A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

yes. Anyway, it was my grandfather
who took me to watch his old company's patron temple and
all the priests and priestesses doing their flies thing.'
    'Wait. The Revenants were supposed to have all disappeared
– taken by Hood himself, to serve him in the realm
of the dead. So what was your grandfather doing living in
One Eye Cat?'
    'He lost his sword arm in a battle. He'd been left for
dead, and by the time anyone found him it was too late for
any serious healing. So they seared the stump and retired
him out. Now, you going to let me tell my tale or not?'
    'Yes, fine. Sorry.'
    'He said the priests were getting it all wrong, with
that honey. The flies and wasps weren't the important
thing in the ceremony. It was the blood – honey, but that
symbolized blood. The Revenants – who were as good as
Hood's own warrior-priests, in the mortal world anyway
– well, they were flagellants. Blood on the skin, life bled
out to die on the skin – that was the important detail. It's
why Hood cherishes dead soldiers more than any other of
the countless dead that stumble through the gate. The
Merchants of Blood, the army that will fight on the hidden
plain called Defiance Last.' She paused, then licked her lips.
'That's what the Dawn of Flies is about. A final battle, the
dead gathered, on a hidden plain called Defiance Last.'
    'So,' said Faint, feeling chilled by Sweetest Sufferance's
story, 'maybe that's why Hood took the Revenants. Because
that battle is coming.'
    'Give me some more of that,' Sweetest Sufferance said,
reaching for the wineskin.
    Glanno Tarp nudged Reccanto Ilk. 'See 'em? They're
talking about us. Well, me, mostly. It's gonna happen, Ilk,
sooner or later, it's gonna happen.'
    Reccanto Ilk squinted across at the man. 'What, they
gonna kill you in your sleep?'
    'Don't be an idiot. One a them's gonna ask me to forevermarry
her.'
    'And then she'll kill you in your sleep. And then we can
all slice up your share.'
    'You think I didn't see how you gropered Sweetie?'
    'How could you? You was driving!'
    'There ain't nothing that I don't see, Ilk. That's what
makes me such a goodiferous driver.'
    'She's got the nicest handholds.'
    'Watch what you're doing with my future foreverwife.'
    'Could be Faint you end up with, which means I can do
what I like with Sweetie.'
    Glanno Tarp loosed a loud belch. 'We should make up
something to eat. Breakfast, so when they're finished jawbering
over there we can up and get on our way.'
    'Wherever that is.'
    'Wherever don't matter. Never has and never will.'
    Reccanto Ilk grinned. 'Right. It ain't the destination
that counts . . .'
    And together they added, 'It's the journey!'
    Faint and Sweetest Sufferance looked over, both scowling.
'Not that again!' Faint called. 'Just stop it, you two!
Stop it or we'll kill you in your sleep!'
    Reccanto Ilk nudged Glanno Tarp.
    Mappo crouched, rocking on the balls of his broad feet,
waiting for Master Quell to finish his muttered incantation
against pain. He sympathized, since it was clear that the
mage was suffering, his face pale and drawn, forehead slick
with sweat, his hands trembling.
    That anyone would choose such a profession, given the
terrible cost, was a difficult notion to accept. Was coin
worth this? He could not understand that sort of thinking.
    What held real value in this world? In any world?
Friendship, the gifts of love and compassion. The honour
one accorded the life of another person. None of this
could be bought with wealth. It seemed to him such a
simple truth. Yet he knew that its very banality was fuel
for sneering cynicism and mockery. Until such things were
taken away, until the price of their loss came to be personal,
in some terrible, devastating arrival into one's life. Only at
that moment of profound extremity did the contempt wash
down from that truth, revealing it bare, undeniable.
    All the truths that mattered were banal.
    Yet here was another truth. He had paid for this journey.
His coin bought this man's pain. The exchange was imbalanced,
and so Mappo grieved for Master Quell, and would
not shy away from his own guilt. Honour meant, after all, a
preparedness, a willingness to weigh and measure, to judge
rightful balance with no hand tilting the scales.
    And so, they all here were paying to serve Mappo's need,
this journey through warrens. Another burden he must
accept. If he could.
    The formidable warrior sitting beside him stirred then
and said, 'I think I see now why the Trygalle loses so many
shareholders,