The Second Collected Tales of Bauchelain & Korbal Broach: Three Short Novels of the Malazan Empire

by Steven Erikson

  ‘Theirs is a gruff camaraderie, Milady.’

  ‘Tiny loves Steck,’ said Tiny, and then he scowled. ‘Not like that. Tiny loves women, lots of women, more women than Tiny can count. Right, Midge?’

  ‘That would be seven women,’ said Midge, ‘since you can’t count past six.’

  ‘Flea loves Steck, too,’ said Flea. ‘Flea loves Steck more than he loves his brothers. More than he loves women. More even than he loves Relish, his sister. More even—’

  ‘For the love of decency,’ said Apto, ‘stop now, I beg you.’

  Sighing, the woman lifted up the ring of keys. ‘Very well, sir, you shall have your wish.’

  ‘Milady, have you planned for us a way out? There are many guards in the level above us.’

  ‘Unaccountably,’ she replied, ‘none were present.’

  Steck frowned. ‘None? But—’

  At that moment an inhuman scream howled through the corridors, ending in a strangled snarl. Someone then shrieked, and that cry ended much more abruptly.

  ‘Gods,’ moaned Brash Phluster, ‘what was that?’

  With trembling hands, the woman set to Steck’s bindings. ‘We need to get out of here!’

  ‘Tiny’s not afraid,’ said Tiny in a thin voice.

  ‘Midge is,’ said Midge.

  Mute and pale, Flea nodded. ‘Afraid. Eek!’

  The forgotten postern gate cut through the outer wall of the palace, but doors to the right and the left in the wall itself opened into narrow cavities, with steps going down. As the palace’s main gate was to the right, Plaintly Grasp decided that the left passage was likely the one they desired, so down they went, Le Groutt in the lead with a stubby candle in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.

  ‘This just goes round and round the outer wall,’ hissed Symondenalian Niksos. ‘We should have gone further in, Plaintly, down through the coal cellar, or maybe the courtyard well.’

  ‘I used to swim in my Pa’s well,’ said Mortari. ‘That’s how I found all the drowned cats. Those cats must’ve been the clumsiest cats in the world, and all drowning in a single night like that. I figure one fell in and the others tried to help. Anyway, the worst bit was bumping into them, or getting a mouthful of manky fur. The water tasted of them for weeks, too.’

  ‘Mortari,’ whispered Plaintly, ‘can you save the tales for some other time? We don’t want anyone hearing us.’

  ‘Pa never liked cats. He liked lizards, you see, and the cats kept killing the lizards, or eating their tails, so Pa would beat the cats back and rescue them. The lizards, I mean, even the ones without tails.’

  ‘Symon,’ said Plaintly, ‘we’re not going round and round. We’re well under the wall’s foundations now. We’ve been going down forever. This used to be a citadel, remember, the whole damned hilltop. Look! Le Groutt’s found us a side passage and it’s heading the right way.’ She pushed up past Lurma and then Mortari and then Symon The Knife until she could rest a hand on Le Groutt’s shoulder. Together, they peered into the narrow crack that led off from the rough staircase.

  ‘Scout it out some,’ she said to Le Groutt. ‘Twenty paces, then come back.’

  ‘Twenty paces,’ he said, nodding. ‘That’d be ten paces in, ten paces back, right? Got it.’

  ‘No. Twenty paces in, twenty back.’

  ‘That’s forty paces, Plaintly. You said twenty.’

  ‘I meant twenty in. I don’t care how many to get back.’

  ‘Well, it’d be twenty, wouldn’t it? Unless I only came back halfway, or if I took long jumps. Could be any number then, between one and twenty, I mean. Or baby steps could make it, like, fifty!’

  ‘That’s all very true. Good points, Le Groutt. But let’s make it as easy as possible. Twenty paces in, see if it goes past that, and then come back and tell us.’

  ‘I won’t be able to see if it goes past twenty, Plaintly, unless I go and find out.’

  ‘Okay, stop at twenty and then do ten more. If that ten was the same as the first twenty, then come back.’

  ‘Now we’re talking upwards of sixty paces if you count both ways, and then another thirty if we decide to go that way.’

  ‘Your point?’

  Le Groutt bared his teeth. ‘I get a bigger cut for doing more pacing than any of you.’

  ‘Cut? What cut? We’re trying to free the Head of the Thieves’ Guild.’

