Few military forces were by nature introspective. Conservatism was bound to tradition, like knots in a rope. Brys sought something new in his army. Malleable, quick to adapt, fearless in challenging old ways of doing things. At the same time, he understood the value of tradition, and the legion structure was in fact a return to the history of the First Empire.
He clenched his hands, watched the blood leave his knuckles.
This would be no simple, uneventful march.
He looked upon his soldiers and saw death in their faces. Prophecy or legacy? He wished he knew.
Reliko saw the Falari heavies, Lookback, Shoaly and Drawfirst-all of them closing up their kit bags near the six-squad wagon-and walked over. ‘Listen,’ he said. Three dark faces lifted to squint at him, and they didn’t have to lift much, even though they were kneeling. ‘It’s this. That heavy, Shortnose-you know, the guy missing most of his nose? Was married to Hanno who died.’
The three cousins exchanged glances. Drawfirst shrugged, wiped sweat from her forehead and said, ‘Him, yeah. Following Flashwit around these days-’
‘That’s the biggest woman I ever seen,’ said Shoaly, licking his lips.
Lookback nodded. ‘It’s her green eyes-’
‘No it ain’t, Lookie,’ retorted Shoaly. ‘It’s her big everything else.’
Drawfirst snorted. ‘You want big ’uns, look at me, Shoaly. On second thoughts, don’t. I know you too good, don’t I?’
Reliko scowled. ‘I was talking about Shortnose, remember? Anyway, I seem to recall he only had one ear that time he got into that scrap and got his other ear bitten off.’
‘Yeah,’ said Drawfirst. ‘What about it?’
‘You look at him lately? He’s still got one ear. So what happened? Did it grow back?’
The three soldiers said nothing, their expressions blank. After a moment they returned to readying their kits.
Muttering under his breath, Reliko stomped off. This army had secrets, that it did. Shortnose and his damned ear. Nefarias Bredd and his one giant foot. That squad mage and his pet rats. Vastly Blank who had no brain at all but could fight like a demon. Lieutenant Pores and his evil, now dead, twin. Bald Kindly and his comb collection-in fact, Reliko decided as he returned to his squad, just about everyone here, barring maybe himself and his sergeant, was completely mad.
It’s what no one outside an army understood. They just saw the uniforms and weapons, the helms and visors, the marching in time. And if they ever did realize the truth, why, they’d be even more scared. They’d run screaming.
‘Ee cham penuttle, Erlko.’
‘Shut up, Nep. Where’s Badan?’
‘Ee’n ere, y’poffle floob!’
‘I can see that-so where did he go is what I want to know?’
The mage’s wrinkled prune of a face puckered into something indescribable. ‘Anay, ijit.’
‘Ruffle! You seen the sergeant?’
The squad corporal sat leaning against a wagon wheel, one of those fat rustleaf rollers jammed between her fat lips, smoke puffing out from everywhere, maybe even her ears.
‘Doo sheen see inny ting tru at smick!’ barked Nep Furrow.
Despite himself Reliko grunted a laugh. ‘Y’got that one right, Nep-Ruffle, you got something wrong with air?’
She lifted one hand languidly and plucked the thing from her mouth. ‘You fool. This is keeping those nasty mosquitoes away.’
‘Hey, now that’s clever-where can I get me some?’
‘I brought about a thousand of ’em. But I warn you, Reliko, they’ll make you green the first few days. But pretty soon you start sweating it outa your pores and not a bug will want you.’
‘Huh. Anyway, where’s Badan?’
‘Having a chat with some other sergeants, Fiddler and them.’ Ruffle puffed some more, and then added, ‘I think Badan’s decided we should stick with them-we all worked good enough before.’
‘I suppose.’ But Reliko didn’t like the idea. Those squads were lodestones to trouble. ‘What’s Sinter say about that?’
‘Seems all right with it, I guess.’
‘Hey, where’s our useless recruits?’
‘Some Letherii came by and scooped them up.’
‘Who said he could do that?’
Ruffle shrugged. ‘Didn’t ask.’
Reliko rubbed the back of his neck-not much to rub, he didn’t have much of a neck, but he liked rubbing it, especially along the ridge of calluses where his helm’s flare usually rested. He saw Skim’s booted feet sticking out from under the wagon, wondered if she was dead. ‘I’m going to get Vastly. Squad should be together for when Badan gets back.’
‘Aye, good idea,’ said Ruffle.
‘You’re the laziest damned corporal I ever seen.’
‘Privilege of rank,’ she said around her roller.
