A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

round, making for her horse. The others
scrambled after her. 'Strangers, Yedan? Not to me. They
followed us.' She swung herself onto her horse and tugged
it towards the north trail. 'We left a debt in blood,' she said,
baring her teeth. 'Malazan blood. And it seems they will not let that stand.'
    They are here. On this shore.
    The Malazans are on our shore.

BOOK THREE

KNUCKLES OF THE SOUL
    We are eager
to impugn the beast crouched
in our souls
but this creature is pure
with shy eyes
and it watches our frantic crimes
cowering
in the cage of our cruelty
    I will take
for myself and your fate
in these hands
the grace of animal to amend
broken dreams –
freedom unchained and unbound
long running –
the beast will kill when I murder
    In absolution
a list of unremarked distinctions
availed these hands
freedom without excuse
see how clean
this blood compared to yours
the death grin
of your bestial snarl mars the scape
    Of your face
this is what sets us apart
in our souls
my beast and I chained together
as we must
who leads and who is the led is
never quite asked
of the charmed and the innocent
    Dog in an Alley
Confessions
Tibal Feredict

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Keel and half a hull remained of the wreck where us
wreckers gathered, and the storm of the night past
remained like spit in the air when we clambered down into
that bent-rib bed.
    I heard many a prayer muttered, hands flashing to ward
this and that as befits each soul's need, its conversation
with fear begun in childhood no doubt and, could I recall
mine, I too would have been of mind to mime flight from
terror.
    As it was I could only look down at that crabshell
harvest of tiny skeletons, the tailed imps with the humanlike
faces, their hawk talons and all sorts of strange
embellishments to give perfect detail to the bright sunny
nightmare.
    No wonder is it I forswore the sea that day. Storm and
broken ship had lifted a host most unholy and oh there
were plenty more no doubt, ringing this damned island.
    As it was, it was me who then spoke a most unsavoury
tumble of words. 'I guess not all imps can fly.'
    For all that, it was hardly cause to gouge out my eyes
now, was it?
    Blind Tobor of the Reach
    'Now there, friends, is one beautiful woman.'
    'If that's how you like them.'
    'Now why wouldn't I, y'damned barrowdigger?
Thing is, and it's always the way isn't it, look at that
hopeless thug she's with. I can't figure things like that. She
could have anyone in here. She could have me, even. But
no, there she is, sittin' aside that limpin' one-armed, one-eared,
one-eyed and no-nosed cattle-dog. I mean, talk
about ugly.'
    The third man, who had yet to speak, gave him a
surreptitious, sidelong look, noting the birdnest hair, the
jutting steering-oar ears, the bulging eyes, and the piebald
patches that were the scars of fire on features that reminded
him of a squashed gourd – sidelong and brief, that glance, and
Throatslitter quickly looked away. The last thing he wanted
to do was break into another one of his trilling, uncanny
laughs that seemed to freeze everyone within earshot.
    Never used to have a laugh sounding like that. Damn thing scares even me. Well, he'd taken a throatful of oily flames
and it'd done bad things to his voice-reed. The damage
only revealed itself when he laughed, and, he recalled, in
the months following . . . all that stuff . . . there had been
few reasons for mirth.
    'There goes that tavernkeeper,' Deadsmell observed.
    It was easy talking about anything and everything, since
no-one here but them understood Malazan.
    'There's another one all moon-eyed over her,' Sergeant
Balm said with a sneer. 'But who does she sit with? Hood
take me, it don't make sense.'
    Deadsmell slowly leaned forward on the table and carefully
refilled his tankard. 'It's the delivery of that cask.
Brullyg's. Looks like the pretty one and the dead lass have
volunteered.'
    Balm's bulging eyes bulged even more. 'She ain't dead!
I'll tell you what's dead, Deadsmell, that puddle-drowned
worm between your legs!'
    Throatslitter eyed the corporal. ' If that's how you like them ,' he'd said. A half-strangled gulp escaped him, making
both his companions flinch.
    'What in Hood's name are you gonna laugh about?' Balm
demanded. 'Just don't, and that's an order.'
    Throatslitter bit down hard on his own tongue. Tears
blurred his vision for a moment as pain shot round his skull
like a pebble in a bucket. Mute, he shook his head. Laugh? Not me.
    The sergeant was glaring at Deadsmell again.