Reaper's Gate & Toll the Hounds - By Steven Erikson Page 0,363

the real thing.'

'If you say so.' All Masan Gilani could think of, when it came to Sinn, was the little mute child curling up in the arms of every woman in sight, suckling on tits like a newborn. Of course, that was outside Y'Ghatan. Long ago, now.

'I do say so,' Cord insisted. 'Now, if you ain't interested in getting unofficial with this sergeant here, best take your swaying hips elsewhere.'

'You men really are all the same.'

'And so are you women. Might interest you,' he added as she turned to leave, 'Crump's no whiskered shrew under those breeches.'

'That's disgusting.' But she paused at the steps leading down to the main deck and glanced back at the sergeant. 'Really?'

'Think I'd lie about something like that?'

He watched Masan Gilani sashay her way up the main deck to where Balm and the rest were gambling, Crump with all the winnings, thus far. They'd reel him in later, of course. Although idiots had a way of being damnably lucky.

In any case, the thought of Masan Gilani ending up with Crump, of all people, was simply too hilarious to let pass. If she wasn't interested in decent men like Sergeant Cord, well, she could have the sapper and so deserve everything that came with him. Aye, he'll worship you all right. Even what you cough up every morning and that sweet way you clear your nose before going into battle. Oh, wait till I tell Shard about this. And Ebron. And Limp. We'll set up a book, aye. How long before she runs screaming. With Crump loping desperate after her, knees at his ears.

Ebron climbed onto the aft deck. 'What's got you looking so cheerful, Sergeant?'

'I'll tell you later. Dropped out of the game?'

'Crump's still winning.'

'Ain't turned it yet?'

'We tried, half a bell ago, Sergeant. But the damned fool's luck's gone all uncanny.'

'Really? He's not a mage or something, is he?'

'Gods no, the very opposite. All my magics go awry – the ones I tried on him and on the bones and skull. Those Mott Irregulars, they were mage-hunters, you know. High Marshal this and High Marshal that – if Crump really is a Bole, one of the brothers, well, they were legendary.'

'You saying we're underestimating the bastard, Ebron?'

The squad mage looked morose. 'By about three hundred imperial jakatas and counting, Sergeant.'

Hood's balls, maybe Masan Gilani will like being Queen of the Universe.

'What was that you were going to tell me about, Sergeant?'

'Never mind.'

Shurq Elalle stood on the foredeck of the Froth Wolf and held a steady, gauging eye on the Undying Gratitude five reaches ahead. All sails out, riding high. Skorgen Kaban was captaining her ship and would continue to do so until they reached the mouth of the Lether River. Thus far, he'd not embarrassed himself – or, more important, her.

She wasn't very happy about all of this, but these Malazans were paying her well indeed. Good-quality gold, and a chestful of that would come in handy in the days, months and probably years to come.

Yet another invasion of the Letherii Empire, and in its own way possibly just as nasty as the last one. Were these omens, then, signalling the decline of a once great civilization? Conquered by barbaric Tiste Edur, and now in the midst of a protracted war that might well bleed them out, right down to a lifeless corpse.

Unless, of course, those hapless abandoned marines – whatever 'marines' were; soldiers, anyway – were already jellied and dissolving into the humus. A very real possibility, and Shurq was not privy to any details of the campaign so she had no way of knowing either way.

So, here she was, returning at last to Letheras . . . maybe just in time to witness its conquest. Witness – now really, darling Shurq, you've a bigger role than that. Like leading the damned enemy right up to the docks. And how famous will that make you then? How many more curses on your name?

'There is a ritual,' said a voice behind her.

She turned. That odd man, the one in the ratty robes, whose face was so easily forgotten. The priest. 'Banaschar, is it?'

He nodded. 'May I join you, Captain?'

'As you please, but at the moment I am not a captain. I'm a passenger, a guest.'

'As am I,' he replied. 'As I mentioned a moment ago, there is a ritual.'

'Meaning what?'

'To find and bind your soul to your body once more – to remove your curse and make you alive again.'

'A little late for that,