Deadhouse Gates (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #2)

Deadhouse Gates (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #2) Page 115

Neither man spoke for a long time, then Gesler cleared his throat, to little effect as he squeezed out gravel words. 'Did you say patience, Kulp?'

'Aye.'

'I ain't misheard, then.'

Kulp shook his head. 'Someone took the ship, beheaded everyone aboard .. . then put them to work.'

'In that order.'

'In that order.'

'How long ago?'

'Years. Decades. We're in a warren, Corporal. No telling how time works here.'

Gesler grunted. 'What say we check the captain's cabin? There might be a log.'

'And a “take to the oars” whistle.'

'Yeah. You know, if we hide that drum-beater, I could send Stormy down here to beat the time.'

'You've a wicked sense of humour, Gesler.'

'Aye. Thing is, Stormy tells the world's most boring sea tales. It'd do a favour to anyone he meets from now on to spice things up a little.'

'Don't tell me you're serious.'

The corporal sighed. 'No,' he said after a moment. 'I won't invite madness on anyone, Mage.'

They returned to the main deck. The others stared at them. Gesler shrugged. 'What you'd expect,' he said, 'if you was completely insane, that is.'

'Well,' Felisin replied, 'you're talking to the right crowd.'

Kulp strode towards the cabin hatch. The corporal sheathed his sword and then followed. The hatch descended two steps, then opened out into a galley. A large wooden table commanded the centre. Opposite them was a second hatch, leading to a narrow walkway with berths on either side. At the far end was the door to the captain's cabin.

No-one occupied the berths, but there was gear aplenty, all waiting for owners who no longer needed it.

The cabin door opened with a loud squeal.

Even with all they had seen thus far, the interior was a scene of horror. Four bodies were immediately visible, three of them twisted grotesquely in postures of sudden death. There was no evidence of decay, but no blood was visible. Whatever had killed them had crushed them thoroughly without once breaking skin. The exception sat in the captain's chair at the end of a map table, as if presiding over Hood's own stage. A spear jutted from his chest, and had been pushed through to the chair, then beyond. Blood glistened down the front of the figure's body, pooled in his lap. It had stopped flowing, yet looked still wet.

'Tiste Andii?' Gesler asked in a whisper.

'They have that look,' Kulp replied softly, 'but not quite.' He stepped into the cabin. 'Their skins are grey, not black. Nor do they look very ... refined.'

'The Tiste Andii of Drift Avalii were said to be pretty barbaric – not that anyone living has visited the isle.'

'None returned, in any case,' Kulp conceded. 'But these are wearing skins – barely cured. And look at their jewellery...' The four bodies were adorned in bone fetishes, claws, the canines of beasts, and polished seashells. There was none of the fine Tiste Andii craftwork that Kulp had had occasion to see in the past. Moreover, all four were brown-haired, the hair hanging loose and uncombed, stringy with grease. Tiste Andii hair was either silver-white or midnight black.

'What in Hood's name are we seeing?' Gesler asked.

'The killers of the Quon sailors and the Tiste Andii, is my guess,' Kulp said. 'They then sailed into this warren, maybe by choice, maybe not. And ran into something nastier than them.'

'You think the rest of the crew escaped?'

Kulp shrugged. 'If you've got the sorcery to command headless corpses, who needs a bigger crew than the one we're looking at right here?'

'They still look like Tiste Andii,' the corporal said, peering closely at the man in the chair.

'We should get Heboric in here,' Kulp said. 'Maybe he's read something somewhere that'll bring light to all this.'

'Wait here,' Gesler said.

The ship was creaking now as the rest of the group began moving around on the main deck. Kulp listened to the corporal's footsteps recede up the walkway. The mage leaned both hands on the table, scanning the charts splayed out on its surface. There was a map there, showing a land he could not recognize: a ragged coastline of fjords studded with cursory sketches of pine trees. Inland was a faint whitewash, as of ice or snow. A course had been plotted, striking east from the jagged shoreline, then southward across a vast ocean. The Malazan Empire purported to have world maps, but they showed nothing like the land he saw here. The Empire's claim to dominance suddenly seemed pathetic.