Leoman squinted upward. ‘Where the stars are thick as veins?’
‘They are roads, Leoman. Surely you do not believe those insane scholars?’
‘All scholars are insane, yes. They say nothing worth believing. The roads, then. The trail of fire.’
‘Of course,’ Corabb continued, ‘that shall be many years from now…’
‘As you say, friend. Now, best get some sleep.’
Corabb rose, bones cracking. ‘May you dream of glory this night, Commander.’
‘Glory? Oh, yes, my friend. Our trail of fire…’
‘Aai, that slug has given me indigestion. It was the roe.’
‘The bastard’s heading for Y’Ghatan.’
Sergeant Strings glanced over at Bottle. ‘You’ve been thinking, haven’t you? That’s not good, soldier. Not good at all.’
‘Can’t help it.’
‘That’s even worse. Now I have to keep an eye on you.’
Koryk was on his hands and knees, head lowered as he sought to breathe life back into the bed of coals from the night just past. He suddenly coughed as he inhaled a cloud of ashes and ducked away, blinking and hacking.
Smiles laughed. ‘The wise plainsman does it again. You were asleep, Koryk, but I should tell you, Tarr pissed that fire out last night.’
‘What!?’
‘She’s lying,’ Tarr said from where he crouched beside his pack, repairing a strap. ‘Even so, it was a good one. You should have seen your expression, Koryk.’
‘How can anyone, with that white mask he’s wearing? Shouldn’t you be painting death lines through that ash, Koryk? Isn’t that what Seti do?’
‘Only when going into battle, Smiles,’ the sergeant said. ‘Now, leave off, woman. You’re as bad as that damned Hengese lapdog. It bit a Khundryl’s ankle last night and wouldn’t let go.’
‘Hope they skewered it,’ Smiles said.
‘Not a chance. Bent was standing guard. Anyway, they had to get Temul to pry the thing off. My point is, Smiles, you ain’t got a Wickan cattle-dog to guard your back, so the less you snipe the safer you’ll be.’
No-one mentioned the knife Koryk had taken in the leg a week past.
Cuttle came wandering into the camp. He’d found a squad that had already brewed some foul-smelling tea and was sipping from his tin cup. ‘They’re here,’ he said.
‘Who?’ Smiles demanded.
Bottle watched as their sergeant settled back down, leaning against his pack. ‘All right,’ Strings said, sighing. ‘March will be delayed. Someone help Koryk get the fire going – we’re going to have a real breakfast. Cuttle the cook.’
‘Me? All right, just don’t blame me.’
‘For what?’ Strings asked with an innocent smile.
Cuttle walked over to the hearth, reaching into a pouch. ‘Got some sealed Flamer dust—’
Everyone scattered, Strings included. Suddenly, Cuttle was alone, looking round bemusedly at his fellow soldiers, now one and all at least fifteen paces distant. He scowled. ‘A grain or two, nothing more. Damn, do you think I’m mad?’
Everyone looked to Strings, who shrugged. ‘Instinctive reaction, Cuttle. Surprised you ain’t used to it by now.’
‘Yeah? And how come you were the first belting out of here, Fid?’
‘Who’d know better than me?’
Cuttle crouched down beside the hearth. ‘Well,’ he muttered, ‘I’m absolutely crushed.’ He withdrew a small clay disk from the pouch. It was a playing piece for the board-game called Troughs, the game being Cuttle’s favourite pastime. The sapper spat on it, then tossed it into the coals. And quickly backed away.
No-one else moved.
‘Hey,’ Koryk said, ‘that wasn’t a real Troughs piece, was it?’
Cuttle glanced over. ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Because those things get thrown around!’
‘Only when I lose,’ the sapper replied.
A burst of ash, sudden flames. Cuttle walked back and began flinging pieces of dung on the fire. ‘All right, somebody tend to this. I’ll get what passes for food around here and figure something out.’
‘Bottle has some lizards,’ Smiles said.
‘Forget it,’ Bottle shot back. ‘They’re my, uh, friends.’ He flinched as the other squad members turned to regard him.
‘Friends?’ Strings asked. He scratched his beard, studying his soldier.
