‘Sir, the highborn officers will not like-’
‘I understand the Malazan Empress conducted a campaign that scoured her armies of those ranks bought by privilege and station. Do you know how she went about it, corporal? She arrested the officers and either executed them or sent them to work in mines for the rest of their lives. A most charming solution, I think, and should the nobleborn in my forces prove at all troublesome, I might well advise my brother to adopt something similar. Now, you are dismissed.’
The aide saluted and then fled.
Brys glanced over to see shock on Aranict’s face. ‘Oh come now, Atri-Ceda, you don’t really think I’d suggest such a thing, do you?’
‘Sir? No, of course not. I mean, it wasn’t that. Well, sorry, sir. Sorry.’
Brys cocked his head and regarded her for a moment. ‘What then? Ah, you are perhaps surprised that I’d indulge in a little matchmaking, Atri-Ceda?’
‘Yes, sir. A little.’
‘That was the first hint of life I’ve seen in Captain Yil’s face since I first met her. As for Henar, why, he seems man enough for her, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yes, sir! I mean-’
‘He clearly has a taste for the exotic. Do you think he stands a chance?’
‘Sir, I wouldn’t know.’
‘As a woman, rather, what think you?’
Her eyes were darting, her colour high. ‘She saw him admiring her legs, sir.’
‘And made no move to cover up.’
‘I’d noticed that, sir.’
‘Me too.’
There was silence then in the chamber, as Brys studied Aranict while she in turn endeavoured to look everywhere but at her commander.
‘For the Errant’s sake, Atri-Ceda, make use of the rest of that chair, will you? Sit back.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Throatslitter’s high-pitched laugh cut across from behind the captain’s tent. Again. Wincing, Cuttle leaned over and dragged close his studded hauberk. No point in crawling into the thing until they were finally ready to march. But it was getting patchy, needing some grease. ‘Where’s the rend pail?’
‘Here,’ said Tarr, collecting the small bucket and passing it over. ‘Don’t take too much, we’re getting low and now that Pores is in charge of the quartermaster’s-’
‘The bastard ain’t in charge of nothing,’ Cuttle snapped. ‘He’s just set himself up as a middleman, and we all choke our way through him to get anything. Quartermaster’s happy since so few requests ever reach ’im, and between the two of ’em they’re hoarding and worse. Someone should tell Sort, so she can tell Kindly, so he can-’
‘Kindly’s got nothing to do with Pores any more, Cuttle.’
‘So who does?’
‘Nobody, s’far as I can tell.’
Smiles and Koryk trudged back into the camp-which wasn’t much of a camp any more, just a smouldering hearth and a ring of kit packs and gear. ‘First bell after noon,’ said Smiles, ‘and no sooner.’
‘Any other word on Ges and Stormy?’ Cuttle asked her.
‘Fid can say what he wants,’ said Koryk, ‘and same for the others. They probably bolted.’
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ retorted Cuttle. ‘Veterans don’t walk. That’s what makes them veterans.’
‘Until they decide they’ve had enough.’
‘Go ask Bottle,’ said Tarr, his face darkening as he glared at Koryk, ‘and he’ll tell you the same. They got snatched.’
‘Fine, they got snatched. Point is, they’re gone. Probably dead by now. Who’s next?’
‘With luck,’ said Smiles, slumping down to lean against her pack, ‘you, Koryk.’ She looked over to Tarr. ‘His brain is burnt out-Koryk ain’t the Koryk I once knew, and I bet you’re all thinking the same.’ She was on her feet again. ‘Piss on this, I’m going for a walk.’
‘Take your time,’ said Koryk.
Another piping laugh from Throatslitter. Cuttle scowled. ‘What’s so fucking funny?’
Corabb had been sleeping, or pretending to sleep, and now he sat up. ‘I’ll go find out, Cuttle. It’s getting on my nerves too.’
‘If he’s being a bastard, Corabb, punch his face in.’
‘Aye, Cuttle, count on it.’
Cuttle paused to watch him tramp off. He grinned over at Tarr. ‘Catch all that?’
‘I’m sitting right here.’
‘He ain’t on the outside of us no more, is he. He’s our heavy. That’s good.’
‘So he is and so it is,’ said Tarr.
‘I’m this squad’s heavy,’ said Koryk.
Tarr resumed lacing his boots. Cuttle looked away and ran a hand through what was left of his hair, and then realized that the hand was thick with grease. ‘Hood’s breath!’
Tarr looked over and snorted. ‘Won’t keep it from cracking,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Your skull.’
‘Funny.’
Koryk stood as if he didn’t know where to go, as if he no longer belonged anywhere. After a moment he walked off, in a direction opposite to the one Smiles had taken.
Cuttle resumed rubbing down his hauberk. When he needed more grease he collected it from the top of his head. ‘He might, you know.’
‘He won’t,’ Tarr replied.
‘Gesler and Stormy, they’re his excuse. That and Kisswhere.’
‘Kisswhere didn’t care about anybody but Kisswhere.’
‘And Koryk does? Used to, maybe, but now he’s all inside his own head, and in there it’s as Smiles says, burnt up, nothing but cinders.’
‘He won’t run.’
‘Why are you so sure, Tarr?’
‘Because, somewhere inside, in all those ashes, something remains. He still has something to prove. Not to himself-he can convince himself of anything-but to all of us. Like it or not, admit it or not, he’s stuck.’
‘We’ll see, I guess.’
Tarr reached over and collected some grease from Cuttle’s temple. He started rubbing down his boots.
‘Funny,’ said Cuttle.
Corabb walked round the command tent to find Throatslitter, Widdershins and Deadsmell crouched in a huddle just beyond the latrine trench. He made his way over. ‘Stop that laughing, Throatslitter, or I’ll have to bash your face in.’
The three men looked over guiltily. Scowling, Throatslitter said, ‘Like to see you try, soldier.’
‘No you wouldn’t. What are you doing?’
‘Playing with scaled rats, what’s it to you?’
Corabb edged closer and peered down. Three of the scrawny things were struggling in the grass, their tails tied together. ‘That’s not a nice thing to do.’
‘Idiot,’ said Widdershins, ‘we’re going to eat them for lunch. We’re just making sure they don’t go nowhere.’
‘You’re torturing them.’
‘Go away, Corabb,’ said Throatslitter.
‘Not until you either untie their tails or snap their necks.’
Throatslitter sighed. ‘Explain it to him, Deadsmell.’
‘They ain’t got brains, Corabb. Just ooze, like pus, in those tiny skulls. They’re like termites, or ants. They can only do any thinking if there’s lots of them. Looks like three ain’t enough. Besides, they stink of something. Like magic, only oilier. Me and Wid, we’re trying to figure it out, so leave us alone, will you?’
‘We’re eating greasy magic?’ Corabb asked. ‘That sounds bad. I’m not eating those things any more.’
‘Then pretty soon you’re gonna go hungry,’ Widdershins said, reaching down to flip one of the scaled rats on to its back. The other two attempted to drag it away, but chose opposite directions. ‘There’s millions of these things out here, Hood knows what they live on. We saw a swarm of ’em this morning, like a glittering river. Killed about fifty before the rest took off.’ The flipped-over rat managed to right itself and once more the three were all pulling in different directions. ‘More and more of them, every day. Like maybe they’re following us.’
The notion chilled Corabb, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though the rats could do anything. They didn’t even seem to be going for their food supplies. ‘I heard they got a nasty bite.’
‘If you let ’em, aye,’ said Deadsmell.