Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(201)

Next went the Resolute. As passenger on board this vessel went a crippled youth who seemed to be family to the Genabackan shield-maiden officer. The woman, however, remained with the camp; she seemed satisfied with the protection that the Blue Shields offered, sending five of their number with the vessel, together with their pledge to reunite her and the boy in south Genabackis.

The Supplicant followed slowly, its crew of veteran sailors from among the invaders doing their best with the unfamiliar lines of the strange vessel.

This left the Ragstopper and the Silver Dawn. Jute clapped his hands on young Reuth’s shoulders and looked him up and down. The lad appeared to be prospering; gone were the bruises of his escape – at least those apparent in the flesh. He was eating well and even occasionally smiled. Jute had noticed that he asked almost every new passenger for news of Whiteblade, the ex-Malazan swordsman.

He waved the lad off and turned to Ieleen, who sat in her usual place next to the tiller arm, hands on her short walking stick, her head tilted to the wind. It seemed to him that she’d been watching him out of the edge of her snow-white orbs. He rubbed a hand over his unshaven cheeks and cleared his throat.

‘You’re staying, then,’ she said, and he jumped, startled.

‘How did you know?’

‘I know that throat-clearing.’

He continued to brush his fingers over a cheek. ‘I have to see this through to the end, love.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’ He gazed about the deck, now crowded with evacuees. ‘Curiosity, I guess. I have to see how it ends.’

She banged the stick to the deck. ‘It could end in your death!’

‘Don’t let’s fight, dear. Not during my leave-taking.’

‘I’m supposed to like it?’

‘Don’t worry. The Ragstopper remains. We can evacuate in that, if we must.’

She shook her head in a knowing negative. ‘That hulk sounds as full of water as a bathtub.’

‘Well … it’s still afloat. In any case, we can always run for it.’

She continued shaking her head. Her grey curls blew about in the wind. ‘I’ve always feared your curiosity will be the death of you.’

‘I’ll be careful, dearest.’

Her silver orbs narrowed, promising her wrath. ‘You’d better be.’

‘Of course I will. I’ll await your return. If not here, then further south down the coast. Yes?’

She tapped the stick to the deck thoughtfully. ‘I do not want you to go. But if you must …’ She shook her head. Sadly, this time.

‘Thank you, my chick.’ He pecked her on the cheek.

She urged him off with the stick. ‘Go on, then.’

He saluted the ship’s weapons master, Letita, who appeared miserable herself, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. He recalled that Lieutenant Jalaz was remaining with Cartheron. Then he climbed down one of the rope ladders to a waiting skiff.

The shore was now empty. Where a temporary encampment of thousands had arisen, only smoking fire pits and the trash of torn canvas, abandoned boots and broken tools and mining equipment remained. The unruly mob of civilians had been urged, cajoled, and plain browbeaten by Tyvar and his remaining Blue Shields, plus the Shieldmaiden and her Genabackan veterans, into marching south down the coast.

Walking back up the slope of the rise topped by Mantle, Jute noted the closing storm from the north. The cloud front had rolled down the upper heights of the Salt range and was now obscuring the vales immediately above. The constant roar of thunder shook the ground and the strong winds lashed the branches. He spotted elk and deer bounding along the treeline just above the fields. Flights of birds came peeling out of the fog: ravens, gulls, ducks, and apart from these, soaring higher, the outlines of prey-birds: eagles and falcons.

Something was driving all before it. The thing Lady Orosenn spoke of. All that Jute could imagine was a sort of huge landslide or avalanche, churning its way down the slopes.

He found Cartheron and Lady Orosenn in conversation at the wall, also looking north. Cartheron was gesturing, explaining something. ‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked, approaching up the earthen ramp.

‘Always welcome,’ Lady Orosenn greeted him. ‘Commander Cartheron was just explaining the geography of this location.’

‘Commander Cartheron?’

‘Considering his experience, King Voti has placed him in charge of Mantle’s defences.’

‘For what it’s worth,’ the man grumbled.

‘It is worth a great deal,’ Lady Orosenn corrected him. ‘I myself had hoped to reach the north and there kneel before my mother and beg her forgiveness. But,’ she pressed a hand to her wounded thigh, ‘it was not to be. Now we must weather the coming storm from here.’

‘And this storm,’ Jute now dared ask, ‘what is it exactly?’

The Jaghut shared a glance with Cartheron. ‘You know the great ice cliffs we passed to the south?’ Jute nodded; he had seen such along many shores. ‘Like that, only moving across the land.’ Jute blew out a breath – he couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. Nothing, it seemed to him, would be spared such a grinding passage. ‘And Commander Cartheron has some ideas on this front.’

The old Napan held his hands out over the wall as if describing an inverted V. ‘This is bedrock we’re built on. Been here for ages. This is the highest piece of land across the entire north coast. See how we’re atop a wedge that slopes down away before us and off to either side?’ Jute nodded. ‘We can use that natural rock incline.’