Dust of Dreams (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #9)

Dust of Dreams (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #9) Page 405

Fiddler scowled at the man. ‘Stinks?’

‘Not human blood.’

‘Oh, great. Demonic?’

‘More like… rhizan.’

Rhizan? ‘This ain’t the time for jokes, Bottle-’

‘I’m not. Listen. There’s not a trace, not a single footprint beyond the kind soldiers make-and we both know it wasn’t no soldiers jumped the tent and the two men inside it. Unless they had talons long as swords, and it was talons that did in that tent. But the hands they belonged to were huge. It gets stranger, Sergeant-’

‘Hold on. Let me think a moment.’ Rhizan? Flit around at night, eating insects, small bats… winged. They got fucking wings! ‘It came down out of the sky. Of course, it’s bloody obvious now. That’s why there’s no tracks. It just dropped straight down on to the tent-’

‘Then someone should’ve heard it-at the very least, Ges and Stormy would’ve been screaming.’

‘Aye, that part still doesn’t scry.’

‘Let me examine the tent, Sergeant-pick it apart, I mean.’

‘Go ahead.’ Fiddler walked over to Shortnose. ‘Another trip for you. Find Captain Faradan Sort, and maybe Fist Keneb. And Quick Ben-aye, get Quick Ben first and send him here. And listen, Shortnose, don’t say nothing about desertions-we already got enough of those. Gesler and Stormy didn’t desert-they were kidnapped.’

Shortnose shook his head. ‘We ain’t seen or heard nothing, Sergeant-and I’m a light sleeper. Stupid light, in fact.’

‘I’m guessing some kind of sorcery silenced the whole thing. And the demon was winged. It just picked them both up and flew off into the night. Now, go on, Shortnose.’

‘All right. Quick Ben, Sort and then Keneb.’

‘Right.’ Turning back, he saw Bottle on his hands and knees, lifting up shreds of canvas. The soldier looked up, nodded him over.

Fiddler joined him, crouching at his side. ‘What is it?’

‘Everything stinks, Sergeant. Feel this cloth-it’s oily.’

‘That’s what keeps ’em waterproof-’

‘Not this stuff. This stuff smells like a lizard’s armpit.’

Fiddler stared at Bottle, wondering when the fool last jammed his nose into a lizard’s armpit, then decided that some questions just should never be asked. ‘Enkar’al? Could be, but it would have had to have been a big one, old, probably female. And somehow it got its hands round both their mouths, or round their necks.’

‘Then Ges and Stormy are dead,’ whispered Bottle.

‘Quiet, I’m still working through this. I can’t recall ever seeing an enkar’al big enough to fly carrying two full-grown men. So, Locqui Wyval? Draconic lapdogs? Not a chance. A bull enkar’al masses more than a wyval. But then, wyval fly in packs-in clouds , I think it’s called-so if a dozen came down, striking fast… maybe. But all those wing-beats… no, somebody’d hear the ruckus for certain. So, not wyval and probably not an enkar’al. What’s that leave us with?’

Bottle stared at him. ‘Dragon.’

‘Do dragons smell like rhizan armpits?’

‘How the Hood would I know?’ Bottle demanded.

‘Calm down, sorry I asked.’

‘But it doesn’t work anyway,’ said Bottle after a moment. ‘The slashed tent-the rents aren’t big enough for a dragon’s talons, or teeth. And if a dragon did swoop down, wouldn’t it just pick up the whole thing? Tent, people, cots, the whole works?’

‘Good point. So, we’re back to a giant rhizan?’

‘I was just saying what it smelled like, Sergeant. I didn’t mean a real rhizan, or even one of those slightly bigger ones we got round here.’

‘If it wasn’t for the wings,’ muttered Fiddler, ‘I might think K’Chain Che’Malle.’

‘They died out a hundred thousand years ago, Sergeant. Maybe even longer. Even the ones Hedge went up against at Black Coral-they were undead, so probably stinking of crypts, not oil.’

Quick Ben arrived, pushing through the crowd that had gathered. ‘Shortnose said something about-shit, they have a cat fight or something?’

‘Snatched,’ said Fiddler. ‘Something with wings. Big enough to shut them both up-not a sound, Quick. Smells like magic-’

‘Like lizards, you mean,’ cut in Bottle. ‘Look at this, High Mage.’

Quick Ben held out a hand and Bottle gave him the strip of canvas. ‘Lizards, Bottle?’