Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(184)

Malle, however, remained. Her glare, fixed upon Cartheron, could’ve melted iron. The commander, still pale and haggard from the climb, raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I know, I know.’

‘I thought I made it clear,’ she hissed, her lips tight, ‘the old ways of doing things are over.’

‘I’m all old school, Malle.’

She snorted her agreement, but then a new light came into her eyes: something like grudging admiration. She gestured to the nearest section of wall to invite Cartheron, Jute, and Lady Orosenn forward. ‘Well, by now you’ve guessed the Empire saw its chance for a toehold on this continent and we were sent to establish relations. What I didn’t expect was to find myself in the middle of a full-scale invasion.’

‘There is far more at stake here than a mere change in rulership,’ came the deep contralto of Lady Orosenn.

Malle stopped short and turned to peer up at the woman. She did not flinch, and Jute realized just how apposite Cartheron’s warning about not getting in the woman’s way had been. She appeared wrought entirely of iron, from her iron-grey hair to her thin arms of twisted iron bar. ‘I know your heritage, sorceress. I know the name of the cold winds blowing down from these mountains. I know we sit at the feet of a Jaghut refugium.’

‘But do you know that your being here is no accident?’ the sorceress countered, her voice hardening as well. ‘That we should be here at all is entirely your fault?’

Malle was clearly rocked by the accusation. Her mouth drew down into a sour scowl. ‘Explain yourself, sorceress …’ Even Jute heard the cold menace in the old woman’s words.

‘You Malazans,’ Lady Orosenn continued. ‘Your being here is no accident. I knew this the moment I encountered Cartheron here on his way to these lands. And so I enrolled Tyvar and his Blue Shields in helping escort him north.’

Cartheron almost jumped at that. ‘What the …?’ He coughed, utterly shocked. ‘I’m just making a delivery.’

Orosenn nodded. ‘Yes, for this woman to use to back up a Malazan client state here in the north – conveniently near a goldfield.’

Now Malle’s gaze narrowed; her hands disappeared among the long black lace trimmings at her wrists. ‘You are too well informed, sorceress.’

Cartheron raised a hand in warning. ‘Malle … don’t.’

Jute’s hair rose as he realized that this woman fully intended to attack the sorceress. The servant – whatever his name was – tried to push forward but Orosenn held him back.

‘Why this delay!’ boomed a new voice as Tyvar came jogging up, his armour jangling, helmet tucked under an arm, his gauntleted fist on the long leather-wrapped grip of his sword. ‘Those without the walls are clamouring to be allowed in. Our fair ruler refuses. And,’ he added, his tone sharpening, ‘m’lady, of the enemy you mentioned, there is yet no sign at all …’

Jute felt as if he could suddenly breathe once more. Malle’s hands reappeared among the hanging lace at her wrists. She demanded: ‘What army? What state’s? More Lether reinforcements?’

‘We should have until dawn,’ Lady Orosenn answered Tyvar. She turned her attention to Malle. ‘What army, you ask? One might argue that it is the army of the past that comes now to throttle the future.’

Jute felt his face wrinkle up in confusion. What nonsense was this now?

‘The army of the past,’ Malle echoed, wonderingly. Her gaze shot to Cartheron. ‘It cannot be …’

Jute was surprised to see the old general’s face harden and lose all hint of his habitual mocking humour. ‘You’re on dangerous ground hinting as such things, Lady Orosenn.’

‘I? I am on dangerous ground? You Malazans have no idea what you’ve been meddling in. The old war was over until your emperor broke the balance. Now all this blood spilled is your fault and you must make reparation.’

Jute cleared his throat loudly. ‘Please, Lady Orosenn – of what do you speak?’

The sorceress turned to him and her features softened. A smile came to her lips, but it was a wistful one. ‘Jute of Delanss – I am sorry. You are right. We dance around the subject because it is almost too terrifying to name. I speak of course of the T’lan Imass, reawoken by the old emperor.’

Cartheron was shaking his head in hard denial. ‘No. You say we’re culpable. But we brought them Silverfox. Their new living Summoner.’

‘Or she emerged in a desperate effort to right the imbalance,’ the sorceress countered.

‘Word is, Silverfox has nothing against the Jaghut,’ Cartheron growled.

‘Evidently she does not speak for all clans.’

Malle snapped up a hand. ‘Enough. This cannot be settled now. Sorceress – you claim the T’lan Imass are marching here. Yet what is this to us? I gather they seek these Icebloods, who I suspected were Jaghut. They will ignore us and pass on into the heights to track down their old enemies. It is sad and regrettable … but we could not interfere even if we wished.’ Malle made a show of studying the sorceress up and down. ‘Indeed, Lady Orosenn, I understand the fierceness of your advocacy. And considering this, you would be well advised to flee immediately yourself.’

‘Tell them what you told me,’ Tyvar Gendarian rumbled, his voice deep with suppressed emotion.