‘I think we’d better knock,’ she said.
‘All right. Just let me, er, empty my bladder first.’
He walked off to the stone-lined gutter to his left. Mappo went off a few paces in the other direction, to rummage in his sack.
Precious Thimble squinted up at the tower. ‘Well,’ she whispered, ‘if you’re a Jaghut — and I think you are — you know we’re standing right here. And you can smell the magic on our breaths. Now, we’re not looking for trouble, but there’s no chance you don’t know nothing about that curse — we need to find that witch or warlock, you see, that nasty villager who made up this nasty curse, because we’re stuck here for a few days. Understand? There’s three women stuck here. And I’m one of them.’
‘You say something?’ Quell asked, returning.
‘Let’s go,’ she said as Mappo arrived, holding an enormous mace.
They walked to the door.
Halfway there, it swung open.
‘My mate,’ said the Provost, ‘is buried in the yard below.’ He was standing at the window, looking out over the tumultuous seas warring with the shoals.
Quell grunted. ‘What yard?’ He leaned forward and peered down. ‘What yard?’
The Provost sighed. ‘It was there two days ago.’ He turned from the window and eyed the wizard.
Who did his best not to quail.
Bedusk Pall Kovuss Agape, who called himself a Jaghut Anap, was simply gi shy;gantic, possibly weighing more than Mappo and at least a head and a half taller than the Trell. His skin was blue, a deeper hue than any Malazan Napan Quell could recall seeing. The blue even seemed to stain the silver-tipped tusks jutting from his lower jaw.
Quell cleared his throat. He needed to pee again, but that would have to wait.” ‘You lost her long ago?’
‘Who?’
‘Er, your mate?’
Bedusk Agape selected one of the three crystal decanters on the marble table, sniffed at its contents, and then refilled their goblets. ‘Have you ever had a wife, Wizard?’
‘No not that I’m aware of.’
‘Yes, it can be like that at times.’
‘It can?’
The Jaghut gestured towards the window. ‘One moment there, the next. . gone.’
‘Oh, the cliff.’
‘No, no. I was speaking of my wife.’
Quell shot Precious Thimble a helpless look. Off near the spiral staircase, Mappo stood examining an elaborate eyepiece of some kind, mounted on a spike with a peculiar ball-hinge that permitted the long black metal instrument to be swivelled about, side to side and up and down. The damned Trell was paying at shy;tention to all the wrong things.
Precious Thimble looked back at Quell with wide eyes.
‘Loss,’ stammered the wizard, ‘is a grievous thing.’
‘Well of course it is,’ said Bedusk Agape, frowning.
‘Um, not always. If, for example, one loses one’s, er, virginity, or a favourite shiny stone, say. .’
The red-rimmed eyes stayed steady, unblinking.
Quell wanted to squeeze his legs together — no, better, fold one over the other — lest his snake start drooling or, worse, spitting.
Precious Thimble spoke in a strangely squeaky voice, ‘Jaghut Anap, the curse afflicting this village’s daughters-’
‘There have been twelve in all,’ said Bedusk Agape. ‘Thus far.’
‘Oh. What happened to the other nine?’
The Jaghut flicked his gaze over to her. ‘You are not the first trouble to arrive in the past few years. Of course,’ he added, after sipping his wine, ‘all the young girls are now sent to the next village along this coast — permanently, alas, which does not bode well for the future of this town.’
‘I thought I saw women down in the tavern cellar,’ said Precious Thimble.
‘Bearing a child prevents the settling of the curse. Mothers are immune. There shy;fore, if you or your fellow female companions have at any time produced a child, you need not worry.’
‘Um,’ said Precious Thimble, ‘I don’t think any of us qualify.’
‘How unfortunate,’ said Bedusk.
‘So how is it you got elected Provost?’ Quell asked. ‘Just curious, you see — I’m the nosy type, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything-’
‘I believe it was a collective attempt to ameliorate my grief, my solitude. None would deny, I now expect, that such an invitation was ill-conceived.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘Well, had I remained in my isolation, this terrible curse would not exist, I am afraid.’
