A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

flesh, that he would have to resume his hunt. It seemed, however, that my words had an effect. He is not an unreasonable man, after all. Now, if you would kindly call off your hunters.'
    'We have been over this – you know that is impossible.'
    'I would not lose him, Topper.'
    His laugh was a bark. 'I said I cannot call off my hunters, Empress – do you take that to mean you actually expect them to succeed 7 . Hood's breath, Dancer himself would have hesitated before taking on Kalam Mekhar. No, better to view this disastrous night as a long-overdue winnowing of the brotherhood's weaker elements ...'
    'Generous of you, indeed.'
    His smile was wry. 'We have learned lessons in killing this night, Empress. Much to ponder. Besides, I have a victim on which to vent my frustration.'
    'Pearl, your favoured lieutenant.'
    'Favoured no longer.'
    A hint of warning entered Laseen's tone. 'I trust he will recover from your attentions, Topper.'
    He sighed. 'Aye, but for the moment I will leave him to sweat.. . and consider Kalam's most pointed lesson. A certain measure of humility does a man good, I always say. Would you not agree, Empress?
    'Empress?'
    I have been talking to a corpse. Ah, Laseen, that is what I love most about you – your extraordinary ability to make one eat one's own words . . .
     
    The captain of the Guard literally stumbled on them as they edged their way alongside the old keep's outer wall. Minala raised the crossbow and the man cautiously held his hands out to the sides. Kalam stepped forward and dragged him into the shadows, then quickly disarmed him.
    'All right, Captain,' the assassin hissed. 'Tell me where the Hold's unwelcome guests are hiding.'
    'I take it you don't mean yourselves,' the man said, sighing. 'Well, the gatehouse guard's been muttering about figures on the stairs – of course, the old bastard's half blind. But in the grounds here ... nothing.'
    'You can do better than that, Captain ... ?'
    The man scowled. 'Aragan. And here I am only days away from a new posting ...'
    'And that doesn't have to change, with a little co-operation.'
    'I've just done the rounds – everything's quiet, as far as I can tell. Mind you, that doesn't mean a thing, does it?'
    Minala glanced pointedly up at the pennant flapping from the weathervane above the Hold. 'And your official guest? No bodyguards?'
    Captain Aragan grinned. 'Oh, the Empress, you mean.' Something in his tone hinted at great amusement. 'She's not aged well, has she?'
    Inky blackness billowed in the courtyard. Minala shouted a warning even as the crossbow bucked in her hands. A voice shouted in pain.
    Kalam straight-armed the captain, sending him sprawling to one side, then spun, knife flashing in his hand.
    Four Hands of the Claw had appeared – twenty killers were converging on them. Throwing stars hissed through the darkness. Minala cried out, the crossbow flying from her grip as she staggered back. A bucking wave of sorcery rolled over the cobbles – and vanished.
    Shadows swirled in the midst of the Hands, adding to the confusion. When something huge and ungainly stepped into view, Kalam's eyes widened with recognition. Apt! The demon lashed out. Bodies flew in all directions. The Hand most distant turned as one to meet this new threat. A rock-sized object flew towards them. The five hunters scattered – but too late, as the sharper struck the flagstones.
    The explosion sent shards of iron scything through them.
    A lone hunter closed with Kalam. Two thin-bladed knives darted forward in a blur. One struck the assassin in his right shoulder, the other missed his face by inches. Kalam's knife fell from nerveless fingers and he reeled back. The hunter leapt at him.
    The sack of cloth-tacks intercepted the path of the man's head with a sickening crunch. The hunter dropped to writhe on the ground.
    Another sharper detonated nearby. More screams rang through the courtyard.
    Hands gripped Kalam's tattered apron, dragged him into the shadows. The assassin weakly struggled. 'Minala!'
    A familiar voice whispered close to him. 'We've got her – and Crokus has the stallion—'
    Kalam blinked. 'Sorry?'
    'It's Apsalar these days, Corporal.'
    The shadows closed on all sides. Sounds faded.
    'You're full of holes,' Apsalar observed. 'Busy night, I take it.'
    He grunted as the knife was slowly withdrawn from his shoulder, and he felt the blood welling in the blade's wake. A face leaned into his view, a grey-streaked red snarl of beard, a battered