Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,404

your lizards?' Strings asked.

'In my clothes, out of the sun, during the day, I mean. They wander at night.'

'And you wander with them.'

Bottle nodded.

'That's a useful talent,' the sergeant commented, then went on, 'especially for spying. Not on the enemy, of course, but on everyone else.'

'So far. I mean, we haven't been close enough to the enemy—'

'I know. And that's why you ain't told nobody yet about it. So, you've listened in on the Adjunct much? I mean, since that time you learned about the fall of the Bridgeburners.'

'Not much, to tell the truth.' Bottle hesitated, wondering how much he should say.

'Out with it, soldier.'

'It's that Claw ...'

'Pearl.'

'Aye, and, well, uh, the High Mage.'

'Quick Ben.'

'Right, and now there's Tayschrenn, too—'

Strings grasped Bottle's arm and pulled him round. 'He left. He was only here for a few bells, and that was a week ago—'

'Aye, but that doesn't mean he can't come back, at any time, right? Anyway, all these powerful, scary mages, well, they make me nervous.'

'You're making me nervous, Bottle!'

'Why?'

The sergeant squinted at him, then let go of his arm and resumed walking.

'Where are we going?' Bottle demanded.

'You tell me.'

'Not that way.'

'Why?'

'Uh. Nil and Nether, just the other side of that low rise.'

Strings loosed a half-dozen dockside curses. 'Hood take us! Listen, soldier, I ain't forgotten anything, you know. I remember you playing dice with Meanas, making dolls of Hood and the Rope. Earth-magic and talking with spirits – gods below, you're so much like Quick Ben it makes my hair stand on end. Oh, right, it all comes from your grandmother – but you see, I know where Quick got his talents!'

Bottle frowned at the man. 'What?'

'What do you mean what?'

'What are you talking about, Sergeant? You've got me confused.'

'Quick's got more warrens to draw on than any mage I've ever heard about. Except,' he added in a frustrated snarl, 'except maybe you.'

'But I don't even like warrens!'

'No, you're closer to Nil and Nether, aren't you? Spirits and stuff. When you're not playing with Hood and Shadow, that is!'

'They're older than warrens, Sergeant.'

'Like that! What do you mean by that?'

'Well. Holds. They're holds. Or they were. Before warrens. It's old magic, that's what my grandmother taught me. Real old. Anyway, I've changed my mind about Nil and Nether. They're up to something and I want to see it.'

'But you don't want them to see us.'

Bottle shrugged. 'Too late for that, Sergeant. They know we're here.'

'Fine, lead on, then. But I want Quick Ben to meet you. And I want to know all about these holds you keep talking about.'

No you don't. 'All right.' Quick Ben. A meeting. That was bad. Maybe I could run away. No, don't be an idiot. You can't run away, Bottle. Besides, what were the risks of talking with the High Mage? He wasn't doing anything wrong, exactly. Not really. Not so anybody would know, anyway. Except a sneaky bastard like Quick Ben. Abyss, what if he finds out who's walking in my shadow? Well, it's not like I asked for the company, is it?

'Whatever you're thinking,' Strings said in a growl, 'it's got my skin crawling.'

'Not me. Nil and Nether. They've begun a ritual. I've changed my mind again – maybe we should go back.'

'No.'

They began ascending the gentle slope.

Bottle felt sudden sweat trickling beneath his clothes. 'You've got some natural talent, haven't you, Sergeant? Skin crawling and all that. You're sensitive to ... stuff.'

'I had a bad upbringing.'

'Where's Gesler's squad gone?'

Strings shot him a glance. 'You're doing it again.'

'Sorry.'

'They're escorting Quick and Kalam – they've gone ahead. So, your dreaded meeting with Quick is still some time off, you'll be glad to know.'

'Gone ahead. By warren? They shouldn't be doing that, you know. Not now. Not here—'

'Why?'

'Well. Because.'

'For the first time in my career as a soldier of the Malazan Empire, I truly want to strangle a fellow soldier.'

'Sorry.'

'Stop saying that name!'

'It's not a name. It's a word.'

The sergeant's battered hands clenched into fists.

Bottle fell silent. Wondering if Strings might actually strangle him.

They reached the crest. Thirty paces beyond, the Wickan witch and warlock had arranged a circle of jagged stones and were seated within it, facing each other. 'They're travelling,' Bottle said. 'It's a kind of Spiritwalking, like the Tanno do. They're aware of us, but only vaguely.'

'I assume we don't step within that ring.'

'Not unless we need to pull them out.'

Strings looked over.

'Not unless I need to pull them out, I mean. If things go wrong. If they get in trouble.'

They