A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

had led the retreat
following her assassination of the elder Sha'ik, and his
eagerness to take credit for every success whilst dancing
from the path of disaster. There had been a sadistic streak
in the man, and Lostara now feared that it would burgeon,
as Tene Baralta sought means to feed all that was wounded
within him. 'Why did the army leave all of you behind?'
    Faradan Sort shrugged. 'They assumed no-one who had
been trapped within the city could have survived the
firestorm.' She paused, then added, 'It was a reasonable
assumption. Only Sinn knew otherwise, and something
told me to trust the girl. So we kept looking.'
    'They're all wearing rags ... and they're unarmed.'
    'Aye, which is why we need to rejoin the army as soon as
possible.'
    'Can Sinn magically contact the Fourteenth? Or Quick
Ben?'
    'I have not asked her. I do not know how much of her
ability is unformed talent – such creatures occur
occasionally, and without the discipline of schooling as an
apprentice, they tend to become avatars of chaos. Power,
yes, but undirected, wild. Even so, she was able to defeat
the wall of fire and so save Fist Keneb's companies ... well,
some of them.'
    Lostara glanced over at the captain, then back at the
soldiers in their wake for a moment before saying, 'You are
Korelri?'
    'I am.'
    'And you stood the Wall?'
    A tight smile, there for an instant then gone. 'None are
permitted to leave that service.'
    'It's said the Stormriders wield terrible sorcery in their
eternal assault upon the Wall.'
    'All sorcery is terrible – to kill indiscriminately, often
from a great distance, there is nothing more damaging to
the mortal who wields such power, whether it is human or
something else.'
    'Is it better to look your foe in the eye as you take his
life?'
    'At the very least,' Faradan replied, 'you gave them the
chance to defend themselves. And Oponn decides in
the end, decides in which set of eyes the light shall fade.'
    'Oponn – I thought it was skill.'
    'You're still young, Captain Lostara Yil.'
    'I am?'
    Faradan Sort smiled. 'With each battle I find myself in,
my faith in skill diminishes. No, it is the Lord's push or the
Lady's pull, each time, every time.'
    Lostara said nothing. She could not agree with that
assessment, even disregarding the irritation of the other
woman's condescension. A clever, skilled soldier lived
where dim-witted, clumsy soldiers died. Skill was a
currency that purchased Oponn's favour – how could it be
otherwise?
    'You survived Y'Ghatan,' Faradan Sort said. 'How much
of that was the Lady's pull?'
    Lostara considered for a moment, then replied, 'None.'
     
    Once, years ago, a few score soldiers had stumbled clear of
a vast swamp. Bloodied, half-mad, their very skin hanging
in discoloured strips from weeks slogging through mud and
black water. Kalam Mekhar had been among them, along
with the three he now walked beside, and it seemed that,
in the end, only the details had changed.
    Black Dog had brutally culled the Bridgeburners, a protracted
nightmare war conducted in black spruce stands, in
lagoons and bogs, clashing with the Mott Irregulars, the
Nathii First Army and the Crimson Guard. The survivors
were numbed – to step free of the horror was to cast aside
despair, yet whatever came to replace it was slow in
awakening. Leaving ... very little. Look at us, he remembered
Hedge saying, we're nothing but hollowed-out logs. We
done rotted from the inside out, just tike every other damned
thing in that swamp. Well, Hedge had never been one for
optimism.
    'You're looking thoughtful,' Quick Ben observed at his
side.
    Kalam grunted, then glanced over. 'Was wondering,
Quick. You ever get tired of your own memories?'
    'That's not a good idea,' the wizard replied.
    'No, I suppose it isn't. I'm not just getting old, I'm feeling
old. I look at all those soldiers behind us – gods below,
they're young. Except in their eyes. I suppose we were like
that, once. Only ... from then till now, Quick, what have
we done? Damned little that meant anything.'
    'I admit I've been wondering a few things about you
myself,' Quick Ben said. 'That Claw, Pearl, for example.'
    'The one that stabbed me in the back? What about him?'
    'Why you ain't killed him already, Kalam. I mean, it's not
something you'd normally set aside, is it? Unless, of course,
you're not sure you can take him.'
    From behind the two men, Fiddler spoke: 'It was
Pearl that night in Malaz City? Hood's breath, Kalam, the
bastard's been strutting round in