The Crippled God

us out – a damned fortune for each and every one of us.’
    ‘Where’en ne faareden? Eh? War bit ana dem?’
    ‘To the families if they got any, Nep. That’s how it’s done. Stand or fall, you still get paid.’
    ‘G’han nered pah vreem!’
    Sinter made a startled sound, and beside her Kisswhere leaned forward to shoot Nep Furrow a shocked look.
    ‘Really, Nep?’ Kisswhere asked.
    ‘Nepel!’
    ‘Gods below,’ Sinter whispered. ‘I never …’
    Reaching the road, they came within sight of the Bonehunter regulars. Glancing back, Bottle saw the Adjunct on her way up, with Banaschar at her side. Behind these two walked Lostara Yil, Henar Vygulf, the three Fists, Skanarow and Ruthan Gudd.
    ‘She wants a last word with them,’ Tarr said, evidently noticing Bottle’s backward look. ‘But we’re not going to be there for that. Between her and them – you others all hear that? We walk through.’
    ‘We walk through,’ Hellian echoed. ‘Crump, go back and help Limp – he’s lagging. Let’s just get this over with.’
    They strode into the loose ranks of the regulars.
    ‘Wish we had it as easy as you did!’ someone shouted.
    Koryk yelled back, ‘You never would’ve hacked it, Ffan!’
    ‘Hey, Hellian, found me this big spider here – wanna see it?’
    ‘Call it whatever you want, soldier, it’s still small.’
    Bottle shook his head. Aw, fuck. They’re soldiers – what did you expect?
    It was dark by the time Korlat returned to the small Tiste Andii camp. They were seated round a fire, like hunters out from the wood, or harvesters at day’s end. A fresh rain had cleansed the air, but its passage had been brief and now overhead tracked the Jade Strangers – as she had learned to call them – casting down a green light.
    Nimander looked up, made room for her on the Kolansii workbench they had found in one of the work camps. ‘We were wondering if you would ever return,’ he said.
    She drew her cloak about her shoulders. ‘I watched the Bonehunters depart,’ she said.
    ‘Have ships arrived, then?’
    Korlat shook her head. ‘They’re moving to a camp at this end of the Estobanse Valley. The Adjunct spoke to her regulars. She thanked them. That and nothing more. She was the last to leave – she bade the others go ahead, even her brother, and she walked alone. There was something … something …’ She shook her head. ‘It broke my heart.’
    A voice spoke from the darkness behind her. ‘She does that, does Tavore.’
    They turned to see Fiddler stepping into the firelight, carrying something wrapped in skins. Behind, arrayed but drawing no closer, Korlat saw the rest of Whiskeyjack’s old squad. They seemed to be muttering to each other in low tones, and then Quick Ben pointed up past the road, and in a sharp voice said, ‘There, that hilltop. Not too far, but far enough. Well?’ He looked at his companions, and both men grunted their assent.
    Returning her attention to Fiddler, she saw that he had been watching, and now he nodded, faced Korlat. ‘It’s not far – in this air it’ll carry just fine.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Korlat, ‘what are you doing?’
    ‘See the hill they indicated, other side of the road? Go there, Korlat.’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    Nimander made to rise, but a look from Fiddler stilled him. ‘Just her,’ he said. ‘I’ll take that stump there – mind, sir?’
    Silchas Ruin, seated on that stump, rose, shaking his head and then gesturing an invitation.
    Fiddler went over and settled down on it. He began unwrapping the object on his lap, and then looked up and met Korlat’s eyes. ‘Why are you still here?’
    ‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded.
    He sighed. ‘Said it was the last time for him. Said it like it was an order. Well, he should know by now, we’re lousy with taking orders.’ He slipped away the final layer of skin, revealing a fiddle and bow. ‘Go on now, Korlat. Oh, and tell him, this one’s called “My Love Waits”. I won’t take credit for it – one of Fisher’s.’ Then he looked round at the gathered Tiste Andii. ‘There’s another one that I can slide into it easily enough, a bit sadder but not too sad. It’s from Anomandaris. You’ll forgive me, please, if I get the title wrong – it’s been a long time. “Gallan’s Hope”? Does that sound right to you all? … Seems it does.’
    Korlat backed away, felt a hand touch her shoulder. It was Hedge. ‘Hilltop, Korlat. Fid’s gonna call him back. One