A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

'Trust me,' and he turned towards the stairwell.
    'I do,' she said simply.
    Crokus winced. Why did she make things seem so easy for her? Hood's Breath, he wouldn't trust him. Of course, he didn't know Challice very well. They'd only had that one, confusing conversation. What if she called the guards? Well, he'd make sure Apsalar got away safely. He paused and grasped her arm. 'Listen,' his own voice sounded unduly harsh, but he pushed on, 'if something goes wrong, go to the Phoenix Inn. Right? Find Meese, Irilta, or my friends Kruppe and Murillio. Tell them what happened.'
    'All right, Crokus.'
    'Good.' He released her arm. 'Wish we had a lantern,' he said, as he stepped into the darkness, one hand reaching before him.
    'Why?' Apsalar asked, slipping past him. She took his hand and led him down. 'I can see. Don't let go of my hand.'
    That might be a hard thing to do even if he'd desired it, he realized. Still, there were a lot of rough calluses on that small hand. He let them remind him of what this woman was capable of doing, though the effort embarrassed him in some vague way.
    Eyes wide, yet seeing nothing, Crokus allowed himself to be guided down the stairs.
     
    The captain of Simtal's House Guard viewed Whiskeyjack and his men with obvious distaste. 'I thought you were all Barghast.' He stepped up to Trotts and jabbed a finger into the warrior's massive chest. 'You led me to believe you were all like you, Niganga.'
    A low, menacing growl emerged from Trotts, and the captain stepped back, one hand reaching for his short sword.
    'Captain,' Whiskeyjack said, 'if we were all Barghast—'
    The man's narrow face swung to him with a scowl.
    '– you'd never be able to afford us,' the sergeant finished with a tight smile. He glanced at Trotts. Niganga? Hood's Breath! 'Niganga is my second-in-command, Captain. Now, how would you like us positioned?'
    'Just beyond the fountain,' he said. 'Your backs will be to the garden, which has, ah, run wild of late. We don't want any guests getting lost in there, so you gently steer them back. Understood? And when I say gently I mean it. You're to salute anyone who talks to you, and if there's an argument direct them to me, Captain Stillis. I'll be making the rounds, but any one of the house guard can find me.'
    Whiskeyjack nodded. 'Understood, sir.' He turned to survey his squad. Fiddler and Hedge stood behind Trotts, both looking eager. Past them Mallet and Quick Ben stood on the edge of the street, heads bent together in conversation. The sergeant frowned at them, noticing how his wizard winced with every boom of thunder to the east.
    Captain Stillis marched off after giving them directions through the estate's rooms out to the terrace and garden beyond. Whiskeyjack waited for the man to leave his line of sight, then he strode to Quick Ben and Mallet. 'What's wrong?' he asked.
    Quick Ben looked frightened.
    Mallet said, 'That thunder and lightning, Sergeant? Well, it ain't no storm. Paran's story is looking real.'
    'Meaning we have little time,' Whiskeyjack said. 'Wonder why the Adjunct didn't show up – you think she's melting her boots getting away from here?'
    Mallet shrugged.
    'Don't you get it?' Quick Ben said shakily. He took a couple of deep breaths, then continued, 'That creature out there is in a fight. We're talking major sorceries, only it's getting closer, which means that it's winning. And that means—'
    'We're in trouble,' Whiskeyjack finished. 'All right, we go as planned for now. Come on, we've been assigned right where we want to be. Quick Ben, you sure Kalam and Paran can find us?'
    The wizard moaned. 'Directions delivered, Sergeant.'
    'Good. Let's move, then. Through the house and eyes forward.'
     
    'He looks like he's going to sleep for days,' Kalam said, straightening beside Coil's bed and facing the captain.
    Paran rubbed his red-shot eyes. 'She must have given them something,' he insisted wearily, 'even if they didn't see it.'
    Kalam wagged his head. 'I've told you, sir, she didn't. Everyone was on the look-out for something like that. The squad's still clean. Now, we'd better get moving.'
    Paran climbed to his feet with an effort. He was exhausted, and he knew he was just an added burden. 'She'll turn up at this estate, then,' he insisted, strapping on his sword.
    'Well,' Kalam said, as he walked to the door, 'that's where you and me come in, right? She shows up and we take her out – just like you've wanted to do all along.'
    'Right now,' Paran said,