A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

and all...'
     
    Keneb rode up alongside Gamet. Their legion had been positioned as rearguard for this day of travel and the dust was thick in the hot air.
    'I'm starting to doubt the Whirlwind Wall ever vanished,' Keneb said.
    'Aye, there's less we're kicking up than is still coming down,' Gamet replied. He hesitated, then said, 'My apologies, Captain—'
    'No need, sir. I am in fact relieved – if you'll excuse the pun. Not just from the pressure of being a Fist, but also because Ranal's promotion was rescinded. It was a pleasure informing him of that. Were you aware he had restructured the units? Using Greymane's arrangements? Of course, Greymane was fighting a protracted war over a huge territory with no defined front. He needed self-contained fighting units, ready for any contingency. Even more irritating, he neglected to inform anyone else.'
    'Are you returning the squads to their original placement, Captain?'
    'Not yet, sir. Waiting for your word.'
    Gamet thought about it for a time. 'I will inform the Adjunct of our legion's new structure.'
    'Sir?'
    'It might prove useful. We are to hold the rear at the battle, on a broken landscape. Ranal's decision, no doubt made in ignorance, is none the less suitable.'
    Keneb sighed, but said nothing, and Gamet well understood. I may have returned as Fist with the Adjunct's confirmation, but her decision on our positioning has made it clear she's lost confidence in me.
    They rode on in silence, but it was not a comfortable one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
    Who among the pantheon would the Fallen One despise and fear the most? Consider the last chaining, in which Hood, Fener, the Queen of Dreams, Osserc and Oponn all participated, in addition to Anomander Rake, Caladan Brood and a host of other ascendants. It is not so surprising, then, that the Crippled God could not have anticipated that his deadliest enemy was not found among those mentioned . . .
    The Chainings
Istan Hela
     
    'Just because I'm a woman – all woman – it doesn't mean I can cook.'
    Cutter glanced across at Apsalar, then said, 'No, no, it's very good, really—'
    But Mogora wasn't finished, waving a grass-snarled wooden ladle about as she stomped back and forth. 'There's no larder, nothing at all! And guests! Endless guests! And is he around to go find us some food? Never! I think he's dead—'
    'He's not dead,' Apsalar cut in, holding her spoon motionless above the bowl. 'We saw him only a short while ago.'
    'So you say, with your shiny hair and pouty lips – and those breasts – just wait till you start dropping whelps, they'll be at your ankles one day, big as they are – not the whelps, the breasts. The whelps will be in your hair – no,
not that shiny hair on your head, well, yes, that hair, but only as a manner of speech. What was I talking about? Yes, I have to go out every day, climbing up and down that rope ladder, scrounging food – yes, that grass is edible, just chew it down. Chew and chew. Every day, armfuls of grasses, tubers, rhizan, cockroaches and bloodflies—'
    Both Cutter and Apsalar put down their spoons.
    '—and me tripping over my tits. And then!' She waved the ladle, flinging wet grass against a wall. 'Those damned bhok'arala get into my hoard and steal all the yummy bits – every single cockroach and bloodfly! Haven't you noticed? There's no vermin in this ruin anywhere! Not a mouse, not a bug – what's a thousand spiders to do?'
    Cautiously, the two guests resumed eating, their sips preceded by close examination of the murky liquid in their spoons.
    'And how long do you plan to stay here? What is this, a hostel? How do you expect my husband and me to return to domestic normality? If it's not you it's gods and demons and assassins messing up the bedrooms! Will I ever get peace?' With that she stomped from the room.
    After a moment, Cutter blinked and sat straighter. 'Assassins?'
    'Kalam Mekhar,' Apsalar replied. 'He left marks, an old Bridgeburner habit.'
    'He's back? What happened?'
    She shrugged. 'Shadowthrone and Cotillion have, it seems, found use for us all. If I were to guess, Kalam plans on killing as many of Sha'ik's officers as he can.'
    'Well, Mogora did raise an interesting question. Cotillion wanted us here, but why? Now what?'
    'I have no answers for you, Crokus. It would seem Cotillion's interests lie more with you than with me. Which is not surprising.'
    'It isn't? It is to me. Why would you say otherwise?'
    She studied him for a moment, then her eyes