A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

was recruited into the Claw,' Keneb said. 'That's rare. They usually take children, train them—'
    'Train?' the assassin grunted. 'Indoctrination.' He looked up at Minala. 'Attacking a group of warriors isn't as impossible as you think. For the lone attacker, there's no-one else to make the first move. Eight – ten men ... well, they figure they should just all close in and hack me down. Only, who goes first? They all pause, they all look for an opening. It's my job to keep moving, make sure every opening is closed before they can react. Mind you, a good veteran squad knows how to work together...'
    'Then you were lucky they didn't.'
    'I was lucky.'
    The older boy, Kesen, spoke up. 'Can you teach me how to fight like that, sir?'
    Kalam grunted. 'I expect your father has a better life in mind for you, lad. Fighting is for people who fail at everything else.'
    'But fighting isn't the same as soldiering,' Keneb said.
    'That's a fact,' the assassin agreed, sensing that he'd somehow stung the captain's pride. 'Soldiers are worth respect, and it's true that sometimes fighting's required. Soldiering means standing firm when that time comes. So, lad, if you still want to learn how to fight, learn how to soldier first.'
    'In other words, listen to your father,' Minala said, giving Kalam a quick, wry smile.
    Following some gesture or look the assassin did not catch, Selv rose and led the boys off to finish breaking camp. As soon as they were out of earshot Keneb said, 'Aren's what, three months away? Hood's breath, there has to be a Malazan-held city or fortification that's closer than that, Corporal.'
    'All the news I've heard has been bad,' Kalam said. 'Everything south of here is tribal lands, all the way to the River Vathar. Ubaryd's close to the river, but I'd guess it's been taken by Sha'ik's Apocalypse – too valuable a port to leave unsecured. Secondly, I would think most of the tribes between here and Aren have set off to join Kamist Reloe.'
    Keneb looked startled. 'Reloe?'
    Kalam frowned. 'The bandits spoke of him as being southeast of here ...'
    'More east than south. Reloe is chasing Fist Coltaine and the Seventh Army. He's probably wiped them out by now, but even so his forces are east of the Sekala River and that's the territory he's been charged to hold.'
    'You know much more of this than I,' the assassin said.
    'We had Tithansi servants,' Minala explained. 'Loyal.'
    'They paid for that with their lives,' the captain added.
    'Then is there an army of the Apocalypse south of here?'
    Keneb nodded. 'Aye, preparing to march on Aren.'
    The assassin frowned. 'Tell me, Captain . . . you ever heard the word "Jhistal"?'
    'No, not Seven Cities. Why?'
    'The bandits spoke of "a jhistal inside" Aren. As if it was a shaved knuckle.' He fell silent for a moment, then sighed. 'Who commands this army?'
    'That bastard Korbolo Dom.'
    Kalam's eyes narrowed. 'But he's a Fist—'
    'Was, till he married a local woman who just happened to be the daughter of Halaf's last Holy Protector. He's turned renegade, had to execute half his own legion who refused to step across with him. The other half divested the Imperial uniform, proclaimed themselves a mercenary company, and took on Korbolo's contract. It was that company that hit us in Orbal. Call themselves the Whirlwind Legion or something like that.' Keneb rose and kicked at the fire, scattering the last embers. 'They rode in like allies. We didn't suspect a thing.'
    There was more to this tale, the assassin sensed. 'I remember Korbolo,' Kalam muttered.
    'Thought you might. He was Whiskeyjack's replacement, wasn't he?'
    'For a time. After Raraku. A superb tactician, but a little too bloodthirsty for my tastes. For Laseen, too, which was why she holed him in Halaf.'
    'And promoted Dujek instead.' The captain laughed. 'Who's now been outlawed.'
    'Now there's an injustice I'll tell you about some day,' Kalam said, rising. 'We should get going. Those raiders may have friends nearby.'
    He felt Minala's eyes on him as he readied his horse and was not a little disturbed. Husband dead only twenty-four hours ago. An anchor cut away. Kalam was a stranger who'd as much as taken charge despite being outranked by her brother-in-law. She must have thought for the first time in a long time that they stood a chance of surviving with him along. It was not a responsibility he welcomed. Still, I've always appreciated capable women. Only an interest this soon after her husband's death is like a flower on