House of Chains

‘Well, it’s turned out that Coltaine told his own tale-he didn’t need a historian, did he?’

Gesler shrugged. ‘As you say. We weren’t in their company long, just long enough to take on a shipload of wounded. I talked a bit with Duiker, and Captain Lull. And then Coltaine broke his hand punching me in the face-’

‘He what?’ Strings laughed. ‘No doubt you deserved it-’

Stormy spoke behind them. ‘Broke his hand, aye, Gesler. And your nose, too.’

‘My nose has been broke so many times it does it on instinct,’ the sergeant replied. ‘It wasn’t much of a punch.’

Stormy snorted. ‘He dropped you to the ground like a sack of turnips! That punch rivalled Urko’s, the time he-’

‘Not even close,’ Gesler drawled. ‘I once saw Urko punch down the side of a mudbrick house. Three blows, no more than four, anyway, and the whole thing toppled in a cloud of dust. That Napan bastard could punch.’

‘And that’s important to you?’ Strings asked.

Gesler’s nod was serious. ‘The only way any commander will ever earn my respect, Fid.’

‘Planning on testing the Adjunct soon?’

‘Maybe. Of course, I’ll make allowances, she being nobleborn and all.’

Once beyond Aren Way’s battered gate and the abandoned ruins of a small village, they could now see the Seti and Wickan outriders on their flanks-a comforting sight to Strings. The raiding and sniping could begin at any time, now that the army had left the walls of Aren behind. Most of the tribes had, if the rumours were true, conveniently forgotten the truces they had won from the Malazan Empire. The old ways did naught but sleep restless beneath the surface of such peoples.

The landscape ahead and to either side was sun-blasted and broken, a place where even wild goats grew lean and listless. The mounded, flat-topped heaps of rubble that marked long-dead cities were visible on every horizon. Ancient raised roads, now mostly dismantled, stitched the rugged hillsides and ridges.

Strings wiped sweat from his brow. ‘Green as we are, it’s about time she called-’

Horns sounded along the massive train’s length. Motion ceased, and the shouts of the water crews rose into the dusty air as they scrambled for the barrels. Strings swung about and studied his squad-they were already on the ground, sitting or sprawled, their long-sleeved undershirts darkened with sweat.

Among Gesler’s and Borduke’s squads, the reaction to the rest-halt had been identical, and Borduke’s mage, Balgrid-slightly overweight and clearly unused to the armour he was wearing-looked pale and shivering. That squad’s healer, a quiet, small man named Lutes, was already moving towards him.

‘A Seti summer,’ Koryk said, offering Strings a carnivorous smile. ‘When the grasslands are driven to dust by the herds, when the earth underfoot clicks like breaking metal.’

‘Hood take you,’ Smiles snapped. ‘This land’s full of dead things for a reason.’

‘Aye,’ the Seti half-blood replied, ‘only the tough survive. There are tribes aplenty out there-they’ve left enough sign in passing.’

‘You have seen that, have you?’ Strings said. ‘Good. You’re now the squad’s scout.’

Koryk’s white grin broadened. ‘If you insist, Sergeant.’

‘Unless it’s night,’ Strings added. ‘Then it’ll be Smiles. And Bottle, assuming his warren is suitable.’

Bottle scowled, then nodded. ‘Well enough, Sergeant.’

‘So what’s Cuttle’s role, then?’ Smiles demanded. ‘Lying around like a beached porpoise?’

Beached porpoise? Grew up by the sea, did you? Strings glanced over at the veteran soldier. The man was asleep. I used to do that, back in the days when nothing was expected of me, when I wasn’t in charge of a damned thing. I miss those days. ‘Cuttle’s task,’ Strings replied, ‘is keeping the rest of you alive when I’m not close by.’

‘Then why isn’t he the corporal?’ Smiles wanted to know, a belligerent set to her petite features.

