A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

it, but the opportunity had yet to arise.
    Boots on the ladder. The Shield Anvil swung about.
    The messenger who emerged was horribly burned along one side of his face, the red, blistered skin covering his jaw and upward, forming a ridge beneath the rim on his helm. His eye on that side was puckered, wrinkled and dark as a raisin.
    He climbed clear of the ladder, and Itkovian saw Karnadas behind him.
    The Destriant spoke first, halfway out of the hatch. 'He insisted he give his report to you first, sir. I can do nothing for the eye, but the pain—'
    'In a moment,' Itkovian snapped. 'Messenger, make your report.'
    'Apologies,' the young man gasped, 'for taking so long.'
    The Shield Anvil's eyes widened. 'You humble me, sir. It has been a bell and more since I sent you to the West Gate.'
    'The Pannions had reached through to Tular Camp, Shield Anvil. Senar Camp had fallen – its inhabitants slaughtered. Everyone. Children – sir – I am sorry, but the horror remains with me ...'
    'Go on.'
    'Jehbar Tower was surrounded, its defenders besieged. Such was the situation upon my arrival, sir. Our soldiers were scattered, fighting in clumps, many of them surrounded. We were being cut down, everywhere I looked.' He paused, drew a ragged breath, then continued, 'Such was the situation upon my arrival. As I prepared to return to you with said news, I was ... absconded—'
    'You were what? '
    'Apologies, sir. I can think of no other word. A foreigner appeared, with but half a score of Capan followers, a militia of sorts, sir. And a Lestari sergeant. The man took charge – of everyone, myself included. Shield Anvil, I argued—'
    'Clearly this man was persuasive. Resume your tale, sir.'
    'The foreigner had his own soldiers break down the door into Tular Camp. He demanded that its inhabitants come out and fight. For their children—'
    'And he convinced them?'
    'Sir, he held in his arms what was left of a child from Senar Camp. The enemy, sir – the Pannions – someone had begun to eat that child—'
    Karnadas moved up behind the young man, hands settling on his shoulders.
    'He convinced them,' Itkovian said.
    The messenger nodded. 'The foreigner – he then ... he then took what was left of the child's tunic, and has made of it a standard. I saw it myself. Sir, I ceased arguing, then – I'm sorry—'
    'I understand you, sir.'
    'There was no shortage of weapons. The Tular Capanthall armed themselves – four, five hundred came out. Men and women. The foreigner had sent out his own followers, and they began returning. With them, surviving bands of Capanthall soldiery, a few Gidrath, Coralessian, and Grey Swords, sir. The Trimaster had been killed, you see—'
    'The foreigner rallied them,' Itkovian cut in. 'Then what?'
    'We marched to the relief of Jehbar Tower, sir. Shield Anvil, behind that horrible banner, we delivered slaughter.'
    'The condition of the tower?'
    'Ruined, sir. Alas. There were but twenty survivors among the Capanthall defending it. They are now with the foreigner. I, uh, I returned to my responsibilities then, sir, and was given leave to report to you—'
    'Generous of this stranger. What was the disposition of this militia at that time?'
    'They were about to sortie through the rubble of West Gate, sir—'
    'What?'
    'A Beklite company was coming up to reinforce the attackers inside the city. But those attackers were all dead. The foreigner planned on surprising them with that fact.'
    'Twin Tusks, who is this man?'
    'I know not his name, sir. He wields two cutlasses. Fights like a ... like a boar, sir, with those two cutlasses ...'
    Itkovian stared at the young man for a long moment, seeing the pain diminishing as the Destriant continued gripping his shoulders, seeing the blisters shrink, the welt fading, new skin closing around the ruined eye. The Shield Anvil swung about in a clank of armour, faced west. The fire of the West Barracks reached its crimson light only so far. Beyond, darkness ruled. He shifted his attention to the Jelarkan Concourse. No further breaches were evident, as far as he could determine. The Mortal Sword had matters well in hand, as Itkovian knew would be the case.
    'Less than a bell,' Karnadas murmured, 'before dawn. Shield Anvil, the city holds.'
    Itkovian nodded.
    More boots on the ladder. They all turned as another messenger arrived.
    'Shield Anvil, from the third sortie to East Watch redoubt. The surviving Gidrath have been recovered, sir. Movement to the southeast was