A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

out,
cowering in the stony mud of the road.
    'The first Edur he killed,' said Udinaas, 'has the keys.'
    Silchas Ruin had walked down the road. Barely visible in
the mist, the Tiste Andii veered into something huge,
winged, then took to the air. Seren glanced over at the row
of slaves – none had seen that, she was relieved to note.
'Very well,' she said in answer to Udinaas, and she walked
up to where Fear Sengar still stood near the dead Edur.
    'I must take the keys,' she said, crouching beside the first
fallen Edur.
    'Do not touch him,' Fear said.
    She looked up at him. 'The keys – the chains—'
    'I will find them,' he said.
    Nodding, she straightened, then stepped back. Watched
as he spoke a silent prayer, then settled onto his knees
beside the body. He found the keys in a leather pouch tied
to the warrior's belt, a pouch that also contained a handful
of polished stones. Fear took the keys in his left hand and
held the stones in the palm of his right. 'These,' he said,
'are from the Merude shore. Likely he collected them when
but a child.'
    'Children grow up,' Seren said. 'Even straight trees
spawn crooked branches.'
    'And what was flawed in this warrior?' Fear demanded,
glaring up at her. 'He followed my brother, as did every
other warrior of the tribes.'
    'Some eventually turned away, Fear.' Like you .
    'What I have turned away from lies in the shadow of
what I am now turned towards, Acquitor. Does this
challenge my loyalty towards the Tiste Edur? My own kind?
No. That is something all of you forget, conveniently so,
again and again. Understand me, Acquitor. I will hide if I
must, but I will not kill my own people. We had the coin,
we could have bought their freedom—'
    'Not Udinaas.'
    He bared his teeth, said nothing.
    Yes, Udinaas, the one man you dream of killing. If not for Silchas Ruin . . . 'Fear Sengar,' she said. 'You have chosen to
travel with us, and there can be no doubt – none at all –
that Silchas Ruin commands this meagre party. Dislike his
methods if you must, but he alone will see you through. You
know this.'
    The Hiroth warrior looked away, back down the road,
blinking the water from his eyes. 'And with each step, the
cost of my quest becomes greater – an indebtedness you
should well understand, Acquitor. The Letherii way of
living, the burdens you can never escape. Nor purchase
your way clear.'
    She reached out for the keys.
    He set them into her hand, unwilling to meet her eyes.
    We're no different from those slaves. She hefted the weight
of the jangling iron in her hand. Chained together. Yet . . . who holds the means of our release?
    'Where has he gone?' Fear asked.
    'To hunt down the Letherii. I trust you do not object to
that.'
    'No, but you should, Acquitor.'
    I suppose I should at that . She set off to where waited the
slaves.
    A prisoner near Udinaas had crawled close to him, and
Seren heard his whispered question: 'That tall slayer – was
that the White Crow? He was, wasn't he? I have heard—'
    'You have heard nothing,' Udinaas said, raising his arms
as Seren approached. 'The three-edged one,' he said to her.
'Yes, that one. Errant take us, you took your time.'
    She worked the key until the first shackle clicked open.
'You two were supposed to be stealing from a farm – not
getting rounded up by slave-trackers.'
    'Trackers camped on the damned grounds – no-one was
smiling on us that night.'
    She opened the other shackle and Udinaas stepped out
from the line, rubbing at the red weals round his wrists.
Seren said, 'Fear sought to dissuade Silchas – you know, if
those two are any indication, it's no wonder the Edur and
the Andii fought ten thousand wars.'
    Udinaas grunted as the two made their way to where
stood Kettle. 'Fear resents his loss of command,' he said.
'That it is to a Tiste Andii just makes it worse. He's still not
convinced the betrayal was the other way round all those
centuries back; that it was Scabandari who first drew the
knife.'
    Seren Pedac said nothing. As she moved in front of
Kettle she looked down at the girl's dirt-smeared face, the
ancient eyes slowly lifting to meet her own.
    Kettle smiled. 'I missed you.'
    'How badly were you used?' Seren asked as she removed
the large iron shackles.
    'I can walk. And the bleeding's stopped. That's a good
sign, isn't it?'
    'Probably.' But this talk of rape was unwelcome – Seren
had her own memories haunting her every waking
moment. 'There will be scars, Kettle.'
    'Being alive is hard. I'm always hungry, and