A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

fired-clay pots, which made sense given
that the bands travelled on foot.
    Here and there, lone trees stood tall on the grasslands,
and these seemed to be a focal point for some kind of spirit
worship, given the fetishes tied to branches, and the antlers
and bhederin skulls set in notches and forks, some so old
that the wood had grown round them. Invariably, near such
sentinel trees there would be a cemetery, signified by raised
platforms housing hide-wrapped corpses, and, of course, the
crows squabbling over every perch.
    Karsa and Samar had avoided trespass on such sites.
Though Samar suspected that the Teblor would have
welcomed a succession of running battles and skirmishes, if
only to ease the boredom of the journey. Yet for all his
ferocity, Karsa Orlong had proved an easy man to travel
with, albeit somewhat taciturn and inclined to brooding –
but whatever haunted him had nothing to do with her, nor
was he inclined to take it out on her – a true virtue rare
among men.
    'I am thinking,' he said, startling her.
    'What about, Karsa Orlong?'
    'The bhederin and those hunters at the base of the cliff.
Two hundred dead bhederin, at least, and they were
stripping them down to the bone, then boiling the bones
themselves. Whilst we eat nothing but rabbits and the
occasional deer. I think, Samar Dev, we should kill ourselves
one of these bhederin.'
    'Don't be fooled by them, Karsa Orlong. They are a lot
faster than they look. And agile.'
    'Yes, but they are herd animals.'
    'What of it?'
    'The bulls care more about protecting ten females and
their calves than one female separated out from the others.'
    'Probably true. So, how do you plan on separating one
out? And don't forget, that female won't be a docile thing
– it could knock you and your horse down given the
chance. Then trample you.'
    'I am not the one to worry about that. It is you who must
worry, Samar Dev.'
    'Why me?'
    'Because you will be the bait, the lure. And so you must
be sure to be quick and alert.'
    'Bait? Now hold on—'
    'Quick and alert. I will take care of the rest.'
    'I can't say I like this idea, Karsa Orlong. I am in fact
quite content with rabbits and deer.'
    'Well, I'm not. And I want a hide.'
    'What for? How many hides do you plan to wear?'
    'Find us a small clump of the beasts – they are not
frightened by your horse as much as they are by mine.'
    'That's because Jhag horses will take calves on occasion.
So I read ... somewhere.'
    The Teblor bared his teeth, as if he found the image
amusing.
    Samar Dev sighed, then said, 'There's a small herd just
ahead and to the left – they moved out of this glade as we
approached.'
    'Good. When we reach the next clearing I want you to
begin a canter towards them.'
    'That will draw out the bull, Karsa – how close do you
expect me to get?'
    'Close enough to be chased.'
    'I will not. That will achieve nothing—'
    'The females will bolt, woman. And from them I shall
make my kill – how far do you think the bull will chase
you? He will turn about, to rejoin his harem—'
    'And so become your problem.'
    'Enough talk.' They were picking their way through a
stand of poplar and aspen, the horses pushing through
chest-high dogwood. Just beyond was another glade, this
one long, the way the green grasses were clumped suggesting
wet ground. On the far side, perhaps forty paces distant,
a score of hulking dark shapes loomed beneath the
branches of more trees.
    'This is swamp,' Samar Dev noted. 'We should find
another—'
    'Ride, Samar Dev.'
    She halted her horse. 'And if I don't?'
    'Stubborn child. I shall leave you here, of course – you
are slowing me down as it is.'
    'Was that supposed to hurt my feelings, Karsa Orlong?
You want to kill a bhederin just to prove to yourself
that you can best the hunters. So, no cliff, no blinds or
corrals, no pack of wolf-dogs to flank and drive the
bhederin. No, you want to leap off your horse and wrestle
one to the ground, then choke it to death, or maybe throw
it against a tree, or maybe just lift it up and spin it round
until it dies of dizziness. And you dare to call me a child?'
She laughed. Because, as she well knew, laughter would
sting.
    Yet no sudden rage darkened his face, and his eyes were
calm as they studied her. Then he smiled. 'Witness.'
    And with that he rode out into the clearing. Inky water
spraying from the Jhag horse's hoofs, the beast voicing
something like a snarl as it galloped towards the herd. The
bhederin scattered in a thunderous crash of bushes