loved old healer witch had died this very morning, and they'd pinned her corpse beneath a slab of stone lest some wandering spirit find her. Leoman himself had spat in the eight directions to hallow the ground, and spilled drops of his own blood from a slash he opened on his left hand onto the dusted stone, voicing the blessing in the name of the Apocalyptic. Then he had wept. In front of all his warriors, who had stood silent, awestruck by the grief and the love for his followers Leoman had revealed in that moment.
The Falah'd and his soldiers approached, then drew to a halt five paces in front of Leoman and Corabb.
Corabb studied Vedor's sallow, sunken face, murky eyes, and knew him for an addict of d'bayang poppy. His thick-veined hands trembled on the saddle horn, and, when it became evident that Leoman would not be the first to speak, he scowled and said, 'I, Falah'd Vedor of Y'
Ghatan, the First Holy City, do hereby welcome you, Leoman of the Flails, refugee of Sha'ik's Fall in Raraku, and your broken followers.
We have prepared secure barracks for your warriors, and the tables wait, heaped with food and wine. You, Leoman, and your remaining officers shall be the Falah'd's guests in the palace, for as long as required for you to reprovision your army and recover from your flight. Inform us of your final destination and we shall send envoys in advance to proclaim your coming to each and every village, town and city on your route.'
Corabb found he was holding his breath. He watched as Leoman nudged his horse forward, until he was positioned side by side with the Falah'd.
'We have come to Y'Ghatan,' Leoman said, in a low voice, 'and it is in Y'Ghatan that we shall stay. To await the coming of the Malazans.'
Vedor's stained mouth worked for a moment without any sound issuing forth, then he managed a hacking laugh. 'Like a knife's edge, your sense of humour, Leoman of the Flails! It is as your legend proclaims!'
'My legend? Then this, too, will not surprise you.' The kethra knife was a blinding flash, sweeping to caress Vedor's throat. Blood spurted, and the Falah'd's head rolled back, thumped on the rump of the startled horse, then down to bounce and roll in the dust of the road. Leoman reached out to steady the headless corpse still seated in the saddle, and wiped the blade on the silken robes.
From the company of city soldiers, not a sound, not a single motion.
The standard-bearer, a youth of perhaps fifteen years, stared openmouthed at the headless body beside him.
'In the name of Dryjhna the Apocalyptic,' Leoman said, 'I now rule the First Holy City of Y'Ghatan. Who is the ranking officer here?'
A woman pushed her horse forward. 'I am. Captain Dunsparrow.'
Corabb squinted at her. Solid features, sun-darkened, light grey eyes.
Twenty-five years of age, perhaps. The glint of a chain vest was just visible beneath her plain telaba. 'You,' Corabb said, 'are Malazan.'
The cool eyes fixed on him. 'What of it?'
'Captain,' Leoman said, 'your troop will precede us. Clear the way to the palace for me and my warriors. The secure barracks spoken of by the late Falah'd will be used to house those soldiers in the city garrison and from the palace who might be disinclined to follow my orders. Please ensure that they are indeed secured. Once you have done these things, report to me in the palace for further orders.'
'Sir,' the woman said, 'I am of insufficient rank to do as you ask-'
'No longer. You are now my Third, behind Corabb Bhilan Thenu'alas.'
Her gaze briefly flicked back to Corabb, revealing nothing. 'As you command, Leoman of the Flails, Falah'd of Y'Ghatan.'
Dunsparrow twisted in her saddle and bellowed out to her troops, '
About face! Smartly now, you damned pig-herders! We advance the arrival of the new Falah'd!'
Vedor's horse turned along with all the others, and began trotting, the headless body pitching about in its saddle.
Corabb watched as, twenty paces along, the dead Falah'd's mount came up alongside the captain. She noted it and with a single straightarmed shove sent the corpse toppling.
Leoman grunted. 'Yes. She is perfect.'
A Malazan. 'I have misgivings, Commander.'
'Of course you have. It's why I keep you at my side.' He glanced over.
'That, and the Lady's tug. Come now, ride with me into our new city.'
They kicked their horses into motion. Behind them followed the others.
'Our new city,' Corabb said, grinning. 'We shall defend it with our lives.'
Leoman shot him an odd look, but said nothing.
Corabb thought about that. Commander, I have more misgivings…
Chapter Five
The first cracks appeared shortly after the execution of Sha'ik. None could know the mind of Adjunct Tavore. Not her closest officers, and not the common soldier under her command. But there were distant stirrings, to be sure, more easily noted in retrospect, and it would be presumptuous and indeed dismissive to claim that the Adjunct was ignorant of the growing troubles, not only in her command, but at the very heart of the Malazan Empire. Given that, the events at Y'Ghatan could have been a fatal wound. Were someone else in command, were that someone's heart any less hard, any less cold.
This, more than at any other time beforehand, gave brutal truth to the conviction that Adjunct Tavore was cold iron, thrust into the soul of a raging forge…
'None to Witness' (The Lost History of the Bonehunters) Duiker of Darujhistan 'Put that down,' Samar Dev said wearily from where she sat near the window.
'Thought you were asleep,' Karsa Orlong said. He returned the object to the tabletop. 'What is it?'
'Two functions. The upper beaker contains filters for the water, removing all impurities. The water gathering in the lower beaker is flanked by strips of copper, which livens the water itself through a complicated and mysterious process. A particular ethereal gas is released, thus altering the air pressure above the water, which in turn-'
'But what do you use it for?'
Samar's eyes narrowed. 'Nothing in particular.'
He moved away from the table, approached the work benches and shelves.
She watched him examining the various mechanisms she had invented, and the long-term experiments, many of which showed no evident alteration of conditions. He poked. Sniffed, and even sought to taste one dish filled with gelatinous fluid. She thought to stop him, then decided to remain quiet. The warrior's wounds had healed with appalling swiftness, with no signs of infection. The thick liquid he was licking from his finger wasn't particularly healthy to ingest, but not fatal.
Usually.
He made a face. 'This is terrible.'
'I am not surprised.'
'What do you use it for?'
'What do you think?'
'Rub it into saddles. Leather.'
'Saddles? Indirectly, I suppose. It is an ointment, for the suppurating wounds that sometimes arise on the lining of the anus-'
He grunted loudly, then said, 'No wonder it tasted awful,' and resumed his examination of the room's contents.
She regarded him thoughtfully. Then said, 'The Falah'd sent soldiers into the keep. They found signs of past slaughter – as you said, not one Malazan left alive. They also found a demon. Or, rather, the corpse of a demon, freshly killed. They have asked me to examine it, for I possess a little knowledge of anatomy and other, related subjects.'
He made no reply, peering into the wrong end of a spyglass.
