A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

dammit, he didn't know where they'd
just ended up, but he could tell – oh yes, he could tell all
right – that it wasn't a nice place.
    Horses shrilling (but then, they always did that when
arriving), carriage slapping down on to gritty mud in a
chorus of outraged creaks, splinters and calamcophony,
slewing this way and that – and the sky was coming down
in giant balls of mercury and there were dragons up there
and wyval and Hood knew what else—
    Chains sawing back and forth, to the sides and straight
up, all emerging from the ghastliest wagon Glanno had
ever seen – loaded with more bodies than seemed reasonable,
much less possible.
    So of course he froze up all the brakes – what else was
he supposed to do? And then bodies were flying past.
Sweetest Sufferance, curled up into a soft flouncy bouncy
ball that landed bouncily and rolled and rolled. That
snarling hulk Gruntle, twisting in the air so that he could
land on all fours – meow – and Faint, far less elegant for all
her bountiferous beauty, going splat on her face all spreadeagled,
silly girl. Amby and Jula flew past embraced like
lovers, at least until the ground showed up and got between
them. Reccanto Ilk fetched up beside Glanno, cracking the
backrest of the bench.
    'You idiot! We ain't tied ourselves! It was just dark and dark
and nothing else and now you just go and drop us into—'
    'Wasn't me, you clumsy pig!'
    This argument didn't survive the fullest comprehension
of their surroundings.
    Reccanto Ilk slowly sat up. 'Holy shit.'
    Glanno leapt to his feet. 'Cartographer!' But he'd
forgotten about his splints. Yelping, he tottered, and then
pitched forward on to the backs of the first two horses.
They deftly stepped to either side so that he could fall
a little more before getting tangled in all the crap down
there, whereupon the horses eagerly moved back in an
effort to crush him into the kind of pulp that could never
again whip the reins.
    Reccanto scrabbled to drag him back on to the bench.
The splint bindings helped, although Glanno did plenty
of shrieking in pain – at least he wasn't being crushed.
Moments later he fetched up again on the splintered
bench.
    A wretched dead-looking Jaghut was walking up to
Cartographer, who, lashed to a wheel, had come to rest
with his head down, eyeing the Jaghut's muddy boots. 'I
had begun to wonder,' the Jaghut said, 'if you had become
lost.'
    Pushing Reccanto aside, Glanno worked his way round
to witness this fateful meeting – oh yes, that had to be
Hood himself. Why, a damned family reunionebration!
    Cartographer's upside-down smile seemed to send a
nearby rider's horse into yet another panic, and the soldier
swore impressively as he fought to quell the beast. 'My Lord,'
Cartographer was saying, 'we both know, surely, that what
goes around comes around.' And then he struggled feebly
at his bindings. 'And around,' he added despondently.
    Gruntle, who had staggered up to join them, now
growled deep in his chest and then went to the carriage
door, thumping it with a fist. 'Master Quell!'
    Hood turned to the warrior. 'That will not be necessary,
Treach-spawn. My sole requirement was that you arrive
here. Now, you need only leave once more. Cartographer
will guide you.'
    Sweetest Sufferance was dragging a dazed Faint back up
on to the carriage, displaying surprising strength, although
the effort made her eyes bulge alarmingly. Glanno nudged
Reccanto and nodded towards Sweetest. 'That face remind
you of anything?'
    Reccanto squinted, and then sniggered.
    'You're both dead,' she hissed.
    Amby and Jula bobbed into view to either side of her,
grinning through smears of mud.
    *
    Inside the carriage, Mappo started to open the door but
Quell snapped out a shaky hand to stay him. 'Gods, don't
do that!'
    Precious Thimble had curled up on the floor at their
feet, rocking and moaning.
    'What awaits us outside?' the Trell asked.
    Quell shook his head. He was bone white, face glistening
with sweat. 'I should've guessed. The way that map on the
road narrowed at the far end. Oh, we've been used! Duped!
Gods, I think I'm going to be sick—'
    'Damned Trygalle,' muttered Toc. More confused than he
had ever been by this sudden, inexplicable arrival. How
did they manage to arrive here ? And then he saw Gruntle.
'Gods below, it's you!'
    Someone was being loudly sick inside the carriage.
    Gruntle stared up at Toc, and then frowned.
    Ah, I guess I don't look like Anaster any more. 'We
shared—'
    'Herald,' said Hood. 'It