A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

hiding?'
    'She's gone,' Curdle said, head bobbing.
    'What?'
    'Gone,' chimed in Telorast with another flick of the tail.
'It's only me and Curdle who are hiding right now. Not that
we have to, of course.'
    'Expedience,' explained Curdle. 'It's scary out there
tonight. You have no idea. None.'
    'We know who's here, you see. All of them.'
    Now, from the dark waters, Kalam could hear the creak
of oars. Someone had indeed dropped a longboat and was
making for shore. Damned fools – that mob will tear them to
pieces. He turned about and set off for the mid deck.
    The huge jetty appeared to starboard as the ship seemed
to curl round, its flank sidling ever closer. The assassin saw
the Adjunct arrive from below and he approached her.
    'We've got trouble,' he said without preamble.
'Someone's going ashore, in a longboat.'
    Tavore nodded. 'So I have been informed.'
    'Oh. Who, then?'
    From nearby T'amber said, 'There is a certain ...
symmetry to this. A rather bitter one, alas. In the longboat,
Kalam Mekhar, are Fist Tene Baralta and his Red Blades.'
    The assassin frowned.
    'Deeming it probable, perhaps,' T'amber continued, 'that
our escort coming down from Mock's Hold will prove insufficient
against the mob.' Yet there seemed to be little
conviction in the woman's tone, as if she was aware of a
deeper truth, and was inviting Kalam to seek it for himself.
    'The Red Blades,' said the Adjunct, 'ever have great
need to assert their loyalty.'
    ... their loyalty ...
    'Kalam Mekhar,' Tavore continued, stepping closer, her
eyes now fixed on his own, 'I expect I will be permitted but
a minimal escort of my own choosing. T'amber, of course,
and, if you would accede, you.'
    'Not an order, Adjunct?'
    'No,' she answered quietly, almost tremulously. And then
she waited.
    Kalam looked away. Dragon's got Hood by the nose hairs
... one of Fid's observations during one of his games. Years
ago, now. Blackdog, was it? Probably. Why had he thought
of that statement now? Because I know how Hood must have
felt, that's why.
    Wait, I can decide on this without deciding on anything else.
Can't I? Of course I can. 'Very well, Adjunct. I will be part
of your escort. We'll get you to Mock's Hold.'
    'To the Hold, yes, that is what I have asked of you here.'
    As she turned away, Kalam frowned, then glanced over
at T'amber, who was regarding him flatly, as if disappointed.
'Something wrong?' he asked the young woman.
    'There are times,' she said, 'when the Adjunct's patience
surpasses even mine. And, you may not know this, but that
is saying something.'
    Froth Wolf edged closer to the jetty.
     
    On the other side of the same stone pier, the longboat
scraped up against the slimy foundation boulders. Lines
were made fast to the rings set in the mortar, and Lostara
Yil watched as one of the more nimble Red Blades hauled
himself upward from ring to ring, trailing a knot-ladder.
Moments later, he had reached the top of the jetty, where
he attached the ladder's hooks to still more rings.
    Tene Baralta was the first to ascend, slowly, awkward,
using his one arm and grunting with each upward heave on
the rungs.
    Feeling sick to her stomach, Lostara followed, ready to
catch the man should he falter or slip.
    This is a lie. All of it.
    She reached the top, clambered upright and paused,
adjusting her weapon belt and her cloak.
    'Captain,' Tene Baralta said, 'form up to await the
Adjunct.'
    She glanced to the right and saw a contingent of
Imperial Guard pushing through the milling crowd, an
officer in their midst.
    Tene Baralta noticed them as well. 'Not enough, as I
suspected. If this mob smells blood ...'
    Turning to the company of Red Blades, Lostara kept her
face impassive, even as a sneering thought silently slithered
through her mind: Whatever you say, Fist. Just don't expect
me to believe any of this.
    At that moment a deeper roaring sound filled the air,
and the sky above the bay suddenly blazed bright.
     
    Banaschar squinted through the haze of smoke, scanning
the crowd, then he grunted. 'He's not here,' he said. 'In
fact, I haven't seen him in days ... I think. How about you,
Master Sergeant?'
    Braven Tooth simply shrugged, his only reponse to
Mudslinger's question.
    The soldier glanced at Gentur, his silent companion,
then said, 'It's just this, Master Sergeant. First we lose them,
then we hear something about him, and we put it together,
you see?'
    The hairy old man bared his teeth. 'Oh yeah,
Mudslinger. Now go away before I tie a full cask to
your back