A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

a
moment. 'This has the appearance of an oversized, flightless
bird.'
    'Oversized?' She glanced over at him, then resumed her
walk.
    Her soldiers were doing much the same, silent as they
explored the devastated encampment. Outriders, still
mounted, were circling the area, keeping to the ridge lines.
    The rodara and myrid herds had been driven away, their
tracks clearly visible heading east. The rodara herd had
gone first, and the myrid had simply followed. It was
possible, if the Letherii detachment rode hard, that they
would catch up to the myrid. Bivatt suspected the raiders
would not lag behind to tend to the slower-moving beasts.
    'Well, Atri-Preda?' Brohl Handar asked from behind her.
'Do we pursue?'
    She did not turn round. 'No.'
    'The Factor will be severely displeased by your decision.'
    'And that concerns you?'
    'Not in the least.'
    She said nothing. The Overseer was growing more
confident in his appointment. More confident, or less
cautious – there had been contempt in the Tiste Edur's
tone. Of course, that he had chosen to accompany this
expedition was evidence enough of his burgeoning
independence. For all of that, she almost felt sorry for the
warrior.
    'If this Redmask is conjuring demons of some sort,' Brohl
Handar continued, 'then we had best move in strength,
accompanied by both Letherii and Edur mages.
Accordingly, I concur with your decision.'
    'It pleases me that you grasp the military implications of
this, Overseer. Even so, in this instance even the desires
of the Factor are of no importance to me. I am first and
foremost an officer of the empire.'
    'You are, and I am the Emperor's representative in this
region. Thus.'
    She nodded.
    A few heartbeats later the Tiste Edur sighed. 'It grieves
me to see so many slain children.'
    'Overseer, we are no less thorough when slaying the
Awl.'
    'That, too, grieves me.'
    'Such is war,' she said.
    He grunted, then said, 'Atri-Preda, what is happening on
these plains is not simply war. You Letherii have initiated a
campaign of extermination. Had we Edur elected to cross
that threshold, would you not have called us barbarians in
truth? You do not hold the high ground in this conflict, no
matter how you seek to justify your actions.'
    'Overseer,' Bivatt said coldly, 'I care nothing about
justifications, nor moral high ground. I have been a soldier
too long to believe such things hold any sway over our
actions. Whatever lies in our power to do, we do.' She
gestured at the destroyed encampment around them.
'Citizens of Lether have been murdered. It is my responsibility
to give answer to that, and so I shall.'
    'And who will win?' Brohl Handar asked.
    'We will, of course.'
    'No, Atri-Preda. You will lose. As will the Awl. The
victors are men such as Factor Letur Anict. Alas, such
people as the Factor view you and your soldiers little differently
from how they view their enemies. You are to be used,
and this means that many of you will die. Letur Anict does
not care. He needs you to win this victory, but beyond that
his need for you ends . . . until a new enemy is found. Tell
me, do empires exist solely to devour? Is there no value in
peace? In order and prosperity and stability and security?
Are the only worthwhile rewards the stacks of coin in Letur
Anict's treasury? He would have it so – all the rest is
incidental and only useful if it serves him. Atri-Preda, you are
in truth less than an Indebted. You are a slave – I am not
wrong in this, for I am a Tiste Edur who possesses slaves. A
slave, Bivatt, is how Letur Anict and his kind see you.'
    'Tell me, Overseer, how would you fare without your
slaves?'
    'Poorly, no doubt.'
    She turned about and walked back to her horse. 'Mount
up. We're returning to Drene.'
    'And these dead citizens of the empire? Do you leave
their bodies to the vultures?'
    'In a month even the bones will be gone,' Bivatt said,
swinging onto her horse and gathering the reins. 'The
whittle beetles will gnaw them all to dust. Besides, there is
not enough soil to dig proper graves.'
    'There are stones,' Brohl Handar noted.
    'Covered in Awl glyphs. To use them would be to curse
the dead.'
    'Ah, so the enmity persists, so that even the ghosts war
with each other. It is a dark world you inhabit, Atri-Preda.'
    She looked down at him for a moment, then said, 'Are
the shadows any better, Overseer?' When he made no reply,
she said, 'On your horse, sir, if you please.'
    The Ganetok encampment, swollen with the survivors
of the Sevond and Niritha