Eighteenth Squad came forward and took the reins. ‘Thank you, Corporal Rib.’ Keneb paused. ‘Think we still need this cordon?’
‘Only the inner ring’s doing that, Fist,’ Rib replied. ‘The rest are just gawking.’
‘Get me your sergeant,’ Keneb said.
‘Aye, sir.’
Smirking, Blistig moved past, heading for the Adjunct.
The Eighteenth’s sergeant pushed through. ‘Fist. Bad news, this.’
‘So I hear, Gaunt-Eye. Now, round up the other sergeants all these soldiers belong to. I want them out of here. I want them all getting ready for the day’s march. Tell them if I look up in a hundred heartbeats and still see this mob, Hood’s heel is coming down. Am I understood, Sergeant?’
The Genabackan blinked. ‘Aye, Fist.’ He saluted and then plunged back into the crowd. Almost at once, he started barking orders.
Corporal Rib grinned. ‘He don’t need the other sergeants, Fist. I ain’t never known a meaner sergeant.’
‘Carry on, Corporal.’
‘Aye, Fist.’
Keneb walked over to the motley gathering-these damned all-too-familiar faces, the miserable expressions, the Adjunct’s flat eyes and thin, straight mouth as she stood listening to whatever Blistig was saying. As Keneb reached them Tavore lifted a gauntleted hand, cutting Blistig off.
‘Fist Blistig,’ she said, ‘is this the time to petition for an increase in the rum ration?’
‘Adjunct, the Eighth Legion may be about to crumble. I’m just wanting to make sure my own legion-’
‘That will be enough, Blistig. Return to your legion immediately.’
‘Very well, Adjunct. Still, who’d have thought those two would desert.’ He saluted and was forced to hold it while Tavore stood motionless, her regard level and lifeless. As the moment grew uncomfortable, the Adjunct returned the salute, converting it into a dismissive gesture-as if brushing lint from her cloak.
Face paling, Blistig wheeled and marched back to his horse, only to find that the animal had wandered off-no one had taken the reins from him.
As he hesitated, Keneb grunted and said, ‘Rapport, aye.’
‘Not my legion,’ he snapped. ‘You might want a word or two about courtesy with your soldiers, Keneb.’
‘The Malazan military demands courtesy first and expects respect to follow. Lose respect and the courtesy usually goes with it.’
‘Remember, I’ll be looking for you.’
‘Best find your horse first, Blistig.’
The Adjunct gestured Keneb over.
‘Fist. Our camp security seems to have been breached.’
‘They are truly missing, Adjunct?’
She nodded.
‘I cannot see how anyone managed to penetrate this deep into our camp,’ Keneb said. ‘Unless they were our own-but then, where are the bodies? I don’t understand this, Adjunct.’
‘The High Mage suggests the attacker was a Shi’gal K’Chain Che’Malle.’
‘A what?’
‘Sometimes,’ Quick Ben said, ‘those ones grow wings. They’re the Matron’s own assassins, Fist. And one dropped down out of the night and stole them both.’
‘To do what with them? Eat them? Why did neither man make a sound?’
‘They were selected,’ said the High Mage, ‘and no, I have no idea why.’
Keneb struggled to make sense of all this. He glanced at Fiddler. The sergeant looked miserable.
‘As close to ascendants,’ said Quick Ben, ‘as anyone in this army.’
‘Will this winged assassin come back for more of us?’ Keneb asked, offering the question to any one of the five soldiers standing opposite him.
Fiddler grunted. ‘Damn, that’s the first time the question’s come up-you got a point. Why stop with just them?’
‘The problem is,’ said Quick Ben, ‘we have no idea what the Che’Malle want with Gesler and Stormy.’
‘And no real way to find out,’ added Bottle.
‘I see,’ said Keneb. ‘Well, how can we defend against such future attacks? High Mage?’
‘I’ll see what I can think up, Fist.’
‘One squad member with a crossbow stays awake at all times at night,’ said Keneb. ‘Maybe that won’t help, but it’s a start. Adjunct, if the soldiers begin thinking people can go missing at any time and we can do nothing about it, we’ll end up facing a mutiny.’
‘You are correct, Fist. I will see to it that the order goes out.’ She turned. ‘Captain Yil, ride to the Letherii camp and report our losses-you need hold nothing back from Commander Brys Beddict. Include in your report our conjectures.’