  Le Groutt frowned. ‘Oh, right.’ He then brightened. ‘But there’s bound to be treasure squirrelled away down here, a vault or something! A Royal Vault! We could clean it out once we’ve sprung the old hag—’

  ‘Old hag? That’s Mistress Dam Loudly Heer you’re talking about!’

  ‘She doesn’t like me,’ said Le Groutt. ‘I only came for the loot.’

  ‘There won’t be any loot!’

  ‘And you still expect me to walk an extra nine hundred paces?’

  ‘Nine hundred? What are you talking about? Just scout the damned passage!’

  ‘I’m a 2nd story man, Plaintly, not a scout.’

  ‘So you won’t do it?’

  Le Groutt crossed his arms. ‘No. I won’t.’

  Sighing, Plaintly turned and took Symon by the arm. ‘You, take that candle and scout this passage.’

  ‘Ten per cent extra on my cut.’

  ‘Fine! Now go!’

  Symon snaked past Le Groutt, reached back to snag the candle, and then set off.

  ‘That’s not fair!’ hissed Le Groutt, ‘I was only gonna ask for five per cent!’

  ‘That’s what you get for arguing,’ said Plaintly. ‘Now The Knife gets ten per cent of your cut.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Shhh!’

  ‘Ever had lizard tail soup?’ Mortari asked. ‘Ma used to make the best lizard tail soup. Boiled up in cat water. Even Pa couldn’t complain.’

  After some scrabbling sounds, and then a low yelp, the faint candlelight from the passage winked out.

  Plaintly held up a hand when Le Groutt was about to speak. She listened, and then shook her head. ‘That’s not good. I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘Of course you don’t,’ said Le Groutt, ‘you told me to shut up.’

  ‘Not you,’ she said. ‘Symon.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He went down this passageway, remember?’

  ‘It was a well,’ Mortari said behind them. ‘Full of drowned cats, floating and bobbing and smelling bad. That’s when I found Granma.’

  ‘I don’t see any passageway,’ said Le Groutt.

  ‘Light another candle,’ said Plaintly.

  Le Groutt fidgeted in his bag for a few moments, and then he said, ‘I only brought the one.’

  Plaintly twisted round. ‘Anyone else bring a candle?’

  ‘I knew Le Groutt had one,’ said Lurma.

  ‘We only had the one candle?’ Plaintly asked.

  ‘I had one,’ said Barunko. ‘Then I took it in my hand and crushed it like it was melted wax. Ha!’

  ‘Where is it now, Barunko?’ Plaintly asked.

  A moment of silence, and then Barunko said, ‘I don’t remember. It was years ago.’

  ‘Le Groutt,’ said Plaintly, ‘you’re going to have to creep along in the dark. You need to find Symon and that candle.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Down this passageway.’

  ‘Here,’ said Le Groutt, ‘take this end of the rope.’

  Plaintly took it and handed it to Mortari, who moved up to lean close to Le Groutt. They whispered back and forth for a bit and then with a grunt Le Groutt clambered into the passageway.

  A short time later there was a cry, the sound of falling rocks, and then silence.

  Plaintly sighed. ‘Mortari, give me the end to that rope.’

  Mortari held up both hands. ‘Which one?’

  ‘What? He gave you the other end, too?’

  ‘Just to make sure, he said,’ explained Mortari.

  ‘Lurma,’ said Plaintly, ‘you’ve got the sensitive touch
. Get down this passage, feel your way, and be careful!’

  ‘Should’ve sent me to start with,’ said Lurma. ‘I was offering four per cent. Not that anyone bothered asking me. No, it’s just “pick that lock, Lurma!” and “Listen at that door, Lurma!” and “Lift that key ring from his belt, Lurma!”’

  ‘Okay okay,’ said Plaintly, ‘sorry.’

  She wriggled past and then slipped into the crack in the wall.

  They waited.

  ‘She gave me the clap, too,’ said Mortari. ‘The bitch.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Barunko.

  ‘I told you. The bitch.’

  ‘But who?’ Barunko demanded.

  ‘I told you!’

  ‘No you didn’t!’

  ‘Be quiet, both of you! I hear something!’ Plaintly edged into the passageway. ‘Voices. Faint. Wait, I can almost make them out.’

  ‘What are they saying?’ Mortari asked.

