A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

clans, sprawled across the entire
valley. Beyond to the east loomed vast dun-hued clouds
from the main herds in the next few valleys. The air was
gritty with dust and the acrid smell of hearth fires. Small
bands of warriors moved back and forth like gangs of thugs,
weapons bristling, their voices loud.
    Outriders had made contact with Redmask and his paltry
tribe earlier in the day, yet had kept their distance, seemingly
more interested in the substantial herd of rodara
trailing the small group. An unexpected wealth for so few
Awl, leaving possession open to challenge, and it was clear
to Redmask as he drew rein on a rise overlooking the
encampment that word had preceded them, inciting countless
warriors into bold challenge, one and all coveting
rodara and eager to strip the beasts away from the mere
handful of Renfayar warriors.
    Alas, he would have to disappoint them. 'Masarch,' he
now said, 'remain here with the others. Accept no
challenges.'
    'No-one has come close enough to see your mask,' the
youth said. 'No-one suspects what you seek, War Leader. As
soon as they do, we shall be under siege.'
    'Do you fear, Masarch?'
    'Dying? No, not any more.'
    'Then you are a child no longer. Wait, do nothing.'
Redmask nudged his horse onto the slope, gathering it into
a collected canter as he approached the Ganetok encampment.
Eyes fixed on him, then held, as shouts rose, the
voices more angry than shocked. Until the nearer warriors
made note of his weapons. All at once a hush fell over the
encampment, rippling in a wave, and in its wake rose a
murmuring, the anger he had first heard only now with
a deeper timbre.
    Dray dogs caught the burgeoning rage and drew closer,
fangs bared and hackles stiff.
    Redmask reined in. His Letherii horse tossed its head
and stamped, snorting to warn off the huge dogs.
    Someone was coming through the gathered crowd, like
the prow of an unseen ship pushing through tall reeds.
Settling back on the foreign saddle, Redmask waited.
    Hadralt, firstborn son to Capalah, walked with his
father's swagger but not his physical authority. He was short
and lean, reputedly very fast with the hook-bladed
shortswords cross-strapped beneath each arm. Surrounding
him were a dozen of his favoured warriors, huge, hulking
men whose faces had been painted in a simulacrum of
scales, copper in tone yet clearly intended to echo
Redmask's own. The expressions beneath that paint were
now ones of chagrin.
    His hands restless around the fetishes lining his belt,
Hadralt glowered up at Redmask. 'If you are who you claim
to be, then you do not belong here. Leave, or your blood
will feed the dry earth.'
    Redmask let his impassive gaze slide over the copper-faced
warriors. 'You mouth the echoes, yet quail from the
source.' He looked once more upon the war leader. 'I am
before you now, Hadralt son of Capalah. Redmask, war
leader of the Renfayar clan, and on this day I will kill you.'
    The dark eyes widened, then Hadralt sneered. 'Your life
was a curse, Redmask. You have not yet earned the right to
challenge me. Tell me, will your pathetically few pups fight
for you? Your ambition will see them all killed, and my
warriors shall take the Renfayar herds. And the Renfayar
women – but only of bearing age. The children and elders
will die, for they are burdens we will not abide. The
Renfayar shall cease to be.'
    'For your warriors to gain the right to challenge my kin,
Hadralt, they must first defeat my own champions.'
    'And where are they hiding, Redmask? Unless you mean
that scarred dray that followed you in.'
    The laughter at that jest was overloud.
    Redmask glanced back at the lone beast. Lying on the
ground just to the right of the horse, it had faced down all
the other dogs in the area without even rising. The dray
lifted its head and met Redmask's eyes, as if the animal not
only comprehended the words that had been spoken, but
also welcomed the opportunity to face every challenger. He
felt something stir in his chest. 'This beast understands
courage,' he said, facing Hadralt once more. 'Would that I
had ten thousand warriors to match it. Yet all I see before
me is you, Hadralt, war leader of ten thousand cowards.'
    The clamour that erupted then seemed to blister the air.
Weapons flashed into sunlight, the massed crowd edging
in. A sea of faces twisted with rage.
    Hadralt had gone pale. Then he raised his arms and held
them high until the outcry fell away. 'Every warrior here,'
he said in a trembling voice, 'shall take a