‘What,’ Smiles said, ‘the rest of us too smart for you, Bottle? All these confounding words we use? The fact we can read those squiggly etchings on clay and wax tablets and scrolls? Well, except for Koryk, of course. Anyway. Feeling insufficient, Bottle? I don’t mean physically – that goes without saying. But, mentally, right? Is that the problem?’
Bottle glared at her. ‘You’ll regret all that, Smiles.’
‘Oh, he’s going to send his lizard friends after me! Help!’
‘That’s enough, Smiles,’ Strings said in a warning growl.
She rose, ran her hands through her still-unbound hair. ‘Well, I’m off to gossip with Flashwit and Uru Hela. Flash said she saw Neffarias Bredd a couple of days ago. A horse had died and he carried it back to his squad’s camp. They roasted it. Nothing but bones left.’
‘The squad ate an entire horse?’ Koryk snorted. ‘How come I’ve never seen this Neffarias Bredd, anyway? Has anybody here seen him?’
‘I have,’ Smiles replied.
‘When?’ Koryk demanded.
‘A few days ago. I’m bored talking to you. Your fire’s going out.’ She walked off.
The sergeant was still tugging at his beard. ‘Gods below, I need to hack this thing off,’ he muttered.
‘But the chicks ain’t left the nest yet,’ Cuttle said, settling down with an armful of foodstuffs. ‘Who’s been collecting snakes?’ he asked, letting the various objects drop. He picked up a long, rope-like thing. ‘They stink—’
‘That’s the vinegar,’ Koryk said. ‘It’s an old Seti delicacy. The vinegar cooks the meat, you see, for when you ain’t got the time to smoke it slow.’
‘What are you doing killing snakes?’ Bottle demanded. ‘They’re useful, you know.’
Strings rose. ‘Bottle, walk with me.’
Oh damn. I’ve got to learn to say nothing. ‘Aye, Sergeant.’
They crossed the ditch and headed onto the broken sweep of the Lato Odhan, the mostly level, dusty ground home to a scattering of shattered rock, no piece larger than a man’s head. Somewhere far to the southwest was the city of Kayhum, still out of sight, whilst behind them rose the Thalas Mountains, treeless for centuries and now eroded like rotting teeth. No cloud relieved the bright morning sun, already hot.
‘Where do you keep your lizards?’ Strings asked.
‘In my clothes, out of the sun, during the day, I mean. They wander at night.’
‘And you wander with them.’
Bottle nodded.
‘That’s a useful talent,’ the sergeant commented, then went on, ‘especially for spying. Not on the enemy, of course, but on everyone else.’
‘So far. I mean, we haven’t been close enough to the enemy—’
‘I know. And that’s why you ain’t told nobody yet about it. So, you’ve listened in on the Adjunct much? I mean, since that time you learned about the fall of the Bridgeburners.’
‘Not much, to tell the truth.’ Bottle hesitated, wondering how much he should say.
‘Out with it, soldier.’
‘It’s that Claw…’
‘Pearl.’
‘Aye, and, well, uh, the High Mage.’
‘Quick Ben.’
‘Right, and now there’s Tayschrenn, too—’
Strings grasped Bottle’s arm and pulled him round. ‘He left. He was only here for a few bells, and that was a week ago—’
‘Aye, but that doesn’t mean he can’t come back, at any time, right? Anyway, all these powerful, scary mages, well, they make me nervous.’
‘You’re making me nervous, Bottle
!’
‘Why?’
The sergeant squinted at him, then let go of his arm and resumed walking.
‘Where are we going?’ Bottle demanded.
‘You tell me.’
‘Not that way.’
‘Why?’
‘Uh. Nil and Nether, just the other side of that low rise.’
Strings loosed a half-dozen dockside curses. ‘Hood take us! Listen, soldier, I ain’t forgotten anything, you know. I remember you playing dice with Meanas, making dolls of Hood and the Rope. Earth-magic and talking with spirits – gods below, you’re so much like Quick Ben it makes my hair stand on end. Oh, right, it all comes from your grandmother – but you see, I know where Quick got his talents!’
Bottle frowned at the man. ‘What?’
‘What do you mean what?’
‘What are you talking about, Sergeant? You’ve got me confused.’
‘Quick’s got more warrens to draw on than any mage I’ve ever heard about. Except,’ he added in a frustrated snarl, ‘except maybe you.’
