A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

her
gaze finding Blistig. 'How many did we lose today, Fist?'
    'Thirty-one, Adjunct, but the witches say that few will
follow, now. The worst are dead, the rest will live.'
    'Begin preparations for the march – have we enough
wagons?'
    'Provided soldiers pack their own food for a while,'
Blistig said. 'Speaking of which, some stores were lost –
we'll end up chewing leather unless we can arrange a
resupply.'
    'How long?'
    'A week, if we immediately begin rationing. Adjunct,
where are we going?'
    Her eyes grew veiled for a moment, then she looked
away. 'The plague is proving ... virulent. It is the Mistress's
own, I gather, the kiss of the goddess herself. And there is
a shortage of healers ...'
    'Lothal?'
    Nil shook his head. 'The city has already been struck,
Fist.'
    'Sotka,' said the Adjunct. 'Pearl has informed me that
Admiral Nok's fleet and the transports have been unable to
dock in any city east of Ashok on the Maadil Peninsula, so
he has been forced around it, and expects to reach Sotka in
nine days, assuming he can draw in for water and food
in Taxila or Rang.'
    'Nine days?' asked Blistig. 'If the plague's in Lothal
already
    'Our enemy now is time,' the Adjunct said. 'Fist, you
have orders to break camp. Do it as quickly as possible. The
Rebellion is over. Our task now is to survive.' She studied
Blistig for a moment. 'I want us on the road tonight.'
    'Tonight? Aye, Adjunct. I had best be on my way, then.'
He saluted, then headed out. Outside, he halted, momentarily
blinking, then, recalling his orders, he set off.
     
    After Blistig's footsteps had trailed away, the Adjunct
turned to Nether. 'The Mistress of Plague, Nether. Why
now? Why here?'
    The Wickan witch snorted. 'You ask me to fathom the
mind of a goddess, Adjunct? It is hopeless. She may have
no reason. Plague is her aspect, after all. It is what she does.'
She shook her head, said nothing more.
    'Adjunct,' Nil ventured, 'you have your victory. The
Empress will be satisfied – she has to be. We need to
rest—'
    'Pearl informs me that Leoman of the Flails is not dead.'
    Neither Wickan replied, and the Adjunct faced them
once more. 'You both knew that, didn't you?'
    'He was taken ... away,' Nil said. 'By a goddess.'
    'Which goddess? Poliel?'
    'No. The Queen of Dreams.'
    'The Goddess of Divination? What possible use could
she have for Leoman of the Flails?'
    Nil shrugged.
    Outside the tent a rider reined in and a moment later
Temul, dust-sheathed and dripping blood from three
parallel slashes tracking the side of his face, strode in,
dragging a dishevelled child with him. 'Found her,
Adjunct,' he said.
    'Where?'
    'Trying to get back into the ruins. She has lost her mind.'
    The Adjunct studied the child, Sinn, then said, 'She had
best find it again. I have need of High Mages. Sinn, look at
me. Look at me.'
    She gave no indication of even hearing Tavore, her head
still hanging down, ropes of burnt hair hiding her face.
    Sighing, the Adjunct said, 'Take her and get her cleaned
up. And keep her under guard at all times – we will try this
again later.'
    After they had left, Nil asked, 'Adjunct, do you intend to
pursue Leoman? How? There is no trail to follow – the
Queen of Dreams could have spirited him to another
continent by now.'
    'No, we shall not pursue, but understand this, Wickan,
while he yet lives there will be no victory in the eyes of the
Empress. Y'Ghatan will remain as it always has been, a
curse upon the empire.'
    'It will not rise again,' Nil said.
    Tavore studied him. 'The young know nothing of history.
I am going for a walk. Both of you, get some rest.'
    She left.
    Nil met his sister's eyes, then smiled. 'Young? How easily
she forgets.'
    'They all forget, brother.'
    'Where do you think Leoman has gone?'
    'Where else? Into the Golden Age, Nil. The glory that
was the Great Rebellion. He strides the mists of myth, now.
They will say he breathed fire. They will say you could see
the Apocalypse in his eyes. They will say he sailed from
Y'Ghatan on a river of Malazan blood.'
    'The locals believe Coltaine ascended, Nether. The new
Patron of Crows—'
    'Fools. Wickans do not ascend. We just ... reiterate.'
     
    Lieutenant Pores was awake, and he lifted his good hand to
acknowledge his captain as Kindly halted at the foot of the
camp cot.
    'They say your hand melted together, Lieutenant.'
    'Yes, sir. My left hand, as you see.'
    'They say they have done all they could, taken away the
pain, and maybe one day they will manage to cut each
finger