A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

silence, the slaves were dying. Two riders closed in on Felisin. She watched, wondering which of them would reach her first. One gripped a lance, angled down to take her in the chest. The other held his wide-bladed sword high, readied for a downward chop. In their faces she saw flushed joy and was surprised at the inhumanity of the expression.
    When they were both but moments away, quarrels thudded into their chests. Reeling, both men toppled from the saddles. Felisin turned to see a troop of Malazan crossbowmen advancing in formation, the front line kneeling to reload while the second line slipped a few paces ahead, took aim, then as one loosed quarrels into the milling Dosii horsemen. Animals and men screamed in pain.
    A third volley broke the Dosii, scattering them back into the darkness beyond the barracks.
    A handful of slaves still lived. A sergeant barked an order and a dozen soldiers moved forward, checking the bodies littering the area, then pushing the survivors back towards the troop's position.
    'Come with me,' a voice hissed beside Felisin.
    She blinked, slow to recognize Pella's face. 'What?'
    'We're quartering the slaves at the stables – but not you.' He gently took her arm. 'We're badly outnumbered. Defending slaves isn't a high priority, I'm afraid. Sawark wants this mutiny crushed. Tonight.'
    She studied his face. 'What are you saying?'
    The sergeant had pulled his troop into a more defensible position at an alley mouth. The twelve detached soldiers were pushing the slaves down the side street that led to the stables. Pella guided Felisin in the same direction. Once out of sight of the sergeant, he addressed the other soldiers. "Three of you, with me.'
    One replied, 'Has Oponn stirred your brains, Pella? I don't feel safe as it is, and you want to split the squad?'
    Another growled, 'Let's just get rid of these damned slaves and get back, afore the sergeant marches to rejoin the captain.'
    'This is Beneth's woman,' Pella said.
    'I don't think Beneth is still alive,' Felisin said dully.
    'He was not five minutes ago, lass,' Pella said, frowning. 'Bloodied a bit, nothing more. He's rallying his militia right now.' He swung to the others. 'We'll need Beneth, Reborid, never mind Sawark's bluster. Now, three of you – we're not going far.'
    With a scowl, the one named Reborid gestured to two others.
     
    A fire had been started in Skullcup's western arm – somewhere on Spit Row. Unchecked, it was spreading fast, throwing a lurid orange glow up against the underbellies of billowing smoke.
    As Pella dragged Felisin along, Reborid talked unceasingly. 'Where in Hood's name is the Be'thra Garrison? You think they can't see the flames? There were Malazan squads up patrolling Beetle Road – a rider would have been sent – the troop should be here by now, dammit.'
    There were bodies in the streets, huddled, motionless shapes. The small party went around them without pause.
    'Hood knows what Gunnip's thinking,' the soldier went on. 'Sawark will see every damn Dosii within fifty leagues of here gutted and left out under the sun.'
    'This is the place,' Pella said, tugging Felisin to a halt. 'Defensive position,' he ordered the others. 'I'll be but a moment.'
    They were at Heboric's house. No light leaked from the shutters. The door was locked. Snorting with disgust, Pella kicked the flimsy barrier aside. His hand against her back, he pushed her into the darkness within, then followed.
    'There's no-one here,' Felisin said.
    Pella did not reply, still pushing her along, until they reached the cloth divider behind which was the ex-priest's bedroom. 'Pull it aside, Felisin.'
    She did, stepping into the small room. Pella followed.
    Heboric sat on his cot, staring up at them in silence.
    'I wasn't sure,' Pella said in a low voice, 'if you still wanted her along.'
    The ex-priest grunted. 'What of you, Pella? We might manage—'
    'No. Take her instead. I've got to rejoin the captain – we'll crush this mutiny – but the timing's perfect for you ...'
    Heboric sighed. 'Aye, that it is. Fener's grunt, Baudin, step out of them shadows. This lad's no risk to us,'
    Pella started as a massive shape separated itself from behind the hanging. Baudin's narrow-set eyes glittered in the dimness. He said nothing.
    Shaking himself, Pella stepped back to the entrance, gripping the grimy cloth with one hand. 'Fener guard you, Heboric'
    'Thank you, lad. For everything.'
    Pella gave a curt nod, then was gone.
    Felisin frowned at