The Malazan Empire, page 308
Lostara stared at him. ‘My charms,’ she said, deadpan.
Pearl grinned. ‘Aye, and if you leave him smitten, well, consider it a future investment in case we need the lad later.’
‘I see.’
She opened the door, stepping back to let Pearl precede her. The air within the stables was foul. Urine, sweat, honing oil and wet straw. Soldiers were everywhere, lying or sitting on beds or on items from a collection of ornate furniture that had come from the main house. There was little in the way of conversation, and even that fell away as heads turned towards the two strangers.
‘Thank you,’ Pearl drawled, ‘for your attention. I would speak with Sergeant Gesler and Corporal Stormy…’
‘I’m Gesler,’ a solid-looking, bronze-skinned man said from where he sprawled on a plush couch. ‘The one snoring under those silks is Stormy. And if you come from Oblat tell him we’ll pay up…eventually.’
Smiling, Pearl gestured at Lostara to follow and strode up to the sergeant. ‘I am not here to call in your debts. Rather, I would like to speak with you in private…concerning your recent adventures.’
‘Is that right. And who in Fener’s hoofprint are you?’
‘This is an imperial matter,’ Pearl said, his gaze falling to Stormy. ‘Will you wake him or shall I? Further, my companion wishes to speak with the soldier named Pella.’
Gesler’s grin was cool. ‘You want to wake my corporal? Go right ahead. As for Pella, he’s not here at the moment.’
Pearl sighed and stepped to the side of the bed. A moment’s study of the heap of expensive silks burying the snoring corporal, then the Claw reached down and flung the coverings clear.
The hand that snapped to Pearl’s right shin—halfway between knee and ankle—was large enough to almost close entirely around the limb. The surge that followed left Lostara gaping.
Up. Pearl yelling. Up, as Stormy reared from the bed like a bear prodded from its hibernation, a roar rolling from his lungs.
Had the chamber contained a ceiling of normal height—rather than a few simple crossbeams spanning the space beneath the stable roof, none of which were, mercifully, directly overhead—Pearl would have struck it, and hard, as he was lifted into the air by that single hand clasped around his shin. Lifted, then thrown.
The Claw cavorted, arms flailing, his knees shooting up over his head, spinning, legs kicking free as Stormy’s hand let go. He came down hard on one shoulder, the breath leaving his lungs in a grunting whoosh. He lay unmoving, drawing his legs up, in increments, into a curled position.
The corporal was standing now, shaggy-haired, his red beard in wild disarray, the oblivion of sleep vanishing from his eyes like pine needles in a fire—a fire that was quickly flaring into a rage. ‘I said no-one wakes me!’ he bellowed, huge hands held out to either side and clutching at the air, as if eager to close on offending throats. His bright blue eyes fixed suddenly on Pearl, who was only now moving onto his hands and knees, his head hanging low. ‘Is this the bastard?’ Stormy asked, taking a step closer.
Lostara blocked his path.
Grunting, Stormy halted.
‘Leave them be, Corporal,’ Gesler said from the couch. ‘That fop you just tossed is a Claw. And a sharper look at that woman in front of you will tell you she’s a Red Blade, or was, and can likely defend herself just fine. No need to get into a brawl over lost sleep.’
Pearl was climbing to his feet, massaging his shoulder, his breaths deep and shuddering.
Hand on the pommel of her sword, Lostara stared steadily into Stormy’s eyes. ‘We were wondering,’ she said conversationally, ‘which of you is the better storyteller. My companion here would like to hear a tale. Of course, there will be payment for the privilege. Perhaps your debts to this Oblat can be…taken care of, as a show of our appreciation.’
Stormy scowled and glanced back at Gesler.
The sergeant slowly rose from the couch. ‘Well, lass, the corporal here’s better with the scary ones…since he tells them so bad they ain’t so scary any more. Since you’re being so kind with…uh, our recent push of the Lord at knuckles, me and the corporal will both weave you a tale, if that’s what you’re here for. We ain’t shy, after all. Where should we start? I was born—’
‘Not that early,’ Lostara cut in. ‘I will leave the rest to Pearl—though perhaps someone could get him something to drink to assist in his recovery. He can advise you on where to start. In the meantime, where is Pella?’
