A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

driven into watchful silence by the conjurations rising on all sides.
    'Who,' Itkovian asked dully, 'are you?'
    'I am the Bonecaster Pran Chole, of the Kron T'lan Imass. We are come to the Gathering. And, it seems, to a war. I think, mortal, you have need of us.'
    The Shield Anvil looked upon his ten surviving soldiers. The recruit was among them, but not her two guardians. Twenty. Soldiers and horses. Twenty ... gone. He scanned the faces now arrayed before him, and slowly nodded. 'Aye, Pran Chole, we have need.'
     
    The recruit's face was the hue of bleached parchment. She sat on the ground, eyes unfocused, spattered with the blood of one or both of the soldiers who had given their lives protecting her.
    Itkovian stood beside her, saying nothing. The brutality of the engagement may well have broken the Capan recruit, he suspected. Active service was intended to hone, not destroy. The Shield Anvil's underestimation of the enemy had made of this young woman's future a world of ashes. Two blindingly sudden deaths would haunt her for the rest of her days. And there was nothing Itkovian could do, or say, to ease the pain.
    'Shield Anvil.'
    He looked down at her, surprised that she would speak, wondering at the hardness of her voice. 'Recruit?'
    She was looking round, eyes thinning as she studied the legions of undead warriors who stood in ragged ranks, unmoving, on all sides. 'There are thousands.'
    Spectral figures, risen to stand above the plain's tawny grasses, row on row. As if the earth herself had thrust them clear of her flesh. 'Aye. I'd judge well over ten thousand. T'lan Imass. Tales of these warriors had reached us' – tales I found hard to countenance – 'but this represents our first encounter, and a timely one at that.'
    'Do we return to Capustan now?'
    Itkovian shook his head. 'Not all of us. Not immediately. There are more of these K'Chain Che'Malle on this plain. Pran Chole – the unarmed one, some kind of high priest or shaman – has suggested a joint exercise, and I have approved. I will lead eight of the troop west.'
    'Bait.'
    He raised a brow. 'Correct. The T'lan Imass travel unseen, and will therefore surround us at all times. Were they to remain visible in this hunt, the K'Chain Che'Malle would probably avoid them, at least until they have gathered in such numbers as to challenge the entire army. Better they were cut down in twos and threes. Recruit, I am attaching an escort of one soldier to you for an immediate return to Capustan. A report must needs be made to the Mortal Sword. Accompanying the two of you, unseen, will be a select squad of T'lan Imass. Emissaries. I have been assured that no K'Chain Che'Malle are present between here and the city.'
    She slowly rose. 'Sir, a single rider would do as well. You return me to Capustan to spare me . . . from what? From seeing K'Chain Che'Malle cut to pieces by these T'lan Imass? Shield Anvil, there is no mercy or compassion in your decision.'
    'It seems,' Itkovian said, staring out upon the vast army arrayed around them, 'you are not lost to us, after all. The Boar of Summer despises blind obedience. You will ride with us, sir.'
    'Thank you, Shield Anvil.'
    'Recruit, I trust you have not deluded yourself into believing that witnessing the destruction of more K'Chain Che'Malle will silence the cries within you. Soldiers are issued armour for their flesh and bones, but they must fashion their own for their souls. Piece by piece.'
    She looked down at the blood spattered across her uniform. 'It has begun.'
    Itkovian was silent for a moment, studying the recruit at his side. 'The Capan are a foolish people, to deny freedom to their women. The truth of that is before me.'
    She shrugged. 'I am not unique.'
    'Attend to your horse, soldier. And direct Sidlis to join me.'
    'Sir.'
    He watched her walk towards the waiting horses and the surviving soldiers of the wings, all of whom had gathered around their mounts to check girth straps, fittings and equipment. She joined their ranks, spoke with Sidlis, who nodded and approached the Shield Anvil.
    Pran Chole strode up at the same time. 'Itkovian, our choices have been made. Kron's emissaries have been assembled and await your messenger.'
    'Understood.'
    Sidlis arrived. 'Capustan, Shield Anvil?' she asked.
    'With an unseen escort. Report directly to the Mortal Sword and the Destriant. In private. The T'lan Imass emissaries are to speak with the Grey Swords and none other, for the moment at