A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

benign smile on her face.
Not half a bell earlier, she'd been singing some Kartoolian
death dirge as the very Abyss was being unleashed in the
skies overhead.
    Masan Gilani, her armour off once more and a heavy
woollen cloak wrapped about her against the chill wind, sat
among a handful of other soldiers, more or less out of the
way of the sailors. The enemy fleet was somewhere to
the south now, lost in the deepening dusk, and good
riddance to them.
    We've got us a High Mage now. A real one. That Quick
Ben, he was a Bridgeburner, after all. A real High Mage, who
just saved all our skins. That's good.
    A new badge adorned her cloak, in silver, crimson and
gold thread – she was quite proud of her handiwork. The
Bonehunters. Yes, I can live with that name. True, it wasn't as
poignant as Bridgeburners. In fact, its meaning was a little
bit obscure, but that was fine, since, thus far, the
Fourteenth's history was equally obscure. Or at least
muddied up enough to make things confused and
uncertain.
    Like where we're going. What's next? Why has the Empress
recalled us? It's not as if Seven Cities don't need rebuilding, or
Malazans filling all those empty garrisons. Then again, the
plague now held the land by the throat and was still
choking the life from it.
    But we got us a High Mage.
    The young girl, Sinn, crawled near, shivering in the
chill, and Masan Gilani opened one side of her cloak. Sinn
slipped within that enveloping embrace, snuggled closer
then settled her head on Masan's chest.
    Nearby, Sergeant Cord was still cursing at Crump, who
had stupidly waved at one of the passing enemy ships, just
after the battle that wasn't. Crump had been the one who'd
messed things badly at the wall of Y'Ghatan, she recalled.
The one who ran with his knees up to either side of his big
ears. And who was now listening to his sergeant with a
broad, mindless smile, his expression twitching to sheer
delight every time Cord's tirade reached new heights of
imagination.
    If all of that went on much longer, Masan Gilani
suspected, the sergeant might well launch himself at
Crump, hands closing on that long, scrawny neck with its
bobbing fist-sized apple. Just to strangle that smile from the
fool's horsey face.
    Sinn's small hand began playing with one of Masan's
breasts, the index finger circling the nipple.
    What kind of company has this imp been keeping? She gently
pushed the hand away, but it came back. Fine. What of it,
but damn, that's one cold hand she's got there.
    'All dead,' Sinn murmured.
    'What? Who's all dead, girl?'
    'They're all dead – you like this? I think you like this.'
    'Your finger is cold. Who is all dead?'
    'Big.'
    The finger went away, was replaced by a warm, wet
mouth. A dancing tongue.
    Hood's breath! Well, I can think of worse ways to end this
terrifying day.
    'Is that my sister hiding in there?'
    Masan Gilani looked up at Corporal Shard. 'Yes.'
    A slightly pained expression on his face. 'She won't tell
me ... what happened at the estate. What happened ... to
her.' He hesitated, then added, 'Yours isn't the first cloak of
the night she's crawled under, Masan Gilani. Though
you're the first woman.'
    'Ah, I see.'
    'I want to know what happened. You understand that? I
need to know.'
    Masan Gilani nodded.
    'I can see how it is,' Shard went on, looking away and
rubbing at his face. 'We all cope in our own ways ...'
    'But you're her brother,' she said, still nodding. 'And
you've been following her around. To make sure nobody
does anything with her they shouldn't do.'
    His sigh was heavy. 'Thanks, Masan Gilani. I wasn't
really worried about you—'
    'I doubt you'd need worry about any of us,' she replied.
'Not the squads here.'
    'You know,' he said, and she saw tears trickle down his
cheeks, 'that's what's surprised me. Here, with these people
– all of us, who came out from under the city – they've all
said the same thing as you just did.'
    'Shard,' she said gently, 'you still Ashok Regiment? You
and the rest?'
    He shook his head. 'No. We're Bonehunters now.'
    That's good. 'I got some extra thread,' she noted. 'Might
be I could borrow your cloaks ... on a warm day ...'
    'You've got a good hand, Masan Gilani. I'll tell the
others, if that's okay.'
    'It is. Not much else for us to do now anyway, on these
bloated hippos.'
    'Still, I appreciate it. I mean, everything, that is.'
    'Go get some sleep, Corporal. From your sister's breathing,
that's what she's doing right now.'
    Nodding, he moved away.
    And if some soldier