A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

close, then, before I can grab it by the throat, it
whispers away again.'
    'So, you are hiding down here!'
    'Of course not. Not any more, I mean. Now I'm staying
here, in order to lay a trap.'
    'A trap. Right. Very clever, High Mage.'
    'It is. For the next time it sidles close.'
    'Do you really expect me to believe that?'
    'Believe what you like, Kalam. What do I care, even if it's
my oldest friend who no longer trusts me—'
    'For Hood's sake, Quick Ben, I've never trusted you!'
    'Now that's hurtful. Wise, but still hurtful.'
    'Tell me something, Quick, exactly how did you manage
hiding at Hood's Gate, with both Paran and the god himself
standing there?'
    A sniff. 'They were distracted, of course. Sometimes the
best place to hide is in plain sight.'
    'And between them, they saved the world.'
    'Gave the rock a nudge, Kal. The rest belonged to someone
else. Don't know who, or what. But I will tell you one
thing, those falling suns, they were filled with voices.'
    'Voices?'
    'Enormous pieces of stone. Jade, sailing down from the
stars. And in those broken mountains or whatever they
were, there were souls. Millions of souls, Kalam. I heard
them.'
    Gods, no wonder you hid down here, Quick. 'That's ...
uncanny. You're sending shivers all through me.'
    'I know. I feel the same way.'
    'So, how did you hide from Hood?'
    'I was part of the Gate, of course. Just another corpse, just
another staring face.'
    'Hey, now that was clever.'
    'Wasn't it?'
    'What was it like, among all those bones and bodies and
stuff?'
    'Kind of ... comforting ...'
    I can see that. Kalam scowled again. Hold on ... I wonder
... is there maybe something wrong with us? 'Quick, you and
me.'
    'Yes?'
    'I think we're insane.'
    'You're not.'
    'What do you mean?'
    'You're too slow. You can't be insane if you only just
realized that we're insane. Understand?'
    'No.'
    'As I said, then.'
    'Well,' the assassin grunted, 'that's a relief.'
    'For you, yes. Shh!' The wizard's hand clutched Kalam's
arm. 'It's back!' he hissed. 'Close!'
    'Within reach?' Kalam asked in a whisper.
    'Gods, I hope not!'
     
    A solitary resident in this cabin, and in the surrounding
alcoves and cubby berths, a cordon of Red Blades, fiercely
protective of their embittered, broken commander,
although none elected to share the Fist's quarters, despite
the ship's crowded conditions. Beyond those soldiers, the
Khundryl Burned Tears, seasick one and all, filling the air
below-decks with the sour reek of bile.
    And so he remained alone. Wreathed by his own close,
fetid air, no lantern light to beat back the dark, and this was
well. For all that was outside matched what was inside, and
Fist Tene Baralta told himself, again and again, that this
was well.
    Y'Ghatan. The Adjunct had sent them in, under
strength, knowing there would be slaughter. She didn't
want the damned veterans and their constant gnawing at
her command. She wanted to be rid of the Red Blades, and
the marines – soldiers like Cuttle and Fiddler. She had
probably worked it out, conspiring with Leoman himself.
That conflagration, its execution had been too perfect, too
well-timed. There had been signals – those fools with the
lanterns on the rooftops, along the wall's battlements.
    And the season itself – a city filled with olive oil, an
entire year's harvest – she hadn't rushed the army after
Leoman, she hadn't shown any haste at all, when any truly
loyal commander would have ... would have chased that
bastard down, long before he reached Y'Ghatan.
    No, the timing was ... diabolical.
    And here he was, maimed and trapped in the midst of
damned traitors. Yet, again and again, events had transpired
to befoul the Adjunct and her treasonous, murderous
plans. The survival of the marines – Lostara among them.
Then, Quick Ben's unexpected countering of those Edur
mages. Oh yes, his soldiers reported to him, every morsel of
news. They understood – although they revealed nothing
of their suspicions – he could well see it in their eyes, they
understood. That necessary things were coming. Soon.
    And it would be Fist Tene Baralta himself who would
lead them. Tene Baralta, the Maimed, the Betrayed. Oh
yes, there would be names for him. There would be cults to
worship him, just as there were cults worshipping other
great heroes of the Malazan Empire. Like Coltaine. Bult.
Baria Setral and his brother, Mesker, of the Red Blades.
    In such company, Tene Baralta would belong. Such company,
he told himself, was his only worthy company.
    One