'Miserable bastard? Never said anything?'
'That's him.'
'Looks like he's mellowed some.'
Quick Ben snorted.
'Something amusing you, High Mage?' Dujek asked as the group approached.
'Welcome, High Fist,' Quick Ben said, straightening, adding a slightly deferential bow to Tayschrenn. 'Colleague…'
Tayschrenn's thin, almost hairless brows rose. 'A field promotion, wasn't it? Well, perhaps long overdue. Nonetheless, I do not believe the Empress has sanctioned that title as yet.'
Quick Ben offered him a broad, white smile. 'Do you recall, High Mage, a certain other High Mage, sent by the Emperor, early on in the Blackdog Campaign? Kribalah Rule?'
'Rule the Rude? Yes, he died after a month or so-'
'In a horrible conflagration, aye. Well, that was me. Thus, I've been a High Mage before, colleague…'
Tayschrenn was frowning, clearly thinking back, then the frown became a scowl. 'And the Emperor knew this? He must have, having sent you – unless, of course, he didn't send you at all.'
'Well, granted, there were some improprieties involved, and had one set out on that particular trail they might well have been noted. But you did not feel the need to do so, evidently, since, although briefly, I more than held my own – pulling you out of trouble once, I seem to recall… something about Tiste Andii assassin-mages-'
'When I lost a certain object containing a demon lord…'
'You did? Sorry to hear that.'
'The same demon that later died by Rake's sword in Darujhistan.'
'Oh, how unfortunate.'
Kalam leaned close to Quick Ben. 'I thought,' he said in a whisper, ' you told me to relax.'
'Long ago and far away,' Dujek Onearm said gruffly, 'and I'd slap my hands together if I had more than one. Tayschrenn, rein in that Seti before he does something stupid. We have things to discuss here. Let's get on with it.'
Kalam glanced across at Fiddler and winked. Just like old times…
Lying flat at the crest of the ridge, Pearl grunted. 'That's Dujek Onearm out there,' he said. 'He's supposed to be in G'danisban right now.'
Beside him, Lostara Yil hissed and began slapping about her body. '
Chigger fleas, damn you. They're swarming this ridge. I hate chigger fleas-'
'Why not jump up and dance about, Captain?' Pearl asked. 'Just to make certain they know we're here.'
'Spying is stupid. I hate this, and I am rediscovering my hatred for you, too, Claw.'
'You say the sweetest things. Anyway, the bald one's Tayschrenn, with Hattar and Kiska this time, meaning he's serious about the risks. Oh, why did they have to do this, now?'
'Do what now?'
'Whatever it is they're doing, of course.'
'So run back to Laseen like the eager puppy you are, Pearl, and tell her all about it.'
He edged back down the side of the ridge, twisted round and sat up. '
No need for haste. I have to think.'
Lostara clambered down the slope until she could stand. She began scratching under her armour. 'Well, I'm not waiting around for that. I need a milk bath, with escura leaves, and I need it now.'
He watched her stalk away, back towards the encampment. A nice walk, apart from the sudden twitches.
A simple cantrip, keeping the fleas away from his body. Perhaps he should have extended the courtesy to her.
No. This is much better.
Gods, we're made for each other.
Chapter Three
Yareth Ghanatan, the city stands still First and last and where the old causeway Curves in its half-circle there are towers Of sand seething with empires and Marching armies, broken wing banners And the dismembered lining the walkways Are soon the bones of the edifices, warriors And builders both, the city ever stands To house insect hordes, oh those towers Rear so proud, rising as dreams on the Heated breath of the sun, Yareth Ghanatan.
The city is the empress, wife and lover, Crone and child of the First Empire, And I yet remain, with all my kin, The bones in the walls, the bones Beneath the floor, the bones that cast Down this gentle shade – first and last, I see what comes, all that has gone, And the clay of my flesh has felt your hands The old warmth of life, for the city, My city, it stands still, and it stands, Stands ever still.
Bones in the Walls (stela fragment circa First Empire) Author unknown 'I can be this urn.'
'You don't want to be that urn.'
'It's got legs.'
'Stubby ones, and I don't think they move. They're just for show. I remember things like that.'
'But it's pretty.'
'And she pees in it.'
'Pees? Are you sure? Have you seen her pee in it?'
'Take a look, Curdle. That's her pee in it. You don't want to be that urn. You want something alive. Really alive, with legs that work. Or wings…'
They were still whispering when Apsalar removed the last bar in the window and set it down. She climbed onto the sill, twisting sideways to reach up to the nearest roof-post.
'Where are you going?' Telorast demanded.
'To the roof.'
'Shall we join you?'
'No.'
Apsalar pulled herself upward and moments later was crouched on the sun-baked clay, the stars glistening overhead. Dawn was not far off, and the city below was silent and motionless like a thing dead in the night. Ehrlitan. The first city they had come to in this land, the city where this particular journey had begun, a group fated to break apart beneath a host of burdens. Kalam Mekhar, Fiddler, Crokus and herself. Oh, Crokus had been so angry to discover that their companions had come with hidden motives – not just escorting her home, not just righting an old wrong. He had been so naive.
She wondered how he was faring, thought to ask Cotillion the next time the god visited, then decided she would not do so. It would not do to let herself continue to care about him; even to think on him, achieving little more than loosing the flood-gates of yearning, desire and regret.
Other, more immediate issues demanded her thought. Mebra. The old spy was dead, which was what Shadowthrone had wanted, although the why of it escaped Apsalar. Granted, Mebra had been working all sides, serving the Malazan Empire at one moment, Sha'ik's cause the next. And… someone else. That someone else's identity was important, and, she suspected, it was the true reason for Shadowthrone's decision.
The Nameless Ones? Had the Semk assassin been sent to cover a trail?
Possible, and it made sense. No witnesses, the man had said. To what?
What service could Mebra have provided the Nameless Ones? Hold off pursuing an answer to that. Who else?
Adherents to the old cult of Shadow in Seven Cities no doubt remained, survivors of the purges that had accompanied the conquest. Another possible employer of Mebra's many skills, and more likely to have caught Shadowthrone's attention, as well as his ire.
She had been told to kill Mebra. She had not been told why, nor had she been told to initiate any investigations
