Dust of Dreams

mind. On your feet.’
    Groaning, Fiddler sat up, nudged Balm and said, ‘You and me, we got work to do.’
    Blinking, Balm stared at him a moment. Then he leapt upright, sword in his hand. ‘Where are they, then?’
    ‘Follow me,’ Fiddler said, climbing to his feet. ‘And put that thing away before you poke me with it.’
    ‘Why would I stab you? I mean, I know you, right? I think. Aye, I know you.’
    They passed Reliko on their way to the tent.
    As the soldier stepped up, Keneb took the rolled-up hide. ‘Thank you. Reliko, before you go, a question—why are all the heavies examining their hands?’
    ‘We was adding up lost bits, sir, t’see if it made up a whole hand.’
    ‘Does it?’
    ‘We’re missing a thumb, but we heard there’s a heavy without any thumbs—might be over in Blistig’s legion.’
    ‘Indeed, and what would his name be?’
    ‘Nefarias Bredd, sir.’
    ‘And how would this soldier be able to wield any weapons, without thumbs?’
    Reliko shrugged. ‘Can’t say, sir, as I only seen ’im once, and that was from too far away. I expect he ties ’em up sort of, somehow.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ ventured Keneb, ‘he’s missing only one thumb. Shield hand, perhaps.’
    ‘Might be, sir, might be, in which case as soon as we find a thumb, why, we’ll let him know.’ Reliko returned to his companions.
    Keneb stared after the soldier, frowning.
    ‘Kingdoms toppled one by one,’ said Smiles, ‘because of soldiers like him, sir. Keep telling yourself that—that’s how I do it.’
    ‘Do what, scout?’
    ‘Stay sane, sir. He’s the one, you know.’
    ‘Who, what?’
    ‘The shortest heavy in the history of the Malazan Empire, sir.’
    ‘Really? Are you certain of that, scout?’
    ‘Sir?’
    But he’d unfurled the map and was now studying it.
    Fiddler and Balm were approaching, a heavy table between them. As soon as they arrived, Keneb rolled up the map and set it on the tabletop. ‘You can take that back now, Sergeants. Thank you.’
     
    Smiles jogged her way back to where Koryk was hidden along the ridge. Behind her clunked Corporal Tarr, sounding like a damned tinker’s cart. She shot him a glare over one shoulder. ‘You shoulda strapped down, you know that, don’t you?’
    ‘This is a damned feint,’ said Tarr, ‘what difference does it make?’
    They reached the base of the ridge.
    ‘I’ll wait here. Go collect the fool, Smiles, and be quick about it.’
    Biting back a retort, she set off up the slope. It’d be different, she knew, if she was the corporal. And this was a perfect example. If she was corporal, it’d be Tarr doing this climb and that was a fact.
    Koryk heard her coming and worked his way down to meet her. ‘No column, huh?’
    ‘No, how’d you guess?’
    ‘Didn’t have to. I waited. And . . . no column.’
    They descended the slope side by side to where Tarr waited.
    ‘We lost the enemy, Corporal?’
    ‘Something like that, Koryk. And now the Fist’s got us on the move—we’re going to be buggered trying catch-up, too. He’s now thinking we’ve stuck our heads in a wasp nest.’
    ‘These Letherii couldn’t turn an ambush on us,’ Koryk pronounced. ‘We would’ve sniffed it out by now.’
    ‘But we didn’t,’ Smiles pointed out. ‘We been flushed, Koryk.’
    ‘Lazy,’ pronounced Tarr. ‘Overconfident. Fiddler was right.’
    ‘Of course he was,’ said Smiles. ‘He’s Fiddler. It’s always the problem, the people in charge never listen to the people in the know. It’s like two different worlds, two different languages.’
    She stopped when she noticed both men looking at her. ‘What?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Tarr, ‘except, well, that was a sharp observation there, Smiles.’
    ‘Oh, and did that shock you two?’
    ‘Shocked me,’ admitted Koryk.
    She scowled at him.
    But secretly, she was pleased.
That’s right. I ain’t the fool you think I am. I ain’t the fool nobody thinks I am. Everybody, I mean. Well, they’re the real fools, anyway.
    They hurried on, but long before they caught up to the company, it was all over.
     
    The Letherii ambush caught Keneb’s mob coming down a forested slope that funnelled before reaching the basin. Enemy ranks rose up on both sides from fast-dug foxholes and loosed a few hundred un-fletched arrows with soft clay balls instead of barbed iron points. If the flights had been real, half the Malazans would have been downed, dead or wounded. A few more salvos and most of the rest