A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

skin black as canal water, with spikes on its arms. Eyes like a snake's, glowing grey.'
    Bugg sniffed the air, seeking something beyond the blood.
    'It ripped Strong Rall to pieces, it did, then went into that building.'
    The manservant swung his gaze to where the man pointed. A derelict temple, sunken down at one corner, the peaked roof tilted sharply on that side. Bugg grunted. 'That was the last temple of the Fulcra, wasn't it?'
    'Don't ask us.'
    'That cult's been dead a hundred years at least,' the manservant continued, scowling at the dilapidated structure. The entranceway, wide and gaping, capped in a solid lintel stone, was once three steps higher than street level. Back when this alley had been a street. He could just make out the right corner of the top step. There seemed to be a heap of rubbish piled up just within, recently disturbed. Bugg glanced back at the five thugs. 'What were you doing skulking around here, anyway?'
    An exchange of looks, then the look-out shrugged. 'We was hiding.'
    'Hiding?'
    'This little girl... well, uh ...'
    'Ah. Right.' Bugg faced the entrance once again.
    'Hold on, old man,' the man said. 'You ain't goin' in there, are you?'
    'Well, why else did you call for me?'
    'We expected you to, uh, to get the city guards or something. Maybe a mage or three.'
    'I might well do that. But first, better to know what we're dealing with.' Bugg then clambered into the ruined temple. Thick, damp air and profound darkness. A smell of freshly turned earth, and then, faintly, the sound of breathing. Slow and deep. The manservant fixed his gaze on the source of that sound. 'All right,' he said in a murmur, 'it's been some time since you last breathed the night air. But that doesn't give you the right to kill a hapless mortal, does it?'
    A massive shape shuffled to one side near the far wall. 'Don't hurt me. I'm not going back. They're killing everyone.'
    Bugg sighed. 'You'll have to do better than that.'
    The shape seemed to break apart, and the manservant saw motion, fanning out. At least six new, smaller forms, each low and long. The gleam of reptilian eyes fixed on him from all along the back wall.
    'So that is why you chose this temple,' Bugg said. 'Alas, your worshippers are long gone.'
    'You may think so.' A half-dozen voices now, a whispered chorus. 'But you are wrong.'
    'Why did you kill that mortal?'
    'He was blocking the doorway.'
    'So, now that you're here ...'
    'I will wait.'
    Bugg considered this, and the implications inherent in that statement. He slowly frowned. 'Very well. But no more killing. Stay in here.'
    'I will agree to that. For now.'
    'Until what you're waiting for ... arrives.'
    'Yes. Then we shall hunt.'
    Bugg turned away. 'That's what you think,' he said under his breath.
    He reappeared outside the temple. Studied the five terrified faces in the gloom. 'Spread the word that no-one is to enter that temple.'
    'That's it? What about the guards? The mages? What about Strong Rall?'
    'Well, if you're interested in vengeance, I suggest you find a few thousand friends first. There will be a reckoning, eventually.'
    The look-out snorted. 'The Waiting Man wants us to wait.'
    Bugg shrugged. 'The best I can do. To oust this beast, the Ceda himself would have to come down here.'
    'So send for him!'
    'I'm afraid I don't possess that sort of clout. Go home, all of you.'
    Bugg moved past them and made his way down the alley. Things were getting decidedly complicated. And that was never good. He wondered how many more creatures were escaping the barrows. From the Pack's words, not many. Which was a relief.
    Even so, he decided, he'd better see for himself. The rendezvous awaiting him would have to wait a little longer. That would likely earn him an earful, but it couldn't be helped. The Seventh Closure was shaping up to be eventful. He wondered if that prophecy, of empire reborn, was in some way linked to the death of the Azath tower. He hoped not.
    The night was surprisingly quiet. The usual crowds that appeared once the day's heat was past were virtually absent as Bugg made his way down the length of Quillas Canal. He came within sight of the Eternal Domicile. Well, he reminded himself, at least that had been a success. The Royal Engineer, aptly named Grum, had been a reluctant, envious deliverer of a royal contract, specifying Bugg's Construction to assume control of shoring up the compromised wings of the new palace. He had been even less pleased when Bugg ordered the old crews to