A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

of a sunken stone house the morning breeze brought his head round. He paused, eyes searching down the street opposite him. Mist drifted here and there, and the first carts of the lesser merchants were being pulled out by figures wrapped warm against the chill – the Hound was running out of time.
    Gear's eyes travelled down the length of the street, focusing on a large, walled estate at the far end. Four soldiers lounged before its gate, watching passers-by with little interest and talking among themselves. Gear's head lifted, his study finding a shuttered window on the estate's second floor.
    Anticipation and pleasure surged through the Hound. He had found the trail's end. Lowering his head again, he moved, his gaze unwavering on the four guards.
     
    The shift had ended. As the new marines approached they both noticed that the gate was unlocked, ajar.
    'What's this?' one asked, eyeing the two drawn faces of the soldiers who stood against the wall.
    'It's been that kind of night,' the elder responded. 'The kind where you don't ask questions.'
    The two new men exchanged glances, then the one who had spoken gave the older man a nod and a grin. 'I know the kind. Well, get on, then. Your cots are waiting.'
    The older man shifted his pike and seemed to sag. His gaze flicked to his partner, but the young man had his attention on something up the street. 'I'd guess it's too late now,' the older man said to the newcomers, 'meaning it won't happen and so it don't matter, but if a woman shows up, a Bridgeburner, you let her through and keep your eyes on the walls.'
    'Look at that dog,' the younger soldier said.
    'We hear you,' said the new man. 'Life in the Second—'
    'Look at that dog,' the young marine repeated.
    The others turned to look up the street. The old guard stared, his eyes widening, then he hissed a curse and fumbled with his pike. None of the others managed even that much before the Hound was upon them.
     
    Sleepless, Tattersail lay flat on her back on the bed in the outer room. Her exhaustion had reached a point where even sleep eluded her so she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts wandering in a disordered review of the past seven days. Despite her initial anger at being embroiled in the Bridgeburners' schemes, she had to acknowledge the excitement she felt.
    The desire to collect her possessions and open a Warren, away from the Empire, away from Hairlock's madness and hunger, away from the field of an endless war, now seemed an ancient one, born of a desperation she no longer felt.
    But it was more than just a renewed sense of humanity that compelled her to stay to see it through – the Bridgeburners, after all, had shown again and again that they could take care of their own affairs. No, she wanted to see Tayschrenn pulled down. It was a truth that frightened her. Hunger for vengeance poisoned the soul. And it was likely that she would have to wait a long time to see Tayschrenn's just demise. She wondered if, having fed on that poison for so long, she might not end up viewing the world with Hairlock's shining bright mad eyes.
    'Too much,' she muttered. 'Too much all at once.'
    A sound at the door startled her. She sat up. 'Oh,' she said, scowling, 'you've returned.'
    'Safe and sound,' Hairlock said. 'Sorry to disappoint you, 'Sail.' The marionette waved one tiny, gloved hand and the door behind him closed, its latch falling into place. 'Much feared, these Hounds of Shadow,' he said, sauntering into the room's centre and pirouetting once before sitting down, legs splayed and arms hanging limp. He sniggered. 'But in the end nothing more than glorified mutts, stupid and slow and sniffing at every tree. Finding naught of sly Hairlock.'
    Tattersail leaned back and closed her eyes. 'Quick Ben was displeased by your sloppiness.'
    'Fool!' Hairlock spat. 'I leave him to his watching, I leave him convinced that such knowledge has power over me while I go where I choose. He eagerly lays claim to commanding me, a foolishness I give him now, to make my vengeance sweeter.'
    She had heard it all before and knew he was working on her, seeking to weaken her resolve. Unfortunately he was succeeding in part, for she felt doubt. Maybe Hairlock was telling the truth: maybe Quick Ben had already lost him, yet remained ignorant of the fact. 'Keep your vengeance for the man who stole your legs and then your body,' Tattersail said drily. 'Tayschrenn still mocks you.'
    'He'll pay first!' Hairlock shrieked. Then he hunched down,