A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Fourth Squad, Fid's,
right? If you're looking for Neffarias Bredd you just missed
him. A giant of a man, must have Fenn blood in him.'
    'No, I wasn't, Sergeant. You saw Bredd?'
    'Well, not me, I've just come back, but Flashwit ...'
    At mention of her name the burly woman looked up.
'Yah. I heard he was just by here. Hey, Mayfly, who was it
said he was just by?'
    'Who?'
    'Neffarias Bredd, you fat cow, who else would we be talking
'bout?'
    'I don't know who said what. I was only half listening,
anyway. I think it was Smiles, was it Smiles? Might have
been. Anyway, I'd like to roll in the blankets with that
man—'
    'Smiles isn't a man—'
    'Not her. Bredd, I mean.'
    Bottle asked, 'You want to bed Bredd?'
    Mosel stepped closer, eyes narrowing. 'You making fun of
my soldiers, Bottle?'
    'I'd never do that, Sergeant. Just came to tell there's a
meeting—'
    'Oh, yes, I heard.'
    'From who?'
    The lean man shrugged. 'Can't remember. Does it
matter?'
    'It does if it means I'm wasting my time.'
    'You ain't got time to waste? Why, what makes you
unique?'
    'That axle doesn't look broken,' Bottle observed.
    'Who said it was?'
    'Then why are you taking the wagon apart?'
    'We been eating its dust so long we just took revenge.'
    'Where's the wagoner, then? The load crew?'
    Flashwit laughed an ugly laugh.
    Mosel shrugged again, then gestured further down the
ditch. Four figures, bound and gagged, were lying motionless
in the yellow grass.
    The two squads of sergeants Sobelone and Tugg were
gathered round a wrestling match between, Bottle saw as
he pushed his way in for a better look, Saltlick and
Shortnose. Coins were being flung down, puffing the dust
of the road, as the two heavy infantrymen strained and
heaved in a knot of arm and leg holds. Saltlick's massive,
round face was visible, red, sweaty and streaked with dust,
the expression fixed in its usual cow-like, uninterested
incomprehensibility. He blinked slowly, and seemed to be
concentrating on chewing something.
    Bottle nudged Toles, the soldier on his right. 'What are
they fighting over?'
    Toles looked down on Bottle, his thin, pallid face twitching.
'It's very simple. Two squads, marching in step, one
behind the other, then the other in front of the one that
had been in front beforehand, proving the mythical
camaraderie to be no more than some epic instigator
of bad poetry and bawdy songs designed to appease
lowbrows, in short, a lie. Culminating at the last in
this disreputable display of animal instincts—'
    'Saltlick bit Shortnose's ear off,' cut in Corporal Reem,
standing on Bottle's left.
    'Oh. Is that what he's chewing?'
    'Yeah. Taking his time with it, too.'
    'Do Tugg and Sobelone know about the captain's meeting?'
    'Yeah.'
    'So, Shortnose who got his nose tip cut off now has only
one ear, too.'
    'Yeah. He'll do anything to spite his face.'
    'Is he the one who got married last week?'
    'Yeah, to Hanno there. She's the one betting against
him. Anyway, from what I hear, it ain't his face that she
adores, if you know what I mean.'
    Bottle caught sight of a low hill on the north side of the
road on which stood a score of twisted, hunched guldindha
trees. 'Is that the old cemetery?'
    'Looks like it, why?'
    Without answering, Bottle pushed his way back through
the crowd and set off for the burial ground. He found
Sergeant Balm in a looter's pit, face streaked with ash,
making a strange monotonous nasal groaning sound as he
danced in tight circles.
    'Sergeant, captain wants a meeting—'
    'Shut up, I'm busy.'
    'Dusk, in the sheep pen—'
    'Interrupt a Dal Honese death dirge and you'll know a
thousand thousand lifetimes of curses, your bloodlines for
ever. Hairy old women will steal your children and your
children's children and chop them up and cook them with
vegetables and tubers and a few precious threads of
saffron—'
    'I'm done, Sergeant. Orders delivered. Goodbye.'
    '—and Dal Honese warlocks wearing snake girdles will
lie with your woman and she'll birth venomous worms all
covered in curly black hair—'
    'Keep it up, Sergeant, and I'll make a doll of you—'
    Balm leapt from the pit, eyes suddenly wide. 'You evil
man! Get away from me! I never done nothing to you!' He
spun about and ran away, gazelle-skins flapping.
    Bottle turned and began the long walk back to the camp.
     
    He found Strings assembling his crossbow, Cuttle watching
with avid interest. A crate of Moranth munitions was to
one side, the lid pried loose and the grenados lying like
turtle eggs in nests