Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,434

someone in this squad's nice to me.'

Koryk laughed. 'He just doesn't want a knife in his leg.'

'We got to stick together,' Bottle said, 'now that we got ourselves a tyrant officer over us.'

'Smart lad,' Strings said.

'Still,' Smiles said, 'thanks, Bottle.'

He smiled sweetly at her.

'They've stopped moving,' Kalam muttered. 'Now why would that be?'

'No idea,' Quick Ben said at his side.

They were lying flat on the summit of a low ridge. Eleven Moon's Spawns hovered in an even row above another rise of hills two thousand paces distant. 'So,' the assassin asked, 'what passes for night in this warren?'

'It's on its way, and it isn't much.'

Kalam twisted round and studied the squad of soldiers sprawled in the dust of the slope behind them. 'And your plan, Quick?'

'We make use of it, of course. Sneak up under one—'

'Sneak up? There's no cover, there's nothing to even throw shadows!'

'That's what makes it so brilliant, Kalam.'

The assassin reached out and cuffed Quick Ben.

'Ow. All right, so the plan stinks. You got a better one?'

'First off, we send this squad behind us back to the Fourteenth. Two people sneaking up is a lot better than eight. Besides, I've no doubt they can fight but that won't be much use with a thousand K'Chain Che'Malle charging down on us. Another thing – they're so cheery it's a struggle to keep from dancing.'

At that, Sergeant Gesler threw him a kiss.

Kalam rolled back round and glared at the stationary fortresses.

Quick Ben sighed. Scratched his smooth-shaven jaw. 'The Adjunct's orders ...'

'Forget that. This is a tactical decision, it's in our purview.'

Gesler called up from below, 'She don't like us around either, Kalam.'

'Oh? And why's that?'

'She keeps cracking up in our company. I don't know. We was on the Silanda, you know. We went through walls of fire on that ship.'

'We've all led hard lives, Gesler ...'

'Our purview?' Quick Ben asked. 'I like that. You can try it on her, later.'

'Let's send them back.'

'Gesler?'

'Fine with us. I wouldn't follow you two into a latrine, begging your sirs' pardon.'

Stormy added, 'Just hurry up about it, wizard. I'm getting grey waiting.'

'That would be the dust, Corporal.'

'So you say.'

Kalam considered, then said, 'We could take the hairy Falari with us, maybe. Care to come along, Corporal? As rearguard?'

'Rearguard? Hey, Gesler, you were right. They are going into a latrine. All right, assuming my sergeant here won't miss me too much.'

'Miss you?' Gesler sneered. 'Now at least I'll get women to talk to me.'

'It's the beard puts them off,' Stormy said, 'but I ain't changing for nobody.'

'It's not the beard, it's what lives in the beard.'

'Hood take us,' Kalam breathed, 'send them away, Quick Ben, please.'

Four leagues north of Ehrlitan, Apsalar stood facing the sea. The promontory on the other side of A'rath Strait was just visible, rumpling the sunset's line on the horizon. Kansu Reach, which stretched in a long, narrow arm westward to the port city of Kansu. At her feet prowled two gut-bound skeletons, pecking at grubs in the dirt and hissing in frustration as the mangled insects they attempted to swallow simply fell out beneath their jaws.

Even bone, or the physical remembrance of bone, held power, it seemed. The behaviour patterns of the lizard-birds the creatures once were had begun to infect the ghost spirits of Telorast and Curdle. They now chased snakes, leapt into the air after rhizan and capemoths, duelled each other in dominance contests, strutting, spitting and kicking sand. She believed they were losing their minds.

No great loss. They had been murderous, vile, entirely untrustworthy in their lives. And, perhaps, they had ruled a realm. As usurpers, no doubt. She would not regret their dissolution.

'Not-Apsalar! Why are we waiting here? We dislike water, we have discovered. The gut bindings will loosen. We'll fall apart.'

'We are crossing this strait, Telorast,' Apsalar said. 'Of course, you and Curdle may wish to stay behind, to leave my company.'

'Do you plan on swimming?'

'No, I intend to use the warren of Shadow.'

'Oh, that won't be wet.'

'No,' Curdle laughed, prancing around to stand before Apsalar, head bobbing. 'Not wet, oh, that's very good. We'll come along, won't we, Telorast?'

'We promised! No, we didn't. Who said that? We're just eager to stand guard over your rotting corpse, Not-Apsalar, that's what we promised. I don't understand why I get so confused. You have to die eventually. That's obvious. It's what happens to mortals, and you are mortal, aren't you? You must be, you have been bleeding for three days – we can smell it.'

'Idiot!' Curdle