  ‘They’re arguing … about … about, uh, who’s got the end of the rope. Wait! Symon’s found the candle! Come on you two, let’s go. They’ve found a genuine tunnel!’

  ‘A tunnel!’ exclaimed Barunko. ‘Here? Underground?’

  ‘Plaintly?’ asked Mortari.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What should I do with these rope ends?’

  ‘How many have you got?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘Bring ’em,’ she said. ‘Might come in handy.’

  The passageway was narrow, the footing treacherous, but the sudden flare of candlelight ahead helped them reach the others. There was a ledge and then a drop of perhaps half a man’s height, and sitting on the floor of the tunnel below were Symon, Le Groutt and Lurma.

  Plaintly clambered over the ledge and dropped down, Mortari and Barunko following.

  The tunnel was wide, low-ceilinged, the ceiling being the narrow top of converging planes of set stone blocks. Brightly painted friezes covered the walls to either side, and the floor was made of shiny marble tiles. Plaintly took the candle from Symon and brought the light close to one of the paintings. ‘I don’t recognize any of this – must be thousands of years old – no, wait, is that the new king?’ She brushed a finger against the frieze. ‘Paint’s still wet!’

  Barunko sniffed. ‘I smell shit.’

  Lurma rolled one of her eyes. ‘The word is “shitty”, Barunko.’

  ‘No,’ said Symon The Knife, ‘he’s right! It’s coming from down this way.’ And he set off down the tunnel.

  ‘We’re tracking shit smells now?’ Lurma asked.

  Symon had disappeared behind a bend and now they heard his low cry. Plaintly in the lead, they hurried over.

  Two bodies were lying on the floor at Symon’s feet.

  ‘Fast work, Symon!’ said Lurma around her wad of Prazzn. ‘Those painters couldn’t paint worth crap!’

  The Knife spun round. ‘Wasn’t me! Look at them! They’ve been torn apart!’

  ‘Besides,’ said Plaintly, ‘if you’d bothered looking as carefully as I did, you’d have seen that the painters were just painting over some ancient king, replacing it with the Usurper’s face. Desecrating historical artefacts! Skewing the timeline for generations of historians to come! I told you he was evil!’

  ‘Skewing the what?’ Symon asked as he drew his knife. ‘Listen! Some wild beast is prowling these tunnels. Look at that smear of shit there – it’s still fresh! We’re not alone, is what I’m saying.’

  ‘Symon’s right,’ said Le Groutt. ‘There’s me and Mortari and Plaintly and Lurma and—’

  Lurma took a swing at Le Groutt’s head and missed. ‘He means there’s a fucking demon down here is what he means, Le Groutt!’

  ‘A demon! Where?’

  ‘Close,’ hissed Symon, tossing his knife from one hand to the next. A moment later it clattered to the floor.

  Everyone tensed but thankfully, the skidding knife missed the smear of shit.

  Sighing, Plaintly said, ‘Pick that up, Symon, you might need it. I want you on point—’

  ‘Me? Why not Barunko?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Barunko, ‘why not Barunko, and where is he, anyway?’

  ‘He’s right here,’ said Plaintly. ‘You’re Barunko, Barunko.’

  ‘That’s right! I’ll take point! Where’s point?’

  Plaintly pushed him forward. ‘We go this way,’ she said.

  ‘Why that way?’ Symon demanded.

  Plaintly grasped Barunko and spun him round. ‘All right, we go that way!’

  ‘That’s better,’ grunted Symon. ‘Unless the other way’s better.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ snapped Plaintly. ‘We’re looking for the crypts.’

  ‘So how do you know the crypts are that way?’ demanded Symon, wiping blood from his hands.

  ‘I don’t.’

  They set out, Barunko in the lead, his hands held out to make sure he didn’t walk into a wall. Behind him, Lurma carried the candle and weaved from one side of the tunnel to the other and then back again, as was her wont. Behind her, Mortari walked with his swollen head tilted to one side, the strange bulges resting on his left shoulder. On his heels was Le Groutt, rope coiled in one hand. Then came Plaintly with Symon The Knife right behind her.

  ‘Keep an eye out behind us,’ Plaintly whispered to Symon.

  ‘I’m trying,’ he replied, ‘only, it’s dark back there, and I swear, that darkness is following us! Like some creeping tide of doom!’

  ‘Just be ready in case something jumps us. Where’s your other knife, anyway? I haven’t seen it.’

  ‘I lost it. Last week.’

