As he stepped forward, Agayla quickly faced him again, reached into the folds of his cloak and snatched free the doll. She studied it for a moment, then, with a scowl, shook the doll in front of Bottle's face. 'And what is this? Have you any idea what you are dabbling in, child?'
'Child? Hold on-'
'Is this the man you need to find?'
'Well, yes-'
'Then you leave me no choice, do you?'
'Sorry?'
She stuffed the doll back into the folds of his cloak and turned away once more. 'Drink your tea. Then we'll talk.'
'You can help me?'
'Save the world? Well, yes, of course.'
Save the world? Now, Adjunct, you never mentioned that part.
Koryk rolled his shoulders to adjust the weight of the heavy chain armour. Longsword and shield were positioned on the damp stones behind him. In his gauntleted hands he held his crossbow. Three paces to his left stood Smiles, a sharper in her right hand, her bared teeth gleaming in the dull moonlight. To his right was Cuttle, crouched down over a collection of munitions laid out on a rain-cape. Among them was a cusser.
'Hold on, Cuttle,' Koryk said upon seeing that oversized grenado. '
Pass that cusser right back down, will you? Unless you're planning on blowing up everyone here, not to mention the Silanda and the Froth Wolf.'
The sapper squinted up at him. 'If it takes a hundred of 'em with us, I'm happy, Koryk. Don't mind that one – it's for the last thing left – you'll probably be all down by then, anyway'
'But maybe still alive-'
'Try and avoid that, soldier. Unless you're happy with the mob having fun with what's left of you.'
Scowling, Koryk returned his attention to the massing crowd opposite.
Twenty paces away, milling, shouting threats and ugly promises. Plenty of serious weapons among them. The City Guard had vanished, and all that seemed to be holding the fools back for the moment was the solid line of shield-locked soldiers facing them. Tarr, Corabb Bhilan Thenu' alas, Uru Hela, Mayfly, Shortnose and Flashwit. A few rocks and brick fragments had been thrown across the killing ground, and those that came close were met by shields lifting almost languidly to fend them off.
Burning arrows were being readied along the flanks of the mob.
They'll try to fire the ships here first, and that is not good. He didn't think the Silanda would burn, not after what Gesler had told them. But the Froth Wolf was another matter. He glanced over to see Corporal Deadsmell cross the gangplank back to the jetty, and behind him was Fist Keneb, who then spoke.
'Sergeant Balm.'
'Aye, Fist?'
Keneb looked around. 'Where're Gesler and Fiddler?'
'Scouting, sir.'
'Scouting. I see. So, you're it, are you?'
'Those arrows, sir-'
'Destriant Run'thurvian assures me our moored craft will be safe. The transports, alas, are another matter. We have signalled the nearest ones, with the command that they withdraw until out of range. What this means, Sergeant, is that you and your soldiers are on your own.
The bow ballista on Froth Wolf will provide support.'
'Appreciate that, sir,' Balm said, a strangely bewildered look in his eyes. 'Where's the siege?'
'Excuse me?'
Deadsmell cleared his throat and said to Keneb, 'Don't mind him, sir.
Once the fighting starts he'll be fine. Fist, you're saying those arrows won't light up the ships – once they see that they'll turn 'em on us.'
Nodding, Keneb looked over at Cuttle. 'Sapper, I want you to hit those archers on the flanks. Don't wait for their first move. Sharpers, assuming they're within range.'
Straightening, Cuttle looked over. 'Easy, sir. Galt, Lobe, get over here and collect yourselves a couple sharpers – not the cusser, Galt, you idiot – those small round ones, right? Two, damn you, no more than that. Come back if you need more-'
'Maybe three-'
'No! Think on it, Lobe. How many hands you got? Where you gonna hold the third one – between your cheeks? Two, and don't drop 'em or this whole jetty will vanish and us with it.' He turned. 'Fist, you want us to hit 'em now?'
'Might as well,' Keneb replied. 'With luck, the rest will scatter.'
Flaming arrows hissed out, seeking the rigging of the Froth Wolf. The sizzling arcs suddenly disappeared.
Koryk grunted. 'Cute. Better get to it, Cuttle. The next salvo's coming our way, I'd wager.'
Cuttle on the right, Galt and Lobe on the left. Hefting sharpers, then at Cuttle's command they threw the clay grenados.
Detonations, snapping like cracks in brittle stone, and bodies were down, writhing, screamingThe centre mob, with a guttural roar, charged.
'Shit,' from one of the heavies up front.
Smiles launched her sharper into that onrushing midst.
Another explosion, this one ten paces in front of the shield-wall, which instinctively flinched back, heads ducking beneath raised shields. Shrieks, tumbling figures, blood and bits of meat, bodies underfoot tripping the attackers – the front of that charge had become a chaotic mess, but those behind it pushed on.
Koryk moved along to the right – he could hear someone shouting orders, a heavy voice, authoritarian – the cadence of a Malazan officer – and Koryk wanted the bastard.
The ballista mounted on the prow of the Froth Wolf bucked, the oversized missile speeding out, ripping through the crowd in a streak of spraying blood. A quarrel designed to knock holes in hulls punched through flesh and bone effortlessly, one body after another.
A few arrows raced towards the soldiers on the jetty, and then the mob reached the front line.
Undisciplined, convinced that the weight of impetus alone would suffice in shattering the shield-wall, they were not prepared for the perfectly timed answering push from the heavies, the large shields hammering into them, blades lashing out.
The only soldier untrained in holding a wall was Corabb Bhilan Thenu' alas, and Koryk saw Smiles move up behind the man as he chopped away at a foe with his cutlass. The man before him was huge, wielding shortswords, one thrusting the other slashing, and Corabb dropped into a sustained defence with his round shield and his weapon – even as Smiles, seeing an opening, threw a knife that took the attacker in the throat. As the man crumpled, Corabb swung and the cutlass crunched down into the unprotected head.
'Back into the gap!' Smiles screamed, pushing Corabb forward.
Koryk caught sight of a figure off to one side – not the commander – gods, that's a mage, and he's readying a warren – he raised his crossbow, depressed the trigger.
The quarrel sent the man spinning.
Three more sharpers detonated further back in the pressing mob. All at once the attack crumpled, and the shield-wall advanced a step, then another, weapons slashing down to finish off the wounded. Figures raced away, and Koryk heard someone in the distance shouting, calling out a rallying point – for the moment, he saw, few were listening.
One down.
On the broad loading platform and to either side, scores of bodies littered the cobbles, faint voices crying with sorrow and pain.
Gods below, we're killing our own here.