As Lostara made to leave, Quick Ben said, ‘Captain, be sure that Atri-Ceda Aranict is present.’
She nodded and then departed.
The Adjunct stepped close to Keneb. ‘Fist. We have suffered a wound here. It may prove deeper and more serious than any of us presently believe. You may be assured that I will do all that is in my power to find and retrieve Gesler and Stormy-but understand, we must continue the march. We must hold this army together.’
‘Aye, Adjunct. To that end, we have another problem. He was just here, in fact.’
She held his gaze. ‘I am aware of that, Fist. I am also aware of the additional burdens you have been forced to carry as a consequence. I will deal with this matter shortly. In the meantime, we need to make certain that the rumour of Gesler and Stormy deserting is laid to rest. The truth is unpleasant enough in its own right that none will think us dissembling. Summon your officers, Fist.’ She then turned to her High Mage. ‘Do what you can to protect us.’
‘I will, Adjunct.’
‘And find them, Quick Ben.’
‘Again, whatever I can do, I will do it.’
‘We cannot lose any more veterans.’
She did not need to add that without them the chains of this army would snap at the first moment of trouble.
The Adjunct and the High Mage had left. Fiddler and Bottle drew close to their Fist.
‘Fire, sir.’
Keneb frowned at Fiddler. ‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s the fire. The one they went through. Thinking on it, I doubt that winged lizard will be back. I can’t be sure, but my feeling is we’ve seen the last of it. And the last of them.’
‘You said this to the Adjunct?’
‘Just a feeling, sir. I’m sending Bottle out tonight, to see what he can find.’
Bottle looked thrilled at the prospect.
‘Let me know what he discovers, Sergeant. Immediately-don’t wait until morning. I’m not sleeping anyway.’
‘I know the feeling, sir. As soon as we get something, then.’
‘Good. Go on, now. I’ll see to dispersing Gesler’s squad-hold on, why not take one now? Take your pick, Fid.’
‘Shortnose will do. He’s hiding a brain behind all that gnarly bone and whatnot.’
‘Are you sure?’ Keneb asked.
‘I sent him to collect four people in a specific sequence. I didn’t need to repeat myself, sir.’
‘And he’s a heavy?’
‘Aye, sometimes things ain’t what they seem, you know?’
‘I’ll have to think about that, Fiddler. All right, take him and get going.’
Outrider Henar Vygulf walked up the main avenue between the ordered rows of the Letherii camp. Though a horseman, the ground trembled slightly with each step he took, and there was little debate as to who was the tallest, biggest soldier in Brys’s army. He drew curious stares as he made his way to HQ. He wasn’t astride his huge horse, after all, and not riding at a torrid pitch making people scatter as was his habit; thus, seeing him on foot was shocking in itself, quite apart from the fact that he was striding into the heart of the encampment. Henar Vygulf hated crowds. He probably hated people. Could be he hated the world.
Trailing two steps behind him was Lance Corporal Odenid, who was attached to the commander’s staff as a message-bearer. This was his sole task these days: finding soldiers and dragging them back to Brys Beddict. The commander was conducting intensive and extensive interviews, right through the whole army. Odenid had heard that for the most part Brys was asking about the Wastelands, collecting rumours, old tales, wispy legends. The most extraordinary thing of all, when it came to these interviews, was Brys Beddict’s uncanny ability to remember names and faces. At day’s end he would call in a scribe and recount for her a complete and detailed list of those soldiers and support staff he’d spoken with that day. He would give ages, places of birth, military history, even family details such as he had gleaned, and he would add notes on whatever each soldier knew or thought they knew about the Wastelands.
The Beddict brothers, Odenid concluded, were probably not even human. Probably both god-touched. Hadn’t Brys returned from the dead? And hadn’t he been the only one-until that Tarthenal-to have defeated the Emperor of a Thousand Deaths?
Henar Vygulf had been summoned for an interview, but this time there was more to it, or so Odenid suspected. An officer from the Bonehunters had ridden into camp early this morning. Something had happened. Odenid didn’t rank high enough to be able to lounge around in the HQ tent, and the commander’s inner circle were a close-mouthed lot one and all. Whatever the news had been, it had stalled the march, probably until noon. And the Malazan was still there, in a private meeting with
