Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,403

Smiles,' the sergeant said. 'Now, leave off, woman. You're as bad as that damned Hengese lapdog. It bit a Khundryl's ankle last night and wouldn't let go.'

'Hope they skewered it,' Smiles said.

'Not a chance. Bent was standing guard. Anyway, they had to get Temul to pry the thing off. My point is, Smiles, you ain't got a Wickan cattle-dog to guard your back, so the less you snipe the safer you'll be.'

No-one mentioned the knife Koryk had taken in the leg a week past.

Cuttle came wandering into the camp. He'd found a squad that had already brewed some foul-smelling tea and was sipping from his tin cup. 'They're here,' he said.

'Who?' Smiles demanded.

Bottle watched as their sergeant settled back down, leaning against his pack. 'All right,' Strings said, sighing. 'March will be delayed. Someone help Koryk get the fire going – we're going to have a real breakfast. Cuttle the cook.'

'Me? All right, just don't blame me.'

'For what?' Strings asked with an innocent smile.

Cuttle walked over to the hearth, reaching into a pouch. 'Got some sealed Flamer dust—'

Everyone scattered, Strings included. Suddenly, Cuttle was alone, looking round bemusedly at his fellow soldiers, now one and all at least fifteen paces distant. He scowled. 'A grain or two, nothing more. Damn, do you think I'm mad?'

Everyone looked to Strings, who shrugged. 'Instinctive reaction, Cuttle. Surprised you ain't used to it by now.'

'Yeah? And how come you were the first belting out of here, Fid?'

'Who'd know better than me?'

Cuttle crouched down beside the hearth. 'Well,' he muttered, 'I'm absolutely crushed.' He withdrew a small clay disk from the pouch. It was a playing piece for the board-game called Troughs, the game being Cuttle's favourite pastime. The sapper spat on it, then tossed it into the coals. And quickly backed away.

No-one else moved.

'Hey,' Koryk said, 'that wasn't a real Troughs piece, was it?'

Cuttle glanced over. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Because those things get thrown around!'

'Only when I lose,' the sapper replied.

A burst of ash, sudden flames. Cuttle walked back and began flinging pieces of dung on the fire. 'All right, somebody tend to this. I'll get what passes for food around here and figure something out.'

'Bottle has some lizards,' Smiles said.

'Forget it,' Bottle shot back. 'They're my, uh, friends.' He flinched as the other squad members turned to regard him.

'Friends?' Strings asked. He scratched his beard, studying his soldier.

'What,' Smiles said, 'the rest of us too smart for you, Bottle? All these confounding words we use? The fact we can read those squiggly etchings on clay and wax tablets and scrolls? Well, except for Koryk, of course. Anyway. Feeling insufficient, Bottle? I don't mean physically – that goes without saying. But, mentally, right? Is that the problem?'

Bottle glared at her. 'You'll regret all that, Smiles.'

'Oh, he's going to send his lizard friends after me! Help!'

'That's enough, Smiles,' Strings said in a warning growl.

She rose, ran her hands through her still-unbound hair. 'Well, I'm off to gossip with Flashwit and Uru Hela. Flash said she saw Neffarias Bredd a couple of days ago. A horse had died and he carried it back to his squad's camp. They roasted it. Nothing but bones left.'

'The squad ate an entire horse?' Koryk snorted. 'How come I've never seen this Neffarias Bredd, anyway? Has anybody here seen him?'

'I have,' Smiles replied.

'When?' Koryk demanded.

'A few days ago. I'm bored talking to you. Your fire's going out.' She walked off.

The sergeant was still tugging at his beard. 'Gods below, I need to hack this thing off,' he muttered.

'But the chicks ain't left the nest yet,' Cuttle said, settling down with an armful of foodstuffs. 'Who's been collecting snakes?' he asked, letting the various objects drop. He picked up a long, rope-like thing. 'They stink—'

'That's the vinegar,' Koryk said. 'It's an old Seti delicacy. The vinegar cooks the meat, you see, for when you ain't got the time to smoke it slow.'

'What are you doing killing snakes?' Bottle demanded. 'They're useful, you know.'

Strings rose. 'Bottle, walk with me.'

Oh damn. I've got to ham to say nothing. 'Aye, Sergeant.'

They crossed the ditch and headed onto the broken sweep of the Lato Odhan, the mostly level, dusty ground home to a scattering of shattered rock, no piece larger than a man's head. Somewhere far to the southwest was the city of Kayhum, still out of sight, whilst behind them rose the Thalas Mountains, treeless for centuries and now eroded like rotting teeth. No cloud relieved the bright morning sun, already hot.

'Where do you keep