A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

back. The Trimaster now controls North Gate, to which his company of sappers are effecting repairs.'
    'And this impromptu militia and its commander?'
    'Only a few wounded were there to greet the Trimaster, sir. The, uh, militia has set off westward, in pursuit of an Urdomen company that sought to storm Lektar House.'
    'Messenger, send the First Wing to their aid. Upon delivering my command, take some rest, sir.'
    'Yes, Shield Anvil.'
    'That is not the helmet you were issued with, is it, sir?'
    Abashed, she shook her head. 'I, uh, lost it, Shield Anvil.'
    'Have the quartermaster find you one that fits.'
    'Yes, sir.'
    'Go.'
    The two veterans watched the young woman depart.
    'Careless,' the Trimaster murmured, 'losing her helm.'
    'Indeed.'
    'Clever, finding another one.'
    The Shield Anvil smiled.
    'I shall take my leave now, sir.'
    'Fener go with you, Trimaster.'
     
    Karnadas drew a long, quiet breath, the hairs of his neck rising at the sudden, heavy silence in the Great Hall. Betrayal? His eyes were drawn to one priest in particular. Rath'K'rul's words were fuel to suspicions the Destriant already held, and the bias led him to mistrust his own conclusions. He held his tongue, but his gaze remained fixed on Rath'Fener.
    The boar mask was without expression, yet the man stood as if he had just taken a blow.
    'The age of K'rul,' Rath'Shadowthrone hissed, 'is long past.'
    'He has returned,' the robed man replied. 'A fact that should give every one of you a certain measure of relief. It is K'rul's blood, after all, that has been poisoned. The battle now begun shall spare no-one, including the gods whom you serve. If you doubt my words, take your inner journeys – hear the truth from your gods. Aye, the words might well be reluctant, indeed, resentful. But they will be spoken none the less.'
    'Your suggestion,' Rath'Queen of Dreams said, 'cannot be achieved in haste.'
    'I am amenable to reconvening,' Rath'K'rul said with a slight bow. 'Be warned, however, we've little time.'
    'You spoke of betrayal—'
    'Aye, Rath'Queen of Dreams, I did.'
    'You wound us with divisiveness.'
    The robed man cocked his head. 'Those who know your own conscience to be clear, brothers and sisters, will thereby be united. The one who cannot make that claim, will likely be dealt with by his god.'
    ' His? '
    Rath'K'rul shrugged.
    Brukhalian cleared his throat in the subsequent silence. 'With the leave of the Mask Council, I shall now depart. My Shield Anvil has need of me.'
    'Of course,' Rath'Hood said. 'Indeed, from the sounds beyond the Thrall, it would appear that the walls are breached and the enemy is within.'
    And Hood stalks Capustan's streets. Ambivalence, sufficient to cool your tone.
    The Mortal Sword smiled. 'It was our expectation from the very beginning, Rath'Hood, that the walls and gates would be taken. Periodically.' He swung to Karnadas. 'Join me, please. I require the latest information.'
    The Destriant nodded.
    Hetan suddenly rose, eyes flashing as she glared at Rath'K'rul. 'Sleeping Man, is your god's offer true? Will he in truth aid us?'
    'He will. Which of you volunteers?'
    The Barghast woman, eyes wide, jerked her head towards her brother.
    The robed man smiled.
    Rath'Shadowthrone seemed to spit out his words, 'What now? What now? What now? '
    Karnadas turned to study Cafal, was shocked to see the man still seated cross-legged, with his head bowed in slumber.
    'To all here,' Rath'K'rul said in a low voice, 'awaken him not, if you value your lives.'
     
    An even dozen Capanthall remained of the sixty-odd followers Gruntle had led westward from North Gate, and only one Lestari guardsman, a short-legged, long-armed sergeant who had stepped into the role of second-in-command without a word.
    Lestari House was one of the few well-fortified private residences in Capustan, the home of Kalan D'Arle, a merchant family with links to the Council in Darujhistan as well as the now fallen noble house of the same name in Lestari itself. The solid stone structure abutted the north wall and its flat roof had become a strongpoint and rallying position for the wall's defenders.
    At street level, the grand entrance consisted of a thick bronze door set in a stone frame, the hinges recessed. A broad pediment overhung the entrance, held up by twin marble columns, its ceiling crowded with the carved heads of demons, their mouths open and now dripping with the last of the boiling water that had gushed down on the screaming Scalandi who had been