‘Let’s just pound right through ’em, High Fist. I figure just under five thousand—’
Fist Rythe Bude choked, coughed and then said, ‘Five thousand? Entrenched? Gods, this will be a bloodbath!’
Noto Boil cleared his throat. ‘High Fist, a modest suggestion.’
‘Go on.’
‘You’re Master of the Deck of Dragons, sir. Talk to the Wolves of Winter.’
Paran lifted a brow. ‘Talk to them? Tell you what – the next pit full of wolves you get thrown into, try a little negotiating, Noto.’
‘Noto Boil.’
‘You could swap bones.’ This from Gumble, where he was lying sprawled atop a flat rock. ‘Sniff their butts – they like that, I’m told. Lie on your back, maybe.’
‘Somebody find us a big snake,’ Mathok growled, glaring at the toad.
Gumble sighed loudly, his bloated body deflating to half its normal size. ‘I sense my comments are not viewed as constructive, leading me to conclude that I am in the company of fools. What’s new about that, I wonder?’
Paran withdrew his helm and wiped grimy sweat from his forehead. ‘So we do this the hard way. No, Fist Bude, not straight-into-the-teeth kind of hard way. Signal the corps – we’re marching straight through the night. I want us formed up opposite the enemy come the dawn.’
‘Sounds like straight into the teeth, sir.’
‘And that’s what it will look like, too. There might end up being some fighting, but with luck, not much.’
‘And how’s that going to work out, sir?’
‘I intend to make them surrender, Fist. Gumble, get your fat lump off that rock and find your erstwhile artist and tell him it’s time. He’ll know what that means.’
‘He’s hardly mine, High Fist, and as for erstwhile—’
‘Go, before Mathok decides to skewer you with that lance.’
‘To raucous cheers from friend and foe alike,’ Noto Boil muttered, the fish spine working up and down with every word.
‘Look at him go,’ Rythe Bude commented. ‘Didn’t know he could scramble that fast.’
Paran walked back to his horse, took the reins from one of the foundling children now accompanying the army. Swinging into the saddle, he looked down at the dirty-faced boy. ‘Still want your reward?’
A swift nod.
Paran reached down, lifted the boy up behind him. ‘Hold tight, we’re going to canter. Maybe even gallop. You ready for this?’
Another nod, but the thin arms closing about Paran were tight.
‘Let’s go see this pass, then.’ Kicking his horse forward, Paran glanced across at Mathok as the Warleader pulled up alongside him. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ the warrior growled.
‘That’s hardly a happy expression you’re wearing.’
‘You got a sharp eye there, High Fist.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘There’s only a problem, sir, if you pull this off.’
‘Are you always this hungry for a fight, Mathok?’
‘Sharp eye, dumb mouth.’
Paran grinned. ‘Can’t have everything, you know.’
‘So I’m learning, High Fist.’
‘Would’ve made us a decent captain,’ Kalam observed, as he walked with Quick Ben. They were watching Paran, flanked by a mob of Seven Cities horse-raiders, ride off towards the foot of the raw, worn range of mountains ahead. The assassin drew his cloak tighter over his broad shoulders. ‘Too bad he came to us too late.’
‘Did he?’ the wizard wondered. ‘If he’d arrived before Pale, he would’ve been down in the tunnels when they collapsed.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Why are you walking with me, Kalam? Where’s Minala?’
The assassin’s only answer was a low growl.
‘Well,’ Quick Ben said, ‘it’s just as well that you’re here. We need to work out our next moves.’
‘Our next what? We’re here to kill Forkrul Assail. There’s no other moves to talk about, and those ones don’t need talking about.’
‘Listen, that last Pure damn near killed me.’
‘Rubbish.’
‘Well, all right. It hurt, then.’
‘Get over it, wizard. We’re back fighting a real war. Old style. Ugly magic, toe to toe, the works. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to do this.’
‘I haven’t. But … where’s Fiddler? Hedge? Mallet, Trotts, Whiskeyjack? Where are all the ones we need to cover our backs? Paran’s sending us out into the enemy camp, Kalam. If we get in serious trouble, we’re finished.’
‘So fix it so that we can get back out if we have to.’
‘Easy for you to say.’
Sighing, Kalam scratched at the stubble on his jaw, and then said, ‘Something happened, Quick, back in Malaz City. In Mock’s Hold. In that damned chamber with Laseen and the Adjunct. Well, just afterwards. Tavore and me … she asked me to make a choice. Laseen had already offered me whatever I wanted, pretty much. Just to turn away.’
Quick Ben was studying him with narrowed eyes. ‘Everything?’
‘Everything.’
‘Knocking Topper off his perch?’
‘Aye. She was giving me the Claw, even though I had a feeling it was rotten through and through, even then – and I found out the truth of that later that night.’
‘So something had the Empress desperate.’
‘Aye.’
‘Fine. So … what did Tavore offer you instead?’
Kalam shook his head. ‘Damned if I know – and I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. There was a look in her eyes – I don’t know. A need, maybe. She knew that Laseen was going to try to kill her on the way back to the ships. We all knew it.’
‘She wanted your help – is that so surprising? Who wants to die?’
‘As simple as that? Quick Ben, she was asking me to die in her place. That’s what she was asking.’
‘Just as desperate as Laseen, then. The two of them, they asked you to choose between two mirror reflections. Which one was real? Which one was worth serving? You still haven’t explained how Tavore did it.’
‘She did it the way she seems to get all of us to do what she needs us to do.’
‘Well now, that’s been the one mystery no one’s been able to answer, hasn’t it? But, just like you, we follow. Kalam, I wish I could have seen you on that night in Malaz City. You must have been the holiest of terrors. So, just like the rest of us, you gave her everything you had. How does she do it?’
‘She simply asks,’ Kalam said.
Quick Ben snorted. ‘That’s it?’
‘I think so. No offers – no riches, no titles, nothing any of us can see as payment or reward. No, she just looks you straight in the eye, and she asks.’
‘You just sent a shiver up my spine, Kalam, and I don’t even know why.’
‘You don’t? More rubbish.’
The wizard waved his hands, ‘Well, Hood knows it ain’t chivalry, is it? She won’t even nudge open that door. No fluttering eyelashes, no demure look or coy glance …’
Kalam grunted a laugh at the image, but then he shook himself. ‘She asks, and something in your head tells you that what she’s doing is right – and that it’s the only reason she has to live. She asked me to die defending her – knowing I didn’t even like her much. Quick, for the rest of my life, I will never forget that moment.’
‘And you still can’t quite work out what happened.’
The assassin nodded. ‘All at once, it’s as if she’s somehow laid bare your soul and there it is, exposed, trembling, vulnerable beyond all belief – and she could take it, grasp it tight until the blood starts dripping. She could even stab it right through. But she didn’t – she didn’t do any of that, Quick. She reached down, her finger hovered, and then … gone, as if that was all she needed.’
‘You can stop now,’ the wizard muttered. ‘What you’re talking about – between two people – it almost never happens. Maybe it’s what we all want, but Kalam, it almost never happens.’
‘There was no respect in what Laseen offered,’ the assassin said. ‘It was a raw bribe, reaching for the worst in me. But from Tavore …’
‘Nothing but respect. Now I see it, Kal. I see it.’