The Crippled God

he got to do with any of this? I know who I’m supposed to find. I even know where he’s holed up – and staying outa Darujhistan tells me he’s smarter than he looks.’ Lifting an arm, she caught a flash of silver. Stared in horror at the torcs now encircling her upper arms. ‘Gods below! How did these come back! Get ’em off me! ’
    ‘ Treach needs you now. Tiger of Summer and all that.’ He grinned at her. ‘It’s all brewing up, my love .’
    ‘ Shit! I just put ’em on because they looked nice! ’
    He was studying her, head cocked. ‘Getting fat on us, Sergeant? ’
    She scowled. ‘Taken to wearing chain under everything .’
    ‘ Even when you’re asleep? And you say you ain’t a Bridgeburner no more? ’
    ‘ What kind of dream is this? ’
    He sheathed his dagger. This time the click was sharp enough to make her flinch. ‘The important kind, Sergeant. Look at it this way. Hood’s gone. Death’s Gate was just … gaping. But someone sanctified us. We’ve seen more death than a sane person could stand. But we ain’t sane, are we? We’re soldiers. Veterans. We’re past sane. We’re in that other place, where all the insanity’s been storming around us for so long it can’t touch us no more either. Meaning we’re outside both. What makes us perfect for Death’s Gate? Simple, Picker. It don’t matter what we look at, we don’t blink .’
    ‘ I can get out of the city ,’ she said . ‘ But it won’t be easy .’
    He began cleaning his fingernails, the knife blade flashing dull in the misty gloom . ‘ Glad to hear all that confidence has come roaring back. Thing is, we ain’t in the mood to challenge what’s going on here. Besides, we’re kinda busy at the moment .’
    ‘ So I’m on my own, is that it? ’
    ‘ Not quite. We arranged for a reliable … guide.’ He rose. The dagger slammed back into its scabbard —
    The sound startled her awake. Lying tangled in sweaty blankets, Blend snoring at her side. Something was at the door, trying to get in. Cursing under her breath, Picker collected up the sword propped beside the bed .
    She saw the latch flick once – the same sound Bluepearl’s dagger had been making .
    Whoever was trying to open that door wasn’t having much luck. ‘What a fine guide you sent there, Whiskeyjack. Can’t even open a stupid door .’
    ‘ Mmm? ’
    ‘ Go back to sleep, love.’ She rose and walked to the door, turned the latch with her sword point and stepped back to let the door swing open .
    A mangy cat sat in the corridor .
    Mangy? ‘The ugly thing’s dead. A Hood-damned undead cat – gods below .’
    The creature had a collar made of thick hide or leather, twisted into a coil. A tarnished silver coin or medallion hung from it. Picker crouched, reached out and dragged the cat closer, frowning when it made no effort to walk, just sliding in its sitting position. ‘Gods, you stink .’
    Rotted eye sockets offered her about as much expression as any living cat might manage. She bent closer, took hold of the medallion. Feeble scratching marred both sides, a name in archaic Gadrobi or Rhivi. She frowned at it. ‘Tufty? ’
    So Blend and Antsy weren’t just making stuff up. They were telling the truth. They’d found that Jaghut a damned dead cat .
    Then her eyes narrowed on the collar. Skin, mottled here and there by red-ochre tattoos. ‘Oh,’ she muttered, ‘let me guess. T’lan Imass? ’
    From the room behind her, Blend called out. ‘Pick? ’
    ‘ It’s fine,’ Picker said, straightening. ‘Just the cat .’
    ‘ Did you feed it? I didn’t feed it – oh, gods, I can’t remember when I last fed the cat! ’
    Picker walked into the room. Sure enough, Blend was still sleeping. Having one of those dreams. She went over and settled down on the mattress. Leaned closer and whispered. ‘It’s true, Blend. You forgot. For months! ’
    The woman moaned, distress twisting her features, but her eyes remained shut .
    ‘ You’ve made a real mess, Blend. That poor cat. I just found it, and Hood knows it ain’t a pretty sight .’
    ‘ You could’ve fed it, Picker – why didn’t you feed it? ’
    Something sharp pricked under Picker’s chin and she froze .
    ‘ Better answer me,’ Blend said in a casual tone. ‘You see, I loved that cat. Got it for my sixth birthday. It was my favourite cat .’
    ‘ Bluepearl?’ Picker called out. ‘Can you fix this, please? Bluepearl? ’
    No answer. Picker knew that if she tried to pull