A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

breaths, lass.'
    'He always said that, too! Oh, this is infuriating! It's all happening again! What is wrong with all of you?'
    He laughed, not harshly, but with genuine warmth. 'Come along, Envy. I'll bore you with a detailed recounting of my youth – it'll pass the time. I was born on a ship, you know, and it was more than a few days before Toc the Elder stepped forward to acknowledge his fatherhood – my mother was Captain Cartheron Crust's sister, you see, and Crust had a temper ...'
     
    The lands lying just beyond Bastion's walls were devastated. Farmsteads were blackened, smouldering heaps; to either side of the road the ground itself had been torn into, ripped open like wounds in flesh. Within sight of the small city's squat walls, the remnants of massive bonfires dotted the landscape like round barrows dusted with white ash. No-one walked the wasteland.
    Smoke hung over Bastion's block-like, tiered buildings. Above the grey wreaths rode the white flags of seagulls, their faint cries the only sound to reach Toc and Lady Envy as the group approached the city's inland gates. The stench of fire masked the smell of the lake on the other side of the city, the air's breath hot and gritty.
    The gates were ajar. As they neared, Toc caught a glimpse of movement beyond the archway, as of a figure swiftly passing, dark and silent. His nerves danced. 'What has happened here?' he wondered aloud.
    'Very unpleasant,' Lady Envy agreed.
    They strode beneath the shadow of the arch, and the air was suddenly sickly sweet with the smell of burning flesh. Toc hissed through his teeth.
    Baaljagg and Garath – both returned to modest proportions – trotted forward, heads slung low.
    'I believe the question of sustenance has a grim answer indeed,' Lady Envy said.
    Toc nodded. 'They're eating their own dead. I don't think it's a good idea to enter this city.'
    She turned to him. 'Are you not curious?'
    'Curious, aye, but not suicidal.'
    'Fear not. Let us take a closer look.'
    'Envy ...'
    Her eyes hardened. 'If the inhabitants are foolish enough to threaten us, they shall know my wrath. And Garath's as well. If you think this is ruination now, your judgement will receive a lesson in perspective, my dear. Come.'
    'Yes, ma'am.'
    'Familiarity breeds facetiousness, I see. How regrettable.'
    The two Seguleh and their unconscious master trailing three paces behind them, Toc and Lady Envy strode into the square.
    Split human long bones were piled against the inner walls, some calcined by heat, others red and raw. The buildings facing onto the square were blackened, doorways and windows gaping. The bones of various animals – dogs, mules, horses and oxen – lay about, gnawed and split.
    Three men who were obviously priests awaited them in the centre of the square, clean-shaven, gaunt and pale in their colourless robes. One took a step forward as Toc and Envy approached.
    'Strangers, welcome. An acolyte saw you on the road, and we three have hastened to greet you. You have chosen an auspicious day to visit glorious Bastion; alas, this day also places your lives in great peril. We shall endeavour to guide you, and thus improve the likelihood of your surviving the Embrasure's violent... afterbirth. If you will follow us...' He gestured towards a side street. 'At the mouth of Iltara Avenue, we shall have removed ourselves from the exodus's path, yet remain able to witness the miracle.'
    'Ideal,' Lady Envy said. 'We thank you, holy ones.'
    The walk to the mouth of the side street was no more than fifty paces, yet in that time the city's silence was replaced by a growing murmur, a dry susurration approaching from Bastion's heart. Upon arriving, Baaljagg and Garath returned to flank Lady Envy. Senu and Thurule set the travois down against the wall of a corner building, then faced the square once more, hands on their weapons.
    'The will of the Faith has embraced the citizens of Bastion,' the priest said. 'It arrives like a fever ... a fever that only death can abate. Yet it must be remembered that the Embrasure was first felt here in Bastion itself, fourteen years ago. The Seer had returned from the Mountain, speaking the Words of Truth, and the power of those words rippled outward . . .' The priest's voice broke with some kind of emotion wrought by his own words. He bowed his head, his entire body trembling.
    Another priest continued for him. 'The Faith flowered here first. A caravan from Elingarth was encamped beyond the walls. The foreigners