A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

many of
the languages here in Seven Cities, those that are but
branches from the same tree, and that tree is the First
Empire.'
    'Ah, that explains it, then, for I can mostly understand
the Letherii, now. They use a different dialect when conversing
with the Edur – a mix of the two. A trader tongue,
and even there I begin to comprehend.'
    'I suggest you keep such knowledge to yourself, Taxilian.'
    'I will. Samar Dev, is your companion truly the same
Toblakai as the one so named who guarded Sha'ik? It is said
he killed two demons the night before she was slain, one of
them with his bare hands.'
    'Until recently,' Samar Dev said, 'he carried with him
the rotted heads of those demons. He gifted them to
Boatfinder – to the Anibari shaman who accompanied us.
The white fur Karsa wears is from a Soletaken. He killed a
third demon just outside Ugarat, and chased off another in
the Anibar forest. He singlehandedly killed a bhederin bull
– and that I witnessed with my own eyes.'
    The Taxilian shook his head. 'The Edur Emperor ... he
too is a demon. Every cruelty committed by these greyskinned
bastards, they claim is by their Emperor's
command. And so too this search for warriors. An emperor
who invites his own death – how can this be?'
    'I don't know,' she admitted. And not knowing is what
frightens me the most. 'As you say, it makes no sense.'
    'One thing is known,' the man said. 'Their Emperor has
never been defeated. Else his rule would have ended.
Perhaps indeed that tyrant is the greatest warrior of
all. Perhaps there is no-one, no-one anywhere in this
world, who can best him. Not even Toblakai.'
    She thought about that, as the huge Edur fleet, filling the
seas around her, worked northward, the untamed wilds of
the Olphara Peninsula a jagged line on the horizon to port. North, then west, into the Sepik Sea.
    Samar Dev slowly frowned. Oh, they have done this before.
Sepik, the island kingdom, the vassal to the Malazan Empire. A
peculiar, isolated people, with their two-tiered society. The
indigenous tribe, subjugated and enslaved. Rulhun'tal ven'or –
the Mudskins ... 'Taxilian, these Edur slaves below. Where
did they find them?'
    'I don't know.' The bruised face twisted into a bitter
smile. 'They liberated them. The sweet lie of that word,
Samar Dev. No, I will think no more on that.'
    You are lying to me, Taxilian, I think.
    There was a shout from the crow's nest, picked up by sailors
in the rigging and passed on below. Samar Dev saw heads
turn, saw Tiste Edur appear and make their way astern.
    'Ships have been sighted in our wake,' the Taxilian said.
    'The rest of the fleet?'
    'No.' He lifted his head and continued listening as the
lookout called down ever more details. 'Foreigners. Lots of
ships. Mostly transports – two-thirds transports, one-third
dromon escort.' He grunted. 'The third time we've sighted
them since I came on board. Sighted, then evaded, each
time.'
    'Have you identified those foreigners for them, Taxilian?'
    He shook his head.
    The Malazan Imperial Fleet. Admiral Nok. It has to be. She
saw a certain tension now among the Tiste Edur. 'What is
it? What are they so excited about?'
    'Those poor Malazans,' the man said with a savage grin.
'It's the positioning now, you see.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'If they stay in our wake, if they keep sailing northward
to skirt this peninsula, they are doomed.'
    'Why?'
    'Because now, Samar Dev, the rest of the Edur fleet –
Tomad Sengar's mass of warships – is behind the Malazans.'
    All at once, the cold wind seemed to cut through all of
Samar Dev's clothing. 'They mean to attack them?'
    'They mean to annihilate them,' the Taxilian said. 'And
I have seen Edur sorcery and I tell you this – the Malazan
Empire is about to lose its entire Imperial Fleet. It will die.
And with it, every damned man and woman on board.' He
leaned forward as if to spit, then, realizing the wind was in
his face, he simply grinned all the harder. 'Except, maybe,
one or two ... champions.'
     
    This was something new, Banaschar reflected as he hurried
beneath sheets of rain towards Coop's. He was being
followed. Once, such a discovery would have set a fury
alight inside him, and he would have made short work of
the fool, then, after extracting the necessary details, even
shorter work of whoever had hired that fool. But now, the
best he could muster was a sour laugh under his breath. 'Aye, Master (or Mistress), he wakes up in the afternoon, without
fail, and after a sixth of a bell or