A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

stand
and fight – whereupon we annihilate them.'
    'A succinct preface,' Brohl Handar said.
    'To answer you, we possess six companies of the Bluerose
Battalion and near full complement of the reformed
Artisan Battalion, along with detachments from the Drene
Garrison and four companies from the Harridict Brigade.
To ensure substantial numerical superiority, I will request
the Crimson Rampant Brigade and at least half of the
Merchants' Battalion.'
    'Do you anticipate that this Redmask will in any way
modify the tactics employed by the Awl?'
    'No. He did not do so the first time. The threat he
represents lies in his genius for superior ambushes and
appallingly effective raids, especially on our supply lines.
The sooner he is killed, the swifter the end of the war. If he
succeeds in evading our grasp, then we can anticipate a
long and bloody conflict.'
    'Atri-Preda, I intend to request three K'risnan and four
thousand Edur warriors.'
    'Victory will be quick, then, Overseer, for Redmask will
not be able to hide for long from your K'risnan.'
    'Precisely. I want this war over as soon as possible, and
with minimal loss of life – on both sides. Accordingly, we
must kill Redmask at the first opportunity. And shatter the
Awl army, such as it is.'
    'You wish to force the Awl to capitulate and seek terms?'
    'Yes.'
    'Overseer, I will accept capitulation. As for terms, the
only ones I will demand are complete surrender. The Awl
will be enslaved, one and all. They will be scattered
throughout the empire but nowhere near their traditional
homelands. As slaves, they will be booty, and the right to
pick first will be the reward I grant my soldiers.'
    'The fate of the Nerek and the Fent and the Tarthenal.'
    'Even so.'
    'The notion does not sit well with me, Atri-Preda. Nor
will it with any Tiste Edur, including the Emperor.'
    'Let us argue this point once we have killed Redmask,
Overseer.'
    He grimaced, then nodded. 'Agreed.'
    Brohl Handar silently cursed this Redmask, who had
single-handedly torn through his hopes for a cessation of
hostilities, for an equitable peace. Instead, Letur Anict now
possessed all the justification he needed to exterminate the
Awl, and no amount of tactical genius in ambushes and
raids would, in the end, make any difference at all. It is the curse of leaders to believe they can truly change the world.
    A curse that has even afflicted me, it seems. Am I too now a slave to Letur Anict and those like him?
    The rage within him was the breath of ice, held deep and
overlong, until its searing touch burned in his chest. Upon
hearing the copper-face Natarkas's last words, he rose in silent
fury and stalked from the hut, then stood, eyes narrowed,
until his vision could adjust to the moonless, cloud-covered
night. Nearby, motionless as carved sentinels of stone, stood
his K'Chain Che'Malle guardians, their eyes faintly glowing
smudges in the darkness. As Redmask pushed himself into
motion, their heads turned in unison to watch as he set off
through the encampment.
    Neither creature followed, for which he was thankful.
Every step taken by the huge beasts set the camp's dogs to
howling and he was in no mood for their brainless cries.
    Half the night was gone. He had called in the clan leaders
and the most senior elders, one and all crowding into the hut
that had once belonged to Hadralt. They had come expecting
castigation, more condemnation from their new and
much feared war leader, but Redmask had no interest in further
belittling the warriors now under his command. The
wounds of earlier that day were fresh enough. The courage
they had lost could only be regained in battle.
    For all of Hadralt's faults, he had been correct in one
thing – the old way of fighting against the Letherii was
doomed to fail. Yet the now-dead war leader's purported
intent to retrain the Awl to a mode of combat identical to
that of the Letherii was, Redmask told his followers, also
doomed. The tradition did not exist, the Awl were skilled
in the wrong weapons, and loyalties rarely crossed lines of
clan and kin.
    A new way had to be found.
    Redmask had then asked about the mercenaries that had
been hired, and the tale that unfolded had proved both
complicated and sordid, details teased out from reluctant,
shamefaced warriors. Oh, there had been plenty of Letherii
coin delivered as part of the land purchase, and that wealth
had been originally amassed with the intent of hiring a
foreign army – one that had been found on the borderlands
to