A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Nok's own flagship.
    'Something is wrong,' Nether said.
    'Fist Keneb,' the Adjunct said quietly, 'stand down the
marines.'
    'Adjunct?'
    'We shall be making no landfall—'
    At that moment, Apsalar saw the foremost dromon
suddenly balk, as if it had inexplicably lost headway – and
its crew raced like frenzied ants, sails buckling overhead. A
moment later the same activity struck Nok's ship, and a
signal flag began working its way upward.
    Beyond the two warcraft, the city of Sepik exploded into
life.
    Gulls. Tens of thousands, rising from the streets, the
buildings. In their midst, the black tatters of crows, island
vultures, lifting like flakes of ash amidst the swirling smoke
of the white gulls. Rising, billowing, casting a chaotic
shadow over the city.
    Nether whispered, 'They're all dead.'
    'The Tiste Edur have visited,' Apsalar said.
    Tavore faced her. 'Is slaughter their answer to
everything?'
    'They found their own kind, Adjunct, a remnant population.
Subject, little more than slaves. They are not
reluctant to unleash their fury, these Edur.'
    'How do you know this, Bridgeburner?'
    She eyed the woman. 'How did you know, Adjunct?'
    At that, Tavore turned away.
    Keneb stood looking at the two women, one to the other,
then back again.
    Apsalar fixed her gaze back upon the harbour, the gulls
settling again to their feast as the two lead dromons worked
clear of the bay, sails filling once more. The ships in their
immediate wake also began changing course.
    'We shall seek resupply with Nemil,' the Adjunct said.
As she turned away, she paused. 'Apsalar, find Quick Ben.
Use your skeletal servants if you must.'
    'The High Mage hides among the cargo below,' she
replied.
    Tavore's brows lifted. 'Nothing sorcerous, then?'
    'No.'
    As the sound of the Adjunct's boots receded, Fist Keneb
stepped closer to Apsalar. 'The Edur fleet – do you think it
pursues us even now, Apsalar?'
    'No. They're going home.'
    'And how do you come by this knowledge?'
    Nether spoke: 'Because a god visits her, Fist. He comes to
break her heart. Again and again.'
    Apsalar felt as if she had been punched in the chest, the
impact reverberating through her bones, the beat inside
suddenly erratic, tightening as heat flooded through her
veins. Yet, outwardly, she revealed nothing.
    Keneb's voice was taut with fury. 'Was that necessary,
Nether?'
    'Don't mind my sister,' Nil said. 'She lusts after
someone—'
    'Bastard!'
    The young Wickan woman rushed off. Nil watched her
for a moment, then he looked over at Keneb and Apsalar,
and shrugged.
    A moment later he too left.
    'My apologies,' Keneb said to Apsalar. 'I would never
have invited such a cruel answer – had I known what
Nether would say—'
    'No matter, Fist. You need not apologize.'
    'Even so, I shall not pry again.'
    She studied him for a moment.
    Looking uncomfortable, he managed a nod, then walked
away.
    The island was now on the ship's starboard, almost five
pegs along. 'He comes to break her heart. Again and again.' Oh, there could be so few secrets on a ship such as this one.
And yet, it seemed, the Adjunct was defying that notion.
    No wonder Quick Ben is hiding.
     
    'They killed everyone,' Bottle said, shivering. 'A whole
damned island's worth of people. And Monkan Isle, too –
it's in the wind, now, the truth of that.'
    'Be glad for that wind,' Koryk said. 'We've left that
nightmare behind fast, damned fast, and that's good, isn't
it?'
    Cuttle sat straighter and looked at Fiddler. 'Sergeant,
wasn't Sepik an Imperial principality?'
    Fiddler nodded.
    'So, what these Tiste Edur did, it's an act of war, isn't it?'
    Bottle and the others looked over at the sergeant, who
was scowling – and clearly chewing over Cuttle's words.
Then he said, 'Technically, aye. Is the Empress going to see
it that way? Or even care? We got us enough enemies as it
is.'
    'The Adjunct,' Tarr said, 'she'll have to report it even so.
And the fact that we already clashed once with that
damned fleet of theirs.'
    'It's probably tracking us right now,' Cuttle said, grimacing.
'And we're going to lead it straight back to the heart of
the empire.'
    'Good,' Tarr said. 'Then we can crush the bastards.'
    'That,' Bottle muttered, 'or they crush us. What Quick
Ben did, it wasn't real—'
    'To start,' Fiddler said.
    Bottle said nothing. Then, 'Some allies you're better off
without.'
    'Why?' the sergeant demanded.
    'Well,' Bottle elaborated, 'the allies that can't be figured
out, the ones with motives and goals that stay forever