A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

demonic skeletons
scattered, having learned that near proximity to the beast
was a treacherous thing.
    'I know two of them,' Apsalar said. 'Besides, they have
seen us.' She nudged her mount forward, walking it slowly
towards the mage, his assassin companion, and the Malazan
soldier, all of whom had now shifted direction and
approached with a measured pace.
    'They will annihilate us!' Telorast hissed. 'I can tell – oh,
that mage, he's not nice, not at all—'
    The two small creatures raced for cover.
    Annihilation. The possibility existed, Apsalar allowed,
given the history she shared with Quick Ben and Kalam
Mekhar. Then again, they had known of the possession,
and she had since travelled with Kalam for months, first
across the Seeker's Deep, from Darujhistan all the way to
Ehrlitan, during which nothing untoward had occurred.
This eased her mind somewhat as she waited for them to
arrive.
    Kalam was the first to speak. 'Few things in the world
make sense, Apsalar.'
    She shrugged. 'We have each had our journeys, Kalam
Mekhar. I, for one, am not particularly surprised to find our
paths converging once more.'
    'Now that,' said Quick Ben, 'is an alarming statement.
Unless you're here to satisfy Shadowthrone's desire for
vengeance, there is no possible reason at all that our paths
should converge. Not here. Not now. I certainly haven't
been pushed and pulled by any conniving god—'
    'You have the aura of Hood about you, Quick Ben,'
Apsalar said, an observation that clearly startled Kalam and
the soldier. 'Such residue comes only from long conversations
with the Lord of Death, and so, while you might
claim freedom for yourself, perhaps your motives for what
you do and where you choose to go are less purely your own
than you would have others believe. Or, for that matter,
than what you yourself would like to believe.' Her gaze slid
across to Kalam. 'Whilst the assassin has known the
presence of Cotillion, only a short while ago. And as for
this Falari soldier here, his spirit is bound to a T'lan Imass,
and to the Fire of Life that passes for worship among the
T'lan Imass. Thus, fire, shadow and death, drawn together
even as the forces and gods of such forces find alignment
against a single foe. Yet, I feel I should warn you all – that
foe is no longer singular and, perhaps, never was. And
present alliances may not last.'
    'What is it about all this,' Quick Ben said, 'that I'm not
enjoying?'
    Kalam rounded on the wizard. 'Maybe, Quick, you're
sensing something of my desire – which I am barely restraining
– to plant my fist in your face. The Lord of Death? What
in the name of the Abyss happened at Black Coral?'
    'Expedience,' the wizard snapped, eyes still on Apsalar.
'That's what happened. In that whole damned war against
the Pannion Domin. That should have been obvious from
the outset – Dujek joining forces with Caladan Brood was
simply the first and most egregious breaking of the rules.'
    'So now you're working for Hood?'
    'Not even close, Kalam. To stretch a pun, Hood knows,
he was working for me.'
    'Was? And now?'
    'And now,' he nodded towards Apsalar, 'as she says, the
gods are at war.' He shrugged, but it was an uneasy shrug. 'I
need to get a sense of the two sides, Kalam. I need to ask
questions. I need answers.'
    'And is Hood providing them?'
    The glance he shot the assassin was skittish, almost
diffident. 'Slowly.'
    'And what is Hood getting from you?'
    The wizard bridled. 'Ever try twisting a dead man's arm?
It doesn't work!' His glare switched between Kalam and
Apsalar. 'Listen. Remember those games Hedge and Fid
played? With the Deck of Dragons? Idiots, but never mind
that. The point is, they made up the rules as they went
along, and that's what I'm doing, all right? Gods, even a
genius like me has limits!'
    A snort from the Falari soldier, and Apsalar saw him bare
his teeth.
    The wizard stepped towards him. 'Enough of that,
Stormy! You and your damned stone sword!' He waved
wildly at the city of Y'Ghatan. 'Does this smell sweet to
you?'
    'What would smell even sweeter is the Adjunct's High
Mage all chopped up and served in a stew to Hood himself.'
He reached for the Imass sword, his grin broadening. 'And
I'm just the man to do—'
    'Settle down, you two,' Kalam said. 'All right, Apsalar,
we're all here and that's passing strange but not as strange
maybe as it should be. Doesn't matter.' He made a gesture
that encompassed himself, Quick Ben and Stormy. 'We're
returning to the Fourteenth Army. Or, we