‘Quiet allaya,’ Hellian said. ‘You want another patrol coming down on us and us not ready for ‘em this time? Now, the rest of you, not countin’ Urb here, check your gear and get your trophies and all that and if you wanna listen then just don’t make too many groanin’ noises. Of envy and the like.’

‘We won’t be groaning outa envy, Hellian. More like-’

‘Silent and mysterious, damn you, Reem!’

‘I feel like talking, Balgrid, and you can’t stop me-’

‘But I can, and you won’t like it at all.’

‘Damned necromancer.’

‘Just the other side of Denul, Reem, like I keep telling you. Denul’s giving, Hood’s taking away.’

Hellian closed in on Urb, who suddenly looked terrified. ‘Relax,’ she said. ‘I ain’t gonna cut anything off. Not any-thing of yours, anyway. But if I get clobbered with terrible rejection here…’

‘Nice bed of moss over here,’ Scant said, straightening and moving away with a gesture in his wake.

Hellian reached down and tugged Urb to his feet.

Balgrid was suddenly beside him. ‘Listen, Sergeant-’

She dragged Urb past the mage.

‘No, Sergeant! Those ones tracking us-I think they’ve found us!’

All at once weapons were drawn, figures scattering to defensive positions-a rough circle facing outward with Hellian and Urb in the centre.

‘Balgrid,’ she hissed. ‘You coulda said-’

Horse hoofs, the heavy breath of an animal, then a voice called out, low, in Malazan: ‘Captain Faradan Sort and Beak. We’re coming in so put your damned sharpers away.’

‘Oh, that’s just great,’ Hellian sighed. ‘Ease down, everyone, it’s that scary captain.’

Marines all right. Beak didn’t like the look of them. Mean, hungry, scowling now that the captain had found them. And there was a dead one, too.

Faradan Sort guided her horse into their midst, then dismounted. Beak remained where he was for the moment, not far from where two soldiers stood, only now sheathing their swords. He could see the necromancer, the man’s aura white and ghostly. Death was everywhere here, the still air heavy with last breaths, and he could feelthis assault of loss like a tight fist in his chest.

It was always this way where people died. He should never have become a soldier.

‘Hellian, Urb, we need to talk. In private.’ Cool and hard, the captain’s voice. ‘Beak?’

‘Captain?’

‘Join us.’

Oh no. But he rode forward and then slipped down from the saddle. Too much attention on him all at once, and he ducked as he made his way to the captain’s side.

Faradan Sort in the lead, the group set off into the wood.

‘We ain’t done nothin’ wrong,’ Sergeant Hellian said as soon as they halted twenty or so paces from the others. She seemed to be weaving back and forth like a flat-headed snake moments from spitting venom.

‘You were supposed to pace yourselves, not get too far ahead of the other squads. At any moment now, Sergeant, we won’t be running onto patrols of twenty, but two hundred. Then two thousand.’

‘Tha’s not the probbem,’ Hellian said-an accent Beak had never heard before. ‘The probbem is, Cap’in, the Letherii are fightin’ alongside them Edur-’

‘Have you attempted to make contact with those Letherii?’

‘We have,’ Urb said. ‘It got messy.’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no sign, Captain, that these people want to be liberated.’

‘Like Urb said,’ Hellian added, nodding vigorously.

The captain looked away. ‘The other squads have said much the same.’

‘Maybe we can convince them or something,’ Urb said.

Hellian leaned against a tree. ‘Seems t’me, Cap’in, we got two things we can do and ony two. We can retreat back t’the coast. Build ten thousand rafts and paddle away ‘s fast as we can. Or we go on. Fast, vicious mean. And iffin they come at us two thousand at once, then we run an’ hide like we was trained t’do. Fast and vicious mean, Cap’in, or a long paddle.’

‘There is only one thing worse than arguing with a drunk,’ Faradan Sort said, ‘and that’s arguing with a drunk who’s right.’

Hellian beamed a big smile.

She was drunk? She was drunk. A drunk sergeant, only, as the captain had just said, no fool either.

Faradan Sort continued, ‘Do you have enough horses for your squads?’,

Aye, sir,’ Urb replied. ‘More than enough.’

‘I still want you to slow down, for a few days at least. I intend to contact the other squads and get them to start doing what you’re doing, but that will take some time-’

‘Captain,’ Urb said. ‘I got a feeling they’re learning already. There’s lots more patrols now and they’re getting bigger and a lot more wary. We’ve been expecting to walk into an ambush at any time, and that’s what’s got us worried. Next time you ride to find us you might find a pile of corpses. Malazan corpses. We ain’t got the munitions to carry us all the way-no-one has-so it’s going to start getting a lot harder, sir.’

‘I know, Sergeant. You lost one in that fight, didn’t you?’

‘Hanno.’

‘Got careless,’ Hellian said.

Urb frowned, then nodded. Aye, that’s true.’

‘Then let us hope that one hard lesson is enough,’ the captain said.

‘Expect it is,’ Urb confirmed.

Faradan Sort faced Beak. ‘Tell them about the Holds, Beak.’

He flinched, then sighed and said, ‘Letherii mages-they might be able to find us by the horses, by smelling them out, I mean.’

‘Balgrid’s covering our trail,’ Urb said. ‘Are you saying it won’t work?’

‘Might be,’ Beak said. ‘Necromancy’s one thing they can’t figure. Not Letherii. Not Tiste Edur. But there’s a Beast Hold, you see.’

Hellian withdrew a flask and drank down a mouthful, then said, ‘We need to know for certain. Next time, Urb, we get us one of them Letherii mages alive. We ask some questions, and in between the screams we get answers.’

Beak shivered. Not just drunk but bloodthirsty, too.

‘Be careful,’ the captain said. ‘That could go sour very quickly.’

‘We know all about careful, sir,’ Hellian said with a bleary smile.

Faradan Sort studied the sergeant the way she sometimes studied Beak himself, then she said, ‘We’re done. Slow down some, and watch out for small patrols-they might be bait.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘We’re in this, now. Understand?’

‘No rafts?’

‘No rafts, Hellian.’

‘Good. If’n I never see another sea I’m going to die happy.’

She would, too, Beak knew. Die happy. She had that going for her.

‘Back to your squads,’ the captain said. ‘Set your nervous soldiers at ease.’

‘It’s not the smell,’ Beak said.

The others turned inquiringly.

‘That’s not what’s making them nervous, I mean,’ Beak explained. ‘The death smell-they’re carrying all that with them, right? So they’re used to it now. They’re only nervous because they’ve been sitting around too long. In one place. That’s all.’

‘Then let us not waste any more time,’ Faradan Sort said.

Good idea. That was why she was a captain, of course. Smart enough to make her ways of thinking a mystery to him-but that was one mystery he was happy enough with. Maybe the only one.

They flung themselves down at the forest’s edge. Edge, aye-too many damned edges. Beyond was a patchwork of farmland and hedgerows. Two small farms were visible, although no lantern-or candle-light showed through the tiny, shuttered windows. Heart pounding painfully in his chest, Fiddler rolled onto his side to see how many had made it. A chorus of harsh breaths from the scatter of bodies in the gloom to either side of the sergeant. All there. Thanks to Corabb and the desert warrior’s impossible luck.

The ambush had been a clever one, he admitted. Should have taken them all down. Instead, half a league back, in a small grassy glade, there was the carcass of a deer-a deer that Corabb had inadvertently flushed out-with about twenty arrows in it. Cleverly planned, poorly executed.