A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

'All right, no point in keeping them waiting.'
     
    Pearl stepped into the chamber. Mallick Rel was pacing, and
Korbolo Dom had uncorked a bottle of wine and was pouring
himself a goblet. The Empress remained in her chair.
    She wasted no time on small talk. "The three are nearing
the Gate.'
    'I see. So, Kalam Mekhar made his choice, then.'
    A flicker of something like disappointment. 'Yes, he is
out of your way now, Pearl.'
    You bitch. Offered him the Claw, did you? And where would
that have left me? 'He and I have unfinished business,
Empress.'
    'Do not let that interfere with what must be done. Kalam
is the least relevant target, do you understand me? Get him
out of the way, of course, but then complete what is
commanded of you.'
    'Of course, Empress.'
    'When you return,' Laseen said, with a small smile on her
plain features, 'I have a surprise for you. A pleasant one.'
    'I doubt I shall be gone long—'
    'It is that overconfidence that I find most irritating in
you, Pearl.'
    'Empress, he is one man!'
    'Do you imagine the Adjunct helpless? She wields an
otataral sword, Pearl – the sorcery by which the Claw
conduct their ambushes will not work. This will be brutal.
Furthermore, there is T'amber, and she remains – to all of
us – a mystery. I do not want you to return to me at dawn
to inform me that success has left two hundred dead Claws
in the streets and alleys below.'
    Pearl bowed.
    'Go, then.'
    Mallick Rel turned at that moment, 'Clawmaster,' he
said, 'when the task is done, be sure to dispatch two Hands
to the ship, Froth Wolf, with instructions to kill Nil and
Nether. If opportunity arrives thereafter, they are to kill Fist
Keneb as well.'
    Pearl frowned. 'Quick Ben is on that ship.'
    'Leave him be,' the Empress said.
    'He will not act to defend the targets?'
    'His power is an illusion,' Mallik Rel said dismissively.
'His title as High Mage is unearned, yet I suspect he enjoys
the status, and so will do nothing to reveal the paucity of
his talents.'
    Pearl slowly cocked his head. Really, Mallick Rel?
    'Send out the commands,' Laseen said.
    The Clawmaster bowed again, then left the chamber.
    Kalam Mekhar. Finally, we can end this. For that, Empress,
thank you.
     
    They entered the gatehouse at the top of Rampart Way.
Lubben was a shadow hunched over a small table off to one
side. The keeper glanced up, then down again. A large
bronze tankard was nestled in his huge, battered hands.
    Kalam paused. 'Tilt that back once for us, will you?'
    A nod. 'Count on it.'
    They moved to the opposite gate.
    Behind them, Lubben said, 'Mind that last step down
there.'
    'We will.'
    And thanks for that, Lubben.
    They stepped out onto the landing.
    Below, buildings were burning here and there across the
city. Torches scurried back and forth like glow-worms in
rotted flesh. Faint shouts, screams. Centre Docks was a
mass of humanity.
    'Marines on the jetty,' the Adjunct said.
    'They're holding,' T'amber noted, as if to reassure
Tavore.
    Gods below, there must be a thousand or more in that mob. 'There's barely three squads there, Adjunct.'
    She said nothing, and began the descent. T'amber
followed, and finally, with a last glance at the seething
battle at Centre Docks, Kalam set off in their wake.
     
    Tene Baralta strode into the well-furnished room, paused to
look around for a moment, then made his way to a plush
high-backed chair. 'By the Seven,' he said with a loud
sigh, 'at last we are done with the cold-eyed bitch.' He sat
down, stretched out his legs. 'Pour us some wine,
Captain.'
    Lostara Yil approached her commander. 'That can wait.
    Allow me to help you out of your armour, sir.'
    'Good idea. The ghost of my arm pains me so – my neck
muscles are like twisted bars of iron.'
    She drew the lone gauntlet off his remaining hand and
set it on the table. Then moved to behind the chair,
reached over and unclasped the man's cloak. He half-rose,
allowing her to pull it away. She folded it carefully and set
it on top of a wooden chest near the large, cushion-piled
bed. Returning to Tene Baralta she said, 'Stand for a
moment, sir, if you will. We will remove the chain.'
    Nodding, he straightened. It was awkward, but they
finally managed to draw the heavy armour away. She placed
it in a heap at the foot of the bed. Baralta's under-quilting
was damp with sweat, pungent and stained under the arms.
She pulled it away, leaving the man bare above the hips.
The scars of old burns were livid weals. His muscles had
softened with disuse