A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

The
writing seemed to record a frenzy of revelation, or madness,
or both.
    A half-dozen buildings along, Skintick found an inn,
closed up like everything else, but he dismounted and approached
the courtyard gates. A push swung them wide
and Skintick looked back with a smile.
    The wagon's hubs squealed in well-worn grooves in the
frame of the gate as Nenanda guided it in. The compound
beyond was barely large enough to accommodate a single
carriage on its circular lane that went past, first, the
stables, and then the front three-stepped entrance to the
hostelry. A partly subterranean doorway to the left of the
main doors probably led into the taproom. In the centre
of the round was a stone-lined well – stuffed solid with
bloating corpses.
    Skintick's smile faded upon seeing this detail. Dead
maggots ringed the well. 'Let's hope,' he said to Nimander,
'there's another pump inside . . . drawing from a different
source.'
    Nenanda had set the brake and he now dropped down,
eyeing the bodies. 'Previous guests?'
    'It's what happens when you don't pay up.'
    Nimander dismounted and shot Skintick a warning
look, but his cousin did not notice – or chose not to, for
he then continued, 'Or all the beds were taken. Or some
prohibition against drinking anything but kelyk – it clearly
doesn't pay to complain.'
    'Enough,' said Nimander. 'Nenanda, can you check the
stables – see if there's feed and clean water. Skintick, let's
you and I head inside.'
    A spacious, well-furnished foyer greeted them, with
a booth immediately to the right, bridged by a polished
counter. The narrow panel door set in its back wall was
shut. To the left was a two-sided cloakroom and beside
that the sunken entranceway into the taproom. A corridor
was directly ahead, leading to rooms, and a steep staircase
climbed to the next level where, presumably, more rooms
could be found. Heaped on the floor at the foot of the stairs
was bedding, most of it rather darkly stained.
    'They stripped the rooms,' observed Skintick. 'That was
considerate.'
    'You suspect they've prepared this place for us?'
    'With bodies in the well and ichor-stained sheets? Probably.
It's reasonable that we would stay on the main street
leading in, and this was the first inn we'd reach.' He paused,
looking round. 'Obviously, there are many ways of readying
for guests. Who can fathom human cultures, anyway?'
    Outside, Nenanda and the others were unpacking the
wagon.
    Nimander walked to the taproom entrance and ducked
to look inside. Dark, the air thick with the pungent,
bittersweet scent of kelyk. He could hear Skintick making
his way up the stairs, decided to leave him to it. One step
down, on to the sawdust floor. The tables and chairs had
all been pushed to one side in a haphazard pile. In the
open space left behind the floor was thick with stains and
coagulated clumps that reminded Nimander of dung in a
stall. Not dung, however; he knew that.
    He explored behind the bar and found rows of dusty
clay bottles and jugs, wine and ale. The beakers that had
contained kelyk were scattered on the floor, some of them
broken, others still weeping dark fluid.
    The outer door swung open and Nenanda stepped
inside, one hand on the grip of his sword. A quick look
round, then he met Nimander's gaze and shrugged. 'Was
you I heard, I guess.'
    'The stables?'
    'Well enough supplied, for a few days at least. There's a
hand pump and spout over the troughs. The water smelled
sour but otherwise fine – the horses didn't hesitate, at
any rate.' He strode in. 'I think those bodies in the well,
Nimander – dead of too much kelyk. I suspect that well was
in fact dry. They just used it to dump the ones that died,
as they died.'
    Nimander walked back to the doorway leading into the
foyer.
    Desra and Kedeviss had carried Clip inside, setting him
on the floor. Skintick was on the stairs, a few steps up
from the mound of soiled bedding. He was leaning on one
rail, watching as the two women attended to Clip. Seeing
Nimander, he said, 'Nothing but cockroaches and bedbugs
in the rooms. Still, I don't think we should use them
– there's an odd smell up there, not at all pleasant.'
    'This room should do,' Nimander said as he went over to
look down at Clip. 'Any change?' he asked.
    Desra glanced up. 'No. The same slight fever, the same
shallow breathing.'
    Aranatha entered, looked round, then went to the
booth, lifted the hinged counter and stepped through.
She tried the latch on the panel door and when it opened,
she