‘And if Humbrall Taur had not drowned—’
‘Even Taur was barely holding the clans together. I cannot even say for certain that his drowning was an accident – I was not witness to it. In any case, we Gilk saw nothing evil in Onos Toolan, only in what was likely to be done to him. Among the Barghast, Firehair, a leader is not simply ousted, cast adrift. He is killed. And so too his family – his entire bloodline is slaughtered. We Gilk would not be party to that.’
‘And did you warn Onos Toolan before you left?’
‘No, for it is possible that he would have sought our support in the power struggle to come. And, had he asked, well, how could I have looked him in the eye and refused? It’s my thought now that he would not have asked. But even then, it’s likely I would have offered nonetheless.’
She was frowning at him thoughtfully. ‘You chose the coward’s path.’
‘Perhaps you see it that way. Perhaps many did, and still do. But what I did, I did to save my people. And this only Onos Toolan understood – for he did not pursue me, even when he had his chance.’
‘And now, perhaps alone among all the White Face Barghast, you have found that final war to fight, in the name of your bog gods.’
He sighed. ‘And nightly I pray that when the battle begins, Onos Toolan will be there. To lead the Barghast.’
‘But it is not to be, Spax.’
‘I know, Highness. I know. And the Gilk shall stand alone, the last clan, the last of the White Faces.’
‘Will you call upon your gods, Spax, upon the charge?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Then, what shall you do? To inspire your warriors?’
He shrugged loose the tension in his shoulders, felt weariness draining in behind it. ‘I believe, Highness, I shall shame them.’
As Faint swung herself astride the gaunt horse, she glanced back to see the ghost of Sweetest Sufferance standing at the edge of the camp. A shiver whispered through her, and she looked across to Precious Thimble. ‘Tell me you don’t see her.’
‘I don’t see her, Faint. Let’s go, else we lose them in the dark.’
They set off at a canter. Overhead, heavy clouds obscured the Jade Strangers, enough to mute the green glow that had haunted every night for what seemed to be months, if not years. ‘Typical, isn’t it? The one night we could do with that ghoulish light.’
‘Are they rain clouds? That’s what I want to know. Are they, Faint?’
‘What am I, a weather scrier? I don’t know. But I don’t smell rain. I smell … dust.’
‘Thanks,’ snapped Precious Thimble.
Faint could just make out the two riders ahead. Brys and Aranict. A K’ell Hunter had arrived with dusk, delivering a message scratched on a wax tablet, and now they were riding to the Che’Malle encampment. Aranict’s invitation had come as a surprise, but Faint was eager to see these huge lizard warriors who’d be fighting at their side. Fighting – well, not us shareholders – we’re just along for the ride, yee hah. But a good look at the Letherii allies just might put me at ease. At least there’s one army that isn’t starving and half dying of thirst. Or so I’ve heard.
But for all their complaining, and Hood knows there’s been plenty of it, seems no one can get too heated up about it. Not with that Malazan army trying to cross a real desert. No matter how bad we’ve got it …
‘I still hate horses,’ Precious Thimble said beside her.
‘You’ve got to roll with the animal under you, girl. Just think about making love.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Faint looked across at her. ‘Gods below, don’t tell me you’re a damned virgin.’
‘Then I won’t – and no more talking about that. They’re letting us catch up to them.’
Ahead, Brys and Aranict had slowed their horses to a fast trot. ‘The mounts are winded, Precious. We’re all in bad shape.’
Before long, they drew up alongside the prince and the Atri-Ceda. ‘Where’s this army, then?’ Faint demanded. ‘I thought they were camped close.’
‘They are, Faint,’ Aranict replied. ‘They simply have no need of cookfires, or lanterns.’
And now Faint made out a darker stain covering the low hills before them, and the dull gleam here and there of iron, or maybe reptilian eyes. Another shiver rippled through her. ‘How confident are you in these allies?’ She could see massive, elongated heads lifting now, eyes fixing upon them. She could see serrated rows of fangs.
‘They are commanded by three humans, Faint, and two of them were once soldiers in the Bonehunters.’
Precious Thimble muttered something under her breath, probably a curse.
Aranict glanced at the young sorceress, and then over at Faint. ‘Do you share your colleague’s mistrust of Malazans, Faint?’
‘Well, they tried conquering Darujhistan once. But then they turned round and crushed the Pannion Domin – and the Pannions were headed towards Darujhistan, with bad intentions.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t see them as any better or worse than anyone else.’ Turning to Precious, she said, ‘Besides, I visited One-Eye Cat before it got conquered, and that place was a hole.’
‘But at least it was my hole!’ Precious snapped.
‘Did you just say—’
‘Oh, be quiet, will you? You know what I meant!’
The prince and the Atri-Ceda said nothing and managed to hold their expressions – at least as far as Faint could discern in the heavy gloom. Darkness our saviour!
Thirty paces ahead, at the mouth of an avenue between ranks of silent, motionless K’Chain Che’Malle stood two men and a woman. The woman knelt and lifted the shutters on an oversized lantern, bathing the area in light.
As the riders drew closer, Faint studied these … commanders. The men were the soldiers, clad in the uniforms of Malazan marines, and though at first Faint took them to be Falari – with that red and yellow hair – there seemed to be a strange hue to their skin, somewhere between bronze and gold, almost lit from within. The woman was a tribal of some sort. Like the Rhivi, only bigger-boned, her face broad, slightly flat, her eyes dark and glittering like obsidian.
Prince Brys dismounted, followed by Aranict and then Faint. Precious remained seated on her horse, glowering at the Malazans.
‘Sergeant Gesler,’ Brys began, and then stopped. ‘Are you certain you prefer that modest rank? As Mortal Sword to the—’
‘Forgive me for interrupting, Commander,’ Gesler said, ‘but Stormy insists. He won’t even talk to me otherwise. Leave all the fancy titles to other people—’
‘He got busted down for good reasons,’ Stormy cut in. ‘And he ain’t fixed none of those that I can see. In fact, he’s gotten worse. If he showed up in a recruiting line right now I’d send him to the cook staff, and if they was feeling generous they might let him scrub a few pots. As it is, though, he’s a sergeant, and I’m a corporal.’
‘Commanding seven thousand K’Chain Che’Malle,’ Aranict observed, lighting a stick of rustleaf from a small ember-box.
Stormy shrugged.
Sighing, Brys resumed, ‘Sergeant Gesler. Your message – I take it she is awake.’
‘Aye, and she’s not particularly happy. Commander, she’s got something to say, something she needs to tell you.’
‘I see. Well then, lead on, Sergeant.’
As they made their way through the camp, with Gesler out front and Stormy carrying the lantern a few paces behind, Faint found herself walking alongside the tribal woman.
‘You are the Destriant.’
‘Kalyth, once of the Elan. And you are one of the strangers who found the Letherii army.’
‘Faint, of the Trygalle Trade Guild. That miserable girl riding behind us is Precious Thimble. She doesn’t like Malazans.’
‘From her,’ Kalyth said, ‘the flavour is one of fear.’
‘With good reason,’ Precious retorted.