‘He’s out back,’ Gesler said.
‘Thank you.’
As she was making her way to the narrow, low door at the back of the stables, another sergeant emerged to move up alongside her. ‘I’ll escort you,’ he said.
Another damned Falari veteran. And what’s with the finger bones? ‘Am I likely to get lost, Sergeant?’ she asked as she swung open the door. Six paces beyond was the estate’s back wall. Heaps of sun-dried horse manure were banked against it. Seated on one of them was a young soldier. At the foot of a nearby pile lay two dogs, both asleep, one huge and terribly scarred, the other tiny—a snarl of hair and a pug nose.
‘Possibly,’ the sergeant replied. He touched her arm as she made to approach Pella, and she faced him with an enquiring look. ‘Are you with one of the other legions?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Ah.’ He glanced back at the stables. ‘Newly assigned to handmaid the Claw.’
‘Handmaid?’
‘Aye. The man needs…learning. Seems he chose well in you, at least.’
‘What is it you want, Sergeant?’
‘Never mind. I’ll leave you now.’
She watched him re-enter the stables. Then, with a shrug, she swung about and walked up to Pella.
Neither dog awoke at her approach.
Two large burlap sacks framed the soldier, the one on the soldier’s right filled near to bursting, the other perhaps a third full. The lad himself was hunched over, holding a small copper awl which he was using to drill a hole into a finger bone.
The sacks, Lostara realized, contained hundreds of such bones.
‘Pella.’
The young man looked up, blinked. ‘Do I know you?’
‘No. But we perhaps share an acquaintance.’
‘Oh.’ He resumed his work.
‘You were a guard in the mines—’
‘Not quite,’ he replied without looking up. ‘I was garrisoned at one of the settlements. Skullcup. But then the rebellion started. Fifteen of us survived the first night—no officers. We stayed off the road and eventually made our way to Dosin Pali. Took four nights, and we could see the city burning for the first three. Wasn’t much left when we arrived. A Malazan trader ship showed up at about the same time as us, and took us, eventually, here to Aren.’
‘Skullcup,’ Lostara said. ‘There was a prisoner there. A young girl—’
‘Tavore’s sister, you mean. Felisin.’
Her breath caught.
‘I was wondering when somebody would find me about that. Am I under arrest, then?’ He looked up.
‘No. Why? Do you think you should be?’
He returned to his work. ‘Probably. I helped them escape, after all. The night of the Uprising. Don’t know if they ever made it, though. I left them supplies, such as I could find. They were planning on heading north then west…across the desert. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one aiding them, but I never found out who the others were.’
Lostara slowly crouched down until she was at his eye-level. ‘Not just Felisin, then. Who was with her?’
‘Baudin—a damned frightening man, that one, but strangely loyal to Felisin, though…’ He lifted his head and met her gaze. ‘Well, she wasn’t one to reward loyalty, if you know what I mean. Anyway. Baudin, and Heboric.’
‘Heboric? Who is that?’
‘Was once a priest of Fener—all tattooed with the fur of the Boar. Had no hands—they’d been cut off. Anyway, them three.’
‘Across the desert,’ Lostara murmured. ‘But the west coast of the island has…nothing.’
‘Well, they were expecting a boat, then, weren’t they? It was planned, right? Anyway, that’s as far as I can take the tale. For the rest, ask my sergeant. Or Stormy. Or Truth.’
‘Truth? Who is he?’
‘He’s the one who’s just showed up in the doorway behind you…come to deliver more bones.’ He raised his voice. ‘No need to hesitate, Truth. In fact, this pretty woman here has some questions for you.’
Another one with the strange skin. She studied the tall, gangly youth who cautiously approached, carrying another bulging burlap sack from which sand drifted down in a dusty cloud. Hood take me, a comely lad…though that air of vulnerability would get on my nerves eventually. She straightened. ‘I would know of Felisin,’ she said, slipping some iron into her tone.
Sufficient to catch Pella’s notice, and he threw her a sharp look.
Both dogs had awakened at Truth’s arrival, but neither rose from where they lay—they simply fixed eyes on the lad.
