The Bonehunters (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #6)

The Bonehunters (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #6) Page 350

'You were more forceful, you know,' Noto Boil said beside him, 'when you were Captain Kindly.'

'Oh, be quiet,' Paran said.

'An observation, High Fist, not a complaint.'

'Your every observation is a complaint, healer.'

'That's hurtful, sir.'

'See what I mean? Tell me something interesting – Kartoolian, right?

Were you a follower of D'rek, then?'

'Hood, no! Very well, if you wish to hear something interesting, I shall tell you of my own history. As a youth, I was a leg-breaker-'

'A what?'

'I broke dog legs. Just one per mongrel, mind you. Lame dogs were important for the festival-'

'Ah, you mean the D'rek festival! That disgusting, barbaric, filthstrewn day of sordid celebration! So, you broke the legs of poor, bemused animals, so they could be stoned to death in alleys by psychotic little children.'

'What is your point, High Fist? Yes, that is precisely what I did.

Three crescents a dog. It was a living. Alas, I eventually tired of that-'

'The Malazans outlawed the festival-'

'Yes, that too. A most unfortunate decision. It has made my people moribund, forcing us to search elsewhere for our-'

'For your sick, obnoxious tastes in delivering misery and suffering.'

'Well, yes. Whose story is this?'

'Abyss take me, please accept my apologies. Do go on – assuming I can stomach it.'

Noto Boil tilted his nose skyward. 'I was not busy running around skewering goddesses in my youth-'

'Neither was I, although I suppose, like any healthy young non-legbreaking boy, I lusted after a few. At least, based on their statues and the like. Take Soliel, for instance-'

'Soliel! A likeness expressly visualized to encourage notions of motherhood!'

'Oh, really? My, that's a little too revealing, isn't it?'

'Mind you,' Noto Boil said in a commiserating tone, 'you were a young boy…'

'So I was, now let's forget all that. You were saying? After your legbreaker career died with a whimper, then what?'

'Oh, how very droll, sir. I should also point out, the Manifestation of Soliel back in G'danisban-'

'Damned disappointing,' Paran agreed. 'You've no idea how many adolescent fantasies were obliterated by that.'

'I thought you had no desire to discuss that subject any further?'

'Fine. Go on.'

'I was apprenticed for a short time to a local healer-'

'Healing lame dogs?'

'Not our primary source of income, sir. There was a misunderstanding, as a consequence of which I was forced to depart his company, in some haste. A local recruiting drive proved opportune, especially since such efforts by the Malazans rarely garnered more than a handful of Kartoolians – and most of those either destitute or criminal-'

'And you were both.'

'The principal source of their delight at my joining the ranks derived from my skills as a healer. Anyway my first campaign was in Korel, the Theftian Campaigns, where I was fortunate to acquire further tutelage from a healer who would later become infamous. Ipshank.'

'Truly?'

'Indeed, none other. And yes, I met Manask as well. It must be said – and you, High Fist, will comprehend more than most the necessity of this – it must be said, both Ipshank and Manask remained loyal to Greymane… to the last. Well, as far as I knew, that is – I was healer to a full legion by then, and we were sent to Genabackis. In due course-'

'Noto Boil,' Paran interrupted, 'it seems you have a singular talent for consorting with the famous and the infamous.'

'Why, yes, sir. I suppose I have at that. And now, I suspect, you are wondering into which category I place you?'

'Me? No, don't bother.'

The healer prepared to speak again but was interrupted by the arrival of Hurlochel.

'High Fist.'

'Outrider.'

'The trail ahead, sir, has up until now revealed little more than a scattering of your so-called pilgrims. But it seems that a troop of riders have joined the migration.'

'Any idea how many?'

'More than five hundred, High Fist. Could be as many as a thousand – they are riding in formation so it's difficult to tell.'

'Formation. Now, who might they be, I wonder? All right, Hurlochel, advance your scouts and flanking outriders – how far ahead are they?'

'Four or five days, sir. Riding at a collected canter for the most part.'