‘Because he’s a sapper, and you don’t want a sapper for a corporal, lass.’ Of course, I’m a sapper, too. Best keep that to myself…

Three soldiers from the company’s infantry arrived with waterskins.

‘Drink it down slow,’ Strings instructed. Gesler caught his eye from a few paces away, near the wagon, and Strings headed over. Borduke joined them.

‘Well, this is curious,’ Gesler muttered. ‘Borduke’s sickly mage-his warren’s Meanas. And my mage is Tavos Pond, and he’s the same. Now, Strings, your lad, Bottle…’

‘I’m not sure yet.’

‘He’s also Meanas,’ Borduke growled, pulling at his beard in a habitual gesture Strings knew would come to irritate him. ‘Balgrid’s confirmed it. They’re all Meanas.’

‘Like I said.’ Gesler sighed. ‘Curious.’

‘That could be put to use,’ Strings said. ‘Get all three of them working on rituals-illusions are damned useful, when done right. Quick Ben could pull a few-the key is in the details. We should drag them all together tonight-’

‘Ah,’ said a voice from beyond the wagon, and Lieutenant Ranal strode into view, ‘all my sergeants together in one place. Convenient.’

‘Come to eat dust with the rest of us?’ Gesler asked. ‘Damned generous of you.’

‘Don’t think I haven’t heard about you,’ Ranal sneered. ‘Had it been my choice, you’d be one of the lads carrying those waterskins, Gesler-’

‘You’d go thirsty if I was,’ the sergeant replied.

Ranal’s face darkened. ‘Captain Keneb wants to know if there’s any mages in your squads. The Adjunct needs a tally of what’s available.’

‘None-’

‘Three,’ Strings interrupted, ignoring Gesler’s glare. ‘All minor, as would be expected. Tell the captain we’ll be good for covert actions.’

‘Keep your opinions to yourself, Strings. Three, you said. Very well.’ He wheeled about and marched off.

Gesler rounded on Strings. ‘We could lose those mages-’

‘We won’t. Go easy on the lieutenant, Gesler, at least for now. The lad knows nothing of being an officer in the field. Imagine, telling sergeants to keep their opinions quiet. With Oponn’s luck, Keneb will explain a few things to the lieutenant, eventually.’

‘Assuming Keneb’s any better,’ Borduke muttered. He combed his beard. ‘Rumour has it he was the only one of his company to survive. And you know what that likely means.’

‘Let’s wait and see,’ Strings advised. ‘It’s a bit early to start honing the knives-’

‘Honing the knives,’ Gesler said, ‘now you’re talking a language I understand. I’m prepared to wait and see, as you suggest, Fid. For now. All right, let’s gather the mages tonight, and if they can actually get along without killing each other, then we might find ourselves a step or two ahead.’

Horns sounded to announce the resumption of the march. Soldiers groaned and swore as they clambered upright once more.

The first day of travel was done, and to Gamet it seemed they had travelled a paltry, pathetic distance from Aren. To be expected, of course. The army was a long way from finding its feet.

As am I. Saddle sore and light-headed from the heat, the Fist watched from a slight rise alongside the line of march as the camp slowly took shape. Pockets of order amidst a chaotic sea of motion. Seti and Wickan horse warriors continued to range well beyond the outlying pickets, far too few in number, however, to give him much comfort. And those Wickans-grandfathers and grandmothers one and all. Hood knows, I might well have crossed blades with some of those old warriors. Those ancient ones, they were never settled with the idea of being in the Empire. They were here for another reason entirely. For the memory of Coltaine. And the children-well, they were being fed the singular poison of bitter old fighters filled with tales of past glory. And so, ones who’ve never known the terror of war and ones who’ve forgotten. A dreadful pairing…

He stretched to ease the kinks in his spine, then forced himself into motion. Down from the ridge, along the edge of the rubble-filled ditch, to where the Adjunct’s command tent sat, its canvas pristine, Temul’s Wickans standing guard around it.