Midnight Tides (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #5)

Midnight Tides (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #5) Page 281

‘So are you, you damned Nerek halfling,’ the Finadd snapped. ‘Tell him,’ Corlo said to the other mage. ‘Your name’s Urger, isn’t it? Tell your Finadd, Urger.’

The half-Nerek licked his lips. ‘He’ll kill us all, sir. Every one of us. He won’t even break a sweat. And he’ll start with you, Finadd. He’ll pluck your brain out and drop it in a cauldron of boiling oil.’

Corlo said, ‘You’d best return to that barrow, Urger. Your demon’s trying to get out, and it just might succeed. You’ll lose your chance to bind it.’

The mage twisted round in his saddle. ‘Errant take me, he’s right! Finadd, I must go! No waiting!’ With that he wheeled his horse and drove heels into its flanks.

Arlidas glared at Seren, Iron Bars and Corlo in turn, then he snarled wordlessly and gestured to his soldiers. ‘Back to the barrow. Back, damn you!’

They rode off.

Seren looked over at Corlo. ‘You made yourself pretty scary, didn’t you?’

The mage smiled.

‘Let’s get going,’ the Avowed said, ‘before they gather their wits.’

‘I’d like to learn how you do that, Corlo.’

His smile broadened. ‘You would, would you?’

‘There is always something ominous in dust rising from a distant road, do you not think?’

Trull Sengar squinted eastward until he spied the telltale smear. ‘Nothing to worry about, Lilac,’ he said. ‘It’s a column from my father’s army, I suspect. A portion of it occupied the Manse not long ago.’

‘There was fighting there,’ the demon said, then sighed. ‘Two of my kin fell’

‘I am sorry for that,’ Trull said.

They were camped on the outskirts of Thetil, preparing for the fast, extended march down to First Reach, where their army would join up with the emperor’s before striking southeast to Letheras. Tomad’s army would march down Mappers’ Road to approach the capital city from the north. The Letherii forces were fleeing before them along every approach. Even so, one more battle lay ahead, probably outside the walls of Letheras.

Trull glanced over at his company. A dozen or so warriors were gathered round Sergeant Canarth, who was in the midst of a gesture-filled tirade of some sort. Trull’s captain, Ahlrada Ahn, stood nearby, apart yet listening.

Since Trull had acquired his demon bodyguard, the other warriors had kept their distance, the squad leaders reluctant to stand still even when Trull approached with orders. There was something wrong, clearly, with singling out a demon, with making it obvious that the creature was intelligent, an individual. Understandable, given the usual treatment of the KenylPrah by their Tiste Edur masters. But, he well knew, there was more to it than that.

During their march down from High Fort, Trull Sengar had found himself mostly shunned by his warrior kin and by the women. No official sanction had yet been pronounced, but silent judgement had already occurred, and it was these unspoken forms of punishment that maintained the necessary cohesion of the Edur tribes – rejection of aberrant behaviour must be seen, the punishment one of public participation, the lesson clear to all who might harbour similar dangerous impulses. Trull understood this well enough, and did not rail against it.

Without the demon at his side, it would have been far more painful, far more lonely, than it was. Yet even with Lilac, there was a truth that stung. The demon was not free, and had it been so it would not now be here, at his side. Thus, the premise of companionship was flawed, and Trull could not delude himself into believing otherwise.

Fear had not spoken to him once since High Fort. Orders were conveyed through B’nagga, who was indifferent to, or unaware of, the tensions swirling about Trull.

Nearby sat their two charges, the queen and her son, for whom Trull and his company had provided escort down from High Fort. They had been carried by ox-drawn wagon, the prince’s minor wounds tended to by a Letherii slave, the queen provided with a female slave of her own to cook meals and do other chores as required. An indulgence permitting the king’s wife to resume her haughty demeanour. Even so, the two prisoners had said little since their capture. Ahlrada Ahn made his way over.

Trull spoke first. ‘Captain. What has Sergeant Canarth so animated?’

The dark-skinned warrior frowned. ‘You, Trull Sengar.’

‘Ah, and you’ve come to warn me of insurrection?’ The suggestion clearly offended him. ‘I am not your ally,’ he said. ‘Not in this matter. Canarth intends to approach Fear and request a new commander.’