A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

hen.'
    Rubbing his brow, Bugg leaned back and sighed. 'Sorry.
I'm not used to these . . . crowds.'
    'What amazes me,' Tehol said, now studying the surviving
hens, 'is their eerie indifference. They just walk around
their crushed sister—'
    'Wait a moment and they'll start ripping it apart,' Bugg
said, shambling over to collect the carcass. 'Between the
two, I prefer indifference.' He picked the limp form up,
frowned at the dangling neck. 'Quiet in death, as with all
things. Almost all things, I mean . . .' Abruptly he shook
his head and tossed the dead creature onto the floor in
front of Janath. 'More feathers for you, Scholar.'
    'A most appropriate task,' Tehol murmured, 'plucking
lovely plumage to reveal the pimpled nightmare beneath.'
    'Sort of like inadvertently looking up your tunic, Tehol
Beddict.'
    'You are a cruel woman.'
    She paused and looked up at him. 'Assuming those were
just pimples.'
    'Most cruel, leading me to suspect that you in fact fancy
me.'
    Janath shot Bugg a glance. 'What kind of healing did you
do on me, Bugg? My world seems . . . smaller.' She tapped
one temple. 'In here. My thoughts travel any distance – any
distance at all – and they vanish in a . . . in a white nothing.
Blissful oblivion. So, I do remember what happened, but
not even a whisper of emotion reaches me.'
    'Janath, most of those protections are of your own making.
Things will . . . expand. But it will take time. In any
case, it is not too surprising that you are developing an
attachment to Tehol, seeing him as your protector—'
    'Now hold on, old man! Attachment? To Tehol? To an
ex-student? That is, in every way imaginable, disgusting.'
    'I thought it was a common occurrence,' Tehol said.
'Why, some of the stories I've heard—'
    'Common for those fools who confuse love with worship
– all to feed their paltry egos, I might add. Usually men,
too. Married men. It's pathetic—'
    'Janath, did— No, never mind.' Rubbing his hands
together, Tehol faced Bugg. 'My, that soup smells wonderful.'
    Ublala Pung returned, shouldering his way through the
doorway. 'That comfrey tasted awful,' he said.
    The three stared at him for a long moment.
    Then Bugg spoke. 'See those half-gourds, Ublala? Bring
them over and get your voyeur soup.'
    'I could eat a whole one all by myself, I'm so hungry.'
    Tehol pointed. 'There's one right there, Ublala.'
    The huge man paused, glanced over at the bedraggled
carcass. Then pushed the gourds into Tehol's hands and
said, 'Okay.'
    'Leave me some feathers?' Janath asked.
    'Okay.'
    Tehol said, 'Do you mind, Ublala, if the rest of us eat . . .
    uh, up on the roof?'
    'Go ahead.'
    'After supper,' Tehol continued as the half-blood lowered
himself into a cross-legged position, reached for the carcass
and tore off a leg. 'After, I mean, Ublala, we can talk about
what's worrying you, all right?'
    'No point talking,' Ublala said around a mouthful of
feathers, skin and meat. 'I got to take you to him.'
    'Who?'
    'A champion. The Toblakai.'
    Tehol met Bugg's eyes, and saw in them unfeigned alarm.
    'We got to break into the compound,' Ublala continued.
    'Uh, right.'
    'Then make sure he doesn't kill us.'
    'I thought you said there was no point in talking!'
    'I did. There isn't.'
    Janath collected her gourd of soup. 'So we have to climb
one-handed up that ladder? And I expect you want me to
go first? Do you think me an idiot?'
    Tehol scowled at her, then brightened. 'You have a
choice, Janath. You follow me and Bugg, at the risk of your
appetite, or we follow you, lifting you skyward with our
sighs of admiration.'
    'How about neither?' With that, she headed out into the
alley.
    Horrible crunching sounds came from where Ublala sat.
After a moment, both Tehol and Bugg followed in Janath's
wake.
    Ormly, once Champion Rat Catcher, sat down opposite
Rucket.
    After a nod of greeting, she returned to her meal. 'I'd
offer you some of these crisped hog ears, but as you can see,
there's not many left and they are one of my favourites.'
    'You do it on purpose, don't you?'
    'Men always assume beautiful women think of nothing
but sex, or, rather, are obsessed with the potential thereof,
at any and every moment. But I assure you, food poses a
sensuality rarely achieved in clumsy gropings on some flea-bitten
mattress with errant draughts sending chills through
you at every change of position.'
    Ormly's withered face twisted into a scowl. 'Change of
position? What does that mean?'
    'Something tells me there is no legion of