'Ah, thank you, soldier.'
'If you think any of this is amusing, Lieutenant,' Kindly said. 'You are mistaken. Now, explain to me this damned delay.'
'I can't, Captain. Fist Keneb's soldiers, some kind of recall. There doesn't seem to be a reasonable explanation.'
'Typical. Armies are run by fools. If I had an army you'd see things done differently. I can't abide lazy soldiers. I've personally killed more lazy soldiers than enemies of the empire. If this was my army, Lieutenant, we would have been on those ships in two days flat, and anybody still on shore by then we'd leave behind, stripped naked with only a crust of bread in their hands and the order to march to Quon Tali.'
'Across the sea.'
'I'm glad we're understood. Now, stand here and guard my kit, Lieutenant. I must find my fellow captains Madan'Tul Rada and Ruthan Gudd – they're complete idiots but I mean to fix that.'
Pores watched his captain walk away, then he looked back down at the retainers and smiled. 'Now wouldn't that be something? High Fist Kindly, commanding all the Malazan armies.'
'Leastways,' one of the men said, 'we'd always know what we was up to.'
The lieutenant's eyes narrowed. 'You would like Kindly doing your thinking for you?'
'I'm a soldier, ain't I?'
'And what if I told you Captain Kindly was insane?'
'You be testing us? Anyway, don't matter if'n he is or not, so long as he knows what he's doing and he keeps telling us what we're supposed to be doing.' He nudged his companion, 'Ain't that right, Thikburd?'
'Right enough,' the other mumbled, examining one of the combs.
'The Malazan soldier is trained to think,' Pores said. 'That tradition has been with us since Kellanved and Dassem Ultor. Have you forgotten that?'
'No, sir, we ain't. There's thinkin' and there's thinkin' and that's jus' the way it is. Soldiers do one kind and leaders do the other.
Ain't good the two gettin' mixed up.'
'Must make life easy for you.'
A nod. 'Aye, sir, that it does.'
'If your friend scratches that comb he's admiring, Captain Kindly will kill you both.'
'Thikburd! Put that down!'
'But it's pretty!'
'So's a mouthful of teeth and you want to keep yours, don't ya?'
And with soldiers like these, we won an empire.
****
The horses were past their prime, but they would have to do. A lone mule would carry the bulk of their supplies, including the wrapped corpse of Heboric Ghost Hands. The beasts stood waiting on the east end of the main street, tails flicking to fend off the flies, already enervated by the heat, although it was but mid-morning.
Barathol Mekhar made one last adjustment to his weapons belt, bemused to find that he'd put on weight in his midriff, then he squinted over as Cutter and Scillara emerged from the inn and made their way towards the horses.
The woman's conversation with the two Jessas had been an admirable display of brevity, devoid of advice and ending with a most perfunctory thanks. So, the baby was now the youngest resident of this forgotten hamlet. The girl would grow up playing with scorpions, rhizan and meer rats, her horizons seemingly limitless, the sun overhead the harsh, blinding and brutal face of a god. But all in all, she would be safe, and loved.
The blacksmith noted a figure nearby, hovering in the shadow of a doorway. Ah, well, at least someone will miss us.
Feeling oddly sad, Barathol made his way over to the others.
'Your horse will collapse under you,' Cutter said. 'It's too old and you're too big, Barathol. That axe alone would stagger a mule.'
'Who's that standing over there?' Scillara asked.
'Chaur.' The blacksmith swung himself onto his horse, the beast sidestepping beneath him as he settled his weight in the saddle. 'Come to see us off, I expect. Mount up, you two.'
'This is the hottest part of the day,' Cutter said. 'It seems we're always travelling through the worst this damned land can throw at us.'
'We will reach a spring by dusk,' Barathol said, 'when we'll all need it most. We lie over there, until the following dusk, because the next leg of the journey will be a long one.'
They set out on the road, that quickly became a track. A short while later, Scillara said, 'We have company, Barathol.'
Glancing back, they saw Chaur, carrying a canvas bundle against his chest. There was a dogged expression on his sweaty face.
