‘No seal,’ said the sergeant. ‘No death. Let them go. We take now.’
‘Even if their crimes were commuted,’ the Preda replied, ‘I’d still need a seal to release them.’
‘Let them go now. Or we kill you all.’
The Preda stared, and then turned back to his unit. ‘Draw your weapons,’ he snapped.
‘Not a chance,’ said gate-guard Fifid. ‘Sir. We even twitch towards our swords and we’re dead.’
Norlo Trumb’s face darkened in the lantern light. ‘You’ve just earned a court-martial, Fifid-’
‘At least I’ll be breathing, sir.’
‘And the rest of you?’
None of the other guards spoke. Nor did they draw their swords.
‘Get them,’ growled the sergeant from where he sat slouched on his horse. ‘No more nice.’
‘Listen to this confounded ignorant foreigner!’ Norlo Trumb turned back to the Malazan sergeant. ‘I intend to make an official protest straight to the Royal Court,’ he said. ‘And you will answer to the charges-’
‘Get.’
And to the left of the sergeant a young, oddly effeminate warrior slipped down from his horse and settled hands on the grips of two enormous falchions of some sort. His languid, dark eyes looked almost sleepy.
At last, something shivered up Trumb’s spine to curl worm-like on the back of his neck. He licked suddenly dry lips. ‘Spanserd, guide this Malazan, uh, warrior, to the cells.’
‘And?’ the guard asked.
‘And release the prisoners, of course!’
br />
‘No seal,’ said the sergeant. ‘No death. Let them go. We take now.’
‘Even if their crimes were commuted,’ the Preda replied, ‘I’d still need a seal to release them.’
‘Let them go now. Or we kill you all.’
The Preda stared, and then turned back to his unit. ‘Draw your weapons,’ he snapped.
‘Not a chance,’ said gate-guard Fifid. ‘Sir. We even twitch towards our swords and we’re dead.’
Norlo Trumb’s face darkened in the lantern light. ‘You’ve just earned a court-martial, Fifid-’
‘At least I’ll be breathing, sir.’
‘And the rest of you?’
None of the other guards spoke. Nor did they draw their swords.
‘Get them,’ growled the sergeant from where he sat slouched on his horse. ‘No more nice.’
‘Listen to this confounded ignorant foreigner!’ Norlo Trumb turned back to the Malazan sergeant. ‘I intend to make an official protest straight to the Royal Court,’ he said. ‘And you will answer to the charges-’
‘Get.’
And to the left of the sergeant a young, oddly effeminate warrior slipped down from his horse and settled hands on the grips of two enormous falchions of some sort. His languid, dark eyes looked almost sleepy.
At last, something shivered up Trumb’s spine to curl worm-like on the back of his neck. He licked suddenly dry lips. ‘Spanserd, guide this Malazan, uh, warrior, to the cells.’
‘And?’ the guard asked.
‘And release the prisoners, of course!’
‘Yes, sir!’
Sergeant Badan Gruk allowed himself the barest of sighs-not enough to be visible to anyone-and watched with relief as the Letherii guard led Skulldeath towards the gaol-block lining one wall of the garrison compound.
The other marines sat motionless on their horses, but their tension was a stink in Badan’s nostrils, and under his hauberk sweat ran in streams. No, he’d not wanted any sort of trouble. Especially not a bloodbath. But this damned shrew-brained Preda had made it close. His heart thumped loud in his chest and he forced himself to glance back at his soldiers. Ruffle’s round face was pink and damp, but she offered him a wink before angling her crossbow upward and resting the stock’s butt on one soft thigh. Reliko was cradling his own crossbow in one arm while the other arm was stretched out to stay Vastly Blank, who’d evidently realized-finally-that there’d been trouble here in the compound, and now looked ready to start killing Letherii-once he was pointed in the right direction. Skim and Honey were side by side, their heavy assault crossbows aimed with unwavering precision at the Preda’s chest-a detail the man seemed too stupid to comprehend. The other heavies remained in the background, in ill mood for having been rousted from another drunken night in Letheras.
Badan Gruk’s scan ended on the face of Corporal Pravalak Rim, and sure enough, he saw in that young man’s features something of what he himself felt. A damned miracle. Something that’d seemed impossible to ever have believed-they’d all seen-
A heavy door clunked from the direction of the gaol.
Everyone-Malazan and Letherii-now fixed gazes on the four figures slowly approaching. Skulldeath was half-carrying his charge, and the same was true of the Letherii guard, Spanserd. The prisoners they’d just helped from their cells were in bad shape.
‘Easy, Blank,’ muttered Reliko.
‘But that’s-they-but I know them two!’
‘Aye,’ the heavy infantryman sighed. ‘We all do, Vastly.’
Neither prisoner showed any signs of having been beaten or tortured. What left them on the edge of death was simple neglect. The most effective torture of all.
‘Preda,’ said Badan Gruk, in a low voice.
Norlo Trumb turned to face him. ‘What is it now?’
‘You don’t feed them?’
‘The condemned received reduced rations, I am afraid-’
‘How long?’
‘Well, as I said, Sergeant, we have been awaiting the officer of the Royal Advocate for some time. Months and-’
Two quarrels skimmed past the Preda’s head, one on either side, and both sliced the man’s ears. He shrieked in sudden shock and fell back, landing heavily on his behind.
Badan pointed at the now cowering garrison guards. ‘No move now.’ And then he twisted in his saddle to glare at Honey and Skim. In Malazan he said, ‘Don’t even think about reloading! Shit-brained sappers!’
‘Sorry,’ said Skim, ‘I guess we both just sort’ve… twitched.’ And she shrugged.