A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

saved all their lives – there
was no doubting that – but that didn't mean that he had to
trust her. Not yet, despite the truth that he wanted to, for
some arcane reason he'd yet to comprehend.
    The little girl with the runny nose sniffled in her sleep,
one small hand clutching his left shoulder. Her other hand
was at her mouth, and her sucking on her thumb made tiny
squeaking sounds. In his arms, she weighed next to
nothing.
    His squad had come through intact. Only Balm, and
maybe Hellian, could say the same. So, three squads out of
what, ten? Eleven? Thirty? Moak's soldiers had been
entirely wiped out – the Eleventh Squad was gone, and that
was a number that would never be resurrected in
the future history of the Fourteenth. The captain had
settled on the numbers, adding the Thirteenth for Sergeant
Urb, and it turned out that Fiddler's own, the Fourth, was
the lowest number on the rung. This part of Ninth
Company had taken a beating, and Fiddler had few hopes
for the rest, the ones that hadn't made it to the Grand
Temple. Worse yet, they'd lost too many sergeants.
Borduke, Mosel, Moak, Sobelone, Tugg.
    Well, all right, we're beaten up, but we're alive.
    He dropped back a few paces, resumed his march alongside
Corabb Bhilan Thenu'alas. The last survivor of
Leoman's rebel army – barring Leoman himself – had said
little, although the scowl knotting his expression suggested
his thoughts were anything but calm. A scrawny boy was
riding his shoulders, head bobbing and dipping as he dozed.
    'I was thinking,' Fiddler said, 'of attaching you to my
squad. We were always one short.'
    'Is it that simple, Sergeant?' Corabb asked. 'You Malazans
are strange. I cannot yet be a soldier in your army, for I have
not yet impaled a babe on a spear.'
    'Corabb, the sliding bed is a Seven Cities invention, not
a Malazan one.'
    'What has that to do with it?'
    'I mean, Malazans don't stick babes on spears.'
    'Is it not your rite of passage?'
    'Who has been telling you this rubbish? Leoman?'
    The man frowned. 'No. But such beliefs were held to
among the followers of the Apocalypse.'
    'Isn't Leoman one such follower?'
    'I think not. No, never. I was blind to that. Leoman
believed in himself and no other. Until that Mezla bitch he
found in Y'Ghatan.'
    'He found himself a woman, did he? No wonder he went
south.'
    'He did not go south, Sergeant. He fled into a warren.'
    'A figure of speech.'
    'He went with his woman. She will destroy him, I am
sure of that, and now I say that is only what Leoman
deserves. Let Dunsparrow ruin him, utterly—'
    'Hold on,' Fiddler cut in, as an uncanny shiver rose
through him, 'did you call her Dunsparrow?'
    'Yes, for such she named herself.'
    'A Malazan?'
    'Yes, tall and miserable. She would mock me. Me,
Corabb Bhilan Thenu'alas, Leoman's Second, until I
became his Third, the one he was content to leave behind.
To die with all the others.'
    Fiddler barely heard him. 'Dunsparrow,' he repeated.
    'Do you know the hag? The witch? The seductress and
corrupter?'
    Gods, I once tossed her on my knee. He realized of a sudden
that he was clawing a hand through the remnants of his
singed, snarled hair, unmindful of the snags, indifferent to
the tears that started from his eyes. The girl squirmed. He
stared over at Corabb, unseeing, then hurried ahead, feeling
dizzy, feeling ... appalled. Dunsparrow ... she'd be in
her twenties now. Middle twenties, I suppose. What was she
doing in Y'Ghatan?
    He pushed between Kalam and Quick Ben, startling
both men.
    'Fid?'
    'Tug Hood's snake till he shrieks,' the sapper said.
'Drown the damned Queen of Dreams in her own damned
pool. Friends, you won't believe who went with Leoman
into that warren. You won't believe who shared
Leoman's bed in Y'Ghatan. No, you won't believe anything
I say.'
    'Abyss take you, Fid,' Kalam said in exasperation, 'what
are you talking about?'
    'Dunsparrow. That's who's at Leoman's side right now.
Dunsparrow. Whiskeyjack's little sister and I don't know –
I don't know anything – what to think, only I want to
scream and I don't know why even there, no, I don't know
anything any more. Gods, Quick – Kalam – what does it
mean? What does any of it mean?'
    'Calm down,' Quick Ben said, but his voice was strangely
high, tight. 'For us, for us, I mean, it doesn't necessarily
mean anything. It's a damned coincidence and even if it
isn't, it's not like it means anything, not really. It's just ...
peculiar, that's all. We knew she was a stubborn, wild