A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

mage, Kulp. Her gaze fell to him. 'Dead.'
    'Not quite,' Heboric said. 'He'll live, but he hit something going over the side.'
    'Awaken him, then,' Felisin said. 'I don't plan on waiting in this heat just so he can get some beauty sleep. We're in a desert again, old man, in case you hadn't noticed. And desert means thirst, not to mention the fact that we're without food or anything like supplies. And finally, we've no idea where we are—'
    'On the mainland,' Heboric said. 'Seven Cities.'
    'How do you know that?'
    The ex-priest shrugged. 'I know.'
    Kulp groaned, then sat upright. One hand gingerly probing a lump above his left eye, the mage looked around. His expression soured.
    'The Seventh Army's camped just over yonder,' Felisin said.
    For a moment he looked credulous, then he gave a weary smile. 'Funny, lass.' He climbed to his feet and scanned the horizon on all sides before tilting his head back and sniffing the air. 'Mainland,' he pronounced.
    'Why didn't all that white hair burn off?' Felisin asked. 'You're not even singed.'
    'That dragon's warren,' Heboric said, 'what was it?'
    'Damned if I know,' Kulp admitted, running a hand through the white shock on his head as if to confirm that it still existed. 'Chaos, maybe – a storm of it between warrens – I don't know. Never seen anything like it before, though that don't mean much – I'm no Ascendant, after all—'
    'I'll say,' Felisin muttered.
    The mage squinted at her. 'Those pocks on your face are fading.'
    This time it was she who was startled.
    Baudin grunted.
    She whirled on him. 'What's so funny?'
    'I saw that, only it don't make you any prettier.'
    'Enough of this,' Heboric said. 'It's midday, meaning it'll get hotter before it gets cooler. We need somewhere to shelter.'
    'Any sign of the marines?' Kulp asked.
    'They're dead,' Felisin said. 'They went below decks, only the ship was on fire. Dead. Fewer mouths to feed.'
    No-one replied to that.
    Kulp took the lead, evidently choosing as their destination the far ridge of hills. The others followed without comment.
    Twenty minutes later Kulp paused. 'We'd better pick up our pace. I smell a storm coming.'
    Felisin snorted. 'All I smell is rank sweat – you're standing too close, Baudin, go away.'
    'I'm sure he would if he could,' Heboric muttered, not un-sympathetically. A moment later he looked up in surprise, as if he had not intended to voice aloud that thought. His toadlike face twisted in dismay.
    Felisin waited to regain control of her breathing, then she swung to face the thug.
    Baudin's small eyes were like dull coins, revealing nothing.
    'Bodyguard,' Kulp said, with a slow nod. His voice was cold as he addressed Heboric. 'Out with it. I want to know who our companion is, and where his loyalties lie. I let it slide before, because Gesler and his soldiers were on hand. But not now. This girl has a bodyguard – why? Right now, I can't see anyone caring a whit for a cruel-hearted creature like this one, meaning this loyalty's been bought. Who is she, Heboric?'
    The ex-priest grimaced. 'Tavore's sister, Mage.'
    Kulp blinked. 'Tavore? The Adjunct? Then what in Hood's name was she doing in a mining pit?'
    'She sent me there,' Felisin said. 'You're right – no loyalty involved. I was just one more in Unta's cull.'
    Clearly shaken, the mage spun to Baudin. 'You're a Claw, aren't you?' The air around Kulp seemed to glitter – Felisin realized he'd opened his warren. The mage bared his teeth. 'The Adjunct's remorse, in the flesh.'
    'Not a Claw,' Heboric said.
    'Then what?'
    'That'll take a history lesson to explain—'
    'Start talking.'
    'An old rivalry,' the ex-priest said. 'Dancer and Surly. Dancer created a covert arm for military campaigns. In keeping with the Imperial symbol of the demon hand gripping a sphere, he called them his Talons. Surly used that model in creating the Claw. The Talons were external – outside the Empire – but the Claw were internal, a secret police, a network of spies and assassins.'
    'But the Claw are used in covert military operations,' Kulp said.
    'They are now. When Surly became Regent in the absence of Kellanved and Dancer, she sent her Claws after the Talons. The betrayal started subtly – a string of disastrous botched missions – but someone got careless and gave the game away. The two locked daggers and fought it out to the bitter end.'
    'And the Claw won.'
    Heboric nodded. 'Surly becomes Laseen, Laseen becomes Empress. The Claws sit atop the pile of skulls