A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

son?'
    'Not even close.'
    'All right.' Lobe reached under the table and lifted into
view a crossbow. A truly foreign weapon, constructed
entirely of iron – or something very much like Letherii
steel. The cord was thick as a man's thumb, and the quarrel
set into the groove was tipped with an x-shaped head that
would punch through a Letherii shield as if it was birch
bark. The soldier cranked the claw back and somehow
locked it in place. Then he moved along the door's wall to
the corner.
    Galt edged back as the footsteps on the stairs drew
nearer. He made a series of hand gestures to which Masan
Gilani grunted in response and Brullyg heard ripping cloth
behind him and a moment later the point of a knife pressed
between his shoulder blades – thrust right through the
damned chair. She leaned down. 'Be nice and be stupid,
Brullyg. We know these two and we can guess why they're
here.'
    Glancing back at Masan Gilani, nodding once, Galt
then moved into the doorway, opening wide the door.
'Well,' he drawled in his dreadful Letherii, 'if it isn't the
captain and her first mate. Run out of money comes too
soon? What you making to comes with ale?'
    A heavy growl from beyond. 'What did he say, Captain?'
    'Whatever it was, he said it badly.' A woman, and that
voice – Brullyg frowned. That was a voice he had heard
before. The knife tip dug deeper into his spine.
    'We're bringing Shake Brullyg his ale,' the woman
continued.
    'That's nice,' Galt replied. 'We see he comes gets it.'
    'Shake Brullyg's an old friend of mine. I want to see him.'
    'He's busy.'
    'Doing what?'
    'Thinking.'
    'Shake Brullyg? I really doubt that – and who in the
Errant's name are you anyway? You're no Letherii, and you
and those friends of yours hanging out at the tavern, well,
none of you were prisoners here either. I asked around.
You're from that strange ship anchored in the bay.'
    'Why, Captain, it is simple. We comes to goes all the ice.
So Brullyg he rewards us. Guests. Royal guests. Now we
keep him company. He is smiles nice all the time. We nice
too.'
    'Nice idiots, I think,' the man outside – presumably the
captain's first mate – said in a growl. 'Now, my arm's getting
tired – move aside and let me deliver this damned thing.'
    Galt glanced back over a shoulder at Masan Gilani, who
said in Malazan, 'Why you looking at me? I'm just here to
keep this man's tongue hanging.'
    Brullyg licked sweat from his lips. So even knowing that, why does it still work? Am I that stupid? 'Let them in,' he said in a
low voice. 'So I can ease their minds and send them away.'
    Galt looked at Masan Gilani again, and though she said
nothing, some kind of communication must have passed
between them, for he shrugged and stepped back. 'Comes
the ale.'
    Brullyg watched as the two figures entered the chamber.
The one in the lead was Skorgen Kaban the Pretty. Which
meant . . . yes. The would-be king smiled, 'Shurq Elalle.
You've not aged a day since I last saw you. And Skorgen –
put the cask down, before you dislocate your shoulder and
add lopsided to your list of ailments. Broach the damned
thing and we can all have a drink. Oh,' he added as he
watched the two pirates take in the soldiers – Skorgen
almost jumping when he saw Lobe in the corner, crossbow
now cradled in his arms – 'these are some of my royal
guests. At the door, Galt. In the corner, Lobe, and this
lovely here with the one hand behind the back of my chair
is Masan Gilani.'
    Shurq Elalle collected one of the chairs near the door
and dragged it opposite Brullyg. Sitting, she folded one leg
over the other and laced her hands together on her lap.
'Brullyg, you half-mad cheating miser of a bastard. If you
were alone I'd be throttling that flabby neck of yours right
now.'
    'Can't say I'm shocked by your animosity,' Shake Brullyg
replied, suddenly comforted by his Malazan bodyguards.
'But you know, it was never as bad or ugly as you thought it
was. You just never gave me the chance to explain—'
    Shurq's smile was both beautiful and dark. 'Why, Brullyg,
you were never one to explain yourself.'
    'A man changes.'
    'That'd be a first.'
    Brullyg resisted shrugging, since that would have opened
a nasty slit in the flesh of his back. Instead, he lifted his
hands, palms up, as he said, 'Let's set aside all that history.
The Undying Gratitude rests safe and sound in my harbour.
Cargo offloaded and plenty of coin in your purse. I imagine
you're itching to leave our blessed isle.'
    'Something like that,' she