The Letherii had known defeat. Many times. Their history on this land was bloody, rife with their betrayals, their lies, their heartless cruelties. All of which were now seen as triumphant and heroic.

This is how a people must see itself. As we Shake must. A blinding beacon on this dark shore. When I am king…

‘Look at this damned thing,’ Gait said. ‘Here, that writing in the borders-that could be Ehrlii.’

‘But it isn’t,’ Lobe muttered. He had dismantled one of his daggers; on the table before him was the pommel, a few rivets and pins, a wooden handle wrapped in leather, a slitted hilt and the tanged blade. It seemed the soldier was now at a loss on how to put it all back together again.

‘Some of the letters-’

‘Ehrlii and Letherii come from the same language,’ Lobe said.

Gait’s glare was suspicious. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t, you idiot. It’s just what I was told.’

‘Who?’

‘Ebron, I think. Or Shard. What difference does it make?

Somebody who knows things, that’s all. Hood, you’re making my brain hurt. And look at this mess.’

‘Is that my knife?’

‘Was.’

Brullyg saw Lobe cock his head, then the soldier said, ‘Footsteps bottom of the stairs.’ And with these words, his hands moved in a blur, and even as Gait was walking towards the door, Lobe was twisting home the pommel and flipping the knife into Gait’s path. Where it was caught one-handed-Gait had not even slowed in passing.

Brullyg settled back in his chair.

Rising, Masan Gilani loosened from their scabbards the vicious-looking long-bladed knives at her hips. ‘Wish I was with my own squad,’ she said, then drew a step closer to where Brullyg sat.

‘Stay put,’ she murmured.

Mouth dry, he nodded.

‘It’s likely the ale delivery,’ Lobe said from one side of the door, while Gait unlocked it and pushed it out wide enough to enable him to peer through the crack.

‘Sure, but those boots sound wrong.’

‘Not the usual drooling fart and his son?’

‘Not even close.’

‘All right.’ Lobe reached under the table and lifted into view a crossbow. A truly foreign weapon, constructed entirely of iron-or something very much like Letherii steel. The cord was thick as a man’s thumb, and the quarrel set into the groove was tipped with an x-shaped head that would punch through a Letherii shield as if it was birch bark. The soldier cranked the claw back and somehow locked it in place. Then he moved along the door’s wall to the corner.

Gait edged back as the footsteps on the stairs drew nearer. He made a series of hand gestures to which Masan Gilani grunted in response and Brullyg heard ripping cloth behind him and a moment later the point of a knife pressed between his shoulder blades-thrust right through the damned chair. She leaned down. ‘Be nice and be stupid, Brullyg. We know these two and we can guess why they’re here.’

Glancing back at Masan Gilani, nodding once, Gait then moved into the doorway, opening wide the door. ‘Well,’ he drawled in his dreadful Letherii, ‘if it isn’t the captain and her first mate. Run out of money comes too soon? What you making to comes with ale?’

A heavy growl from beyond. ‘What did he say, Captain?’

‘Whatever it was, he said it badly.’ A woman, and that voice-Brullyg frowned. That was a voice he had heard before. The knife tip dug deeper into his spine.

‘We’re bringing Shake Brullyg his ale,’ the woman continued.

‘That’s nice,’ Gait replied. ‘We see he comes gets it.’

‘Shake Brullyg’s an old friend of mine. I want to see him.’

‘He’s busy.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Thinking.’

‘Shake Brullyg? I really doubt that-and who in the Errant’s name are you anyway? You’re no Letherii, and you and those friends of yours hanging out at the tavern, well, none of you were prisoners here either. I asked around. You’re from that strange ship anchored in the bay.’

‘Why, Captain, it is simple. We comes to goes all the ice. So Brullyg he rewards us. Guests. Royal guests. Now we keep him company. He is smiles nice all the time. We nice too.’

‘Nice idiots, I think,’ the man outside-presumably the captain’s first mate-said in a growl. ‘Now, my arm’s getting tired-move aside and let me deliver this damned thing.’

Gait glanced back over a shoulder at Masan Gilani, who said in Malazan, ‘Why you looking at me? I’m just here to keep this man’s tongue hanging.’

Brullyg licked sweat from his lips. So even knowing that, why does it still work? Am 1 that stupid? ‘Let them in,’ he said in a low voice. ‘So I can ease their minds and send them away.’

Gait looked at Masan Gilani again, and though she said nothing, some kind of communication must have passed between them, for he shrugged and stepped back. ‘Comes the ale.’

Brullyg watched as the two figures entered the chamber. The one in the lead was Skorgen Kaban the Pretty. Which meant… yes. The would-be king smiled, ‘Shurq Elalle. You’ve not aged a day since I last saw you. And Skorgen-put the cask down, before you dislocate your shoulder and add lopsided to your list of ailments. Broach the damned thing and we can all have a drink. Oh,’ he added as he watched the two pirates take in the soldiers-Skorgen almost jumping when he saw Lobe in the corner, crossbow now cradled in his arms-‘these are some of my royal guests. At the door, Gait. In the corner, Lobe, and this lovely here with the one hand behind the back of my chair is Masan Gilani.’

Shurq Elalle collected one of the chairs near the door and dragged it opposite Brullyg. Sitting, she folded one leg over the other and laced her hands together on her lap. ‘Brullyg, you half-mad cheating miser of a bastard. If you were alone I’d be throttling that flabby neck of yours right now.’

‘Can’t say I’m shocked by your animosity,’ Shake Brullyg replied, suddenly comforted by his Malazan bodyguards. ‘But you know, it was never as bad or ugly as you thought it was. You just never gave me the chance to explain-’

Shurq’s smile was both beautiful and dark. ‘Why, Brullyg, you were never one to explain yourself.’

‘A man changes.’

‘That’d be a first.’

Brullyg resisted shrugging, since that would have opened a nasty slit in the flesh of his back. Instead, he lifted his hands, palms up, as he said, ‘Let’s set aside all that history. The Undying Gratitude rests safe and sound in my harbour. Cargo offloaded and plenty of coin in your purse. I imagine you’re itching to leave our blessed isle.’

‘Something like that,’ she replied. ‘Alas, it seems we’re having trouble getting, uh, permission. There’s the biggest damned ship I’ve ever seen blocking the harbour mouth right now, and a sleek war galley of some kind is making for berth at the main pier. You know,’ she added, with another quick smile, ‘it’s all starting to look like some kind of… well… blockade.’

The knife-point left Brullyg’s back and Masan Gilani, sliding the weapon into its scabbard, stepped round. When she spoke this time, it was in a language Brullyg had never heard before.

Lobe levelled the crossbow again, aiming towards Brullyg, and answered Masan in the same tongue.

Skorgen, who had been kneeling beside the cask, thumping at the spigot with the heel of one hand, now rose. ‘What in the Errant’s name is going on here, Brullyg?’

A voice spoke from the doorway, ‘Just this. Your captain’s right. Our waiting’s done.’

The soldier named Throatslitter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. He was smiling across at Masan Gilani. ‘Good news ain’t it? Now you can take your delicious curves and such and dance your way down to the pier-I’m sure Urb and the rest are missing ‘em something awful.’

Shurq Elalle, who had not moved from her chair, sighed loudly then said, ‘Pretty, I don’t think we’ll be leaving this room for a while. Find us some tankards and pour, why don’t you?’