A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

own life, Paran. But, as you said, it's done.'
    The captain looked away, squinting into the darkness. What's this human urge, he wondered, that brings us to such devastation? 'The games of the high born,' he said quietly, 'span the world. I was born a noble, like you, Coll. But in Malaz we'd met our match in the old Emperor. He crushed us at every turn until we cowered like whipped dogs. Cowered for years. But it was only an issue of power, wasn't it?' he said, more to himself than to the man who shared the fire. 'There are no lessons worthy enough for a noble to heed. I look back on my years within that twisted, hungry company – I look back on that life now, Coll, and I see it wasn't a life at all.' He was silent for a time, then a slow smile curved his mouth and his gaze swung to Coll. 'Since I walked away from the Malazan Empire, and severed once and for all the dubious privileges of my noble blood, damn, I've never felt so alive. It was never a life before, only the palest shadow of what I've now found. Is that a truth most of us are too frightened to face?'
    Coll grunted. 'I'm not the sharpest man you'll meet, Paran, and your thoughts are running a touch too deep for me. But if I understand you right, you're sitting there looking at a chopped-up old fool of a man and you're telling him he's alive. Right now. As alive as can be. And whatever he betrayed back then, it wasn't life, was it?'
    'You tell me, Coll.'
    The man grimaced and ran a hand through his thinning hair. 'The thing is, I want it back. I want it all back.'
    Paran burst out laughing, and continued to laugh until sharp pains cramped his stomach.
    Coll sat watching him, then a low, rumbling chuckle rose from his chest. He reached back, retrieved a handful of sticks and tossed them into the fire, one at a time. 'Well, dammit, Paran,' he said, amused lines crinkling around his eyes, 'you've come out of the blue like a god-sent bolt of lightning. And I appreciate it. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.'
    Paran wiped tears from his eyes. 'Hood's Breath,' he said. 'Just one War Mule talking to another, right?'
    'I guess so, Paran. Now, if you'll look in that pack of mine, you'll find a jug of Worrytown wine. Its vintage is about a week.'
    The captain rose. 'Meaning?'
    'Meaning it's running out of time.'

BOOK SIX

THE CITY
OF
BLUE FIRE
    Rumours like tattered flags
wind-snapped and echoing
in the streets below
told the tale of the days upon us ...
'Twas said an eel had slipped ashore
or not one but a thousand
under a jagged moon that might be dead,
'twas whispered that a claw scraped slow
on the city's cobbles, even as a dragon
was seen sailing high silver and black in the nightsky.
'Twas heard, they say, a demon's death cry
on the rooftops on a night of blood, even
as the master's hundred hands lost
a hundred daggers to the dark,
and 'twas rumoured then, a lady
masked highborn had offered to unbidden guests
a fete to remember ...
    Rumour Born
Fisher (b.?)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    Few can see
the dark hand
holding aloft
the splinter, or
the notched chains
fated to be heard
before death's rattle,
but hark the wheel
of minions and victims
who moan the
lord's name
in the dark heart
of Moon's Spawn ...
    Silverfox
    Outrider Hurlochel,
6th Army
     
    As Rallick Nom approached the Phoenix Inn from the alleyway, a large, beefy woman stepped out from a shadowed niche and confronted him. He raised an eyebrow. 'You want something, Meese?'
    'Never mind what I want.' She grinned invitingly. 'You've known about that for years. Anyway, I come to tell ya something, Nom. So relax.'
    He crossed his arms and waited.
    Meese glanced back up the alley, then hunched close to the assassin. 'There's someone in the bar. Been asking for ya. By name.'
    Startled, Rallick straightened. 'What's he look like?' he asked casually.
    'Like a soldier outa uniform,' Meese replied. 'Never seen him around before. So what do ya think, Nom?'
    He looked away. 'Nothing. Where's he sitting?'
    Meese grinned again. 'At Kruppe's table. Home ground. Now ain't that fine?'
    Rallick stepped past the woman and headed towards the inn. As she moved to follow he held out his hand. 'A minute between us, Meese,' he said, without turning. 'Where's Irilta?'
    'Inside,' she said, behind him. 'Good luck, Nom.'
    'Luck's never free,' Rallick muttered, as he turned the corner and climbed the steps.
    He stood still just within the door and surveyed the crowd. A few strangers, not enough to cause him concern, however.