‘But I don’t even like warrens!’
‘No, you’re closer to Nil and Nether, aren’t you? Spirits and stuff. When you’re not playing with Hood and Shadow, that is!’
‘They’re older than warrens, Sergeant.’
‘Like that! What do you mean by that?’
‘Well. Holds. They’re holds. Or they were. Before warrens. It’s old magic, that’s what my grandmother taught me. Real old. Anyway, I’ve changed my mind about Nil and Nether. They’re up to something and I want to see it.’
‘But you don’t want them to see us.’
Bottle shrugged. ‘Too late for that, Sergeant. They know we’re here.’
‘Fine, lead on, then. But I want Quick Ben to meet you. And I want to know all about these holds you keep talking about.’
No you don’t. ‘All right.’ Quick Ben. A meeting. That was bad. Maybe I could run away. No, don’t be an idiot. You can’t run away, Bottle. Besides, what were the risks of talking with the High Mage? He wasn’t doing anything wrong, exactly. Not really. Not so anybody would know, anyway. Except a sneaky bastard like Quick Ben. Abyss, what if he finds out who’s walking in my shadow? Well, it’s not like I asked for the company, is it?
‘Whatever you’re thinking,’ Strings said in a growl, ‘it’s got my skin crawling.’
‘Not me. Nil and Nether. They’ve begun a ritual. I’ve changed my mind again – maybe we should go back.’
‘No.’
They began ascending the gentle slope.
Bottle felt sudden sweat trickling beneath his clothes. ‘You’ve got some natural talent, haven’t you, Sergeant? Skin crawling and all that. You’re sensitive to… stuff.’
‘I had a bad upbringing.’
‘Where’s Gesler’s squad gone?’
Strings shot him a glance. ‘You’re doing it again.’
‘Sorry.’
‘They’re escorting Quick and Kalam – they’ve gone ahead. So, your dreaded meeting with Quick is still some time off, you’ll be glad to know.’
‘Gone ahead. By warren? They shouldn’t be doing that, you know. Not now. Not here—’
‘Why?’
‘Well. Because.’
‘For the first time in my career as a soldier of the Malazan Empire, I truly want to strangle a fellow soldier.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop saying that name!’
‘It’s not a name. It’s a word.’
The sergeant’s battered hands clenched into fists.
Bottle fell silent. Wondering if Strings might actually strangle him.
They reached the crest. Thirty paces beyond, the Wickan witch and warlock had arranged a circle of jagged stones and were seated within it, facing each other. ‘They’re travelling,’ Bottle said. ‘It’s a kind of Spiritwalking, like the Tanno do. They’re aware of us, but only vaguely.’
‘I assume we don’t step within that ring.’
‘Not unless we need to pull them out.’
Strings looked over.
‘Not unless I need to pull them out, I mean. If things go wrong. If they get in trouble.’
They drew nearer. ‘What made you join the army, Bottle?’
She insisted. ‘My grandmother thought it would be a good idea. She’d just died, you see, and her spirit was, um, agitated a little. About something.’ Oh, steer away from this, Bottle. ‘I was getting bored. Restless. Selling dolls to pilots and sailors on the docks—’
‘Where?’
‘Jakatakan.’
‘What kind of dolls?’
‘The kind the Stormriders seem to like. Appeasement.’
‘Stormriders? Gods below, Bottle, I didn’t think anything worked with them lately. Not for years.’
‘The dolls didn’t always work, but they sometimes did, which was better than most propitiations. Anyway, I was making good coin, but it didn’t seem enough—’
‘Are you feeling cold all of a sudden?’
Bottle nodded. ‘It makes sense, where they’ve gone.’
‘And where is that?’
‘Through Hood’s Gate. It’s all right, Sergeant. I think. Really. They’re pretty sneaky, and so long as they don’t attract the wrong attention…’
‘But… why?’
Bottle glanced over. The sergeant was looking pale. Not surprising. Those damned ghosts at Raraku had rattled him. ‘They’re looking for… people. Dead ones.’
‘Sormo E’nath?’
‘I guess. Wickans. Ones who died on the Chain of Dogs. They’ve done this before. They don’t find them—’ He stopped as a gust of bitter cold wind swirled up round the circle of stones. Sudden frost limned the ground. ‘Oh, that’s not good. I’ll be right back, Sergeant.’
