘I wasn’t talking about me at all-’

‘Another first,’ Bottle muttered.

‘Oh, I’m gonna walk around checking bodies, aye,’ she said, nodding. ‘Find one still breathing, and slit goes the throat. Rings and shit? Forget it.’

‘Just what I been saying,’ Cuttle said, and he fixed wide eyes upon Bottle. ‘It’s exactly it, Bottle. This army has gone insane.’