Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(198)

A knot of figures, no more than dark outlines amid the brushing curtains of blowing snow, waited below. She found Gwynn, Bars, Black the Lesser and Turgal with the two Heels, Baran and Erta. They stood around a figure keeling in snow up to her waist. Lean.

Gwynn greeted her, gestured to Lean. ‘She will not get up.’

Shimmer knelt before her friend, gripped her chin and lifted it to study her. The woman’s face was slack, her eyes unfocused. ‘Come to me, Lean,’ she called.

Lean blinked. The eyes searched, found Shimmer’s face. ‘Let me sleep,’ she mumbled through lips nearly frozen shut.

‘No. Time to move out. We’re waiting.’

‘I’m too Togg-blasted tired.’

Blues joined them, followed by K’azz. Shimmer looked up. ‘What should we do?’

‘Where is Keel?’

Bars’ dark hair hung in an unkempt mess; he was growing a thick black beard. He winced and gestured down behind them. ‘I’m sorry … I should’ve noticed.’

‘None of us did,’ Gwynn said.

K’azz raised a hand to end the matter. ‘You four will go back – take Lean with you. Find Keel. Cross to a rock ridge. Get off the ice. Wait there.’

Bars’ face revealed his shocked disbelief. ‘You can’t send us back!’

K’azz’s voice softened. ‘Not back, Bars. Off the ice. It is dangerous for you.’

‘But not for you, or Shimmer, or Blues?’

‘We … seem able to fight its effects better. Now, pick her up and go.’ He gestured Gwynn to him: ‘Make sure they all make it off.’

Gwynn, his long staff in his hands, nodded grimly. ‘Yes, K’azz. We will await you.’

‘Thank you.’ He turned to find Blues and Shimmer planted directly in his path. ‘And what of us?’ Blues said.

Their commander offered a lift of his bird-like bony shoulders beneath his torn leather jerkin. ‘You wished to find your answers … they await above.’

‘And Cal-Brinn?’ Shimmer demanded. ‘It is he we are really here for.’

K’azz nodded. ‘He is near. The same … difficulty … is affecting him. If we do not find him above, then we shall search for him.’

Shimmer stood aside. ‘Very well. But we had better find him.’

K’azz closed his eyes in tired agreement. ‘We will, Shimmer. I swear.’

The man appeared exhausted, his eyes sunken, his cheeks hollow. And clearly the strange spell of general lassitude pulled upon him as well, but she thought there was something more weighing him down: he was sad. So very regretful. What was it that affected him so? Whatever the answers were, they seemed to be breaking his heart.

At that moment she was almost ready to agree that they ought to simply find Cal-Brinn and go. If whatever lay above was so distressing to K’azz, perhaps it was best left alone. Yet to have come so far … and they were so near … She shook her head. Whatever it was, perhaps it would weigh less heavily upon him if they all shared it. It seemed almost near to breaking him even as she watched.

Yes, that was it. He need not bear this all by himself. She turned to the rest of the Guard gathering to retreat. Bars, she saw, was steadily returning her gaze. It was a good few moments before a voice spoke in her thoughts: what are you waiting for? You should go to him. She did so, and a strange relief flickered across his face. She stood close, peering up at him, and raised an arm to slip it behind his neck.

‘You have been distant of late,’ he said.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘We must get to the bottom of that.’

‘Yes, we will. When I return.’

‘Very well. When you return.’ He bent to kiss her and jerked away, shock on his face: ‘You are so cold!’

‘Is that a complaint?’

‘I mean it. Here, take this,’ and he moved to slip off his woollen cloak.

She closed her hand on his. ‘Keep it. I do not feel the cold.’ He frowned, troubled. ‘Do not worry. I will return.’

Something of his old manner slipped through as he growled, ‘See that you do.’

She turned to where K’azz and Blues waited, then gestured, inviting them, Baran, Erta and Siguna onward. She turned for one last wave farewell, wondering again: what is wrong with me?

* * *

Marshal Teal stood at a brazier in his command tent high in the upper vales of the southern slopes of the Salt range. He warmed his hands over the charcoal and considered his next course of action. Scouting parties would have to be sent, of course, to determine whether the last renegades had chosen to hang about. His orders from Luthal had been explicit; his future position depended upon his thoroughness.

Still, he was confident. This was, after all, a mere mopping up. He was eager to return to clean out Mantle. Once their grip was secure upon this north coast of the Sea of Gold, they could consider their next move. Consolidation of the south coast, most likely. Then onward to the Bone Peninsula.

All funded by their war-chest of gold dust.

Thunder rumbled beyond the hide tent walls. A storm was on its way. Good. Perhaps the renegades would die of exposure and save them any further expenditure. Still, he would like to get his hands on that white blade. It would bring a fortune in Lether, or Darujhistan. He could name his price.