Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(119)

Cartheron pulled a hand through his patchy salt and pepper beard, sighed. ‘Sorry, captain. Haven’t been entirely honest with you. I was on my way here when I was contacted by … by some old acquaintances. I was asked … well, a proposition was made that I help out up here.’

‘So you’re working for the Empire.’

The old man scowled, offended. ‘Done with that. Free agent now. Just contracted to lend aid to certain parties. That’s all.’ He raised his attention to the crowd surrounding them. ‘I want one squad to shadow my friend here down to the docks and help guard his ship. Are we good with that?’

A woman raised her hand. ‘We’ll take it.’

‘Okay.’ He motioned Jute to the front. ‘See you later. Be ready to cast off fast.’

Jute reluctantly pushed himself away from the table. ‘But what are you up to here? What are you going to do?’

Cartheron waved him on. ‘Don’t you worry ’bout that. Go on with you.’

The woman accompanied him through the maze of tents. Torches burned at various main intersections of footpaths. Gangs hung about seemingly ready to waylay anyone who appeared relatively defenceless. Passing one such group, the woman pulled her muddy cloak away from her side to reveal her longsword and the men stepped back from blocking their way. Jute also noticed members of the ‘squad’ down side alleys, shadowing their progress.

He studied the woman: stocky fighter’s build, a pretty face, after a fashion. Thick dark brown hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. Fair-skinned. Armoured in a battered hauberk of banded iron over leathers. ‘You’re of north Genabackis.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You are a Malazan veteran?’

‘Yeah. Cashiered.’

‘You know Cartheron?’

The woman snorted. ‘Abyss, no. How old do you think I am?’

‘I’m sorry. I just thought … since you showed up …’

She shrugged. ‘Coupla lads from my old command swung by, said he was looking to hire.’

‘So you know of him …’

The woman snorted again. ‘Abyss, yes. Who doesn’t?’

‘Then you came here on your own?’

‘Yeah. Overland from the west.’ She shook her head. ‘Only a handful of us made it. And for what? There’s no gold left. Only people rakin’ it in are those selling booze or shovels. Or stealing it from those that got it. Ended up trapped here. Can’t afford to stay. Can’t afford a ticket out.’

‘I’m sorry.’

She shrugged again. ‘How it goes. Had a family farm outside Mott. Sold it to raise the money for this trip. All gone now. Fortunes of life. Gotta take risks to achieve anything.’ She eyed him up and down. ‘Same as you, hey? You just arrived with a ship, hey?’

‘Yes. A full cargo to sell.’

‘Whatcha bring? Timber? Anvils? Chandeliers? Ice for drinks?’

‘Oh no, nothing fancy like that. Just basic staples. Barrels of flour, molasses, rice, salted pork, jugs of spirits.’

The woman looked him up and down again. ‘God-damn,’ she breathed, in something like awe.

Jute and the woman – a retired officer? – made it down to the dock without incident. Perhaps it was the eight or so burly ex-soldiers surrounding them. In any case, they followed him up on to the Dawn and he checked in with Ieleen. He found her where she always was: sitting at the stern next to the tiller. ‘Back, love,’ he announced.

‘And who’s the woman?’ she asked.

Jute blinked. ‘Ah … she works for Cartheron. Here to help guard the ship. How did you know?’

‘I can smell her. She’s pretty?’

‘Ah … well, I suppose so. Yes.’

‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

‘Ah … of course.’ He waved the woman to the stern. ‘Ah, this is Ieleen, my wife and ship’s pilot. And this is … ah …’

The woman bowed. ‘Lieutenant Jalaz. Giana Jalaz, of Mott. At your service, ma’am. Here to help out defending the ship.’

Ieleen inclined her head. ‘You are most welcome. Our ship’s master of weapons has had her hands full beating away thieves trying to sneak on board.’

‘We will give her a hand, then,’ Lieutenant Jalaz said, and went on her way.

‘She seems nice,’ Ieleen said. Jute blew out a long breath. Then he jerked, remembering Cartheron’s words.

‘Oh! I have to go to the Ragstopper. They have to ready to cast off – as do we.’

Ieleen urged him away. ‘Well, then. Off with you.’

He headed to the gangway but froze as Giana barked: ‘Stop him!’

The men guarding the gangway shifted to block his way. Suddenly, a sinking realization came to him: By the gods … I’ve just handed my ship over to a pack of Malazans! What a purblind fool! I deserve whatever it is they have in store for me. An unexplained disappearance, probably.

He slowly turned to face the lieutenant. She came to stand quite close before him. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

In his peripheral vision, Jute caught his master of weapons, Letita, edging in close, her hand at the grip of her longsword.

He swallowed hard and gestured up the dock. ‘Cartheron’s ship, the Ragstopper.’