A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

this?'
    'High Fist,' Hurlochel murmured at his side, 'you rode with
    one healer into G'danisban and then single-handedly struck down a goddess.
    Drove her from this realm. You then forced the sister of that goddess to gift
    a dozen mortals with the power to heal—'
    'That power will not last,' Paran said.
    'Nonetheless. High Fist, you have killed the plague.
Something even Dujek Onearm could not achieve. These
soldiers are yours, Ganoes Paran. No matter what the
Empress decides.'
    But I don't want a damned army!
    Fist Rythe Bude said, 'Given the losses to disease, High
Fist, we are sufficiently supplied to march for six, perhaps
seven days, assuming we do not resupply en route. Of
course,' she added, 'there are the grain stores in G'danisban,
and with the population virtually non-existent—'
    'Yes,' Paran cut in. 'Virtually non-existent. Does that not
strike you as strange, Fist?'
    'The goddess herself—'
    'Hurlochel reports that his outriders are seeing people,
survivors, heading north and east. A pilgrimage.'
    'Yes, High Fist.'
    She was wavering, he saw. 'We will follow those pilgrims,
Fist,' Paran said. 'We will delay another two days, during
which the stores of G'danisban will be used to establish a
full resupply – but only if enough remains to sustain the
population still in the city. Commandeer wagons and carts
as needed. Further, invite those citizens the soldiers come
upon to join our train. At the very least, they will find a
livelihood accompanying us, and food, water and protection.
Now, inform the captains that I will address the
troops the morning of our departure – at the consecration
and sealing of the barrow. In the meantime, you are all
dismissed.'
    The Fists saluted. Shouts from the captains stirred the
ranks into motion as soldiers relaxed and began splitting
up.
    I should have said something to them here and now. Warned
them not to expect too much. No, that wouldn't do. What does
a new commander say? Especially after the death of a great
leader, a true hero? Dammit, Ganoes, you're better off saying
nothing. Not now, and not much when we seal the barrow and
leave the old man in peace. 'We're following pilgrims. Why?
Because I want to know where they're going, that's why.' That
should do. Mentally shrugging, Paran set off. In his wake
followed Hurlochel and then, ten paces back, the young
G'danii woman Naval D'natha, who was now, it seemed, a
part of his entourage.
    'High Fist?'
    'What is it, Hurlochel?'
    'Where are we going?'
    'To visit the imperial artist.'
    'Oh, him. May I ask why?'
    'Why suffer such torment, you mean? Well, I have a
request to make of him.'
    'High Fist?'
    I need a new Deck of Dragons. 'Is he skilled, do you know?'
    'A subject of constant debate, High Fist.'
    'Really? Among whom? The soldiers? I find that hard to
believe.'
    'Ormulogun has, accompanying him everywhere, a
critic'
    Oh, the poor man.
     
    The body was lying on the trail, the limbs lacerated, the
tanned-hide shirt stiff and black with dried blood.
Boatfinder crouched beside it. 'Stonefinder,' he said. 'In the
frozen time now. We shared tales.'
    'Someone cut off one of his fingers,' Karsa Orlong said.
'The rest of the wounds, they came from torture, except
that spear-thrust, beneath the left shoulder blade. See the
tracks – the killer stepped out from cover as the man passed
– he was not running, but staggering. They but played with
him.'
    Samar Dev settled a hand on Boatfinder's shoulder, and
felt the Anibar trembling with grief. 'How long ago?' she
asked Karsa.
    The Teblor shrugged. 'It does not matter. They are close.'
    She straightened in alarm. 'How close?'
    'They have made camp and they are careless with its
wastes.' He unslung his flint sword. 'They have more
prisoners.'
    'How do you know that?'
    'I smell their suffering.'
    Not possible. Is such a thing possible? She looked round,
seeking more obvious signs of all that the Toblakai claimed
to know. A peat-filled basin was to their right, a short
descent from the bedrock path on which they stood. Greyboled
black spruce trees rose from it, leaning this way and
that, most of their branches bereft of needles. Glinting
strands of spider's web spanned the spaces in between, like
scratches on transparent glass. To the left, flattened sprawls
of juniper occupied a fold in the bedrock that ran parallel
to the trail. Samar frowned.
    'What cover?' she asked. 'You said the killer stepped out
from cover to drive that spear into the Anibar's back. But
there