‘Rank and discipline must ever take precedence, Adjunct.’
Her gaze sharpened on him. ‘Is that your learned opinion on the matter, Captain? Content, are you, with distilling all those tomes in a handful of words?’
‘Frankly, Adjunct? Yes.’
‘I see. Then what do you suggest I do with you?’
‘At the very least, Adjunct, reduce my rank. For you are accurate and proper in noting my dereliction of responsibility regarding the soldiers under my command.’
‘Of course I am, you fool.’ She ran a hand through her short hair, and caught Masan’s gaze. The Dal Honese could not help but see the faint gleam in those unremarkable – and clearly tired – eyes. ‘Very well, Ruthan Gudd. You have lost your command. Your rank, however, shall remain unchanged, but from this day forward you are attached to my staff. And if you imagine this to be some sort of promotion, well, I suggest you sit down with Lostara Yil some time soon.’ She paused, eyes narrowing on Ruthan Gudd. ‘Why, Captain, you seem displeased. Good. Now, as to other matters that we should discuss, perhaps they can wait. There is one woman in this camp, however, who cannot. Dismissed.’
His salute was somewhat shaky.
When he was gone, the Adjunct sighed and sat down by her map table. ‘Forgive me, marine, for my improper state. It has been a long day.’
‘No need to apologize, Adjunct.’
Tavore’s eyes travelled up and down Masan, sending a faint tremor through her spine – oh, I know that kind of look. ‘You look surprisingly hale, soldier.’
‘Modest gifts from our new allies, Adjunct.’
Brows lifted. ‘Indeed?’
‘Alas, there’re only five of them.’
‘Five?’
‘T’lan Imass, Adjunct. I don’t know if they were the allies you sought. In fact, they found me, not the other way round, and it is their opinion that my bringing them here was the right thing to do.’
The Adjunct continued studying her. Masan felt trickles of sweat wending down the small of her back. I don’t know. She’s a damned skinny one …
‘Summon them.’
The figures rose from the dirt floor. Dust to bones, dust to withered flesh, dust to chipped weapons of stone. The T’lan Imass bowed to the Adjunct.
The one named Beroke then spoke. ‘Adjunct Tavore Paran, we are the Unbound. We bring you greeting, Adjunct, from the Crippled God.’
And at that something seemed to crumple inside Tavore, for she leaned forward, set her hands to her face, and said, ‘Thank you. I thought … out of time … too late. Oh gods, thank you.’
He’d stood unnoticed for some time, just one more marine, there on the edge of the crowd. Holding back, unsure of what he was witnessing here. Fiddler wasn’t saying anything. In fact, the bastard might well be sleeping, with his head sunk down like that. As for the soldiers in the basin, some muttered back and forth, a few tried to sleep but were kicked awake by their companions.
When Fiddler lifted his gaze, the marines and heavies fell silent, suddenly attentive. The sergeant was rummaging in his kit bag. He drew something out but it was impossible to see what. Peered at it for a long moment, and then returned it to his satchel. ‘Cuttle!’
‘Aye?’
‘He’s here. Go find him.’
The sapper rose and slowly turned. ‘All right, then,’ he growled, ‘I ain’t got the eyes of a rat. So show yourself, damn you.’
A slow heat prickled through Bottle. He looked round.
Fiddler said, ‘Aye, Bottle. You. Don’t be so thick.’
‘Here,’ Bottle said.
Figures close to him swung round then. A few muffled curses, and all at once a space opened around him. Cuttle was making his way over, and even in the gloom his expression was severe.
‘I think Smiles sold off your kit, Bottle,’ he said as he arrived to stand before him. ‘At least you scrounged up some weapons, which is saying something.’
‘You all knew?’
‘Knew what? That you survived? Gods no. We all figured you dead and gone. You think Smiles would’ve sold off your stuff if we didn’t?’
He could see the rest of the squad drawing up behind Cuttle. ‘Well, yes.’
The sapper grunted. ‘Got a point there, soldier. Anyway, we didn’t know a damned thing. He just made us sit here and wait, is what he did—’
‘I thought this was Faradan Sort’s meeting—’
‘Fid’s cap’n now, Bottle.’
‘Oh.’
‘And since he’s now a captain, official and everything, he’s got decorum t’follow.’
‘Right. Of course. I mean—’
‘So instead of him doing this, it’s me.’ And with that the veteran stepped close and embraced him, hard enough to make Bottle’s bones ache. Cuttle’s breath was harsh in his ear. ‘Kept looking at a card, y’see? Kept looking at it. Welcome back, Bottle. Gods below, welcome home.’
Stormy halted the Ve’Gath. Grainy-eyed, aching, he stared at the massed army seething in motion on the flats below as the dawn sliced open the eastern horizon. Bonehunter standards to the left, companies jostling to form up for the march – far too few companies for Stormy’s liking. Already assembled and facing southeast, the Letherii legions, and with them Perish ranks, and the gilt standards of some other army. Scowling, he swung his gaze back to the Bonehunters. Positioned to march due east. ‘Gods below.’
A scattering of Khundryl outriders had spotted him, two setting off back to the vanguard while a half-dozen, bows drawn and arrows nocked, rode swiftly in his direction. Seeing their growing confusion as they approached, Stormy grinned. He lifted one hand in greeting. They pulled up thirty paces away.
The ranks of the Bonehunters were all halted now, facing in his direction. He saw the Adjunct and a handful of officers emerging from the swirling dust near the column’s head to ride towards him.
He considered meeting them halfway, decided not to. Twisting round, he looked back at his K’ell Hunter escort and the drones. Weapon points were buried in the hard ground. The drones had settled on their tails, tiny birds dancing on their hides and feeding on ticks and mites. From them all, a scent of calm repose. ‘Good. Stay there, all of you. And don’t do anything … unnerving.’
Horses shied on the approach, and it was quickly apparent that none of the mounts would draw within twenty long strides of the Ve’Gath. Across the gap, Stormy met the Adjunct’s eyes. ‘I’d dismount,’ he said, ‘but I think my legs died some time in the night. Adjunct, I bring greetings from Mortal Sword Gesler, Destriant Kalyth, and the Gunthan K’Chain Che’Malle.’
She slipped down from her mount and walked towards him, slowly drawing off her leather gloves. ‘The Nah’ruk, Corporal, were seeking their kin, correct?’
‘Aye. Estranged kin, I’d say. Saw no hugs when we all met.’
‘If Sergeant Gesler is now Mortal Sword, Corporal, what does that make you?’
‘Shield Anvil.’
‘I see. And the god you serve?’
‘Damned if I know, Adjunct.’
Tucking the gloves in her belt, she drew off her helm and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Your battle with the Nah’ruk …’
‘Malazan tactics, Adjunct, along with these beasts, gave us the upper hand. We annihilated the bastards.’
Something changed in her face, but nothing he could work out. She glanced back at her officers, or perhaps the army waiting beyond, and then once more fixed her gaze upon him. ‘Shield Anvil Stormy, this creature you ride—’
‘Ve’Gath Soldier, Adjunct. Only three bear these … saddles.’
‘And your K’Chain Che’Malle army – I see Hunters behind you as well. There are more of these Ve’Gath?’
My K’Chain Che’Malle army. ‘Aye, lots. We got a bit mauled, to be sure. Those sky keeps gave us trouble, but some unexpected allies arrived to take ’em down. That’s what I’m here to tell you, Adjunct. Sinn and Grub found us. There was someone else, too. Never figured out who, but no matter, nobody climbed down out of the Azath when it was all done with, so I doubt they made it.’