Deadhouse Gates - Page 128/334

'Guarding the horses. They look...' She hesitated, then continued grimly, 'They were torn to pieces. Big chunks ... missing. Bite marks.'

The assassin voiced a second grunt, rose slowly. 'I hadn't had much to eat lately,' he muttered.

'Maybe a plains bear, the big brown kind. Took advantage of the ruckus to ambush the two guards. Did you hear the horses screaming?'

'Maybe.' He studied her face, wondering what was going on behind those almost silver eyes.

'I didn't, but there were plenty of screams and sound does jump around in river beds like these. Anyway, it'll do as an explanation, don't you think?'

'Just might.'

'Good. I'll ride back for the others now. I won't be long.'

She swung her mount around without using the reins, since she still held the crossbow in her hands. Kalam wasn't sure how she managed it. He recalled her crouch over one stirrup hours earlier, her dance across the saddles. This woman can sit a horse.

As she rode back up the bank, the assassin surveyed the grisly camp. 'Hood,' he breathed, 'I need a rest.'

'Kalam, who rode with Whiskeyjack across Raraku . . .' Captain Keneb shook his head and poked again at the fire.

It was dusk. The assassin had just awakened from a long, deep sleep. His first hour was never a pleasant one. Aching joints, old wounds – his years always caught up with him while he slept. Selv had brewed a strong tea. She poured Kalam a cup. He stared into the dying flames.

Minala said, 'I would never have believed that one man could kill eight, all within minutes.'

'Kalam was recruited into the Claw,' Keneb said. 'That's rare. They usually take children, train them—'

'Train?' the assassin grunted. 'Indoctrination.' He looked up at Minala. 'Attacking a group of warriors isn't as impossible as you think. For the lone attacker, there's no-one else to make the first move. Eight – ten men ... well, they figure they should just all close in and hack me down. Only, who goes first? They all pause, they all look for an opening. It's my job to keep moving, make sure every opening is closed before they can react. Mind you, a good veteran squad knows how to work together...'

'Then you were lucky they didn't.'

'I was lucky.'

The older boy, Kesen, spoke up. 'Can you teach me how to fight like that, sir?'

Kalam grunted. 'I expect your father has a better life in mind for you, lad. Fighting is for people who fail at everything else.'

'But fighting isn't the same as soldiering,' Keneb said.

'That's a fact,' the assassin agreed, sensing that he'd somehow stung the captain's pride. 'Soldiers are worth respect, and it's true that sometimes fighting's required. Soldiering means standing firm when that time comes. So, lad, if you still want to learn how to fight, learn how to soldier first.'

'In other words, listen to your father,' Minala said, giving Kalam a quick, wry smile.

Following some gesture or look the assassin did not catch, Selv rose and led the boys off to finish breaking camp. As soon as they were out of earshot Keneb said, 'Aren's what, three months away? Hood's breath, there has to be a Malazan-held city or fortification that's closer than that, Corporal.'

'All the news I've heard has been bad,' Kalam said. 'Everything south of here is tribal lands, all the way to the River Vathar. Ubaryd's close to the river, but I'd guess it's been taken by Sha'ik's Apocalypse – too valuable a port to leave unsecured. Secondly, I would think most of the tribes between here and Aren have set off to join Kamist Reloe.'

Keneb looked startled. 'Reloe?'

Kalam frowned. 'The bandits spoke of him as being southeast of here ...'

'More east than south. Reloe is chasing Fist Coltaine and the Seventh Army. He's probably wiped them out by now, but even so his forces are east of the Sekala River and that's the territory he's been charged to hold.'

'You know much more of this than I,' the assassin said.

'We had Tithansi servants,' Minala explained. 'Loyal.'

'They paid for that with their lives,' the captain added.

'Then is there an army of the Apocalypse south of here?'

Keneb nodded. 'Aye, preparing to march on Aren.'

The assassin frowned. 'Tell me, Captain . . . you ever heard the word “Jhistal”?'

'No, not Seven Cities. Why?'

'The bandits spoke of “a jhistal inside” Aren. As if it was a shaved knuckle.' He fell silent for a moment, then sighed. 'Who commands this army?'