A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

foremost among them.
    Stepping past the Edur, Udinaas led his two fellow slaves to the sled.
    The waxed canvas sheathing the ice had slowed the melt, although the slabs beneath it were much diminished, the edges softened and milky white.
    Fear passed the harness over to Udinaas. The two other slaves helping, they began dragging it towards the large wooden structure where Edur corpses were prepared for burial. No-one stopped them.
    Seren Pedac gripped Buruk's arm and began pulling him back towards the bridge. He swung her a wild look, but wisely said nothing.
    They could not manage the passage unseen, and Seren felt sweat prickling on her neck and in the small of her back as she guided the merchant back towards the guest camp. They were not accosted, but their presence had without doubt been marked. The consequences of that would remain undetermined, until such time as the conflict they had witnessed was resolved.
    The Nerek had extended a tarp from one of the wagons to shield the hearth they kept continually burning. They scurried from the smoky flames as soon as Buruk and Seren arrived, quickly disappearing into their tents.
    'That looks,' Buruk muttered as he edged closer to the hearth and held out his hands, 'to be serious trouble. The Warlock King was badly shaken, and I like not this talk of a gift. A sword? Some kind of sword, yes? A gift from whom? Surely not an alliance with the Jheck—'
    'No,' agreed Seren, 'given that it was the Jheck with whom they fought. There's nothing else out there, Buruk. Nothing at all.'
    She thought back to that scene on the other side of the bridge. Fear's brother, not Binadas, but the other one, who'd counselled reason, he ... interested her. Physically attractive, of course. Most Edur were. But there was more. There was... intelligence. And pain. Seren scowled. She was always drawn to the hurting ones.
    'A sword,' Buruk mused, staring into the flames, 'of such value that Hannan Mosag contemplates mutilating a blooded warrior's corpse.'
    'Doesn't that strike you as odd?' Seren asked. 'A corpse, holding on to a sword so tight even Fear Sengar cannot pull it loose?'
    'Perhaps frozen?'
    'From the moment of death?'
    He grunted. 'I suppose not, unless it took his brothers a while to get to him.'
    'A day or longer, at least. Granted, we don't know the circumstances, but that does seem unlikely, doesn't it?'
    'It does.' Buruk shrugged. 'A damned Edur funeral. That won't put the Warlock King in a good mood. The delegation will arrive at precisely the wrong time.'
    'I think not,' Seren said. 'The Edur have been unbalanced by this. Hannan Mosag especially. Unless there's quick resolution, we will be among a divided people.'
    A quick, bitter smile. 'We?'
    'Letherii, Buruk. I am not part of the delegation. Nor, strictly speaking, are you.'
    'Nor Hull Beddict,' he added. 'Yet something tells me we are irredeemably bound in that net, whether it sees the light of day or sinks to the deep.'
    She said nothing, because he was right.
    The sled glided easily along the wet straw and Udinaas raised a boot to halt its progress alongside the stone platform. Unspeaking, the three slaves began unclasping the straps, pulling them free from beneath the body. The tarp was then lifted clear. The slabs of ice were resting on a cloth-wrapped shape clearly formed by the body it contained, and all three saw at the same time that Rhulad's jaw had opened in death, as if voicing a silent, endless scream.
    Hulad stepped back. 'Errant preserve us,' he hissed.
    'It's common enough, Hulad,' Udinaas said. 'You two can go, but first drag that chest over here, the one resting on the rollers.'
    'Gold coins, then?'
    'I am assuming so,' Udinaas replied. 'Rhulad died a blooded warrior. He was noble-born. Thus, it must be gold.'
    'What a waste,' said Hulad.
    The other slave, Irim, grinned and said, 'When the Edur are conquered, we should form a company, the three of us, to loot the barrows.' He and Hulad pulled the chest along the runners.
    The coals were red, the sheet of iron black with heat.
    Udinaas smiled. 'There are wards in those barrows, Irim. And shadow wraiths guarding them.'
    'Then we hire a mage who can dispel them. The wraiths will be gone, along with every damned Edur. Nothing but rotting bones. I dream of that day.'
    Udinaas glanced over at the old man. 'And how badly Indebted are you, Irim?'
    The grin faded. 'That's just it. I'd be able to pay it off. For my grandchildren, who are still in Trate. Pay it off,