A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

it was my
sword, after all. What am I s'posed to use?'
    He shifted nervously, then leaned closer. 'Get a new one
from the armoury, Sergeant.'
    'And that'll get back to the captain and we'll get shipped
off somewhere even worse.'
    'Worse? Where is worse than this, Sergeant?'
    'Korel. Theftian Penins'la. Black Coral, under the empty
eyes of the Tiste Andii. The Wreckers' Coast on North
Assail—'
    'Ain't no Malazan forces there.'
    'No, but it's worse than this.'
    'One story from some addled sailor in Kartool and
you're now convinced that Hood himself strides the
shadows—'
    'He's stridin' our shallows – shadows, I mean.'
    'Listen, Sergeant, we're about to head into battle—'
    'Right, where's that jug?' She looked round, found it
lying on its side near somebody's bedroll. 'Hey, who in my
squad ain't packed up their kit?'
    'That's yours, Sergeant,' Urb said.
    'Oh.' Collecting the jug, she gave it a shake and was
pleased at the sloshing sounds within. She glanced over to
stare at her ... squad. There were two soldiers. Two. Some
squad. Captain had said something about a few newcomers
on the way. 'Well, where are they?'
    'Who?' Urb asked. 'Your squad? They're right in front of
you.'
    'Touchy and Brethless.'
    'That's right.'
    'Well, where are the rest? Didn't we have more?'
    'Had four marching with us the last day, but they were reassigned.'
    'So my squad is a corporal and two soljers.'
    'Twins, Sergeant,' Touchy said. 'But I'm older, as I'm sure
you can tell.'
    'And mentally underdeveloped, Sergeant,' Brethless
said. 'Those last few minutes were obviously crucial, as I'm
sure you can tell.'
    Hellian turned away. 'They look the same to me, Urb.
All right, has the word come yet? We s'posed to be mustering
somewhere right now?'
    'Sergeant, you might want to pass that jug around – we're
about to get in a fight and I don't know about you and them
two, but I joined the local city guard so's I wouldn't have to
do any of this. I been to the latrines four times since supper
and I'm still all squishy inside.'
    At Urb's suggestion Hellian clutched the jug tight to her
chest. 'Getyerown.'
    'Sergeant.'
    'All right, a couple mouthfuls each, then I get the rest. I
see anybody take more'n two swallows and I cut 'em down
where they stand.'
    'With what?' Urb asked as he pulled the jug from her
reluctant hands.
    Hellian frowned. With what? What was he talking
about? Oh, right. She thought for a moment, then smiled.
'I'll borrow your sword, of course.' There, what a pleasing
solution.
     
    Sergeant Balm squatted in the dirt, studying the array of
pebbles, stone discs and clay buttons resting on the
elongated Troughs board. He muttered under his breath,
wondering if this was a dream, a nightmare and he was still
asleep. He glanced across at Sergeant Moak, then looked
back down at the game-board.
    Something was wrong. He could make no sense of the
pieces. He'd forgotten how to play the game. Straws, discs,
buttons, pebbles – what were they all about? What did they
signify? Who was winning? 'Who's playing this damned
game?' he demanded.
    'You and me, you Dal Honese weasel,' Moak said.
    'I think you're lying. I never seen this game before in my
life.' He glared round at all the faces, the soldiers all looking
down to watch, all looking at him now. Strange
expressions – had he ever seen any of them before? He was
a sergeant, wasn't he? 'Where's my damned squad? I'm
supposed to be with my damned squad. Has the call come?
What am I doing here?' He shot upright, making sure one
foot toppled the game-board. Pieces flew, soldiers jumping
back.
    'Bad omen!' one hissed, backing away.
    Growling, Moak rose, reaching for the knife at his belt.
'Swamp scum, you'll pay for that. I was winning—'
    'No you weren't! Those pieces were a mess! A jumble!
They didn't make sense!' He reached up and scratched at
his face. 'What – this is clay! My face is covered in clay! A
death mask! Who did this to me?'
    A familiar but musty-smelling man stepped close to
Balm. 'Sergeant, your squad's right here. I'm Deadsmell—'
    'I'll say.'
    'Corporal Deadsmell. And that's Throatslitter, and
Widdershins, Galt and Lobe—'
    'All right, all right, be quiet, I ain't blind. When's the
call coming? We should've heard something by now.'
    Moak closed in. 'I wasn't finished with you – that was a
curse, what you did, Balm, on me and my squad – since I
was winning the game. You cursed us, you damned
warlock—'
    'I did not! It was an accident. Come on, Deadsmell, let's
make