‘You won’t last a day on the march,’ observed Reliko. ‘You’re fatter than the last time I seen you.’
‘No I’m not. In fact, I’m losing weight. I can feel it.’
‘Kennai felp too?’
‘Don’t even think it, Nep, you dried-up toad,’ drawled Ruffle.
Reliko set off to find Vastly Blank. Him and Badan and that was it. The rest… not even close.
Fiddler tugged free the stopper on the jug and then paused to survey the others. Gesler had caught a lizard by the tail and was letting it bite his thumb. Balm sat crosslegged, frowning at the furious lizard. Cord stood leaning against the bole of a tree-something he’d likely regret as it was leaking sap, but he was making such an effort with the pose no one was going to warn him off. Thom Tissy had brought up a salted slab of some local beast’s flank and was carving it into slices. Hellian was staring fixedly at the jug in Fiddler’s hands and Urb was staring fixedly at Hellian. The three others, the two South Dal Honese-Badan Gruk and Sinter-and Primly, were showing old loyalties by sitting close together on an old boom log and eyeing everyone else.
Fiddler wanted maybe five more sergeants here but finding anyone in the chaotic sprawl that was a camp about to march was just about impossible. He lifted the jug. ‘Cups ready, everyone,’ and he set out to make the round. ‘You only get half, Hellian,’ he said when he came opposite her, ‘since I can see you’re already well on your way.’
‘On my way where? Fillitup and don’ be cheap neither.’
Fiddler poured. ‘You know, you ain’t treating Beak’s gift with much respect.’
‘What giff? He never give me nothing but white hair and thank the gods that’s gone.’
When he had filled the other cups he returned to the rotted tree-stump and sat down once more. Fifty paces directly opposite was the river, the air above it swirling with swallows. After a moment he dropped his gaze and studied the soldiers arrayed round the old fisher’s campfire. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘this is the kind of meeting sergeants used to do back in the days of the Bridgeburners. It was a useful tradition and I’m thinking it’s time it was brought back. Next time we’ll get the rest of the company’s sergeants.’
‘What’s the point of it?’ Sinter asked.
‘Every squad has its own skills-we need to know what the others can do, and how they’re likely to do it. We work through all this and hopefully there won’t be any fatal surprises in a scrap.’
After a moment, Sinter nodded. ‘Makes sense.’
Cord asked, ‘You’re expecting us to run into trouble any time soon, Fid? That what your deck told you? Has this trouble got a face?’
‘He’s not saying,’ said Gesler. ‘But it’s a fair guess that we’ll know it when we see it.’
‘Bolkando,’ suggested Badan Gruk. ‘That’s the rumour anyway.’
Fiddler nodded. ‘Aye, we might have a bump or two with them, unless the Burned Tears and the Perish slap them into submission first. The Saphii seem to be the only ones happy to have us pay a visit.’
‘It’s pretty isolated, ringed in mountains,’ said Cord, crossing his arms. ‘Probably starving for a few fresh faces, even ones as ugly as ours.’
‘Thing is, I don’t know if we’re even heading into Saphinand,’ Fiddler pointed out. ‘From the maps I’ve seen it’s well to the north of the obvious route across the Wastelands.’
Cord grunted. ‘Crossing any place named the Wastelands seems like a bad idea. What’s in this Kolanse anyway? What’s driving the Adjunct? Are we heading into another war to right some insult delivered on the Malazan Empire? Why not just leave it to Laseen-it’s not like we owe the Empress a damned thing.’
Fiddler sighed. ‘I’m not here to chew on the Adjunct’s motives, Cord. Speculation’s useless. We’re her army. Where she leads, we follow-’
‘Why?’ Sinter almost barked the word. ‘Listen. Me and my sister half starved in a Letherii cell waiting on execution. Now, maybe the rest of you thought it was all fucking worth it taking down these Tiste Edur and their mad Emperor, but a lot of marines died and the rest of us are lucky to be here. If it wasn’t for that Beak you’d all be dead-but he’s gone. And so is Sinn. We got one High Mage and that’s it, and how good is he? Fiddler-can Quick Ben do what Beak did?’
Fiddler unstrapped his helm and drew it off. He scratched at his sweat-matted hair. ‘Quick Ben doesn’t work that way. Used to be he was more behind-the-scenes, but Hedge tells me it’s been different lately, maybe ever since Black Coral-’
‘Oh great,’ cut in Cord, ‘where the Bridgeburners were wiped out.’
‘That wasn’t his fault. Anyway, we all saw what he could do against the Edur mages off the coast of Seven Cities-he made them back down. And then, in Letheras,
