Dust of Dreams

possible.
    He made his way down a too-narrow passage and stepped through a cloying slit in the silks to find himself in a larger room, the ceiling peaked and morning sunlight making the air glow. Commander Brys sat in a folding chair, the Atri-Ceda Aranict standing on his left. Seated in another chair was the Malazan officer, her legs folded showing him a solid, muscled thigh—his eyes followed the sweeping curve of its underside and all at once his breathing steadied. A moment later his gaze lifted to her face.
     
    Brys waited for the huge man’s attention to return to him. It didn’t. Henar Vygulf was staring at Lostara Yil as if he’d never before seen a woman—granted, a beautiful woman in this instance. Even so . . . he cleared his throat. ‘Outrider Henar Vygulf, thank you for coming.’
    The man’s eyes flicked to Brys and then back again. ‘As ordered, sir.’
    ‘If I could have your attention? Good. You were attached to the Drene Garrison during the Awl Campaign, correct?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Liaising with the Bluerose Lancers, the company to which you once belonged.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Brys frowned. ‘Well, this isn’t working. Outrider, may I introduce to you Captain Lostara Yil, adjutant to the Adjunct Tavore of the Bonehunters. Captain, this is Outrider Henar Vygulf.’
    In the manner of Bluerose court etiquette, Henar lowered himself on to one knee and bowed his head. ‘Captain, it is a pleasure.’
    Yil glanced over at Brys with raised brows.
    He shook his head, equally baffled. As far as he knew, the captain wasn’t nobleborn, and certainly not royalty.
    She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable, and then said, ‘Please rise, Henar. Next time, a salute will suffice.’
    He straightened. ‘As you command, sir.’
    ‘Now,’ said Brys, ‘might we resume?’
    Henar pulled his eyes from Lostara with obvious effort and then nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’
    ‘During the most recent campaign, a renegade Awl named Redmask infiltrated Drene. Blood was shed, and in the pursuit that followed, garrison soldiers were ambushed. Is this accurate so far?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘There followed reports of two demonic creatures serving as bodyguards to this Redmask.’
    ‘Yes, sir. Lizards, running on two legs, fast as a horse, sir. They were sighted and reported on in the campaign itself. The Atri-Preda included descriptions in her dispatches up to and including the first major battle. Thereafter, no messengers managed to make it back.’
    ‘Do you happen to know a soldier named Pride?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘An Awl by birth, but raised by a family in Drene. He was old enough when taken to still remember a number of Awl legends regarding an ancient war for the land with an army of demons of similar description. The Awl were not victorious, but the war ended when the demons migrated east into the Wastelands. Once enemies, then allies? It is possible. Do we know what happened to Redmask? Does he still live?’
    ‘Sir, it’s assumed he’s dead, since the Awl are no more.’
    ‘But no direct proof.’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Thank you, Henar Vygulf. You are dismissed.’
    The outrider saluted, looked once more upon Lostara Yil, and then departed.
    The Malazan captain blew out a breath. ‘Well.’
    ‘Please accept my apologies,’ said Brys. ‘There are somewhat fewer women in my army than there are in yours—certainly not by policy, but Letherii women seem more inclined to pursue other professions. It may be that Henar has not—’
    ‘I take your point, Commander, if you’ll forgive the interruption. Besides, it must be said that he is a most impressive man, so there is no need for you to apologize.’ She uncrossed her legs and rose. ‘In any case, sir, the lizards he mentionedcertainly seem to fit with descriptions of K’Chain Che’Malle. These were living specimens? Not undead?’
    ‘There was no evidence to suggest that they were anything but alive. In the first battle, they took wounds.’
    Lostara nodded. ‘Then Quick Ben is probably right.’
    ‘He is.’ Brys leaned back, regarded the tall woman for a moment, and then said, ‘There was a god once . . . I know its name but that isn’t particularly relevant now. What is relevant is where it dwelt: in the lands we now call the Wastelands. It lived there and it died there. Its life was stolen from it by a force, a power coming from the K’Chain Che’Malle—a civilization, by the way, that I’d never heard of, but in that