Truth set down the bag and snapped to sudden attentiveness. Colour rose in his face.
My charms. It’s not Pella who’ll remember this day. Not Pella who’ll find someone to worship. ‘Tell me about what happened on the western shore of Otataral Island. Did the rendezvous occur as planned?’
‘I believe so,’ Truth replied after a moment. ‘But we weren’t part of that plan—we just happened to find ourselves in the same boat with Kulp, and it was Kulp who was looking to collect them.’
‘Kulp? The cadre mage from the Seventh?’
‘Aye, him. He’d been sent by Duiker—’
‘The imperial historian?’ Gods, what twisted trail is this? ‘And why would he have any interest in saving Felisin?’
‘Kulp said it was the injustice,’ Truth answered. ‘But you got it wrong—it wasn’t Felisin that Duiker wanted to help. It was Heboric.’
Pella spoke in a low voice quite unlike what she had heard from him moments earlier. ‘If Duiker is going to be made out as some kind of traitor…well, lass, better think twice. This is Aren, after all. The city that watched. That saw Duiker delivering the refugees to safety. He was the last one through the gate, they say.’ The emotion riding his words was now raw. ‘And Pormqual had him arrested!’
A chill rippled through Lostara. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Blistig loosed us Red Blades from the gaols. We were on the wall by the time Pormqual had his army out there on the plain. If Duiker was seeking to free Heboric, a fellow scholar, well, I have no complaint with that. The trail we are on is Felisin’s.’
Truth nodded at that. ‘Tavore has sent you, hasn’t she? You and that Claw inside, listening to Gesler and Stormy.’
Lostara briefly closed her eyes. ‘I am afraid I lack Pearl’s subtlety. This mission was meant to be…secret.’
‘Fine with me,’ Pella said. ‘And you, Truth?’
The tall lad nodded. ‘It doesn’t really matter anyway. Felisin is dead. They all are. Heboric. Kulp. They all died. Gesler was just telling that part.’
‘I see. None the less, please say nothing to anyone else. We will be pursuing our task, if only to gather her bones. Their bones, that is.’
‘That would be a good thing,’ Truth said with a sigh.
Lostara made to leave but Pella gestured to catch her attention. ‘Here.’ He held out to her the finger bone he had been drilling a hole through. ‘Take this for yourself. Wear it in plain sight.’
‘Why?’
Pella scowled. ‘You’ve just asked a favour of us…’
‘Very well.’ She accepted the grisly object.
Pearl appeared in the doorway. ‘Lostara,’ he called. ‘Are you done here?’
‘I am.’
‘Time to leave, then.’
She could see by his expression that he too had been told of Felisin’s death. Though probably in greater detail than the little that Truth had said.
In silence, they retraced their route through the stables, out into the compound, then across to the gate. The door swung open as they arrived and the soldier named Maybe waved them out. Lostara’s attention was drawn to the bale of straw, which seemed to be wavering, strangely melting where it squatted, but Pearl simply waved her on.
As they drew some distance from the estate, the Claw voiced a soft curse, then said, ‘I need a healer.’
‘Your limp is barely noticeable,’ Lostara observed.
‘Years of discipline, my dear. I’d much rather be screaming. The last time I suffered such strength used against me was with that Semk demon, that godling. The three of them—Gesler, Stormy and Truth—there’s more that’s strange about them than just their skin.’
‘Any theories?’
‘They went through a warren of fire—and somehow survived, though it seems that Felisin, Baudin and Heboric didn’t. Though their actual fate remains unknown. Gesler simply assumes they died. But if something unusual happened to those coastal guards in that warren, then why not the same to the ones who were washed overboard?’
‘I’m sorry. I was not told the details.’
‘We must pay a visit to a certain impounded ship. I will explain on the way. Oh, and next time don’t offer to pay off someone else’s debt…until you find out how big it is.’
And next time, leave that pompous attitude at the stable doors. ‘Very well.’
‘And stop taking charge.’
She glanced over at him. ‘You advised me to use my charm, Pearl. It’s hardly my fault if I possess more of that quality than you.’
