A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

commander's measure, but another entirely to doubt his own.
     
    There were three types of scorpion common in the odhan, none of which displayed any toleration for either of the others. Early in the second week Strings had drawn his two fellow sergeants aside to unveil his scheme. Both Gesler and Borduke had proved agreeable, particularly at the offer of splitting the profits three ways. Borduke was first to draw the odd-coloured stone and was quick to choose the Red-backed Bastard – outwardly the meanest of the three scorpion types. Gesler had followed, choosing the amber In Out – so named for its transparent exoskeleton through which, if one was inclined to look carefully,
various poisons could be seen racing beneath its carapace.
    The two sergeants had then looked with pity upon their hapless companion. The Lord's luck that the man with the idea in the first place should be left with the Birdshit scorpion – puny and flat and black and looking like its namesake. Of course, when it came to the three-way split of the main profits, none of that really mattered. Only in the private wagers between the three sergeants would Strings come out wanting.
    But Strings had affected only mild disappointment at being left with the Birdshit, answering with naught but a slight shrug as he collected the handful of pebbles they had used in choosing the order of selection. And neither Gesler nor Borduke caught the old sapper's twitch of a smile as he turned away, nor his seemingly casual glance to where Cuttle sat in the shade of a boulder – a glance answered with the slightest of nods.
    The squads were then set to the task of finding their respective champions whilst on the march, and, when that failed, at dusk when the horrid little creatures were wont to scuttle out from their hiding places in search of something to kill.
    Word quickly spread, and soon the wagers started pouring in. Borduke's soldier, Maybe, was chosen for the task of bet-holder, given his extraordinary ability to retain facts. And one Holder was selected from each squad, who then in turn selected a Trainer.
    The afternoon following the raid and the slaughter of the Seti, Strings slowed his pace during the march, until he fell in step with Bottle and Tarr. Despite his casual expression, the truth was, the bile roiled sour in his stomach. The Fourteenth had found its own scorpion, out there in the wastes beyond, and it had just delivered its first sting. The mood of the soldiers was low, and uncertainty gnawed at their confidence. None had believed, it was clear, that the first blood they tasted would be their own. Got to get their minds off it.
    'How's little Joyful, Bottle?'
    The mage shrugged. 'As hungry and nasty as ever, Sergeant.'
    Strings nodded. 'And how's the training coming along, Corporal?'
    Tarr frowned beneath the rim of his helm. 'All right, I suppose. As soon as I figure out what kind of training it needs, I'll get right on it.'
    'Good, the situation sounds ideal. Spread the word. First battle's tonight, one bell after we set camp.'
    Both soldiers swung their heads round at this.
    'Tonight?' Bottle asked. 'After what just—'
    'You heard me. Gesler and Borduke are getting their beauties primed, same as us. We're ready, lads.'
    'It's going to draw quite a crowd,' Corporal Tarr said, shaking his head. 'The lieutenant won't help but wonder—'
    'Not just the lieutenant, I'd imagine,' Strings replied. 'But there won't be much of a crowd. We'll use the old word-line system. Run the commentary back through the whole camp.'
    'Joyful's going to get skewered,' Bottle muttered, his expression growing sorrowful. 'And here I been feeding her, every night. Big juicy capemoths ... she'd just pounce real pretty, then start eating until there wasn't nothing left but a couple wings and a crunched-up ball. Then she'd spend half the night cleaning her pincers and licking her lips—'
    'Lips?' Smiles asked from behind the three men. 'What lips? Scorpions don't have lips—'
    'What do you know?' Bottle shot back. 'You won't even get close—'
    'When I get close to a scorpion I kill it. Which is what any sane person would do.'
    'Sane?' the mage retorted. 'You pick them up and start pulling things off! Tail, pincers, legs – I ain't seen nothing so cruel in my life!'
    'Well, ain't that close enough to see if it's got lips?'
    'Where's it all go, I wonder?' Tarr muttered.
    Bottle nodded. 'I know, it's amazing. She's so tiny ...'
    'That's our secret,' Strings said