A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

doubt that academics knew nothing
about anything worth knowing about. Not to mention
inserting a sliver of fear that Bugg's healing of her mind had
not been quite up to scratch. And finally, Bugg himself,
crouched by the hearth, using a clawed hen foot to stir the
steaming pot of chicken soup, a detail which, Tehol
admitted, had a certain macabre undercurrent. As did the
toneless humming coming from his stalwart manservant.
    True enough, the household was blessed with food
aplenty, marking the continuation of their good run of
luck. Huge capabara fish beside the canal a couple of weeks
back, and now retired hens being retired one by one, as
inexorable as the growl of a stomach. Or two or three. Or
four, assuming Ublala Pung had but one stomach which
was not in any way certain. Selush might know, having
dressed enough bodies from the inside out. Tarthenal had
more organs in those enormous bodies than regular folk,
after all. Alas, this trait did not extend to brains.
    Yet another formless, ineffable worry was afflicting
Ublala Pung. Could be lovestruck again, or struck to fear by
love. The half-blood lived in a world of worry, which, all
things considered, was rather surprising. Then again, that
undeniable virtue between his legs garnered its share of
worshippers, lighting feminine eyes with the gleam
of possession, avarice, malicious competition – in short, all
those traits most common to priesthoods. But it was
worship for all the wrong reasons, as poor Ublala's fretful
state of mind made plain. His paltry brain wanted to be
loved for itself.
    Making him, alas, a complete idiot.
    'Ublala,' Bugg said from where he hovered over the soup
pot, 'glance upward for me if you will to confirm that those
beady eyes studying us belong to my master. If so, please be
so kind as to invite him down for supper.'
    Tall as he was, Ublala's face, lifting into view to squint
upwards at Tehol, was within reach. Smiling and patting
him on the head, Tehol said, 'My friend, if you could, step
back from what serves as a ladder here – and given my
manservant's lacklustre efforts at repair I am using the
description advisedly – so that I may descend in a manner
befitting my station.'
    'What?'
    'Get out of the way, you oaf !'
    Ducking, edging away, Ublala grunted. 'Why is he so
miserable?' he asked, jerking a thumb up at Tehol. 'The
world is about to end but does he care about that? No. He
doesn't. Care about that. The world ending. Does he?'
    Tehol shifted round to lead with his feet on the uppermost
rung of the ladder. 'Loquacious Ublala Pung, how ever
will we follow the track of your thoughts? I despair.' He
wiggled over the edge then groped with his feet.
    Bugg spoke. 'Given the view you are presently providing
us, master, despair is indeed the word. Best look away,
Janath.'
    'Too late,' she replied. 'To my horror.'
    'I live in the company of voyeurs!' Tehol managed to find
the rung with one foot and began making his way down.
    'I thought they were chickens,' Ublala said.
    A piercing avian cry, ending in a mangled crunch.
    'Oh.'
    Cursing from Bugg. 'Damn you, Pung! You're eating that
one! All by yourself! And you can cook it yourself, too!'
    'It just got in the way! If you built some more rooms,
Bugg, it wouldn't have happened.'
    'And if you did your damned pacing in the alley outside
– better yet, if you just stopped worrying about things – or
bringing those worries here – or always showing up around
supper time – or—'
    'Now now,' Tehol interjected, stepping free of the last
rung and adjusting his blanket. 'Nerves are frayed and
quarters are cramped and Ublala's cramped brain is fraying
our nerves without quarter, so it would be best if we all—'
    'Master, he just flattened a hen!'
    'A voyeur,' Ublala insisted.
    '—got along,' Tehol finished.
    'Time, I think,' said Janath, 'for some mitigation, Tehol.
I seem to recall you having some talent for that, especially
working your way around the many attempts at expelling
you.'
    'Yeah,' said Ublala, 'where do we do that?'
    'Do what?' Janath asked.
    'I gotta go.'
    'Over to the warehouse,' Tehol said, pushing Ublala
towards the door – without much success. 'Ublala, do your
expelling back of the warehouse, near the drain spout. Use
the comfrey bush poking out of the rubbish heap then wash
your hands in the tilted trough.'
    Looking relieved, the huge man ducked his way out into
the alley.
    Turning, Tehol regarded Bugg. 'All right, a moment of
silence, then, for the retired