A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

from, and it's getting stronger.' Hurlochel paused to
wipe rain from his eyes.
    'So Dujek decided to strike at the heart, didn't he?'
    'Yes, sir.'
    'Go on, Hurlochel.'
    'We arrived, a month back, and the High Fist formed up
companies of his veterans, along with the Gold Moranth.
They planned an assault on that damned temple. Well,
they expected at least a High Priestess or some other sort,
but they were ready for it. What nobody planned on,
though, was the Grey Goddess herself.'
    Paran's eyes widened. 'Who made it back out?'
    'Most of them, sir, except the Gold Moranth. But ...
they're all sick, sir. The plague's got hold of them and
they're only still alive because of the healers ... only the
healers are losing the battle. So, here we are. Stuck, and
nobody skank enough to take real command and make
some real decisions.' Hurlochel hesitated, then said,
'Unless that's why you're here, Captain. I sure hope so.'
    Paran looked away. 'I'm officially dead, Outrider. Dujek
threw us out of the army, myself and a few others—'
    'Bridgeburners.'
    'Yes.'
    'Well, sir, if anybody earned their days in the sweet
sun ...'
    Paran grimaced. 'Aye, I'm sure that sun's around somewhere.
Anyway, I can hardly take command – besides, I'm
just a captain—'
    'With absolute seniority, sir. Dujek took his officers with
him – they were the veterans, after all. So, we got nearly
ten thousand soldiers camped here, and the nearest thing
to a commander is Captain Sweetcreek, who's a Falari
princess, if you can believe that.'
    'Red hair?'
    'Wild red, aye, and a pretty face—'
    'With a swollen jaw. We've met.'
    'A swollen jaw?'
    'It wasn't a pleasant meeting.' Still Paran hesitated, then
he swore and nodded. 'All right. I'll keep the rank of
captain ... with seniority. But I need a new name—'
    'Captain Kindly, sir.'
    'Kindly?'
    'Old soldiers talk about him like grandmothers talk
monsters to the brats, to keep them in line, sir. Nobody
here's met him – at least nobody who's not fevered and half
out of their minds.'
    'Well, where was Kindly last posted?'
    'Fourteenth, sir. The Adjunct's army out west of Raraku.
Which direction did you come in from?'
    'West.'
    'That'll do, sir, I think. I'll make it so's I recognize you.
Nobody knows a thing about me, only that the High Fist
used me to run messages.'
    'So why would I let two soldiers arrest me if I'm supposed
to take over command?'
    'You did? Well, maybe you wanted to see how we were
running things here.'
    'All right. One more question, Hurlochel. Why aren't
you still with Caladan Brood on Genabackis?'
    'The alliance broke up, sir, not long after the Tiste Andii
settled in Black Coral. Rhivi back to the plains, the
Barghast back to their hills. The Crimson Guard, who were
up north, just vanished – no-one knows where they went.
When Onearm shipped out, well, seemed like they were
headed somewhere interesting.'
    'Regrets?'
    'With every heartbeat, sir.' Hurlochel then frowned.
'Captain Sweetcreek's got a swollen jaw, you said?'
    'I punched her. Along with some soldier named Futhgar.
They're bound and gagged in the captain's tent. They
might have come round by now.'
    The man grinned, but it was not a pleasant grin. 'Captain,
you knocked out cold a Falari princess – that's perfect. It fits
with what people have heard about Kindly. That's brilliant.'
    Paran winced, then rubbed at his face. Gods below, what
is it with me and royalty?
     
    She had slowly emerged from the hidden temple to see a
straggling line of battered figures walking the road below.
Making her way down the dusty, stony slope, she was
within fifteen paces before anyone noticed her. There
was a strangeness in that moment of meeting, survivors eye
to eye, both recognition and disbelief. Acceptance, a sense
of something shared, and beneath it the ineffable flow of
sorrow. Few words were exchanged.
    Joining the soldiers in their march, Lostara Yil found
herself alongside Captain Faradan Sort, who told her something
of Y'Ghatan's aftermath. 'Your Fist, Tene Baralta, was
hovering on the edge of death, if not of the flesh, then of
the spirit. He has lost an arm – it was burned beyond repair
– and there was other damage ... to his face. I believe he
was a vain man.'
    Lostara grunted. 'That damned beard of his, slick with
oil.' She thought about Tene Baralta for a time. She'd never
liked him much. More than just vain. Perhaps, truth be
told, something of a coward, despite all his belligerence and
posturing. She remembered the way he