on, Bottle could sense the man growing restless. Fine enough for him, with that gold skin that didn't burn once in Y'Ghatan – of course, Truth had shown that the strange skin wasn't truly impervious, especially when it came to Moranth munitions. Even so, Gesler was a man who had walked through fire, in every permutation of the phrase Bottle could think of, so all of this skulking and trickery and brutal slaughter was fine for him.
But I'm the one they're all counting on, and I couldn't use this stupid sword at my belt to hack my way clear of a gaggle of puritanical do-gooders with their pointing fingers and sharp nails and all – gods below, where did that image come from? Damned Mockra, someone's leaking thoughts. Bottle glanced over at Gesler. 'Sergeant?' he whispered.
'What?'
'Got strange notions in your skull, by any chance?'
A suspicious glance, then Gesler shook his head. 'Was thinking of an old mage I knew. Kulp. Not that you remind me of him or anything, Bottle. You're more like Quick Ben, I think, than any of us are comfortable with. Last I saw of Kulp, though, was the poor bastard flung head over heels off the stern rail of a ship – in a firestorm. Always wondered what happened to him. I like to think he made it just fine, dropping out of that furnace of a warren and finding himself in some young widow's back garden, waist-deep in the cool waters of her fountain. Just as she was on her knees praying for salvation or something.' All at once he looked embarrassed and his gaze flicked away. 'Aye, I paint pretty pictures of what could be, since what is always turns out so damned bad.'
Bottle's grunt was soft, then he nodded. 'I like that, Sergeant. Kind of . . . relieves me.'
'Meaning?'
'Only, shows that you're not as far from the rest of us as it sometimes seems.'
Gesler grimaced. 'Then you'd be wrong, soldier. I'm a sergeant, which makes me as far from you and these other idiots as a cave bear from a damned three-legged stoat. Understood?'
'Aye, Sergeant.'
'Now why are we still hiding here? There's smoke trickling up from that chimney, meaning we got folks inside. So, give us the damned go-ahead on this, Bottle, then your task's done, for now.'
'All right. I think there's two in there. Quiet, contemplative thoughts, no conversation yet.'
'Contemplative? As in what a cow thinks with a bellyful of feed in her and a calf tugging wet and hard at a teat? Or like some kind of giant two-headed snake that's just come down the chimney and swallowed up old Crud-nails and his missus?'
'Somewhere in between, I'd say.'
Gesler's expression turned into a glare; then, with a snort, he twisted round and hand-signalled. A moment later Uru Hela crawled past Corabb Bhilan Thenu'alas – who was directly behind the sergeant – and came up on Gesler's left.
'Sergeant?'
'Bottle says there's two in there. I want you to walk up peaceful-like and call 'em out – you're thirsty and want to ask for a ladle or two from that well there.'
'I ain't thirsty, Sergeant.'
'Lie, soldier.'
Bottle could see the notion upset her. Spirits fend, the things you find out . . .
'How about I just ask to refill my waterskin?'
'Aye, that will do.'
'Of course,' she said, frowning, 'I'll need to empty it out first.'
'Why don't you do that?'
'Aye, Sergeant.'
Gesler twisted to look at Bottle, and the young mage could plainly see the man's battle with pathos and despair. 'Get yourself ready,' he said, 'to hit 'em with a glamour or something, in case things go all wrong.'
Bottle nodded, then, seeing an entirely new expression on Gesler's face, he asked, 'What's wrong, Sergeant?'
'Well, either I just wet myself or Uru Hela's draining her waterskin. On some level,' he added, 'I think the distinction's moot.'
That's it, Sergeant. You've just won me. Right there. Won me, so I'll give you what I got. From now on. Yet, even with that quasi-serious notion, he had to turn his head away and bite hard on the sleeve of his tanned leather shirt. Better yet, Sergeant, wait till we all see that fine wet patch on your crotch. You won't live this one down, no sir, not a chance of that. Oh, precious memory!
Strapping her now empty waterskin onto her belt, Uru Hela then squirmed forward a little further, and climbed to her feet. Adjusting her heavy armour and plucking twigs and grass from metal joins and hinges, she tightened