‘All open ground,’ Nait said, thinking aloud. He stroked a thumb across his lips. ‘Lousy for us.’
‘At least they got no cavalry to speak of,’ said May.
‘Who does? Horses are as rare as gold these days.’
‘So won't be much manoeuvring, then, maybe.’
‘No. Toe-to-toe. It'll be ugly. Nothin's gonna be held back today. Say — remember that siege equipment in the train? Take a few of the lads and get a hold of one of those stone arbalests. Biggest you can find. Break it down if you have to. I want to be able to reach anywhere on that field.’
May's thin lips crept upwards at the images that came to mind. She tilted her head in agreement. ‘Aye, Sarge.’
Silk had settled Storo in a better-class inn. That dawn Hurl paced the hall outside the door. She was leaving, nominally commanding a Hengan detachment of volunteers to join the Empress's forces to the east. It seemed probable to her that she'd never return so now was her only chance to say goodbye. Still, she could not bring herself to enter. It had been days and all this time she hadn't yet come to see the man. Now maybe it was just too late…
‘C'mon in, Hurl,’ he called through the door. She froze, cursed the noisy floorboards. She opened the door. He lay on the bed. An open window let in the early morning light and air. She stood in the entrance. He waved her in. ‘C'mon, I don't smell so bad now.’
She didn't want to and didn't mean to but she flushed, embarrassed. She came and sat at the end of his bed. The man's face was torn, a great ragged zig-zag that had taken an eye, cheek and edge of his mouth — he now spoke with a slur. That side's arm was gone as well, amputated. An abdominal wound was covered by the sheets. ‘I hear you're headin’ out. Wish you wouldn't. The Seti will probably attack — it's their last chance.’
‘Rell's staying, and Silk and Liss. And the city's full behind us now. You have full cohorts and Captain Gurjan. More than enough men and women for the walls.’
‘Still don't like it.’
‘I'll be fine. Got a good sergeant in Banath.’
‘You won't be safe. You're safe here in the city. And you're takin’ those three. I don't trust them.’
‘Can't say I like them myself but they fought for the city and Silk agrees Laseen's short on mages — these three could make a real difference.’
He took a laboured breath — was this tiring him? He was weaker than she thought. ‘Still don't trust ‘em. Why go? Why're they all so eager to go?’
‘I don't know. But they are. So we're going. Now take care — heal up.’ She stood.
He struggled to straighten himself higher. She came and gently eased him back. ‘What… V
‘Come back. Y'hear? Come back. I don't want… this fight to take you.’
‘All right. I'll keep my head down. Now, we'll see you later.’
His hand on the sheet rose to her, opened, fell away. ‘Yeah. Be careful out there. Real careful.’
‘I will.’ She backed away, closed the door. Pressing her back to it, she considered the very real possibility that they were both of them damned cowards.
Outside, her escort of twenty waited; she was, after all, second in command of the city. They rode to the Gate of the Dawn where six hundred cavalry were assembling in a double column. The call had gone out some time ago and, with Rell's very vocal support, six hundred viable mounts had been selected from the city's remaining horses. Many were on their last legs, hardly better than swaybacked nags. But they would do for a day's ride on a good road. At the gate, a sliver of dawn's light still slanting through, Hurl pulled up short. There waited the three brothers, but also Rell and Liss, both mounted. Near them stood Silk, his arms crossed over his still unmended tattered shirt, and Sunny, his glower even more sour than usual.
‘What's this?’ Hurl asked of Rell.
‘We're coming,’ said Liss.
‘I asked them not to,’ Silk cut in.
‘You shouldn't. The city-’
‘He won't come here this night,’ Rell said from behind his visor, his voice still harsh and distorted from his scarring. ‘We know where he's going to be.’
Hurl nodded. True, from all she'd heard there was no way the monster could resist all the blood about to be spilled. Obviously Rell and Liss wanted to be there when he came. So be it. At this point, with so few, she wouldn't turn anyone away. She raised her shoulders to Silk who hugged himself tighter, frowning his helpless disapproval.
Sunny came to her side. ‘I ought to be the one goin‘,’ he growled.
One of us has to stay and I seem to be the field commander.’
‘You weren't such a week ago.’
‘No, but somehow suddenly I am. Keep any eye on the north wall.’
His sneer told her not to tell him his job. She signed to Sergeant Banath who raised himself in his stirrups, waving. The banner-men dipped their colours forward and the column slowly made its way out of the east-facing Gate of the Dawn. Hurl raised a hand in farewell. The mage bowed, arms tight about himself, a strained smile of encouragement at his lips. Sunny raised a fist.
Lieutenant-commander Ullen's brigades had already marched, but he rode with his aides to the battlefield where a detail was piling corpses for burning. The bonfire nearest the compound contained wounded who had succumbed since the engagement. And among these was the body of Commander Choss, once High Fist under Laseen.
Ullen reined in, crossed his mail-backed hands before him on the pommel of his saddle. Such a damned waste. So much knowledge, cunning and experience gone now just when it was needed so vitally. The Empire was marching to face its oldest — possibly its most dangerous — foe and it had lost one of its most gifted commanders of men in what now seemed to him useless internal squabbling. Nothing like an external foe to put things into perspective, hey, Choss? He'd probably appreciate the irony.
An aide's mount nickered in what Ullen hoped was inadvertent impatience. To these youths just beginning their officer training this man was nothing more than a name, a last remnant of legendary times as distant to them as the T'lan Imass. What did they know of campaigns more than twenty years old — before some were even born? But Ullen had been there. He'd been younger than they on his first posting, just a messenger attached to Choss's staff during the final conquests.
To one side two soldiers stood up from where they'd been sitting in the grass and pulled on their helmets. Come to offer their own respects no doubt — old-looking veterans — men whose memories go back even further with Choss, perhaps back to the earliest campaigns. The urge to speak with them washed over Ullen, to share memories of the man they'd come to see off, but they didn't seemed eager for company and so he had to respect that. Still, watching them go, there was something familiar about seeing the two of them together. Perhaps they'd crossed paths more than once over the years.
One of his staff cleared his throat and Ullen tightened his lips, exhaling. The smoke from all the burning was thick and he had to fight his own urge to cough. Goodbye, old friend and mentor. You deserved better. But then, so may we all. He clicked his tongue to urge his mount onward and pulled the reins aside.
They rode alongside the main line of march south, passing first the laden wagons of the train and the camp-followers on foot, a ragged mob of the combined Talian and Malazan noncombatants. Wives with children in tow waved, as did girlfriends and prostitutes, even husbands of some female officers who held down a trade, smithing or leatherworking, or cooking. Then came the rear guard and the Empress's personal train surrounded by its own guard of Malazan heavies and troops of noble cavalry. Securely ensconced within rolled the Imperial carriage, pulled by a team of eight oxen. Idly, Ullen wondered whether Laseen was even in the damned thing and whether it was all just for show. What little he knew of her made him suspect such to be the case. After this they came to the columns of the reserve elements; here was to be Ullen's assignment, coordinating with High Fist Anand. But he was curious to see the grounds ahead and so continued on. Crossing the east-west trader road they next came upon elements of the main body, spreading out, forming up. Ahead, the ground sloped gently downward. Here awaited the Guard, straddling the south pilgrim road. Beyond, the slope continued on to meet the cliffs of the Idryn River valley.