A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

she clutched at his hand, as
if filled with fierce need, and he knew the child within her
belly was calling out in its own silent language, its own
needs, so demanding ...
    Nails dug into the cuts on his hand—
    Bottle jolted awake, eyes blinking – daylight almost gone
– and a small hand reaching through from outside, grasping
and tugging at his own.
    Help. 'Help – you, outside – help us—'
     
    As she reached up yet further to tug the girl down, Sort saw
Sinn's head snap around, saw something blazing in her eyes
as she stared down at the captain.
    'What now—' And then there came a faint voice, seemingly
from the very stones. Faradan Sort's eyes widened.
'Sinn?'
    The girl's hand, shoved into that crack – it was holding
on to something.
    Someone.
    'Oh, gods below!'
     
    Crunching sounds outside, boots digging into stone, then
gloved fingers slipped round one edge beside the child's
forearm, and Bottle heard: 'You, inside – who? Can you
hear me?'
    A woman. Accented Ehrlii ... familiar? 'Fourteenth
Army,' Bottle said. 'Malazans.' The child's grip tightened.
    'Oponn's pull, soldier,' the woman said in Malazan.
'Sinn, let go of him. I need room. Make the hole bigger. Let
go of him – it's all right – you were right. We're going to get
them out.'
    Sinn? The shouts from below were getting louder. Cuttle,
calling up something about a way out. Bottle twisted to call
back down. 'Cuttle! We've been found! They're going to
dig us out! Let everyone know!'
    Sinn's hand released his, withdrew.
    The woman spoke again. 'Soldier, move away from the
hole – I'm going to use my sword.'
    'Captain? Is that you?'
    'Aye. Now, move back and cover your eyes – what? Oh,
where'd all those children come from? Is that one of
Fiddler's squad with them? Get down there, Sinn. There's
another way out. Help them.'
    The sword-point dug into the concreted brick and stone.
Chips danced down.
    Cuttle was climbing up from below, grunting. 'We gotta
widen this some more, Bottle. That runt who dropped
down the hole. We sent Smiles after her. A tunnel, angling
back up – and out. A looter's tunnel. The children're all
out—'
    'Good. Cuttle, it's the captain. The Adjunct, she must
have waited for us – sent searchers out to find us.'
    'That makes no sense—'
    'You're right,' Faradan Sort cut in. 'They've marched,
soldiers. It's just me, and Sinn.'
    'They left you behind?'
    'No, we deserted. Sinn knew – she knew you were still
alive, don't ask me how.'
    'Her brother's down here,' Cuttle said. 'Corporal Shard.'
    'Alive?'
    'We think so, Captain. How many days has it been?'
    'Three. Four nights if you count the breach. Now, no
more questions, and cover your eyes.'
    She chopped away at the hole, tugged loose chunks of
brick and stone. The dusk air swept in, cool and, despite all
the dust, sweet in Bottle's lungs. Faradan Sort began work
on one large chunk, and broke her sword. A stream of
Korelri curses.
    'That your Stormwall sword, Captain? I'm sorry—'
    'Don't be an idiot.'
    'But your scabbard—'
    'Aye, my scabbard. The sword it belonged to got left
behind ... in somebody. Now, let me save my breath for
this.' And she began chopping away with the broken sword.
'Hood-damned piece of Falari junk—' The huge stone
groaned, then slid away, taking the captain with it.
    A heavy thump from the ground beyond and below, then
more cursing.
    Bottle clawed his way into the gap, dragged himself
through, then was suddenly tumbling down, landing hard,
rolling, winded, onto his stomach.
    After a long moment he managed a gasp of air, and he
lifted his head – to find himself staring at the captain's
boots. Bottle arched, raised a hand and saluted – briefly.
    'You managed that better the last time, Bottle.'
    'Captain, I'm Smiles—'
    'You know, soldier, it was a good thing you assumed half
the load I dumped on Smiles's back. If you hadn't done
that, well, you likely wouldn't have lived this long—'
    He saw her turn, heard a grunted snarl, then one boot
lifted, moved out slightly to the side, hovered—
    —above Bottle's rat—
    —then stamped down – as his hand shot out, knocked
the foot aside at the last moment. The captain stumbled,
then swore. 'Have you lost your mind—'
    Bottle rolled closer to the rat, collected her in both
hands and held her against his chest as he settled down
onto his back. 'Not this time, Captain. This is my rat. She
saved our lives.'
    'Vile, disgusting creatures.'
    'Not her. Not Y'Ghatan.'
    Faradan Sort stared down