The Crippled God

company. I ain’t making too many big promises here, but my Bridgeburners got a secret—’
    ‘Kittens, aye.’
    Hedge scowled at him. ‘You had spies! I knew it!’
    ‘Gods below, Hedge, never met anyone as hopeless with secrets as you.’
    ‘Go ahead and think that. You’re in for a surprise, I promise you.’
    ‘Can they match the Moranth munitions, that’s the only thing I need to know.’
    But Hedge shook his head. ‘Not them. Never mind.’ And then he shrugged, as if dismissing something. ‘You was probably too busy last time, but we made a mess of those Short-Tails.’
    ‘And you didn’t use most of them up? That’s not like you, Hedge.’
    ‘Bavedict concocted more – the man’s a genius. Deranged and obsessive, the best kind of genius. Anyway, we’re packing them all.’
    ‘I’d noticed.’
    ‘Sure, it’s wore us out, all that stuff. Tell me, Fid, we going to get time to rest up first?’
    ‘Little late asking me that now.’
    ‘So what? I’m still asking you.’
    ‘To be honest, I don’t know. Depends.’
    ‘On what?’
    ‘Whether the Spire’s fallen to us. Whether they got the heart undamaged. Whether they managed to break its own set of chains, or whatever geas is protecting it – could be twenty Kenyll’rah demons for all we know, and imagine the scrap that’d be.’
    ‘Twenty Kenyll’rah demons? What is this, some bad fairy tale? Why not a demon king? Or a giant three-headed ogre with scorpion tails at the end of every finger, and a big one on his cock for added measure? Breathing fire outa his arse, too.’
    ‘Fine, so my imagination’s failed. Sorry about that – I ain’t no spinner of decent tales, Hedge.’
    ‘I’ll say. What else should I know? We got to kiss that fucking heart awake once we get it? Put a hat on it? Dance in fucking circles round it? Gods, not more blood sacrifice – that stuff creeps me out.’
    ‘You’re babbling, Hedge. It’s what you always do before a fight – why?’
    ‘To distract you, of course. You keep chewing on yourself there’ll be nothing left but wet gristle and a few pubic hairs I really don’t want to see. Oh, and the teeth that did all the chewing.’
    ‘You know,’ Fiddler said with a sidelong glance, ‘if you wasn’t here, Hedge, I’d have to invent you.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Just saying thanks, that’s all.’
    ‘Fine. Now can I babble some more? ’Cause I’m terrified, y’see.’
    ‘This will work, Hedge. Get your kitten throwers spread out through my squads, and we’ll make a mess of whoever tries to take us down.’
    ‘Exactly. Good idea. Shoulda thought of it myself.’
    The man moved off again, and Fiddler’s gaze tracked him until he reached his original position at the head of the Bridgeburners. Bless ya, Hedge . He swung round to face his troops. ‘That’s the place, soldiers. That hill. Let’s quick-time it now – only a bell or two before dusk and I want us digging and piling stones in a solid perimeter.’
    ‘Aye, Captain,’ barked out a heavy. ‘Could do with some fucking exercise.’
    Another soldier answered. ‘Knew I should never have carried you, woman!’
    ‘If you’d been carrying me, Reliko, I’d be pregnant by now – any chance y’get, right, you rat-eating piece of elephant dung.’
    ‘Maybe if I closed my eyes. But then, can a man even breed with a warthog?’
    ‘If anybody’d know the answer to that—’
    ‘Save your breaths, damn you,’ growled Fiddler.

    They trudged over the lesser rises, tackled the hillside. Bottle moved up past Corabb and made the climb alongside Sergeant Tarr. ‘Listen, Sergeant …’
    ‘Now what, Bottle? Pull out your shovel – we got work to do.’
    Soldiers were throwing down their kits on all sides, muttering and complaining about sore backs and aching shoulders.
    ‘It’s this ground,’ Bottle said, drawing close. ‘I need to talk to the captain.’
    Tarr scowled at him, and then nodded. ‘Go on, but don’t take too long. I don’t want you dying ’cause you dug your hole too shallow.’
    Bottle stared at the man, and then looked round. ‘They that close?’
    ‘How should I know? Care to risk your life that they aren’t?’
    Swearing under his breath, Bottle set out to where he’d last seen Fiddler – up near the crest of the hill. Hedge had gone up there as well.
    Taking a narrow, twisted route between outcrops of bedrock, he heard boots behind him and turned. ‘Deadsmell. You following me for a reason or