but would not presume to claim dominance over it… or its inhabitants. This is a primal place, Master of the Deck, as are those forces that call it home. It is a conceit to believe that death has but a single manifestation. As with all things, layer settles upon layer, and in time the deepest, darkest ones become forgotten – yet they have shaped all that lies above.' She seemed to study Paran for a moment, then said, 'You carry an otataral sword.'
'Reluctantly,' he admitted. 'Most of the time I keep it buried by the back wall of Coll's estate, in Darujhistan. I am surprised you sensed it – the scabbard is made of iron and bronze and that negates its effect.'
The Jaghut shrugged. 'The barrier is imperfect. The denizens in this realm – if the myths hold truth and they always do – prefer brute force over sorcery. The sword will be just a sword.'
'Well, I wasn't planning on using it, anyway.'
'So,' Hedge said, 'we just start on our way, across this bridge, and see what comes for us? Captain, I may be a sapper, and a dead one at that, but even I don't think that's a good idea.'
'Of course not,' Paran said. 'I have planned for something else.' He drew out from his pack a small object, spoked and circular, which he then tossed on the ground. 'Shouldn't be long,' he said. 'They were told to stay close.'
A moment later sounds came through the mists behind them, the thunder of hoofs, the heavy clatter of massive wheels. A train of horses appeared, heads tossing, froth-flecked and wild-eyed, and behind them a six- wheeled carriage. Guards were clinging to various ornate projections on the carriage's flanks, some of them strapped in place by leather harnesses. Their weapons were out, and they glared fiercely into the mists on all sides.
The driver leaned back on the reins, voicing a weird cry. Hoofs stamping, the train reared back, slewing the huge carriage round to a stone-snapping, skidding halt.
The guards unhitched themselves and swarmed off, establishing a perimeter with crossbows out and cocked. On the bench the driver set the brake, looped the reins about the handle, then pulled out a flask and downed its contents in seven successive swallows. Belched, restoppered the flask, pocketed it, then clambered down the carriage side. He unlatched the side door even as Paran caught movement through its barred window.
The man pushing his way through was huge, dressed in sodden silks, his pudgy hands and round face sheathed in sweat.
Paran spoke: 'You must be Karpolan Demesand. I am Ganoes Paran. Thank you for arriving so quickly. Knowing the reputation of the Trygalle Trade Guild, of course, I am not at all surprised.'
'Nor should you be!' the huge man replied with a broad smile that revealed gold-capped, diamond-studded teeth. The smile slowly faded as his gaze found the bridge. 'Oh dear.' He gestured to two of the nearest guards, both Pardu women, both badly scarred. 'Nisstar, Artara, to the edge of the mists on that bridge, if you please.
Examine the edges carefully – without a retaining wall we face a treacherous path indeed.' The small, bright eyes fixed on Paran once more. 'Master of the Deck, forgive me, I am fraught with exhaustion!
Oh, how this dread land taxes poor old Karpolan Demesand! After this, we shall hasten our return to our most cherished native continent of Genabackis! Naught but tragedy haunts Seven Cities – see how I have lost weight! The stress! The misery! The bad food!' He snapped his fingers and a servant emerged from the carriage behind him, somehow managing to balance a tray crowded with goblets and a crystal decanter in one hand while navigating his egress with the other. 'Gather, my friends! Not you, damned shareholders! Keep a watch out, fools! There are things out there and you know what happens when things arrive!
Nay, I spoke to my guests! Ganoes Paran, Master of the Deck, his ghostly companion and the Jaghut sorceress – join me, fretful three, in this one peaceable toast… before the mayhem begins!'
'Thanks for the invitation,' Hedge said, 'but since I'm a ghost-'
'Not at all,' Karpolan Demesand cut in, 'know that in close proximity to my contrivance here, you are not cursed insubstantial – not at all!
So,' he passed a goblet to the sapper, 'drink, my friend! And revel once more in the delicious sensation of taste, not to mention alcohol!'
'If you say so,' Hedge said, accepting the goblet. He swallowed a mouthful, and his hazy expression somehow brightened. 'Gods below!
You've done it now, merchant! I think I'll end up haunting this carriage for all time!'
'Alas, my friend, the effect wears off, eventually. Else we face an impossible burden, as you might imagine! Now you, Jaghut, please, the significance of the myriad flavours in this wine shall not be lost on you, I'm sure.' Beaming, he handed her a goblet.
She drank, then bared her tusks in what Paran took to be a smile. '
Bik'trara – ice flowers – you must have crossed a Jaghut glacier some time in the past, to have harvested such rare plants.'
'Indeed, my dear! Jaghut glaciers, and much more besides, I assure you! To explain, the Trygalle Trade Guild travels the warrens – a claim no other merchants in this world dare make. Accordingly, we are very expensive.' He gave Paran a broad wink. 'Very, as the Master of the Deck well knows. Speaking of which, I trust you have your payment with you?'
Paran nodded.
Karpolan proffered the third goblet to Paran. 'I note you have brought your horse, Master of the Deck. Do you intend to ride alongside us, then?'
'I think so. Is that a problem?'
'Hard to say – we do not yet know what we shall encounter on this fell bridge. In any case, you must ride close, unless you mean to assert your own protection – in which case, why hire us at all?'
'No, your protection I shall need, I'm sure,' Paran said. 'And yes, that is why I contracted with your guild in Darujhistan.' He sipped at the wine, and found his head swimming. 'Although,' he added, eyeing the golden liquid, 'if I drink any more of this, I might have trouble staying in the saddle.'
'You must strap yourself tightly, Ganoes Paran. In the stirrups, and to the saddle. Trust me in this, such a journey is best managed drunk – or filled with the fumes of durhang. Or both. Now, I must begin preparations – although I have never before visited this warren, I am beginning to suspect we will be sorely tested on this dread bridge.'
'If you are amenable,' Ganath said, 'I would ride with you within.'
'Delightful, and I suggest you ready yourself to access your warren, Jaghut, should the need arise.'
Paran watched as the two climbed back into the carriage, then he turned to regard Hedge.
The sapper finished the wine in his goblet and set it back down on the tray, which was being held still by the servant – an old man with redrimmed eyes and grey hair that looked singed at its ends. 'How many of these journeys have you made?' Hedge asked him.
'More'n I can count, sir.'
'I take it Karpolan Demesand is a High Mage.'
'That he be, sir. An' for that, us shareholders bless 'im every day.'
'No doubt,' Hedge said, then turned to Paran. 'If you ain't gonna drink that, Captain, put it down. You and me need to talk.'
Paran risked another mouthful then replaced the goblet, following as, with a gesture, Hedge set off towards the foot of the bridge.
'Something on your ghostly mind, sapper?'
'Plenty, Captain, but first things first. You know, when I tossed that cusser back in Coral, I figured that was it. Hood knows, I didn't have a choice, so I'd do the same thing if I had to do it over again.
Anyway -' he paused, then said, 'for a time there was, well, just darkness. The occasional flicker of something like light, something like awareness.' He shook his head. 'It was like, well,' he met Paran' s eyes, 'like I had nowhere to go. My soul, I mean. Nowhere at all.
And trust me on this, that ain't a good feeling.'
'But then you did,' Paran said. 'Have somewhere to go, I mean.'
Hedge nodded, eyes once more on the mists engulfing the way ahead. '
Heard voices, at first. Then… old friends, coming outa the dark.
Faces I knew, and sure, like I said, friends. But some who weren't.
You got to understand, Captain, before your time, a lot of Bridgeburners were plain bastards. When a soldier goes through what we went through, in Raraku, at Black Dog, you come out one of two kinds of people. Either
