A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

and send you round the harbourfront at
double-time.'
    'He can't do that, can he?' Gentur asked his fellow
soldier.
    But Mudslinger had paled. 'You never forget, do you, sir?'
    'Explain it to your friend. But not here. Try the alley.'
    The two soldiers backed off, exchanging whispers as they
made their way back to their table.
    'I always like to think,' Banaschar said, 'that a nasty
reputation is usually mostly undeserved. Benefit of the
doubt, and maybe I've got some glimmer of faith in
humanity clawing its way free every now and again. But,
with you, Braven Tooth, alas, such optimism is revealed for
the delusion it truly is.'
    'Got that right. What about it?'
    'Nothing.'
    They heard shouting in the street outside, a clamour of
voices that then died away. This had been going on all
evening. Roving bands of idiots looking for someone to
terrorize. The mood in the city was dark and ugly and getting
worse with every bell that chimed, and there seemed
to be no reason for it, although, Banaschar reminded himself,
that had now changed.
    Well, maybe there was still no reason as such. Only,
there had arrived ... a target.
    'Someone's poking with a knife,' Braven Tooth said.
    'It's the imperial fleet,' Banaschar said. 'Bad timing,
given all the Wickans in those ships, and the other
foreigners with them, too, I imagine.'
    'You ain't drinking much, Banaschar. You sick or
something?'
    'Worse than that,' he replied. 'I have reached a decision.
Autumn has arrived. You can feel it in the wind. The
worms are swarming to shore. It's D'rek's season. Tonight, I
talk with the Imperial High Mage.'
    The Master Sergeant scowled across at him. 'Thought
you said trying that would get you dead quick. Unless, of
course, that's what you want.'
    'I plan on losing my follower in the crowd,' Banaschar said
in a low voice, leaning over the table. 'I'll take the waterfront
way, at least to the bridge. I hear there's City Watch there,
pushing the brainless dolts back from the jetties – gods, how
stupid can people be? That's an army out on those ships!'
    'Like I said, someone's poking. Be nice to meet that
someone. So's I can put my fist into his face and watch it
come out the back of his head. Messy way to go, but fast,
which is more than the bastard deserves.'
    'What are you going on about?' Banaschar asked.
    'Never mind.'
    'Well,' the ex-priest said with more bravado in his voice
than he in truth felt, 'it's now or never. Come tomorrow
night I'll buy you a pitcher of Malaz Dark—'
    'That reminds me – you always seem to find enough coin
– how is that?'
    'Temple coffers, Braven Tooth.'
    'You stole from the D'rek Temple here?'
    'Here? That's good. Yes, here, and all the others I visited,
too. Got it all squirrelled away, where no-one but me can
get to it. Problem is, I feel guilty every time I pinch from it.
I never take much – no point in inviting a mugging, after
all. But that's just the excuse I use. Like I said, it's guilt.'
    'So, if you get yourself killed tonight ...'
    Banaschar grinned and flung up his hands. 'Phoof! All of
it. Gone. For ever.'
    'Nice trick, that.'
    'You want I should leave it to you?'
    'Hood no! What would I do with chests of coin?'
    'Chests? Dear Master Sergeant, more like roomfuls. In
any case, I'll see you tomorrow ... or not. And if not, then,
well met, Braven Tooth.'
    'Forget that. Tomorrow, like you said.'
    Nodding, Banaschar backed away, then began threading
his way towards the front door.
     
    Alone at the table now, Braven Tooth slowly raised his
tankard for a drink, his eyes almost closed – and to anyone
more than a pace or two away they would have seemed
closed indeed – and so the figure who hastily rose, slipping
like an adder into Banaschar's wake, noticed nothing of the
Master Sergeant's fixed attention, the small eyes tracking
for a moment, before Braven Tooth finished the ale in
three quick swallows. Then the huge, hairy man climbed
gustily to his feet, weaving slightly, one hand reaching to
the table for balance.
    He staggered over to Mudslinger and Gentur, both of
whom looked up in guilt and fear – as if they'd been discussing
bad things. Braven Tooth leaned between them.
'Listen, you fools,' he said under his breath.
    'We're just waiting for Foreigner,' Mudslinger said, eyes
wide. 'That's all. We never—'
    'Quiet. See that snake at the steps up front – quickly!'
    'Just ... gone,' Gentur observed, squinting. 'Snake, you
said. I'd say more like a—'
    'And you'd be right. And the target is