A man in an apron approached and Cartheron ordered ale all round. The man held out a hand and Cartheron set a coin in his palm: a Malazan gold crown. Jute saw it and sent a bloody glare to the old captain. He raised a hand, murmured, ‘Just getting some attention.’
A moment later the crowd parted for a woman — a very large woman. Her face was garishly painted and her very ample bosom was spilling out of a barely laced top. She planted both meaty hands on the table before Cartheron and leaned forward, purring, ‘What can Anna do for you, sailor?’
The old captain twisted his bearded lips into something resembling a smile. He pulled a leather pouch from under his shirt and felt about within it then drew out two fingers pinched together and held them out. Anna pursed her fat painted lips in a silent ohhhhh and raised a hand.
Cartheron dropped something into her palm. It was tiny, frosted, and faceted.
Jute leaned forward to study it: a raw diamond. Or a wondrous fake.
Anna snapped her hand closed. She leaned even further forward. ‘Anything catch your fancy, sailor?’
He offered her a wink. ‘Like to have a private party, Anna. If I may. Invitation only.’
‘Certainly.’ She gave a husky laugh and wiggled. Though, to Jute, it was more like a wobble. ‘I love private parties.’ She straightened, opened her arms. ‘The place is yours.’
‘Clear the house,’ Cartheron said.
Men and women all about jumped to their feet. They took others by their shirts and necks, marched them to the sides of the tent, and threw them out into the mud. Anna watched with growing horror. One thick hand gathered together her shirt while the other went to her neck.
‘Lower the sides,’ Cartheron ordered.
The hanging leather strips were pulled and the sailcloth sides of the tent fell. In the muted light of the front flap, open still, Anna turned on Cartheron. ‘Those were paying customers!’
‘I’ve paid for the premises,’ he growled. ‘I suggest you take the night off.’
The big woman peered about at the gathered men and women, rough-looking ex-soldiers all, and a growing unease replaced her outrage. Her chin wobbled as she slowly nodded her head. ‘Lentz! Kora!’ she called, ‘Take the night off! These gentlemen have private business to attend to. Business,’ she added, ‘that we know nothing about.’
Cartheron glanced to the front and the woman took the hint; she marched stiffly out. His men now held the doorway. Some patrons they turned away, others they allowed in. Lamps of cheap fat were lit. Cartheron scanned the gathered crowd while nodding to himself.
‘How many men does this Lying Gell have?’
‘’Bout three hundred,’ someone supplied.
‘Quality?’
‘Thugs, strongarms, bandits. Nothin’ more.’
Jute was listening to all this and nodding his head and now he exclaimed, ‘I see it now! You’re taking over!’
Cartheron eyed him frostily. ‘No, I’m not doin’ that. This place is an indefensible swamp.’ He peered round once more. ‘There was supposed to be a regular town up here.’
‘There was,’ someone said. ‘All these waves of invaders ran ’em off. Took some fighting, I tell you.’
‘Where’d they go?’
‘Mantle.’
‘That’s some kinda fortress, right? What’s the situation there?’
‘Some Lether captain and a few other principals have the place surrounded. But they don’t know siegework worth crap.’
‘Does this keep, or whatever it is, have a harbour?’
‘Yeah. That’s blockaded right now.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Cartheron muttered.
‘You’re going to take the fortress?’ Jute asked.
The old captain ignored him. ‘Okay,’ he barked. ‘Here’s the drill. I want a head-count. I want you lot to shake out into squads. Then I want sergeants and up to come present themselves. Is that clear? Okay, let’s go. Don’t have all night.’
It seemed to Jute that everyone started talking at once. Cartheron turned to him. ‘I’m gonna send you off with an escort back to the ships. Have them ready to cast off at a moment’s notice, right?’
Jute waved to indicate everything around him. ‘What’s going on? What is all this? You’ve just collected your own army.’
Cartheron pulled a hand through his patchy salt and pepper beard, sighed. ‘Sorry, captain. Haven’t been entirely honest with you. I was on my way here when I was contacted by … by some old acquaintances. I was asked … well, a proposition was made that I help out up here.’
‘So you’re working for the Empire.’
The old man scowled, offended. ‘Done with that. Free agent now. Just contracted to lend aid to certain parties. That’s all.’ He raised his attention to the crowd surrounding them. ‘I want one squad to shadow my friend here down to the docks and help guard his ship. Are we good with that?’
A woman raised her hand. ‘We’ll take it.’
‘Okay.’ He motioned Jute to the front. ‘See you later. Be ready to cast off fast.’
Jute reluctantly pushed himself away from the table. ‘But what are you up to here? What are you going to do?’
Cartheron waved him on. ‘Don’t you worry ’bout that. Go on with you.’
The woman accompanied him through the maze of tents. Torches burned at various main intersections of footpaths. Gangs hung about seemingly ready to waylay anyone who appeared relatively defenceless. Passing one such group, the woman pulled her muddy cloak away from her side to reveal her longsword and the men stepped back from blocking their way. Jute also noticed members of the ‘squad’ down side alleys, shadowing their progress.
He studied the woman: stocky fighter’s build, a pretty face, after a fashion. Thick dark brown hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. Fair-skinned. Armoured in a battered hauberk of banded iron over leathers. ‘You’re of north Genabackis.’
‘Yeah.’
‘You are a Malazan veteran?’
‘Yeah. Cashiered.’
‘You know Cartheron?’
The woman snorted. ‘Abyss, no. How old do you think I am?’
‘I’m sorry. I just thought … since you showed up …’
She shrugged. ‘Coupla lads from my old command swung by, said he was looking to hire.’
‘So you know of him …’
The woman snorted again. ‘Abyss, yes. Who doesn’t?’
‘Then you came here on your own?’
‘Yeah. Overland from the west.’ She shook her head. ‘Only a handful of us made it. And for what? There’s no gold left. Only people rakin’ it in are those selling booze or shovels. Or stealing it from those that got it. Ended up trapped here. Can’t afford to stay. Can’t afford a ticket out.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She shrugged again. ‘How it goes. Had a family farm outside Mott. Sold it to raise the money for this trip. All gone now. Fortunes of life. Gotta take risks to achieve anything.’ She eyed him up and down. ‘Same as you, hey? You just arrived with a ship, hey?’
‘Yes. A full cargo to sell.’
‘Whatcha bring? Timber? Anvils? Chandeliers? Ice for drinks?’
‘Oh no, nothing fancy like that. Just basic staples. Barrels of flour, molasses, rice, salted pork, jugs of spirits.’
The woman looked him up and down again. ‘God-damn,’ she breathed, in something like awe.
Jute and the woman — a retired officer? — made it down to the dock without incident. Perhaps it was the eight or so burly ex-soldiers surrounding them. In any case, they followed him up on to the Dawn and he checked in with Ieleen. He found her where she always was: sitting at the stern next to the tiller. ‘Back, love,’ he announced.
‘And who’s the woman?’ she asked.
Jute blinked. ‘Ah … she works for Cartheron. Here to help guard the ship. How did you know?’
‘I can smell her. She’s pretty?’
‘Ah … well, I suppose so. Yes.’
‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
‘Ah … of course.’ He waved the woman to the stern. ‘Ah, this is Ieleen, my wife and ship’s pilot. And this is … ah …’
The woman bowed. ‘Lieutenant Jalaz. Giana Jalaz, of Mott. At your service, ma’am. Here to help out defending the ship.’