A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

got someone on
the inside to crack open the gate, sieges are costly,
especially when the attackers got no time to wait it out.
And we didn't, did we? There was a damned plague on the
way!'
    'Calm down,' Fiddler said, 'we lived through all that, too,
remember?'
    'Aye, and did any one of us really think Leoman would
broil his own people? That he'd turn a whole city into a
heap of ashes and rivers of lead? All I'm saying, Fid, is we
ain't done too bad, have we? When you think on it.'
    'Balm's right,' Stormy said, scratching again. 'Fiddler, in
that Deck you got, that House of War – did you smell
Treach there? Those wolves, they got me wondering.'
    'I have real doubt about that version,' Fiddler replied.
'That whole House, in fact. I'm thinking the maker was
confused, or maybe what she saw was confused—'
    'She?'
    'I think so, except the rogue one, the Guardians of the
Dead. That's a man's hand for sure.'
    There was a sudden tension in Stormy's voice. 'Pull 'em
out again, Fid. Let's see that House of War – all the cards in
that House.'
    Shuffling noises. 'I'll show each one, then. Not on the
table, but still in my hand, all right? One at a time. Okay.
As for titles, I'm just reading what's in the borders.' A
moment, then, 'The Lords of War. Two wolves, one male,
one female. Suggests to me the name for this one is wrong.
But it's the plural that counts, meaning the unoccupied
throne isn't that important. All right, everybody had a
look? Good, next one. The Hunter, and aye, that's
Treach—'
    'What's with the striped corpse in the foreground? That
old man with no hands?'
    'No idea, Gesler.'
    'Next one,' said Stormy.
    'Guardians of the Dead—'
    'Let me get a closer ... good. Wait ...'
    'Stormy,' said Balm, 'what do you think you're seeing?'
    'What's next?' the Falari corporal demanded. 'Quick!'
    'The Army and the Soldier – I don't know – two names
for this, which may be determined by context or
something.'
    'Any more?'
    'Two, and I don't like these ones at all. Here, Life
Slayer ...'
    'Jaghut?'
    'Half-Jaghut,' Fiddler said in a dull voice. 'I know who
this is – the horn bow, the single-edged sword. Life Slayer
is Icarium. And his protector, Mappo Runt, is nowhere in
sight.'
    'Never mind all that,' Stormy said. 'What's the last card?'
    'Icarium's counterpoint, of sorts. Death Slayer.'
    'Who in the Abyss is that supposed to be? That's
impossible.'
    A sour grunt from Fiddler, then he said, 'Who? Well, let's
see. Squalid hut of skins and sticks, brazier coughing out
smoke, a hooded thing inside the hut, broken limbed,
shackles sunk into the earth. Now, who might that
be?'
    'That's impossible,' Gesler said, echoing Stormy's
assertion. 'He can't be two things at once!'
    'Why not?' Fiddler said, then sighed. 'That's it. Now,
Stormy, what's lit that fire in your eyes?'
    'I know who made these cards.'
    'Really?' Fiddler sounded unconvinced. 'And how did
you come by that?'
    'The Guardians card, something about the stonework on
the bridge. Then those last two, the skulls – I got a damned
good look at Faradan Sort's medal. So's I could sew the like,
you see.'
    There was a long, long silence.
    And Bottle stared, unseeing, as implications settled in
his mind – settled momentarily, then burst up and out, like
dust-devils, one after another. The Adjunct wants that Deck
of Dragons in Fiddler's hands. And either she or T'amber – or
maybe Nether and Nil, or someone – is boiling over with arcane
knowledge, and isn't afraid to use it. Now, Fid, he never lays a
field with those cards. No. He makes up games.
    The Adjunct knows something. Just like she knew about the
ghosts at Raraku ... and the flood. But she carries an otataral
sword. And the two Wickans are nothing like they once were,
or so goes the consensus. It must be T'amber.
    What awaits us?
    Is this what's got Quick Ben and the others so rattled? What if—
    'Something just nudged my foot – what? Is that a rat?
Right under our table?'
    'Ain't no rats on the Silanda, Stormy—'
    'I'm telling you, Ges – there!'
    Fiddler swore, then said, 'That's Bottle's rat! Get it!'
    'After it!'
    Skidding chairs, the crash of crockery, grunts and stamping
boots.
    'It's getting away!'
    There were so many places, Bottle knew, on a ship,
where only a rat could go. Y'Ghatan made her escape,
despite all the cursing and thumping.
    Moments later, Bottle saw Fiddler appear on deck amidships
– the soldier looked away a moment before the
sergeant's searching gaze found him, and Bottle