A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

scarf.
    Felisin stared in horror.
    'Fener have mercy,' Heboric breathed.
    The crowd was stunned silent, withdrawing even in their bloodlust, shrinking back. A soldier appeared, helmetless, his young face white, his eyes fixed on Baudin, his steps ceasing. Beyond him the glistening peaked helms and broad blades of the Red Swords flashed above the crowd as the horsemen slowly pushed their way towards the scene.
    No movement save the sawing chain. No breath save Baudin's grunting snorts. Whatever riot continued to rage beyond this place, it seemed a thousand leagues away.
    Felisin watched the woman's head jerk back and forth, a mockery of life's animation. She remembered Lady Gaesen, haughty, imperious, beyond her years of beauty and seeking stature in its stead. What other choice? Many, but it didn't matter now. Had she been a gentle, kindly grandmother, it would not have mattered, would not have changed the mind-numbing horror of this moment.
    The head came away with a sobbing sound. Baudin's teeth glimmered as he stared at the crowd. 'We had a deal,' he grated. 'Here's what you want, something to remember this day by.' He flung Lady Gaesen's head into the mob, a whirl of hair and threads of blood. Screams answered its unseen landing.
    More soldiers appeared – backed by the Red Swords – moving slowly, pushing at the still silent onlookers. Peace was being restored, all along the line in all places but this one, violently, without quarter. As people began to die under sword strokes, the rest fled.
    The prisoners who had filed out of the arena had numbered around three hundred. Felisin looked up the line, her first sight of what remained. Some shackles held only forearms, others were completely empty. Under a hundred prisoners remained on their feet. Many on the paving stones writhed, screaming in pain; the rest did not move at all.
    Baudin glared at the nearest knot of soldiers. 'Likely timing, tin-heads.'
    Heboric spat heavily, his face twisting as he glared at the thug. 'Imagined you'd buy your way out, did you, Baudin? Give them what they want. But it was wasted, wasn't it? The soldiers were coming. She could have lived—'
    Baudin slowly turned, his face a sheet of blood. 'To what end, priest?'
    'Was that your line of reasoning? She would've died in the hold anyway?'
    Baudin showed his teeth, and said slowly, 'I just hate making deals with bastards.'
    Felisin stared at the three-foot length of chain between herself and Baudin. A thousand thoughts could have followed, link by link – what she had been, what she was now; the prison she'd discovered, inside and out, merged as vivid memory – but all she thought, all she said, was: 'Don't make any more deals, Baudin.'
    His eyes narrowed on her, her words and tone reaching him, somehow, someway.
    Heboric straightened, a hard look in his eyes as he studied her. Felisin turned away, half in defiance, half in shame.
    A moment later the soldiers – having cleared the line of the dead – pushed them along, out through the gate, onto the East Road towards the pier town of Luckless. Where Adjunct Tavore and her retinue waited, as did the slave ships of Aren.
    Farmers and peasants lined the road, displaying nothing of the frenzy that had gripped their cousins in the city. Felisin saw in their faces a dull sorrow, a passion born of different scars. She could not understand where it came from, and she knew that her ignorance was the difference between her and them. She also knew, in her bruises, scratches and helpless nakedness, that her lessons had begun.
    Now read the complete book – available from Bantam

Steven Erikson's magnificent
Malazan Book of the Fallen
    sequence is a monumental achievement that is being hailed
    by readers and critics alike as an epic of the imagination and a fantasy classic
    in the making
     
GARDENS OF THE MOON
    'Complex, challenging ... Erikson's strengths are his grown-up characters and his ability to create a world
every bit as intricate and messy as our own'
    J V Jones
9780553812176
DEADHOUSE GATES
    'One of the best fantasy novels of the year'
Neil Walsh, SF SITE
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MEMORIES OF ICE
    'Homeric in scope and vision ... Read and expect to be overpowered, not only by a story that never fails to thrill and entertain, but by a saga that lives up to its name, both intellectually and in its dramatic, visually
rich and lavish storytelling'
    SF SITE

9780553813128
HOUSE OF CHAINS
    'Combines a sense of mythic power and depth of