A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

clashed with the Tiste Andii,
and they used Elder magic – Kurald Galain – and it was
nothing like what we saw a week ago.'
    'No, that wasn't warrens. It was Holds – older, raw, way
too close to chaos.'
    'What it was,' Fiddler said, 'doesn't belong in war.'
    Bottle laughed. He could not help it. 'You mean, a little
bit of wholesale slaughter is all right, Sergeant? Like what
we do on the battlefield? Chasing down fleeing soldiers and
caving their skulls in from behind, that's all right?'
    'Never said I was making sense, Bottle,' Fiddler retorted.
'It's just what my gut tells me. I've been in battles where
sorcery was let loose – really let loose – and it was nothing
like what those Edur were up to. They want to win wars
without drawing a sword.'
    'And that makes a difference?'
    'It makes victory unearned, is what it does.'
    'And does the Empress earn her victories, Sergeant?'
    'Careful, Bottle.'
    'Well,' he persisted, 'she's just sitting there on her
throne, while we're out here—'
    'You think I fight for her, Bottle?'
    'Well—'
    'If that's what you think, you wasn't taught a damned
thing at Y'Ghatan.' He turned and strode off.
    Bottle stared after him a moment, then returned his
attention to the distant horizon. Fine, he's right. But still,
what we're earning is her currency and that's that.
     
    'What in Hood's name are you doing down here?'
    'Hiding, what's it look like? That's always been your
problem, Kal, your lack of subtlety. Sooner or later it's going
to get you into trouble. Is it dark yet?'
    'No. Listen, what's with this damned gale up top? It's all
wrong—'
    'You just noticed?'
    Kalam scowled in the gloom. Well, at least he'd found
the wizard. The High Mage of the Fourteenth, hiding between
crates and casks and bales. Oh, how bloody encouraging is that? 'The Adjunct wants to talk to you.'
    'Of course she does. I would too if I was her. But I'm not
her, am I? No, she's a mystery – you notice how she almost
never wears that sword? Now, I'll grant you, I'm glad, now
that I've been chained to this damned army. Remember
those sky keeps? We're in the midst of something, Kal. And
the Adjunct knows more than she's letting on. A lot more.
Somehow. The Empress has recalled us. Why? What now?'
    'You're babbling, Quick. It's embarrassing.'
    'You want babbling, try this. Has it not occurred to you
that we lost this one?'
    'What?'
    'Dryjhna, the Apocalyptic, the whole prophecy – we
didn't get it, we never did – and you and me, Kal, we should
have, you know. The Uprising, what did it achieve? How
about slaughter, anarchy, rotting corpses everywhere. And
what arrived in the wake of that? Plague. The apocalypse,
Kalam, wasn't the war, it was the plague. So maybe we won
and maybe we lost. Both, do you see?'
    'Dryjhna never belonged to the Crippled God. Nor
Poliel—'
    'Hardly matters. It's ended up serving them both, hasn't it?'
    'We can't fight all that, Quick,' Kalam said. 'We had a
rebellion. We put it down. What these damned gods and
goddesses are up to – it's not our fight. Not the empire's
fight, and that includes Laseen. She's not going to see all
this as some kind of failure. Tavore did what she had to do,
and now we're going back, and then we'll get sent elsewhere.
That's the way it is.'
    'Tavore sent us into the Imperial Warren, Kal. Why?'
    The assassin shrugged. 'All right, like you said, she's a
mystery.'
    Quick Ben moved further into the narrow space between
cargo. 'Here, there's room.'
    After a moment, Kalam joined him. 'You got anything to
eat? Drink?'
    'Naturally.'
    'Good.'
     
    As the lookouts cried out the sighting of Sepik, Apsalar
made her way forward. The Adjunct, Nil, Keneb and
Nether were already on the forecastle. The sun, low on the
horizon to the west, lit the rising mass of land two pegs to
starboard with a golden glow. Ahead, the lead ships of the
fleet, two dromons, were drawing near.
    Reaching the rail, Apsalar found she could now make out the
    harbour city tucked in its half-moon bay. No smoke rose from the tiers, and
    in the harbour itself, a mere handful of ships rode at anchor; the nearest
    one had clearly lost its bow anchor – some snag had hung the trader
    craft up, heeling it to one side so that its starboard rail was very nearly
    under water.
    Keneb was speaking, 'Sighting Sepik,' he said in a tone
that suggested he was repeating himself, 'should have been
four, maybe five days away.'
    Apsalar watched the two dromons work into the city's
bay. One of them was