A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

Malazans. As for the others ... Banaschar lifted
his head from his cup, frowned across at his now regular
drinking partner, Master Sergeant Braven Tooth, then over
at the newcomers huddled round the long table at the back.
The ex-priest wasn't alone in casting glances in that
direction, but the castaways clearly weren't interested in
conversation with anyone but themselves – and there
didn't seem to be much of that, either, Banaschar noted.
    The two Malazans were both drunk, the quiet kind, the
miserable kind. The others were not drinking much – seven
in all to share a single carafe of wine.
    Damned unnatural, as far as Banaschar was concerned.
But that in itself was hardly surprising, was it? Those seven
were Tiste Andii.
    'I know one of those two, you know,' Braven Tooth said.
    'What?'
    'Them Malazans. They saw me. Earlier, when they came
in. One of them went white. That's how I could tell.'
    Banaschar grunted. 'Most veterans who come in here do
that the first time they see you, Braven Tooth. Some of
them do that every time. How's that feel, b'the way?
Striking terror in everyone you ever trained?'
    'Feels good. Besides, it's not everyone I trained. Jus' most
of 'em. I'm used to it.'
    'Why don't you drag them two over here, then? Get their
story – what in Hood's name are they doing with damned
Tiste Andii, anyway? Of course, with the feel in the air outside,
there's a good chance those fools won't last the night.
Wickans, Seven Cities, Korelri, Tiste Andii – foreigners
one and all. And the mob's got its nose up and hackles
rising. This city is about to explode.'
    'Ain't never seen this afore,' Braven Tooth muttered.
'This ... hate. The old empire was never like that. Damn,
it was the bloody opposite. Look around, Banaschar, if
y'can focus past that drink in your hand, and you'll see it.
Fear, paranoia, closed minds and bared teeth. You voice a
complaint out loud these days and you'll end up cut to
pieces in some alley. Was never like this afore, Banaschar.
Never.'
    'Drag one over.'
    'I heard the story already.'
    'Really? Wasn't you sitting here wi'me all night tonight?'
    'No, I was over there for most of a bell – you never
noticed – I don't even think you looked up. You're a big sea
sponge, Banaschar, and the more you pour in the thirstier
you get.'
    'I'm being followed.'
    'So you keep saying.'
    'They're going to kill me.'
    'Why? They can just sit back and wait for you to kill
yourself.'
    'They're impatient.'
    'So I ask again, Banaschar, why?'
    'They don't want me to reach through to him. To
Tayschrenn, you see. It's all about Tayschrenn, locked up
there in Mock's Hold. They brought the bricks, but he's
mixed the mortar. I got to talk to him, and they won't let
me. They'll kill me if I even try.' He waved wildly towards
the door. 'I head out, right now, and start walking to the
Stairs, and I'm dead.'
    'That damned secret of yours, that's what's going to kill
you, Banaschar. It's what's killing you right now.'
    'She's cursed me.'
    'Who has?'
    'D'rek, of course. The Worm in my gut, in my brain, the
worm that's eating me from the inside out. So what was the
story?'
    Braven Tooth scratched the bristling hair beneath his
throat, then leaned back. 'Marine recruit Mudslinger.
Forget the name he started with, Mudslinger is the one I
gave 'im. It fits, 'course. They always fit. He was a tough
one, though, a survivor, and tonight's proof of that. The
other one's named Gentur. Kanese, I think – not one of
mine. Anyway, they was shipwrecked after a battle with the
grey-skinned barbarians. Ended up on Drift Avalii, where
things got real messy. Seems those barbarians, they was
looking for Drift Avalii all along. Well, there were Tiste
Andii living on it, and before anyone could spit there was
a huge fight between them and the barbarians. An ugly
one. Before long Mudslinger and the others with 'im were
fighting alongside those Tiste Andii, along with someone
named Traveller. The short of it is, Traveller told them all
to leave, said he'd take on the barbarians by 'imself and
anybody else around was jus' in the way. So they did. Leave,
I mean. Only t'get hit by a damned storm, and what was left
of 'em fetched up on an atoll, where they spent months
drinking coconut milk and eating clams.' Braven Tooth
reached for his tankard. 'And that's Mudslinger's story,
when he was sober, which he's not any more. The one
named Traveller, he's the one that interests me ... something
familiar about him, the way 'Slinger d'scribes