‘Really? Let me tell you, that corporal was lucky you stepped between us.’
She wanted to laugh, but pushed it back. ‘You clearly did not notice the weapon under the man’s bed.’
‘Weapon? I care—’
‘It was a two-handed flint sword. The weapon of a T’lan Imass, Pearl. It probably weighs as much as I do.’
He said no more until they reached the Silanda.
The ship’s berth was well guarded, yet clearly permission for Pearl and Lostara had been provided earlier, for the two were waved onto the old dromon’s battered deck then left deliberately alone, the ship itself cleared of all others.
Lostara scanned the area amidships. Flame-scarred and mud-smeared. A strange pyramidal mound surrounded the main mast, draped in a tarpaulin. New sails and sheets had been fitted, clearly taken from a variety of other vessels.
Standing at her side, Pearl’s gaze fell upon the covered mound, and he voiced a soft grunt. ‘Do you recognize this ship?’ he asked.
‘I recognize it’s a ship,’ Lostara replied.
‘I see. Well, it’s a Quon dromon of the old, pre-imperial style. But much of the wood and the fittings are from Drift Avalii. Do you know anything of Drift Avalii?’
‘It’s a mythical island off the Quon Tali coast. A drifting island, peopled with demons and spectres.’
‘Not mythical, and it does indeed drift, though the pattern seems to describe a kind of wobbly circle. As for demons and spectres…well…’ he strode to the tarpaulin, ‘hardly anything so frightening.’ He drew the covering back.
Severed heads, neatly piled, all facing outward, eyes blinking and fixing on Pearl and Lostara. The glimmer of wet blood.
‘If you say so,’ Lostara croaked, stepping back.
Even Pearl seemed taken aback, as if what he had unveiled was not entirely what he had expected. After a long moment he reached down and touched a fingertip to the pooled blood. ‘Still warm…’
‘B-but that’s impossible.’
‘Any more impossible than the damned things being still conscious—or alive at the very least?’ He straightened and faced her, then waved expansively. ‘This ship is a lodestone. There are layers upon layers of sorcery, soaked into the very wood, into the frame. It descends upon you with the weight of a thousand cloaks.’
‘It does? I don’t feel it.’
He looked at her blankly, then faced the mound of severed heads once more. ‘Neither demons nor spectres, as you can see. Tiste Andii, most of them. A few Quon Talian sailors. Come, let us go and examine the captain’s cabin—magic tumbles from that room in waves.’
‘What kind of magic, Pearl?’
He had already begun walking towards the hatch. A dismissive gesture. ‘Kurald Galain, Tellann, Kurald Emurlahn, Rashan—’ He paused suddenly and swung round. ‘Rashan. Yet you feel nothing?’
She shrugged. ‘Are there more…heads…in there, Pearl? If so, I think I’d rather not—’
‘Follow me,’ he snapped.
Inside, black wood, the air thick as if roiling with memories of violence. A grey-skinned, barbaric-looking corpse pinned to the captain’s chair by a massive spear. Other bodies, sprawled here and there as if grabbed, broken then tossed aside.
A dull, sourceless glow permeated the low, cramped room. Barring strange patches on the floor, smeared with, Lostara saw, otataral dust.
‘Not Tiste Andii,’ Pearl muttered. ‘These must be Tiste Edur. Oh, there are plenty of mysteries here. Gesler told me about the crew manning the oars down below—headless bodies. Those poor Tiste Andii on the deck. Now, I wonder who killed these Edur…’
‘How does all this lead us further onto Felisin’s trail, Pearl?’
‘She was here, wasn’t she? Witness to all this. The captain here had a whistle, strung around his neck, which was used to direct the rowers. It’s disappeared, alas.’
‘And without that whistle, this ship just sits here.’
Pearl nodded. ‘Too bad, isn’t it? Imagine, a ship with a crew you never have to feed, that never needs rest, that never mutinies.’
‘You can have it,’ Lostara said, turning back to the doorway. ‘I hate ships. Always have. And now I’m leaving this one.’
‘I see no reason not to join you,’ Pearl said. ‘We have a journey ahead of us, after all.’
‘We do? Where?’
