A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

all
things, layer settles upon layer, and in time the deepest,
darkest ones become forgotten – yet they have shaped all
that lies above.' She seemed to study Paran for a moment,
then said, 'You carry an otataral sword.'
    'Reluctantly,' he admitted. 'Most of the time I keep it
buried by the back wall of Coil's estate, in Darujhistan. I am
surprised you sensed it – the scabbard is made of iron and
bronze and that negates its effect.'
    The Jaghut shrugged. 'The barrier is imperfect. The
denizens in this realm – if the myths hold truth and they
always do – prefer brute force over sorcery. The sword will
be just a sword.'
    'Well, I wasn't planning on using it, anyway.'
    'So,' Hedge said, 'we just start on our way, across this
bridge, and see what comes for us? Captain, I may be a
sapper, and a dead one at that, but even I don't think that's
a good idea.'
    'Of course not,' Paran said. 'I have planned for something
else.' He drew out from his pack a small object,
spoked and circular, which he then tossed on the ground.
'Shouldn't be long,' he said. 'They were told to stay close.'
    A moment later sounds came through the mists behind
them, the thunder of hoofs, the heavy clatter of massive
wheels. A train of horses appeared, heads tossing, frothflecked
and wild-eyed, and behind them a six-wheeled
carriage. Guards were clinging to various ornate projections
on the carriage's flanks, some of them strapped in place by
leather harnesses. Their weapons were out, and they glared
fiercely into the mists on all sides.
    The driver leaned back on the reins, voicing a weird cry.
Hoofs stamping, the train reared back, slewing the huge
carriage round to a stone-snapping, skidding halt.
    The guards unhitched themselves and swarmed off,
establishing a perimeter with crossbows out and cocked.
On the bench the driver set the brake, looped the reins
about the handle, then pulled out a flask and downed its
contents in seven successive swallows. Belched, restoppered
the flask, pocketed it, then clambered down the
carriage side. He unlatched the side door even as Paran
caught movement through its barred window.
    The man pushing his way through was huge, dressed in
sodden silks, his pudgy hands and round face sheathed in
sweat.
    Paran spoke: 'You must be Karpolan Demesand. I am
Ganoes Paran. Thank you for arriving so quickly. Knowing
the reputation of the Trygalle Trade Guild, of course, I am
not at all surprised.'
    'Nor should you be!' the huge man replied with a broad
smile that revealed gold-capped, diamond-studded teeth.
The smile slowly faded as his gaze found the bridge. 'Oh
dear.' He gestured to two of the nearest guards, both Pardu
women, both badly scarred. 'Nisstar, Artara, to the edge of
the mists on that bridge, if you please. Examine the edges
carefully – without a retaining wall we face a treacherous
path indeed.' The small, bright eyes fixed on Paran once
more. 'Master of the Deck, forgive me, I am fraught with
exhaustion! Oh, how this dread land taxes poor old
Karpolan Demesand! After this, we shall hasten our return
to our most cherished native continent of Genabackis!
Naught but tragedy haunts Seven Cities – see how I have
lost weight! The stress! The misery! The bad food!' He
snapped his fingers and a servant emerged from the carriage
behind him, somehow managing to balance a tray crowded
with goblets and a crystal decanter in one hand while
navigating his egress with the other. 'Gather, my
friends! Not you, damned shareholders! Keep a watch out,
fools! There are things out there and you know what
happens when things arrive! Nay, I spoke to my
guests! Ganoes Paran, Master of the Deck, his ghostly
companion and the Jaghut sorceress – join me, fretful three,
in this one peaceable toast ... before the mayhem begins!'
    'Thanks for the invitation,' Hedge said, 'but since I'm a
ghost—'
    'Not at all,' Karpolan Demesand cut in, 'know that in
close proximity to my contrivance here, you are not cursed
insubstantial – not at all! So,' he passed a goblet to the
sapper, 'drink, my friend! And revel once more in
the delicious sensation of taste, not to mention alcohol!'
    'If you say so,' Hedge said, accepting the goblet. He
swallowed a mouthful, and his hazy expression somehow
brightened. 'Gods below! You've done it now, merchant! I
think I'll end up haunting this carriage for all time!'
    'Alas, my friend, the effect wears off, eventually. Else we
face an impossible burden, as you might imagine! Now you,
Jaghut, please, the