‘It’s your curse, then?’
‘Yes.’
A long moment of silence. From near the staircase, Mappo slowly turned to face them.
‘Then you can end it,’ said Quell.
‘I could, yes, but I shall not.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you are not that important.’
Quell crossed his legs. ‘May I ask, what happened to your mate?’
‘We argued. I lost. I buried her.’
There seemed to be, at least to the wizard’s thinking, something missing in that answer. But he was getting distracted by his bladder. He couldn’t think straight.
‘So,’ said Precious Thimble in a thin voice, ‘if you lose an argument to someone, you then kill them?’
‘Oh, I didn’t say she was dead.’
Mappo spoke from where he still stood, ‘She is now, Jaghut.’
Bedusk Agape sighed. ‘That does seem likely, doesn’t it?’
‘How long,’ the Trell asked, ‘was she pinned down? Your mate?’
‘Nine years or so.’
‘And the argument?’
‘I sense a certain belligerence in you, Trell.’
‘Belligerence, Jaghut?’ Mappo bared his fangs in a cold grin. ‘Your senses have dulled with disuse, I think.’
‘I see. And you imagine you can best me?’
‘I was asking you about the argument.’
‘Something trivial. I have forgotten the details.’
‘But you found yourself alone, at least until the villagers took pity on you and elected you their Provost. And then. . you fell in love?’
Bedusk Agape winced.
Precious Thimble gasped. ‘Oh! I see now. Oh, it’s like that. She spurned you. You got mad, again, only this time you couldn’t very well bury the whole village-’
‘Actually, I considered it.’
‘Um, well, you decided not to, then. So, instead, you worked up a curse, on her and all her young pretty friends, since they laughed at you or whatever. You turned them all into Tralka Vonan. Blood Feeders.’
‘You cannot hope to break my curse, Witch,’ said Bedusk. ‘Even with the wiz shy;ard’s help, you will fail.’ The Jaghut then faced Mappo. ‘And you, Trell, even if you manage to kill me, the curse will not die.’ He refilled his goblet for the third time. ‘Your women will have a day or so before the curse takes effect. In that time, I suppose, they could all endeavour to become pregnant.’
All at once Quell sat straighter.
But when he saw Precious Thimble’s expression, his delighted smile turned somewhat sheepish,
Down on the narrow strand of what had once been beach, at the foot of the raw cliff, waves skirled foam-thick tendrils through the chunks of clay and rock and black hairy roots, gnawing deep channels and sucking back into the sea milky, silt-laden water. The entire heap was in motion, settling, dissolving, sections collapsing under the assault of the waves.
Farther down the beach the strand reemerged, the white sand seemingly studded with knuckles of rust, to mark the thousands of ship nails and rivets that had been scattered in profusion along the shoreline. Fragments of wood formed a snagged barrier higher up, and beyond that, cut into the cliff face, weathered steps led up to a hacked-out cave mouth.
This cave was in fact a tunnel, rising at a steep angle up through the bowels of the promontory, to open out in the floor of the village’s largest structure, a stone and timbered warehouse where the wreckers off-loaded their loot after the long haul of the carts from the cliff base. A tidy enterprise, all things considered, one that gave employment to all the folk of the village — from tending the false fires to rowing the deep-hulled boats out to the reef, where the stripping down of the wrecks took place, along with clubbing survivors and making sure they drowned. The local legend, concocted to provide meagre justification for such cruel en shy;deavours, revolved around some long-ago pirate raids on the village, and how someone (possibly the Provost, who had always lived here, or the locally famous Gacharge Hadlorn Who Waits — but he left so there was no way to ask him) had suggested that, since the sea was so eager to deliver murderers to this shore, why could it not also deliver death to the would-be murderers? And so, once the notion was planted, the earth was tilled, with mallet and pick and flint and fire, and the days of fishing for a living off the treacherous shoals soon gave way to a far more lucrative venture.