A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

sides of the river were a mass of colour, their branches festooned with strips of cloth, with braids and painted human bones that twisted in the wind.
    Mesh'arn tho'ledann. The Day of Pure Blood. Upstream, on either bank for as far as he could see, long poles had been thrust into the mud at angles so that they hung over the swirling water. The carcasses of sheep and goats hung from them. From some the blood still drained, whilst others were well along in their rot, seething with flies, capemoths and carrion birds. Small white flecks rained down from the sacrificed animals, to which fish swarmed, and it was a moment before Gamet realized what those flecks were – maggots, falling into the river.
    Captain Keneb drew his horse alongside Gamet's own as they approached the bank. 'That's not mud binding that flotsam, is it? Oh, a little silt and sand, but mostly—'
    'Blood, aye,' Gamet muttered.
    They were trailing the Adjunct, who was flanked by Nil and Nether. The three reached the water's edge and halted their mounts. Behind Gamet and Keneb, the front companies of the 10th Legion were on the slope, within sight of the river and its ragged bridge.
    'Those sacrifices, do you think they were done to welcome us, Fist? I can't imagine such slaughter to be ongoing – the herds would be wiped out in no time.'
    'Some have been here a while,' Gamet observed. 'But you must be right, Captain.'
    'So we would cross a river of blood. If these damned tribes consider that gesture an honourable one, then the Queen has stolen their sanity. This notion of seeing the world metaphorically has ever driven me to distraction. The Seven Cities native sees everything differently. To them, the landscape is animate – not just the old notion of spirits, but in some other, far more complicated way.'
    Gamet glanced at the man. 'Is it worth making a study of it, Captain?'
    Keneb started, then half smiled, adding a strangely despondent shrug. 'That particular dialogue spoke of the rebellion and only the rebellion – for months and months before it finally happened. Had we bothered to read those signs, Fist, we could have been better prepared.'
    They had drawn up behind the Adjunct and the two Wickans. At Keneb's words, Tavore turned her horse round and faced the captain. 'Sometimes,' she said, 'knowledge is not enough.'
    'Your pardon, Adjunct,' Keneb said.
    Tavore fixed her flat gaze on Gamet. 'Bring forward the marines, Fist. We will require sappers and munitions. We shall cross a ford, not a bridge of detritus held in place by blood.'
    'Aye, Adjunct. Captain, if you will join me ...'
    They pulled their horses round and made their way back up the slope. Glancing over at Keneb, Gamet saw that the man was grinning. 'What amuses you, Captain?'
    'Munitions, sir. The sappers will weep.'
    'So long as they don't destroy the ford itself, I will be glad to give them comforting hugs.'
    'I wouldn't let them hear a promise like that, sir.'
    'No, I suppose you're right.'
    They reached the front ranks of the 10th Legion and Gamet waved a messenger over. As the rider approached,
Fist Tene Baralta joined the woman and the two arrived together.
    'Sappers?' the Red Blade asked.
    Gamet nodded. 'Aye.'
    Tene Baralta nodded and said to the messenger, 'Take word to the marine lieutenants. The Adjunct requires some demolition. Immediately.'
    'Aye, sir,' she replied, wheeling her horse round.
    They watched her canter back along the line, then the Red Blade faced Gamet. 'They will see it as an insult. This bridge of blood is intended as a blessing.'
    'She knows that, Tene Baralta,' Gamet replied. 'But the footing is far too treacherous. That should be obvious, even to our hidden observers.'
    The large man shrugged, armour clanking with the motion. 'Perhaps a quiet word to Gall of the Khundryl, a rider sent out to find those observers, to ensure that no misunderstanding occurs.'
    'A good suggestion,' Gamet replied.
    'I shall see to it, then.'
    The Red Blade rode off.
    'Forgive me if I am too forward, Fist,' Keneb murmured, 'but what just occurred strikes me as the very thing that the Adjunct would dislike most.'
    'Do you believe she dislikes initiative among her officers, Captain?'
    'I wouldn't presume—'
    'You just did.'
    'Ah, well, I see your point. My apologies, Fist.'
    'Never apologize when you're right, Keneb. Wait here for the squads.' He set off down to where the Adjunct still sat astride her horse at the shoreline.
    Nil and Nether had dismounted and were now