A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

to
encompass elders and children. Most of the women fought
alongside their male kin – wife and husband, sister and
brother, dying together in a last blending of blood.
    The engagement between the Letherii and the Awl took
all of two hundred heartbeats. The war among the dogs was
far more protracted, for the herder dogs – while smaller and
more compact than their attackers – were quick and no less
vicious, while the drays, bred to pull carts in summer and sleds
in winter, were comparable with the Drene breed. Trained to
kill wolves, the drays proved more than a match for the wardogs,
and if not for the lancers then making sport of killing
the mottle-skinned beasts, the battle would have turned. As
it was, the Awl pack finally broke away, the survivors fleeing
onto the plain, eastward, a few Drene wardogs giving chase
before being recalled by their handlers.
    Whilst lancers dismounted to make certain there were
no survivors among the Awl, others rode out to collect the
herds of myrid and rodara in the next valley.
    Atri-Preda Bivatt sat astride her stallion, struggling to
control the beast with the smell of blood so heavy in the
morning air. Beside her, sitting awkward and in discomfort on
the unfamiliar saddle, Brohl Handar, the newly appointed
Tiste Edur Overseer of Drene City, watched the Letherii
systematically loot the encampment, stripping corpses naked
and drawing their knives. The Awl bound their jewellery –
mostly gold – deep in the braids of their hair, forcing the
Letherii to slice away those sections of the scalp to claim their
booty. Of course, there was more than just expedience in this
mutilation, for it had been extended to the collecting of
swaths of skin that had been decorated in tattoos, the particular
style of the Awl rich in colour and often outlined in
stitched gold thread. These trophies adorned the roundshields
of many lancers.
    The captured herds now belonged to the Factor of
Drene, Letur Anict, and as Brohl Handar watched the
hundreds of myrid come over the hill, their black woolly
coats making them look like boulders as they poured down
the hillside, it was clear that the Factor's wealth had just
risen substantially. The taller rodara followed, blue-backed
and long-necked, their long tails thrashing about in near-panic
as wardogs on the herd's flanks plunged into feint
attacks again and again.
    The breath hissed from the Atri-Preda's teeth. 'Where is
the Factor's man, anyway? Those damned rodara are going
to stampede. Lieutenant! Get the handlers to call off their
hounds! Hurry!' The woman unstrapped her helm, pulled it
free and set it atop the saddle horn. She looked across at
Brohl. 'There you have it, Overseer.'
    'So these are the Awl.'
    She grimaced, looked away. 'A small camp by their standards.
Seventy-odd adults.'
    'Yet, large herds.'
    Her grimace became a scowl. 'They were once larger,
Overseer. Much larger.'
    'I take it then that this campaign of yours is succeeding
in driving away these trespassers.'
    'Not my campaign.' She seemed to catch something in
his expression for she added, 'Yes, of course, I command the
expeditionary forces, Overseer. But I receive my orders
from the Factor. And, strictly speaking, the Awl are not
trespassers.'
    'The Factor claims otherwise.'
    'Letur Anict is highly ranked in the Liberty Consign.'
    Brohl Handar studied the woman for a moment, then
said, 'Not all wars are fought for wealth and land,
Atri-Preda.'
    'I must disagree, Overseer. Did not you Tiste Edur invade
pre-emptively, in response to the perceived threat of lost
land and resources? Cultural assimilation, the end of your
independence. There is no doubt in my mind,' she continued,
'that we Letherii sought to obliterate your
civilization, as we had done already with the Tarthenal and
so many others. And so, an economic war.'
    'It does not surprise me, Atri-Preda, that your kind saw it
that way. And I do not doubt that such concerns were
present in the mind of the Warlock King. Did we conquer
you in order to survive? Perhaps.' Brohl considered saying
more, then he shook his head, watching as four wardogs
closed on a wounded cattle dog. The lame beast fought
back, but was soon down, kicking, then silent and limp as
the wardogs tore open its belly.
    Bivatt asked, 'Do you ever wonder, Overseer, which of us
truly won that war?'
    He shot her a dark look. 'No, I do not. Your scouts have
found no other signs of Awl in this area, I understand. So
now the Factor will consolidate the Letherii