Dust of Dreams

its motions smooth as oil. ‘The one beyond, that is Bre’nigan, the Matron’s own J’an Sentinel—something is wrong—he should not be here, he should be at her side.’
    ‘What about those Assassins?’ Stormy asked, squinting skyward. ‘Why ain’t they showed—the one that snatched us—’
    ‘I do not know, Shield Anvil.’
Something is wrong.
    The two foreigners—they called themselves
Malazans
—backed away as Gunth Mach and Sag’Churok drew closer. ‘Ges, what if they don’t like the look of us?’
    ‘What do you think?’ Gesler snapped. ‘We’re dead, that’s what.’
    ‘There is no danger,’ Kalyth assured them.
Of course, I am sure Redmask believed the same.
    Sag’Churok spoke in her mind.
‘Destriant. The Matron is chained.’
    What?
    ‘The two Shi’gal who remained in the Nest forged an alliance. They have eaten her forebrain and now command what remains of her. Through her body, they have uprooted Ampelas. But her flesh weakens—soon Ampelas will fail. We must find the enemy. We must find our war.’
    Kalyth looked to Gunth Mach. ‘Is she safe?’
    ‘She is.’
    ‘But . . . why?’
    ‘The Shi’gal see no future. The battle is the end. No future. The One Daughter is irrelevant.’
    ‘And Gu’Rull?’
    ‘Outlawed. Missing. Possibly dead—he sought to return, sought to defy, but was driven away. Bearing wounds.’
    Gesler cut in: ‘You’re speaking with this thing, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes. I am sorry. There are powers awake in me . . . flavours. The One Daughter . . . it is a gift.’
    Stormy said, ‘If we’re to lead this army of elephant-rapers—’
    ‘Stormy—hold on!’ Gesler advanced on his companion, falling into their foreign language as he continued with a barrage of protestations.
    Kalyth did not need to understand the words, as Stormy visibly set his heels, face flushing as if in deadly warning. This was a stubborn man, she could see, far more so than the Mortal Sword. Gesler railed at his friend, but nothing he said altered Stormy’s stance.
He said he had dreams. He has accepted this.
‘She will share the flavours,’ Kalyth said to them. ‘It is necessary—’
    Stormy faced her. ‘Those Ve’Gath, how fast are they? How smart? Can they answer to commands? Discipline? What sort of signalling do they heed? And who in Hood’s name is the enemy?’
    To these questions, Kalyth shook her head. ‘I have no answers. No knowledge. I can say nothing.’
    ‘Who can?’
    ‘Damn you, Stormy!’
    The big red-bearded man wheeled on his companion. ‘Aye! You’re the Mortal Sword—these are the questions you need to be asking, not me! Who’s going to command here? You are, you stupid lump of dhenrabi shit! So stop lapdogging me and get on with it!’
    Gesler’s hands closed into fists and he took a half-step closer to Stormy. ‘That’s it,’ he growled. ‘I’m going to crush your fat head, Stormy, and then I’m going to walk away—’
    Stormy bared his teeth, squaring himself to await Gesler’s charge.
    Sag’Churok thumped between the two men, sword blades straightening out to the sides, the motion forcing the men apart, lest those notched edges find them. Snarling, Gesler spun round and marched off a dozen or so paces.
    Grinning, Stormy straightened. ‘Give me those flavours, lizard. We got to talk.’
    ‘Not that one,’ Kalyth said. ‘Gunth Mach is the one without swords. There—not the J’an, this one. Go to her.’
    ‘Fine, and then what?’
    ‘Then . . . nothing. You will see.’
    He walked up to stand directly in front of Gunth Mach.
Brave or stupid—I think I know which way Gesler would say.
But she saw that Gesler, arms crossed, had turned to watch.
    ‘Well? Gods, she stinks—’ He suddenly recoiled. ‘Sorry, lizard,’ he mumbled, ‘I didn’t mean it.’ He wiped at his face, then held out his hand, scowling. ‘I’m covered in something.’
    ‘Flavour,’ Kalyth said.
    Gesler snorted. ‘The lizard in your head now, Stormy? I don’t believe it—if she’d done that she’d be running for the nearest cliff.’
    ‘I ain’t the one staying deliberately stupid, Ges.’
    Gesler glared over at the approaching legions. ‘Fine, tell me what they can do.’
    ‘No. Find out for yourself.’
    ‘I ain’t being nobody’s Mortal Sword.’
    ‘Whatever. You just going to stand there, Ges?’
    Swearing something under his breath, the soldier walked over to Gunth Mach. ‘Fine, do your sweat thing, it’s not