A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

head. 'No, friend. I need you for a far more
important task.'
    'What will that be, Great Warrior? I am equal to it.'
    'You'd better be,' Leoman said.
    Dunsparrow snorted.
    'Command me, Commander.'
    This time she laughed outright. Corabb scowled at her.
    Leoman replied, 'Your task this night is this, my friend.
Guard my back.'
    'Ah, we shall be leading the fight, then, in the very
frontmost ranks! Glorious, we shall deliver unto the
Malazan dogs a judgement they shall never forget.'
    Leoman slapped him on the shoulder. 'Aye, Corabb,' he
said. 'That we shall.'
    They continued on, into the palace.
    Dunsparrow was still laughing.
    Gods, how Corabb hated her.
     
    Lostara Yil swept back the tent-flap and marched inside. She
found Pearl lounging on looted silk pillows, a hookah of wine-flavoured
durhang settled like a bowl in his lap. Through the
smoke haze, he met her fury with a lazy, fume-laden regard,
which of course made her even angrier.
    'I see you've planned out the rest of this night, Pearl.
Even as this damned army prepares to assault Y'Ghatan.'
    He shrugged. 'The Adjunct doesn't want my help. I
could have snuck into the palace by now, you know – they
have no mages to speak of. I could be at this very moment
sliding a knife across Leoman's throat. But no, she won't
have it. What am I to do?'
    'She doesn't trust you, Pearl, and to be honest, I'm not
surprised.'
    His brows lifted. 'Darling, I am offended. You, more than
anyone else, know the sacrifices I have made to protect the
Adjunct's fragile psyche. Needless to say,' he added, pausing
for a lungful of the cloying smoke, 'I have of late been
tempted to shatter that psyche with the truth about her
sister, just out of spite.'
    'Your restraint impresses me,' Lostara said. 'Of course,
if you did something as cruel as that, I'd have to kill
you.'
    'What a relief, knowing how you endeavour to protect
the purity of my soul.'
    'Purity is not the issue,' she replied. 'Not yours, at least.'
    He smiled. 'I was attempting to cast myself in a more
favourable light, my sweet.'
    'It is clear to me, Pearl, that you imagined our brief
romance – if one could call it that – as indicative of genuine
feelings. I find that rather pathetic. Tell me, do you plan on
ever returning me to my company in the Red Blades?'
    'Not quite yet, I'm afraid.'
    'Has she given us another mission?'
    'The Adjunct? No, but as you may recall, what we did for
Tavore was a favour. We work for the Empress.'
    'Fine. What does our Empress command?'
    His eyes were heavy-lidded as they studied her for a
moment. 'Wait and see.'
    'She commands us to wait and see?'
    'All right, since you insist, you are temporarily detached
from me, a notion that should give you untold satisfaction.
Go join the marines, or the sappers, or whoever in Hood's
name is attacking tonight. And if you get a limb lopped off
don't come crawling back to me – gods, I can't believe I just
said that. Of course you can come crawling back to me,
just be sure to bring the limb along.'
    'You don't possess High Denul, Pearl, so what point in
bringing back the limb?'
    'I'd just like to see it, that's all.'
    'If I do come crawling back, Pearl, it will be to stick a
knife in your neck.'
    'With those cheery words you can go now, dear.'
    She wheeled and marched from the tent.
     
    Fist Keneb joined Tene Baralta in the mustering area just
inside the north pickets. Moths and biting flies were
swarming in the crepuscular air. Heaps of rocky earth rose
like modest barrows where the soldiers had dug their
trenches. As yet, few squads had assembled, so as not to
reveal the army's intentions too early, although Keneb suspected
that Leoman and his warriors already knew all that
needed to be known. Even so, the Fist noted as he stared at
the distant, uneven wall, topmost among the tiers of earth
and rubble, there seemed to be no activity. Y'Ghatan was
deathly quiet, virtually unlit as darkness spread its cloak.
    Tene Baralta was in full armour: scaled vest, chain skirt
and camail, greaves and vambraces of beaten bronze
rimmed with iron. He was adjusting the straps of his helm
as Keneb came to his side.
    'Blistig is not happy,' Keneb said.
    Baralta's laugh was low. 'Tonight belongs to you and me,
Keneb. He only moves in if we get in trouble. Temul was
wondering ... this plan, it matches his own. Did you advise
the Adjunct?'
    'I did. Inform Temul that she was pleased that his
strategy matched her own in this matter.'
    'Ah.'
    'Have your company's mages