Bottle ran forward, then leapt into the ring.
And vanished.
Or, he assumed he had, since he was no longer on the Lato Odhan, but ankle-deep in rotting, crumbling bones, a sickly grey sky overhead. Someone was screaming. Bottle turned at the sound and saw three figures thirty paces away. Nil and Nether, and facing them, a horrific apparition, and it was this lich that was doing the screaming. The two young Wickans were flinching before the tirade.
A language Bottle did not understand. He walked closer, bone-dust puffing with each step.
The lich suddenly reached out and grasped both Wickans, lifting them into the air, then shaking them.
Bottle ran forward. And what do I do when I get there?
The creature snarled and flung Nil and Nether to the ground, then abruptly disappeared amidst the clouds of dust.
He reached them as they were climbing to their feet. Nether was swearing in her native tongue as she brushed dust from her tunic. She glared over at Bottle as he arrived. ‘What do you want?’
‘Thought you were in trouble.’
‘We’re fine,’ Nil snapped, yet there was a sheepish expression on his adolescent face. ‘You can lead us back, mage.’
‘Did the Adjunct send you?’ Nether demanded. ‘Are we to have no peace?’
‘Nobody sent me. Well, Sergeant Strings – we were just out walking—’
‘Strings? You mean Fiddler.’
‘We’re supposed to—’
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Nether said. ‘Everybody knows.’
‘We’re not idiots. It clearly hasn’t occurred to either of you that maybe Fiddler wants it that way. Wants to be called Strings, now, because his old life is gone, and with the old name comes bad memories, and he’s had enough of those.’
Neither Wickan replied.
After a few more strides, Bottle asked, ‘So, was that a Wickan lich? One of the dead you were looking for?’
‘You know too much.’
‘Was it?’
Nil cursed under his breath, then said, ‘Our mother.’
‘Your…’ Bottle fell silent.
‘She was telling us to stop moping and grow up,’ Nil added.
‘She was telling you that,’
Nether retorted. ‘She told me to—’
‘To take a husband and get pregnant.’
‘That was just a suggestion.’
‘Made while she was shaking you?’ Bottle asked.
Nether spat at his feet. ‘A suggestion. Something I should maybe think about. Besides, I don’t have to listen to you, soldier. You’re Malazan. A squad mage.’
‘He’s also the one,’ pointed out Nil, ‘who rides life-sparks.’
‘Small ones. The way we did as children.’
Bottle smiled at her remark.
She caught it. ‘What’s so amusing?’
‘Nothing. Sorry.’
‘I thought you were going to lead us back.’
‘I thought so, too,’ Bottle said, halting and looking round. ‘Oh, I think we’ve been noticed.’
‘It’s your fault, mage!’ Nil accused.
‘Probably.’
Nether hissed and pointed.
Another figure had appeared, and to either side padded dogs. Wickan cattle dogs. Nine, ten, twelve. Their eyes gleamed silver. The man in their midst was clearly Wickan, greying and squat and bowlegged. His face was savagely scarred.
‘It is Bult,’ Nether whispered. She stepped forward.
The dogs growled.
‘Nil, Nether, I have been searching for you,’ the ghost named Bult said, halting ten paces away, the dogs lining up on either side. ‘Hear me. We do not belong here. Do you understand? We do not belong.’ He paused and pulled at his nose in a habitual gesture. ‘Think hard on my words.’ He turned away, then paused and glanced back over a shoulder, ‘And Nether, get married and have babies.’
The ghosts vanished.
Nether stamped her foot. Dust rose up around her. ‘Why does everyone keep telling me that!?’
‘Your tribe’s been decimated,’ Bottle said reasonably. ‘It stands to reason—’
She advanced on him.
Bottle stepped back—
And reappeared within the stone circle.
A moment later gasps came from Nil and Nether, their crosslegged bodies twitching.
‘I was getting worried,’ Strings said behind him, standing just outside the ring.
The two Wickans were slow in getting to their feet.
Bottle hurried to his sergeant’s side. ‘We should get going,’ he said. ‘Before she comes fully round, I mean.’
‘Why?’
Bottle started walking. ‘She’s mad at me.’
Bonehunters Page 15