  ‘Oh, too bad. How’d you lose it?’

  ‘It got stuck through the ear of a mule and the mule ran off.’

  ‘You tried to assassinate a mule?’

  ‘It seemed an easy twenty Broaches. That was one stubborn mule and the farmer was fed up having to carry all the bundles to market every day.’

  ‘The bundles weren’t on the mule’s back?’

  ‘Like I said, it was stubborn, and cranky.’

  ‘So why did the farmer keep dragging the mule back and forth to market if it wasn’t carrying anything?’

  Symon snorted. ‘I didn’t say he was a smart farmer, did I? Twenty Broaches!’

  ‘But you failed.’

  ‘He paid me anyway, for the lost knife.’

  Plaintly smiled and nodded. ‘Clever, Symon. Seems you’ve learned from me after all and it only took how many years?’

  ‘Not really. That knife was worth fifty.’

  ‘Better twenty Broaches back than a kick in the head, though.’

  ‘Well, it was the kick that messed up my aim.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Le Groutt twisted round to glare at them. ‘Are you two done?’

  ‘We’re just passing the time,’ hissed Symon The Knife. ‘What’s your problem, Le Groutt?’

  ‘You getting ten per cent of my take! That’s my problem!’

  Up ahead there was a loud thump. Barunko had run into a door. Everyone clumped up behind him while he searched for the latch. After a few moments of this, Lurma snarled and pushed past the Muscle. ‘Here, let me.’ After a few tries, she clasped hold of the latch, turned it, opened the door, and glanced back triumphantly at Plaintly.

  But no-one was really paying her any attention, for on the other side of the doorway crouched an ape-like demon with both hands savagely working its engorged penis. Glancing up, it blinked and then smiled, revealing a row of sharp fangs.

  Symon’s knife hissed through the air, but from long experience everyone had already ducked, even Barunko. The weapon flew past the demon to land far down the corridor.

  Ignoring the demon, whose rocking had not abated, Mortari bolted after it.

  ‘Attack, Barunko!’ cried Plaintly. ‘Straight ahead! Attack!’

  As Barunko surged forward, the demon shuddered and then spurted all over the huge man. Who reeled back. ‘Aagh! My eyes!’

  Squealing, the demon rushed off down the c
orridor, barrelling over Mortari who had retrieved the knife with a wild, excited grin. He leapt back to his feet and scurried towards Symon. ‘I got it!’ he cried. ‘Throw it again!’

  Plaintly snapped, ‘Forget all that! Lurma, help get Barunko cleaned up, will you?’

  ‘What? Have you lost your mind?’

  ‘Just use that flask of water and at least rinse out his eyes.’

  ‘What if I get pregnant?’

  ‘That would only happen,’ Plaintly explained, ‘if you wiped down his face with your crotch.’

  ‘Crotch!’ said Barunko, groping wildly. ‘Face! Hurry!’

  Scowling, Lurma drew out the flask. ‘This was my special water,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’ Plaintly asked. ‘What’s special about it?’

  ‘It’s the flask I drink from,’ Lurma replied. ‘Now I’m wasting it, on Barunko’s face. I hope everyone’s paying attention, because I’ll be wanting compensation for everything I’m using up here.’

  ‘I hope you get pregnant,’ said Le Groutt.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’d look pretty with that special glow.’

  ‘Fuck off, Le Groutt.’

  ‘Hey! I was complimenting you! Hood’s breath, you’re a sour one, aren’t you? That’s what happens when you ain’t got that glow.’

  Plaintly said, ‘Just hurry up, will you? We’ve got to keep moving. It’s not like we’ve got all night, is it?’

  Symon frowned at her. ‘Yes it is,’ he said. ‘We’ve got all night. What are you going on about, Plaintly?’

  ‘Oh, just hurry,’ she said, rubbing wearily at her face.

  ‘You have a very wet crotch,’ Barunko observed after Lurma sprayed his eyes with the flask. ‘Are you peeing? You should have told me. I would’ve opened my mouth.’

  In his years in the diplomatic service of Nightmaria, such as it was, Ophal D’Neeth Flatroq had become a man with far too much time on his hands, leading him to a more or less ongoing contemplation on the nature of political power in the modern age. He was not yet prepared to set forth anything like a theorem, since he remained in the stage of assembling a lengthy list of observations, characteristics and other such details as required prior to formulating any particular set of rules and such.