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Hanging back a step from these two was the man. Cutter guessed that he was Dal Honese, dusky-skinned, grey-shot black curled hair on his head cut short-though his eyes were, incongruously, a deep blue. His features were even enough, though crisscrossed with scars. He wore a battered hauberk, a plain longsword at his belt, and an expression so closed he could be Apsalar’s brother.
The flanking marines were in full armour, helmed and visored. ‘Are you the only survivors?’ Cutter asked. The first woman scowled.
‘I have little time,’ the Daru went on. ‘We need your help. The Edur are assailing us-’
‘Edur?’
Cutter blinked, then nodded. ‘The seafarers you fought. Tiste Edur. They are seeking something on this island, something of vast power and we’d rather it not fall into their hands. And why should you help? Because if it does fall into their hands, the Malazan Empire is likely finished. In fact, so is all of humanity-’
The burned woman cackled, then broke into a fit of coughing that frothed her mouth with red bubbles. After a long moment, the woman recovered. ‘Oh, to be young again! All of humanity, is it? Why not the whole world?’
‘The Throne of Shadow is on this island,’ Cutter said.
At this, the Dal Honese man started slightly.
The burned woman was nodding. ‘Yes yes yes, true words. The sense of things arrives-in a flood! Tiste Edur, Tiste Edur, a fleet set out on a search, a fleet from far away, and now they’ve found it. Ammanas and Cotillion are about to be usurped, and what of it? The Throne of Shadow-we fought the Edur for that? Oh, what a waste-our ships, the marines-my own life, for the Throne of Shadow ?’ She spasmed into coughing once more.
‘Not our battle,’ the other woman growled. ‘We weren’t even looking for a fight, but the fools weren’t interested in actually talking, in exchanging emissaries-Hood knows, this is not our island, not within the Malazan Empire. Look elsewhere-’
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Hanging back a step from these two was the man. Cutter guessed that he was Dal Honese, dusky-skinned, grey-shot black curled hair on his head cut short-though his eyes were, incongruously, a deep blue. His features were even enough, though crisscrossed with scars. He wore a battered hauberk, a plain longsword at his belt, and an expression so closed he could be Apsalar’s brother.
The flanking marines were in full armour, helmed and visored. ‘Are you the only survivors?’ Cutter asked. The first woman scowled.
‘I have little time,’ the Daru went on. ‘We need your help. The Edur are assailing us-’
‘Edur?’
Cutter blinked, then nodded. ‘The seafarers you fought. Tiste Edur. They are seeking something on this island, something of vast power and we’d rather it not fall into their hands. And why should you help? Because if it does fall into their hands, the Malazan Empire is likely finished. In fact, so is all of humanity-’
The burned woman cackled, then broke into a fit of coughing that frothed her mouth with red bubbles. After a long moment, the woman recovered. ‘Oh, to be young again! All of humanity, is it? Why not the whole world?’
‘The Throne of Shadow is on this island,’ Cutter said.
At this, the Dal Honese man started slightly.
The burned woman was nodding. ‘Yes yes yes, true words. The sense of things arrives-in a flood! Tiste Edur, Tiste Edur, a fleet set out on a search, a fleet from far away, and now they’ve found it. Ammanas and Cotillion are about to be usurped, and what of it? The Throne of Shadow-we fought the Edur for that? Oh, what a waste-our ships, the marines-my own life, for the Throne of Shadow ?’ She spasmed into coughing once more.
‘Not our battle,’ the other woman growled. ‘We weren’t even looking for a fight, but the fools weren’t interested in actually talking, in exchanging emissaries-Hood knows, this is not our island, not within the Malazan Empire. Look elsewhere-’
‘No,’ the Dal Honese rumbled.
The woman turned in surprise. ‘We were clear enough, Traveller, in our gratitude to you for saving our lives. But that hardly permits you to assume command-’
‘The Throne must not be claimed by the Edur,’ the man named Traveller said. ‘I have no desire to challenge your command, Captain, but the lad speaks without exaggeration when he describes the risks… to the empire and to all of humanity. Like it or not, the Warren of Shadow is now human-aspected…’ he smiled crookedly, ‘and it well suits our natures.’ The smile vanished. ‘This battle is ours-we face it now or we face it later.’
‘You claim this fight in the name of the Malazan Empire?’ the captain asked.
‘More than you know,’ Traveller replied.
The captain gestured to one of her marines. ‘Gentur, get the others out here, but leave Mudslinger with the wounded. Then have the squads count quarrels-I want to know what we have.’
The marine named Gentur uncocked his crossbow then slipped back into the cave. A few moments later more soldiers emerged, sixteen in all when counting those who had originally come out.
Cutter walked up to the captain. ‘There is one of power among [missing text] at the burned woman-who was leaning over and spitting out murky blood. ‘Is she a sorceress?’
The captain followed his gaze and frowned. ‘She is, but she is dying. The power you-’
The air reverberated to a distant concussion and Cutter wheeled. ‘They’ve attacked again! With magic this time-follow me!’ Without a backward look, the Daru set off down the trail. He heard a faint curse behind him, then the captain began shouting orders.
The path led directly to the courtyard, and from the thundering detonations pounding again and again, Cutter judged the troop would have no difficulty in finding the place of battle-he would not wait for them. Apsalar was there, and Darist, and a handful of untrained Tiste Andu youths-they would have little defence against sorcery. But Cutter believed he did.
He sprinted on through the gloom, his right hand closed about his aching left arm, seeking to hold it in place, though each jostling stride lanced pain into his chest.
The nearest wall of the courtyard came into view. Colours were playing wildly in the air, thrashing the trees to all sides, deep reds and magenta and blues, a swirling chaos. The waves of concussions were increasing in frequency, pounding within the courtyard. There were no Edur outside the archway-an ominous sign. Cutter raced for the opening. Movement to his right caught his attention, and he saw another company of Edur, coming up from a coast trail but still sixty paces distant. The Malazans will have to deal with those… Queen of Dreams help them . The gate was before him, and he caught first sight of what was happening in the courtyard.
