A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

that their lord had retired within the command tent with Caladan Brood. Whiskeyjack looked for Korlat but didn't see her; nor, he realized after a moment, was the Mhybe anywhere in sight. The child Silverfox stood a dozen paces from Paran, watching the captain with Tattersail's eyes.
    'No questions,' Paran growled as Whiskeyjack halted before him. 'I have no answers for you – not for what's happened here, not for what I've become. Perhaps it would be best if you placed someone else in command of the Bridgeburners—'
    'No reason for that,' Whiskeyjack said. 'Besides, I hate changing my mind on anything, Captain.'
    Quick Ben joined them. He grinned. 'That was close, wasn't it?'
    'What is that thing?' Whiskeyjack asked him, nodding towards the tabletop.
    'Just what it appears to be. A new Unaligned card in the Deck of Dragons. Well, it's the Unaligned of all Unaligneds. The table holds the entire Deck, remember.' The wizard glanced over at Paran. 'The captain here's on the threshold of ascendancy, as we suspected. And that means that what he does – or chooses not to do – could have profound effects. On all of us. The Deck of Dragons seems to have acquired a Master. Jen'isand Rul.'
    Paran turned away, clearly not wanting to be part of this conversation.
    Whiskeyjack frowned at the wizard. 'Jen'isand Rul. I thought that was a name referring to his ... escapades within a certain weapon.'
    'It is, but since that name is on the card it seems the two are linked... somehow. If the captain's in the dark as much as the rest of us, then I'll have to do some hard thinking on what that linkage signifies. Of course,' he added, 'the captain might well know enough to help me along in this, provided he's willing.'
    Paran opened his mouth for a reply but Whiskeyjack spoke first. 'He's got no answers for us... right now. I take it we're carrying that ridiculous tabletop along with us on the march?'
    Quick Ben slowly nodded. 'It would be best, at least for a while, so I can study it some more. Still, I would advise we unload it before we cross into Pannion territory. The Trygalle Trade Guild can deliver it to the alchemist in Darujhistan for safekeeping.'
    A new voice cut in, 'The card does not leave us.'
    The three men turned to find Silverfox standing close. Behind her, a dozen Rhivi warriors were lifting the tabletop.
    Watching the dark-skinned, lithe men carrying the tabletop away, Quick Ben frowned. 'Risky, taking an object of such power into battle, lass.'
    'We must accept that risk, Wizard.'
    Whiskeyjack grunted. 'Why?'
    'Because the card belongs to Paran, and he will have need of it.'
    'Can you explain that?'
    'We struggle against more than one enemy, as shall be seen.'
    'I don't want that card,' Paran snapped. 'You'd better paint a new face on that thing. I have the blood of a Hound of Shadow within me. I am a liability – when will you all see that? Hood knows, I do!'
    The rustle of armour alerted them to Kallor's approach.
    Whiskeyjack scowled. 'You are not part of this conversation.'
    Kallor smiled wryly. 'Never part of, but often the subject of—'
    'Not this time.'
    The High King's flat, grey eyes fixed on Quick Ben. 'You, wizard, are a hoarder of souls ... I am a man who releases souls – shall I break the chains within you? An easy thing, to leave you helpless.'
    'Even easier,' Quick Ben replied, 'to make a hole in the ground.'
    Kallor dropped from sight, the earth gone from beneath him. Armour clattered, followed by a bellow of rage.
    Silverfox gasped, eyes widening on Quick Ben.
    The wizard shrugged. 'You're right, I don't care who, or what, Kallor is.'
    Whiskeyjack stepped to the edge of the pit, glanced down. 'He's climbing out... not bad for an old man.'
    'But since I'm not stupid,' Quick Ben said hastily, 'I'll take leave, now.' The wizard gestured and seemed to blur a moment before vanishing altogether.
    Turning his back on the grunting, cursing Kallor – whose gauntleted hands were now visible scrabbling at the crumbly edge of the pit – Whiskeyjack said to Paran, 'Return to the Bridgeburners, Captain. If all goes well, we'll meet again at Capustan.'
    'Yes, sir.' Somewhat unsteadily, Paran strode away.
    'I suggest,' Silverfox said, eyes fixed on Kallor's efforts to extricate himself, 'we too should depart this particular place.'
    'Agreed, lass.'
     
    Slumped in his saddle, Whiskeyjack watched the columns of Onearm's Host marching out from the city of Pale. The day was hot, the hint of thunderstorms in