A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

sickness.
'Captain, do you think, had we known Poliel was in the
temple, we would have gone in at all? You, on the other
hand, don't have that excuse. Leaving me to conclude that
you have lost your mind.'
    'Captain Sweetcreek certainly agrees with you, Fist,'
Paran said, setting the bladder down. 'I must take my leave.
I would appreciate it, Fist Rythe Bude, if you refer to me as
Captain Kindly.' He walked towards the tent's exit.
    'Ganoes Paran.'
    Something in her tone turned him round even as he
reached for the flap.
    'Burn my corpse,' she said. 'Ideally, fill my lungs with oil,
so that my chest bursts, thus freeing to flight my ravaged
soul. It's how it's done in Shal-Morzinn.'
    He hesitated, then nodded.
    Outside, he found the cutter Noto Boil still standing at
his station, examining the bloodied point of the fish spine
a moment before slipping it back into his mouth.
    'Captain Kindly,' the man said in greeting. 'The outrider
Hurlochel was just here, looking for you. From him, I
gather you intend something ... rash.'
    'Cutter, when the alternative is simply waiting for them
to die, I will accept the risk of doing something rash.'
    'I see. How, then, have you planned this assault of yours?
Given that you shall face the Grey Goddess herself. I doubt
even your reputation will suffice in compelling the soldiers
to assail the Grand Temple of Poliel. Indeed, I doubt you
will get them to even so much as enter G'danisban.'
    'I'm not taking any soldiers, cutter.'
    A sage nod from the gaunt man. 'Ah, an army of one,
then, is it? Granted,' he added, eyeing Paran speculatively,
'I have heard tales of your extraordinary ... ferocity. Is it
true you once dangled a Falah'd over the edge of his
palace's tower balcony? Even though he was an ally of the
empire at the time. What was his crime again? Oh yes, a
clash of colours in his attire, on the first day of the
Emperor's Festival. What were those colours he had
the effrontery to wear?'
    Paran studied the man for a moment, then he smiled.
'Blue and green.'
    'But those colours do not clash, Captain.'
    'I never claimed good judgement in aesthetic matters,
cutter. Now, what were we talking about? Oh yes, my army
of one. Indeed. I intend to lead but one man. Together, the
two of us shall attack the Grey Goddess, with the aim of
driving her from this realm.'
    'You chose wisely, I think,' Noto Boil said. 'Given what
awaits Hurlochel, he displayed impressive calm a few
moments ago.'
    'And well he should,' Paran said, 'since he's not coming
with me. You are.'
    The fish spine speared through the cutter's upper lip. A
look of agony supplanted disbelief. He tore the offending
needle from his lip and flung it away, then brought up both
hands to clench against the pain. His eyes looked ready to
clamber from their sockets.
    Paran patted the man on the shoulder. 'Get that seen to,
will you? We depart in half a bell, cutter.'
     
    He sat on a kit chest, settled back slowly, until the give of
the tent wall ceased, then stretched out his legs. 'I should
be half-drunk right now,' he said, 'given what I'm about to
do.'
    Hurlochel seemed unable to muster a smile. 'Please,
Captain. We should decamp. Cut our losses. I urge you to
abandon this course of action, which will do naught but
result in the death of yet another good soldier, not to
mention an irritating but competent company cutter.'
    'Ah, yes. Noto Boil. Once priest to Soliel, sister goddess
of Poliel.'
    'Priest no longer, Captain. Disavowed hold no weight
with the ascendant so abandoned.'
    'Soliel. Mistress of Healing, Beneficence, the Goddess
that Weeps Healing Tears. She must have let loose an
ocean of them by now, don't you think?'
    'Is it wise to mock her at this threshold, Captain?'
    'Why not? How has her infamous, unceasing sorrow for
the plight of mortals done them any good, any at all,
Hurlochel? It's easy to weep when staying far away, doing
nothing. When you take credit for every survivor out there
– those whose own spirits fought the battle, whose own
spirits refused to yield to Hood's embrace.' He sneered up at
the tent roof. 'It's the so-called friendly, sympathetic gods
who have the most to answer for.' Paran glared at the man
standing before him. 'Hood knows, the other ones are
straightforward and damned clear on their own infamy –
grant them that. But to proffer succour, salvation and all
the rest, whilst leaving true fate to chance and chance
alone – damn me, Hurlochel, to that they will give answer!'
    The outrider's