A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

were crowded with Great Ravens, hunched and motionless under the deluge.
    Reining in before Caladan Brood's command tent, Kallor dismounted and strode within.
    The outrider, Hurlochel, stood just within the flap, present as Brood's messenger should such need arise. The young man was wan, half asleep at his station. Ignoring him, Kallor raised his visor and stepped past.
    The warlord was uncharacteristically slumped in a camp chair, his hammer resting across his thighs. He had not bothered to clean the mud from his armour or boots. His strangely bestial eyes lifted, took in Kallor, then dropped once more. 'I have made a mistake,' he rumbled.
    'I agree, Warlord.'
    That earned Brood's sharpened attention. 'You must have misunderstood . . .'
    'I have not. We should have joined Whiskeyjack. The annihilation of Onearm's Host – no matter how much that might please me personally – will be a tactical disaster for this campaign.'
    'All very well, Kallor,' Brood rumbled, 'but there is little we can do about it, now.'
    'This storm will pass, Warlord. You can increase our pace come the morning – we can perhaps shave off a day. I am here for another reason, however. One that is, conveniently, related to our change of heart.'
    'Spit it out short and sweet, Kallor, or not at all.'
    'I would ride to join Whiskeyjack and Korlat.'
    'To what end? An apology?'
    Kallor shrugged. 'If that would help. More directly, however, you seem to forget my ... experience. For all that I seem to grate upon all of you, I have walked this land when the T'lan Imass were but children. I have commanded armies a hundred thousand strong. I have spread the fire of my wrath across entire continents, and sat alone upon tall thrones. Do you grasp the meaning of this?'
    'Yes. You never learn, Kallor.'
    'Clearly,' he snapped, 'you do not grasp the meaning. I know a field of battle better than any man alive, including you.'
    'The Malazans seem to have done very well on this continent without your help. Besides, what makes you think Whiskeyjack or Dujek will heed your suggestions?'
    'They are rational men, Warlord. You forget something else about me, as well, it seems. With my blade drawn, I have not faced defeat in a hundred thousand years.'
    'Kallor, you choose your enemies well. Have you ever crossed weapons with Anomander Rake? Dassem Ultor? Graymane? The Seguleh First?'
    He did not need to add: with me? 'I will face none of them in Coral,' Kallor growled. 'Just Seerdomin, Urdomen, Septarchs—'
    'And perhaps a K'Chain Che'Malle or three?'
    'I did not think any remained, Warlord.'
    'Maybe. Maybe not. I am somewhat surprised, Kallor, by your sudden ... zeal.'
    The tall warrior shrugged. 'I would answer my own ill advice, that is all. Do you give me leave to join Whiskeyjack and Korlat?'
    Brood studied him for a time, then he sighed and waved one mud-spattered, gauntleted hand. 'Go.'
    Kallor spun and strode from the tent. Outside, he approached his horse.
    A few miserable Great Ravens, huddled beneath a wagon, were the only witnesses to his sudden smile.
     
    The floes abutting the rocky shoreline were all awash in darkly stained water. Lady Envy watched Baaljagg and Garath splash through it towards the forest-crowded strand. Sighing, she parted the veil on her warren, enough to permit her to cross without getting wet.
    She had had more than enough of wild seas, black water, submerged mountains of ice and freezing rain, and was contemplating fashioning a suitably efficacious curse upon Nerruse and Beru both, the Lady for her failure to maintain reasonable order upon her waters, the Lord for his evidently senseless outrage at being so thoroughly exploited. Of course, such a curse might well weaken the pantheon yet further, and that would not be appreciated.
    She sighed. 'So, I must forgo such pleasure ... or at least suspend it for a time. Oh well.' Turning, she saw Senu, Thurule and Mok clambering down the near-vertical ice sheet that led down to the floe. Moments later, the Seguleh were sloshing their way to the shore.
    Lanas Tog had vanished a short while past, to reappear beneath the trees directly opposite them.
    Lady Envy stepped off the jagged, frost-rimed edge of the Meckros street, settled slowly towards the bridge of ice. She approached the strand's tumbled line of rocks where the others had gathered.
    'Finally!' she said upon arriving, stepping gingerly onto sodden moss close to where Lanas Tog stood. Huge cedars marched into the gloom of the slope