A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

towards the harbour. With most of Malaz City between Ganoes' position and the riots, it was hard to make out any detail, beyond the growing pillars of black smoke.
    It was midday, but the flash and thundering concussion of magery made the air seem dark and heavy.
    Armour clanking, a soldier appeared along the wall near him. The man leaned vambraced forearms on the battlement, the scabbard of his longsword scraping against the stones. 'Glad for your pure blood, eh?' he asked, grey eyes on the smouldering city below.
    The boy studied the soldier. He already knew the complete regimental accoutrements of the Imperial Army, and the man at his side was a commander in the Third – one of the Emperor's own, an elite. On his dark grey shoulder-cloak was a silver brooch: a bridge of stone, lit by ruby flames. A Bridgeburner.
    High-ranking soldiers and officials of the Empire commonly passed through Mock's Hold. The island of Malaz remained a vital port of call, especially now that the Korel wars to the south had begun. Ganoes had brushed shoulders with more than his share, here and in the capital, Unta.
    'Is it true, then?' Ganoes asked boldly.
    'Is what true?'
    'The First Sword of Empire. Dassem Ultor. We heard in the capital before we left. He's dead. Is it true? Is Dassem dead?'
    The man seemed to flinch, his gaze unwavering on the Mouse. 'Such is war,' he muttered, under his breath, as if the words were not meant for anyone else's ears.
    'You're with the Third. I thought the Third was with him, in Seven Cities. At Y'Ghatan—'
    'Hood's Breath, they're still looking for his body in the still-hot rubble of that damned city, and here you are, a merchant's son three thousand leagues from Seven Cities with information only a few are supposed to possess.' He still did not turn. 'I know not your sources, but take my advice and keep what you know to yourself.'
    Ganoes shrugged. 'It's said he betrayed a god.'
    Finally the man faced him. His face was scarred, and something that might have been a burn marred his jaw and left cheek. For all that, he looked young for a commander. 'Heed the lesson there, son.'
    'What lesson?'
    'Every decision you make can change the world. The best life is the one the gods don't notice. You want to live free, boy, live quietly.'
    'I want to be a soldier. A hero.'
    'You'll grow out of it.'
    Mock's Vane squealed as a wayward gust from the harbour cleared the grainy smoke. Ganoes could now smell rotting fish and the waterfront's stink of humanity.
    Another Bridgeburner, this one with a broken, scorched fiddle strapped to his back, came up to the commander. He was wiry and if anything younger – only a few years older than Ganoes himself, who was twelve. Strange pockmarks covered his face and the backs of his hands, and his armour was a mixture of foreign accoutrements over a threadbare, stained uniform. A shortsword hung in a cracked wooden scabbard at his hip. He leaned against the merlon beside the other man with the ease of long familiarity.
    'It's a bad smell when sorcerers panic,' the newcomer said. 'They're losing control down there. Hardly the need for a whole cadre of mages, just to sniff out a few wax-witches.'
    The commander sighed. 'Thought to wait to see if they'd rein themselves in.'
    The soldier grunted. 'They are all new, untested. This could scar some of them for ever. Besides,' he added, 'more than a few down there are following someone else's orders.'
    'A suspicion, no more.'
    'The proof's right there,' the other man said. 'In the Mouse.'
    'Perhaps.'
    'You're too protective,' the man said. 'Surly says it's your greatest weakness.'
    'Surly's the Emperor's concern, not mine.'
    A second grunt answered that. 'Maybe all of us before too long.'
    The commander was silent, slowly turning to study his companion.
    The man shrugged. 'Just a feeling. She's taking a new name, you know. Laseen.'
    'Laseen?'
    'Napan word. Means—'
    'I know what it means.'
    'Hope the Emperor does, too.'
    Ganoes said, 'It means Thronemaster.'
    The two looked down at him.
    The wind shifted again, making the iron demon groan on its perch – a smell of cool stone from the Hold itself. 'My tutor's Napan,' Ganoes explained.
    A new voice spoke behind them, a woman's, imperious and cold. 'Commander.'
    Both soldiers turned, but without haste. The commander said to his companion, 'The new company needs help down there. Send Dujek and a wing, and get some sappers to contain the fires – wouldn't do to have the whole city