Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,384

and going in the last two days, pelting along the track from their wake, then back again. Dujek Onearm and the Adjunct were doing a lot of talking, that much was clear. What wasn't was what they were talking about. Bottle had thought about eavesdropping on the command tent and its occupants, as he had done many times before, between Aren and Raraku, but the presence of Quick Ben made him nervous. A High Mage. If Quick turned over a rock and found Bottle under it, there'd be Hood to pay.

The damned bastards fleeing ahead of them could run for ever, and probably would if their commander had any brains. He could have chosen a last stand at any time. Heroic and inspiring in its pointlessness. But it seemed he was too clever for that. Westward, ever westward, out into the wastes.

Bottle returned to where he had been sitting, collecting handfuls of sand to scrub Koryk's blood from his fingers and palms. We're just getting on each other's nerves. That's all. His grandmother would know what to do about this situation, but she was long dead and her spirit was anchored to the old farm outside Jakata, a thousand leagues from here. He could almost see her, shaking her head and squinting in that half-crazed genius way she'd had. Wise in the ways of mortals, seeing through to every weakness, every flaw, reading unconscious gestures and momentary expressions, cutting through the confused surface to lay bare the bones of truth. Nothing was hidden from her.

He could not talk with her, however.

But there's another woman ... isn't there? Despite the heat, Bottle shivered. She still haunted his dreams, that Eres'al witch. Still showed him the ancient hand-axes spread out over this land like the stone leaves of a world-encompassing tree, scattered by the winds of countless passing ages. He knew, in fact, that fifty or so paces south of this track, there was a basin cluttered with the damned things. Out there, a short walk, waiting for him.

I see them, but I do not yet understand their significance. That's the problem. I'm not equal to this.

His eyes caught movement down by his boots and he saw a locust, swollen with eggs and crawling slowly. Bottle leaned forward and picked it up by pinching together its folded wings. With his other hand he reached into his pack, and removed a small black wooden box, its lid and sides pierced through with small holes. He flicked open the clasp and lifted the lid.

Joyful Union, their prized Birdshit scorpion. In the sudden light, the creature's tail lifted as it backed into a corner.

Bottle tossed the locust into the box.

The scorpion had known what was coming, and it darted forward, and moments later was feeding on the still-kicking insect.

'Simple for you, isn't it?' Bottle said under his breath.

Something thumped into the sand beside him – a karybral fruit, round and dusty-lime-coloured. Bottle looked up to find Cuttle standing over him.

The sapper had an armful of the fruit. 'A treat,' he said.

Grimacing, Bottle closed the lid on Joyful Union. 'Thanks. Where did you get them?'

'Went for a walk.' Cuttle nodded southward. 'A basin, karybral vines everywhere.' He started tossing them to the others in the squad.

A basin. 'Plenty of hand-axes, too, right?'

Cuttle squinted. 'Didn't notice. Is that dried blood on your hands?'

'That would be mine,' Koryk said in a growl, already husking the fruit.

The sapper paused, studied the rough circle of soldiers around him, finishing on Corporal Tarr, who shrugged. This seemed sufficient, as Cuttle flung the last karybral globe over to Smiles.

Who caught it on a knife.

The others, Cuttle included, watched as she proceeded to slice the skin away with deft strokes.

The sapper sighed. 'Think I'll go find the sergeant.'

'Good idea,' Bottle said.

'You should let Joyful out for the occasional walk,' Cuttle said. 'Stretch the old legs. Maybe and Lutes have found a new scorpion – never seen its like before. They're talking re-match.'

'Scorpions can't stretch their legs,' Bottle replied.

'A figure of speech.'

'Oh.'

'Anyway,' Cuttle said, then ambled off.

Smiles had managed to remove the entire husk in one strip, which she lobbed in Koryk's direction. He had been looking down, and he jumped at the motion in the edge of his vision.

She snorted. 'There you go. Add it to your collection of charms.'

The half-Seti set down his karybral and slowly stood, then winced and threw Bottle a glare. 'I thought you healed this damned thing.'

'I did. It's still going to be sore, though.'

'Sore? I can barely