The Crippled God (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #10)

The Crippled God (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #10) Page 92

‘Did they travel onward to Kolanse?’ Tavore asked.

‘Only the first few. With reason. The Inquisitors did not welcome visitors.’ She drained her cup and held it out for a refill. ‘We considered war, Adjunct. Though the ships were not our own, we’d given them royal charter, and we were most displeased by the slaughter of innocents.’ She glanced over at her Barghast Warchief. ‘We even hired ourselves a mercenary army.’

‘Yet you declared no war,’ observed Brys.

‘No. I sent an agent, my Eleventh Daughter. She did not survive, yet was able to send me … a message. These Inquisitors were not human at all.’

‘Justice,’ said Banaschar, pulling a small jug from his cloak, ‘the sweet contradiction they took to, like …’ he regarded the jug, ‘like wine. There is no true justice, they will say, without the most basic right that is retribution. Exploit the world at your peril, dear friends. One day someone will decide to speak for that world. One day, someone will come calling.’ He snorted. ‘But Forkrul Assail? Gods below, even the Liosan would’ve done better.’ He tilted the jug back, drank, and then sighed. ‘There were temples to D’rek once. In Kolanse.’ He grinned at Tavore. ‘Woe to all a priest’s confessions, eh, Adjunct?’

‘Not human,’ repeated Abrastal. ‘Their power was unassailable, and it seemed to be growing. We declared no war,’ and she looked up into the Adjunct’s eyes, ‘but here we are.’

Adjunct Tavore faced Brys Beddict. ‘Prince, I have not had the opportunity to thank you for your intervention on the day of the Nah’ruk. That the Bonehunters still exist is due to your bravery and that of your soldiers. Without you and the Khundryl, we would never have extricated ourselves from that engagement.’

‘I fear, Adjunct,’ said Brys, ‘that we were not enough, and I am sure Warleader Gall, and indeed Hanavat here, feel the same. Your army is hurt. The stand by the heavy infantry and the marines took from you the very soldiers you need the most.’ He glanced at Krughava briefly, and then continued, ‘Adjunct, I share the Mortal Sword’s dismay at what you now propose.’

‘The Bonehunters,’ said Tavore, ‘will march alone.’

‘Do you say then,’ Brys asked, ‘that you have no further need of us?’

‘No, my need for you has never been greater.’

Queen Abrastal held out her cup, and as Sort refilled it she said, ‘Then you have misled me, Adjunct. Clearly, you know more of the enemy – these Forkrul Assail – and their aims than do any of us. Or,’ she corrected, ‘you think you do. I would point out that the Inquisitors no longer appear to hold to expansionist intentions – the Errant knows, they’ve had enough time to prove otherwise.’

Banaschar’s laugh was soft yet grating. ‘The Bonehunters march alone, leaking blood with every step. Fists, captains and cooks all ask the same thing: what does she know? How does she know it? Who speaks to this hard woman with the flat eyes, this Otataral sword stolen from the Empress’s scabbard? Was it Quick Ben, our mysterious High Mage who no longer walks with us? Was it Fist Keneb? Or perhaps the Empress is not the mistress of betrayal as we all believe and the Empire’s High Mage Tayschrenn now creeps in step with us, a shadow no one casts.’ He toasted with his jug. ‘Or has she simply gone mad? But no, none of us think so, do we? She knows . Something. But what? And how?’ He drank, weaved a moment as if about to fall, then steadied himself before Lostara Yil reached him. Noticing her, he offered the woman a loose smile.

‘Or is the ex-priest whispering in her ear?’ The question was asked by Fist Blistig, his tone strained and cold.

Banaschar’s brows lifted. ‘The last priest of D’rek has no time for whispering, my dear boneless Fist Blistig—’

The Fist grunted an oath and would have stepped forward if Kindly had not edged deftly into his path.

Smiling, Banaschar went on. ‘All the chewing deafens him, anyway. Gnawing, on all sides. The dog has wounds – don’t touch!’ He waved with his jug in the Adjunct’s direction. ‘The Bonehunters march alone, oh yes, more alone than anyone could imagine. But look to Tavore now – look carefully, friends. This solitude she insists upon, why, it’s not complicated at all. Are you not all commanders? Friends, this is simple. It’s called … tactics .’

Aranict looked to Brys in the odd silence that followed, and she saw the glint of something awaken in his eyes, as if an unknown language had suddenly become comprehensible. ‘Adjunct,’ he said, ‘against the Lether Empire, you struck both overland and by sea. We reeled from one direction and then another.’