A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

grooves and carefully cocked both weapons. Then settled back to give the situation some thought.
    Even as he watched he saw the air swirl before the command tent's entrance, and a portal opened. Blinding white light, the flare of fire, then Kamist Reloe emerged. The portal contracted behind him, then winked out.
    The mage looked exhausted but strangely triumphant. He gestured at the guards then strode into the tent. The three grey-clothed assassins followed the mage inside.
    A hand light as a leaf settled on Kalam's shoulder, and a voice rasped, 'Eyes forward, soldier.'
    He knew that voice, from more years back than he'd like to think. But that bastard's dead. Dead before Surly took the throne.
    'Granted,' the voice continued, and Kalam knew that acid-spattered face was grinning, 'no love's lost between me and the company I'm sharing... again. Figured I'd seen the last of every damn one of them ... and you. Well, never mind that. Need a way in there, right? Best we mount a diversion, then. Give us fifty heartbeats ... at least you can count those, Corporal.'
    The hand lifted away.
    Kalam Mekhar drew a deep, shaky breath. What in Hood's name is going on here? That damned captain went renegade. They found his body in Malaz City the morning after the assassinations . . . or something closely approximating his body . . .
    He focused his gaze once more upon the command tent.
    From beyond it a scream broke the night, then the unmistakable flash and earth-shaking thump of Moranth munitions.
    Suddenly the guards were running.
    Tucking one of the crossbows into his belt, Kalam drew out the otataral long-knife. He waited until only two Dogslayers were visible, both to the right of the entrance, facing the direction of the attack – where screams ripped the air, as much born of horror as from the pain of wounds – then surged forward.
    Raising the crossbow in his left hand. The recoil thrumming the bones of his arm. The quarrel burying itself in the back of the further guard. Long-knife thrusting into the nearer man, point punching through leather between plates of bronze, piercing flesh then sliding between ribs to stab the heart.
    Blood sprayed as he tugged the weapon free and darted into the tent's doorway.
    Wards collapsed around him.
    Within the threshold he reloaded the crossbow and affixed it in the brace on his wrist – beneath the voluminous sleeves. Then did the same with the other one on his left wrist.
    The main chamber before him held but a lone occupant, a grey-robed assassin who spun at Kalam's arrival, a pair of hooked Kethra knives flashing into guard position. The face within the hood was expressionless, a narrow, sun-darkened visage tattooed in the Pardu style, the swirling artistry broken by a far heavier sigil branded into the man's forehead – a talon.
    The grey-clad assassin suddenly smiled. 'Kalam Mekhar. I suppose you don't remember me.'
    In answer Kalam drew out his second long-knife and attacked.
    Sparks bit the air as the blades clashed and whispered, the Pardu driven back two steps until, with a sweeping backslash, he leapt to the right and sidestepped round to give himself more space. Kalam maintained the pressure, weapons flashing as they darted out, keeping the Talon on the defensive.
    He had skill with those heavy Kethra knives, and both quickness and strength. Kalam's blades took blocking blows that reverberated up the bones of his arms. Clearly, the Pardu was seeking to break the thinner weapons, and, well made as they were, nicks and notches were being driven into the edges.
    Further, Kalam knew he was running out of time. The diversion continued, but now, along with the crack of sharpers ripping the air, waves of sorcery had begun rolling in deafening counterpoint. Whatever the nature of the squads attacking the Dogslayers, mages were giving answer.
    Worse yet, this Talon didn't enter here alone.
    Kalam suddenly shifted stance, extending the knife in his left hand and drawing his right hand back to take guard position. He led with the point, evading the parries, and, in increments, slowly retracted his left arm, beginning at the shoulder. The faintest pivoting of hips, drawing the lead leg back—
    And the Pardu closed the distance with a single step.
    Kalam's right hand shot across, beating aside both Kethra blades, simultaneously lunging high with his left hand.
    The Pardu flung both weapons up to parry and trap the thrust.
    And Kalam stepped in still closer, stabbing crossways with