'Aye, which is why we need to rejoin the army as soon as possible.'
'Can Sinn magically contact the Fourteenth? Or Quick Ben?'
'I have not asked her. I do not know how much of her ability is unformed talent – such creatures occur occasionally, and without the discipline of schooling as an apprentice, they tend to become avatars of chaos. Power, yes, but undirected, wild. Even so, she was able to defeat the wall of fire and so save Fist Keneb's companies… well, some of them.'
Lostara glanced over at the captain, then back at the soldiers in their wake for a moment before saying, 'You are Korelri?'
'I am.'
'And you stood the Wall?'
A tight smile, there for an instant then gone. 'None are permitted to leave that service.'
'It's said the Stormriders wield terrible sorcery in their eternal assault upon the Wall.'
'All sorcery is terrible – to kill indiscriminately, often from a great distance, there is nothing more damaging to the mortal who wields such power, whether it is human or something else.'
'Is it better to look your foe in the eye as you take his life?'
'At the very least,' Faradan replied, 'you gave them the chance to defend themselves. And Oponn decides in the end, decides in which set of eyes the light shall fade.'
'Oponn – I thought it was skill.'
'You're still young, Captain Lostara Yil.'
'I am?'
Faradan Sort smiled. 'With each battle I find myself in, my faith in skill diminishes. No, it is the Lord's push or the Lady's pull, each time, every time.'
Lostara said nothing. She could not agree with that assessment, even disregarding the irritation of the other woman's condescension. A clever, skilled soldier lived where dim-witted, clumsy soldiers died.
Skill was a currency that purchased Oponn's favour – how could it be otherwise? 'You survived Y'Ghatan,' Faradan Sort said. 'How much of that was the Lady's pull?'
Lostara considered for a moment, then replied, 'None.'
Once, years ago, a few score soldiers had stumbled clear of a vast swamp. Bloodied, half-mad, their very skin hanging in discoloured strips from weeks slogging through mud and black water. Kalam Mekhar had been among them, along with the three he now walked beside, and it seemed that, in the end, only the details had changed.
Black Dog had brutally culled the Bridgeburners, a protracted nightmare war conducted in black spruce stands, in lagoons and bogs, clashing with the Mott Irregulars, the Nathii First Army and the Crimson Guard. The survivors were numbed – to step free of the horror was to cast aside despair, yet whatever came to replace it was slow in awakening. Leaving… very little. Look at us, he remembered Hedge saying, we're nothing but hollowed-out logs. We done rotted from the inside out, just like every other damned thing in that swamp. Well, Hedge had never been one for optimism.
'You're looking thoughtful,' Quick Ben observed at his side.
Kalam grunted, then glanced over. 'Was wondering, Quick. You ever get tired of your own memories?'
'That's not a good idea,' the wizard replied.
'No, I suppose it isn't. I'm not just getting old, I'm feeling old. I look at all those soldiers behind us – gods below, they're young.
Except in their eyes. I suppose we were like that, once. Only… from then till now, Quick, what have we done? Damned little that meant anything.'
'I admit I've been wondering a few things about you myself,' Quick Ben said. 'That Claw, Pearl, for example.'
'The one that stabbed me in the back? What about him?'
'Why you ain't killed him already, Kalam. I mean, it's not something you'd normally set aside, is it? Unless, of course, you're not sure you can take him.'
From behind the two men, Fiddler spoke: 'It was Pearl that night in Malaz City? Hood's breath, Kalam, the bastard's been strutting round in the Fourteenth since Raraku, no wonder he's wearing a sly smile every time he sees you.'
'I don't give a damn about Pearl, not about killing him, anyway,'
Kalam said in a low voice. 'We got bigger things to worry about. What' s our Adjunct got in mind? What's she planning?'
'Who says she's planning anything?' Fiddler retorted. He was carrying one of the children in his arms, a girl, fast asleep with her thumb in her mouth. 'She went after Leoman, and now she's fleeing a plague and trying to link up with the transport fleet. And then? My guess is, we' re on our way back to Genabackis, or maybe the Korel Peninsula. It's more of the same 'cause that's what soldiers do, that's how soldiers live.'
'I think you're wrong,' Kalam said. 'It's all snarled, now.'
'What do you mean?'
'Pearl's the key, sapper,' the assassin said. 'Why is he still around?
What's the point of spying on the Adjunct? What's the point of dogging the Fourteenth's heels? I'm telling you, Fid, what the Adjunct does next depends on Empress Laseen, her and nobody else.'
'She won't cut us all loose,' Fiddler said. 'Not the Adjunct, not the Fourteenth. We're her only mobile army worthy of the name. There ain't no more commanders out there – well, there are, but the only salute I' d give 'em is point first. Bloody or not, Tavore's put an end to the rebellion here, and that's got to count for something.'
'Fid,' Quick Ben said, 'the war's a lot bigger than you might think, and it's just starting. There's no telling which side the Empress is on.'
'What in Hood's name are you talking about?'
Apsalar spoke. 'A war among the gods, Sergeant. Captain Paran talked of such a war, at length-'
Both Kalam and Quick Ben turned at this.
'Ganoes Paran?' the assassin asked. 'Quick said he left him in Darujhistan. What's he to do with all of this? And when did you speak with him?'
She was leading her horse by the reins three paces behind Fiddler; in the saddle sat three children, dull-eyed in the heat. At Kalam's questions she shrugged, then said, 'He is Master of the Deck of Dragons. In that capacity, he has come here, to Seven Cities. We were north of Raraku when we parted ways. Kalam Mekhar, I have no doubt that you and Quick Ben are in the midst of yet another scheme. For what it is worth, I would advise caution. Too many unknown forces are in this game, and among them will be found Elder Gods and, indeed, Elder Races. Perhaps you believe you comprehend the ultimate stakes, but I suggest that you do not-'
'And you do?' Quick Ben demanded.
'Not entirely, but then, I have constrained my… goals… seeking only what is achievable.'
'Now you got me curious,' Fiddler said. 'Here you are, marching with us once again, Apsalar, when I'd figured you'd be settled in some coastal village back in Itko Kan, knitting greasy sweaters for your da. Maybe you left Crokus behind, but it seems to me you ain't left nothing else behind.'
'We travel this same road,' she said, 'for the moment. Sergeant, you need fear nothing from me.'
'And what about the rest of us?' Quick Ben asked.
She did not reply.
Sudden unease whispered through Kalam. He met Quick's eyes for a brief moment, then faced forward once more. 'Let's just catch up with that damned army first.'
'I'd like to see Pearl disposed of,' Quick Ben said.
No-one spoke for a long moment. It wasn't often that the wizard voiced his desire so… brazenly, and Kalam realized, with a chill, that things were getting bad. Maybe even desperate. But it wasn't that easy. Like that rooftop in Darujhistan – invisible enemies on all sides – you look and look but see nothing.
Pearl, who was once Salk Elan. Mockra warren… and a blade sliding like fire into my back. Everyone thinks Topper's the master in the Claw, but I wonder… can you take him, Kalam? Quick's got his doubts – he's just offered
