A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

salute him – the stink wasn't subtle.
    The Adjunct must have been knocked on her head during that last assassination attempt on the Empress. It was the only possible explanation for this farce of a man rating the kind of service the agent was about to deliver. In person, yet. These days, he concluded sourly, the whole show was being run by idiots.
    With a loud sigh, the agent pushed himself upright and sauntered over to the officer.
    The man didn't even know he had company until the agent stepped in front of him, then he looked up.
    The agent did some quick rethinking. Something in this man's gaze was dangerous. There was a glitter there, buried deep, that made the man's eyes seem older than the rest of his face. 'Name?' The agent's question was a strained grunt.
    'Took your time about it,' the captain said, rising.
    A tall bastard, too. The agent scowled. He hated tall bastards. 'Who're you waiting for, Captain?'
    The man looked up the pier. 'The waiting's over. Let's walk. I'll just take it on faith you know where we're going.' He reached down and retrieved a duffel bag, then took the lead.
    The agent moved up beside the captain. 'Fine,' he growled. 'Be that way.' They left the pier and the agent turned them up the first street on the right. 'A Green Quorl came in last night. You'll be taken directly to Cloud Forest, and from there a Black will take you into Pale.'
    The captain gave the agent a blank stare.
    'You never heard of Quorls?'
    'No. I assume they're a means of transportation. Why else would I be removed from a ship a thousand leagues distant from Pale?'
    'The Moranth use them, and we're using the Moranth.' The agent scowled to himself. 'Using them a lot, these days. The Green do most of the courier stuff, and moving people around like you and me, but the Black are stationed in Pale, and the different clans don't like to mix. The Moranth are made up of a bunch of clans, got colours for names, and wear them too. Nobody gets confused that way.'
    'And I'm to ride with a Green, on a Quorl?'
    'You got it, Captain.'
    They headed up a narrow street. Malazan guards milled around every crossing, hands on their weapons.
    The captain returned a salute from one such squad. 'Having trouble with insurrections?' he asked.
    'Insurrections, yeah. Trouble, no.'
    'Let's see if I understand you correctly.' The captain's tone was stiff. 'Instead of delivering me by ship to a point nearest Pale, I'm to ride overland with a bunch of half-human barbarians who smell like grasshoppers and dress like them, too. And this way, no one will notice, especially since it'll take us a year to get to Pale and by then everything will have gone all to hell. Correct so far?'
    Grinning, the agent shook his head. Despite his hatred for tall men or, rather, men taller than himself, he felt his guard going down. At least this one talked straight – and, for a noble, that was pretty impressive. Maybe Lorn still had the old stuff after all. 'You said overland? Well, hell, yes, Captain. Way overland.' He stopped at a nondescript doorway and turned to the man. 'Quorls, you see, they fly. They got wings. Four in fact. And you can see right through every one of them, and if you're of a mind you can poke your finger through one of those wings. Only don't do it when you're a quarter-mile up, right? 'Cause it may be a long way down but it'll seem awfully fast at the time. You hear me, Captain?' He opened the door. Beyond rose a staircase.
    The man's face had lost its colour. 'So much for intelligence reports,' he muttered.
    The agent's grin widened. 'We see them before you do. Life's on a need-to-know. Remember that, Captain ... ?'
    The man's smile was the only answer he gave.
    They entered and closed the door behind them.
     
    A young marine intercepted Tattersail as she made her way across the compound in what was now Empire headquarters in Pale. The boy's face had bewilderment written all over it, and he opened his mouth a few times before any words came out.
    'Sorceress?'
    She stopped. The thought of having Tayschrenn wait a little longer appealed to her. 'What is it, soldier?'
    The marine stole a glance over one shoulder, then said, 'The guards, Sorceress. They've got something of a problem. They sent me to—'
    'Who? Which guards? Take me to them.'
    'Yes, Sorceress.'
    She followed the marine around the nearest corner of the main building, where the compound wall ran close, creating a narrow passage running the building's length. At the far end