A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

spinning in every
direction.'
    Skorgen looked across at her. 'You think there might be
more of 'em out here?'
    She made a face. 'How many ships did the Emperor send
out?'
    His good eye widened, then he studied the lone derelict
once more through the eyeglass. 'You think it's one of
those? Errant's butt hole, Captain, if you're right . . .'
    'You have your orders, and it seems I must remind you yet
again, First Mate. No profanity on my ship.'
    'Apologies, Captain.'
    He hurried off, began relaying orders to the waiting crew.
    Doldrums made for a quiet lot, a kind of superstitious
furtiveness gripping the sailors, as if any sound reaching too
far might crack the mirror of the sea.
    She listened as the twenty-four sweeps slid out, blades
settling in the water. A moment later came the muted callout
of the cox, and the Undying Gratitude groaned as it
lurched forward. Clouds of sleeper flies rose around the ship
as the nearby sea's pellucid surface was disturbed. The
damned things had a tendency to seek out dark cover once
driven to flight. Sailors coughed and spat – all very well for
them, the captain observed, as a whining cloud spun
round her head and countless insects crawled up her nose,
into her ears, and across her eyes. Sun and sea were bad
enough, combining to assail her dignity and whatever
vanity a woman who was dead could muster, but for Shurq
Elalle, these flies made for profoundly acute misery.
    Pirate, divine undead, strumpet of insatiability, witch of
the deep waters – the times had been good ever since she
first sailed out of the Letheras harbour, down the long,
broad river to the western seas. Lean and sleek, that first
galley had been her passage to fame, and Shurq still
regretted its fiery loss to that Mare escort in Laughter's End.
But she was well pleased with the Undying Gratitude .
Slightly too big for her crew, granted, but with their return
to Letheras that problem could be solved easily enough.
Her greatest sense of loss was with the departure of the
Crimson Guard. Iron Bars had made it plain from the very
start that they were working for passage. Even so, they'd
been formidable additions on that wild crossing of the
ocean, keeping the blood wake wide and unbroken as one
merchant trader after another was taken, stripped of all
valuables, then, more often than not, sent down into the
dark. It hadn't been just their swords, deadly as those were,
but the magery of Corlos – a magery far more refined,
far more clever, than anything Shurq had witnessed
before.
    Such details opened her eyes, her mind as well. The
world out there was huge. And in many fundamental ways,
the empire of Lether, child of the First Empire, had been
left in a kind of backwater, in its thinking, in its ways of
working. A humbling revelation indeed.
    The leavetaking with Iron Bars and his squad had not
been quite as emotional or heartfelt for Shurq Elalle as it
had probably seemed to everyone else, for the truth was,
she had been growing ever more uneasy in their company.
Iron Bars was not one to find subordination palatable for
very long – oh, no doubt it was different when it came to
his fellow Avowed among the Crimson Guard, or to their
legendary commander, Prince K'azz. But she was not an
Avowed, nor even one of that company's soldiers. So long
as their goals ran in parallel, things were fine enough, and
Shurq had made certain to never deviate, so as to avoid any
confrontation.
    They had deposited the mercenaries on a stony beach of
the eastern shore of a land called Jacuruku, the sky
squalling with sleeting rain. The landing had not been
without witnesses, alas, and the last she'd seen of Iron Bars
and his soldiers, they were turning inland to face a dozen
massively armoured figures descending the broken slope,
great-helmed with visors lowered. Brutal-looking bunch,
and Shurq hoped all that belligerence was mostly for show.
The grey sheets of rain had soon obscured all details from
the strand as they pulled away on the oars back to the Gratitude.
    Skorgen had sworn he'd caught the sound of blades
clashing – a faint echo – with his one good ear, but Shurq
herself had heard nothing.
    In any case, they'd scurried from those waters, as pirates
were wont to do when there was the risk of organized
resistance lurking nearby, and Shurq consoled her agitated
conscience by reminding herself that Iron Bars had spoken
of Jacuruku with some familiarity – at least in so far as
knowing its name. And as for Corlos's wide-eyed