Reaper's Gale (The Malazan Book of the Fallen 7)

‘Some of the letters-’

‘Ehrlii and Letherii come from the same language,’ Lobe said.

Gait’s glare was suspicious. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t, you idiot. It’s just what I was told.’

‘Who?’

‘Ebron, I think. Or Shard. What difference does it make?

Somebody who knows things, that’s all. Hood, you’re making my brain hurt. And look at this mess.’

‘Is that my knife?’

‘Was.’

Brullyg saw Lobe cock his head, then the soldier said, ‘Footsteps bottom of the stairs.’ And with these words, his hands moved in a blur, and even as Gait was walking towards the door, Lobe was twisting home the pommel and flipping the knife into Gait’s path. Where it was caught one-handed-Gait had not even slowed in passing.

Brullyg settled back in his chair.

Rising, Masan Gilani loosened from their scabbards the vicious-looking long-bladed knives at her hips. ‘Wish I was with my own squad,’ she said, then drew a step closer to where Brullyg sat.

‘Stay put,’ she murmured.

Mouth dry, he nodded.

‘It’s likely the ale delivery,’ Lobe said from one side of the door, while Gait unlocked it and pushed it out wide enough to enable him to peer through the crack.

‘Sure, but those boots sound wrong.’

‘Not the usual drooling fart and his son?’

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‘Some of the letters-’

‘Ehrlii and Letherii come from the same language,’ Lobe said.

Gait’s glare was suspicious. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t, you idiot. It’s just what I was told.’

‘Who?’

‘Ebron, I think. Or Shard. What difference does it make?

Somebody who knows things, that’s all. Hood, you’re making my brain hurt. And look at this mess.’

‘Is that my knife?’

‘Was.’

Brullyg saw Lobe cock his head, then the soldier said, ‘Footsteps bottom of the stairs.’ And with these words, his hands moved in a blur, and even as Gait was walking towards the door, Lobe was twisting home the pommel and flipping the knife into Gait’s path. Where it was caught one-handed-Gait had not even slowed in passing.

Brullyg settled back in his chair.

Rising, Masan Gilani loosened from their scabbards the vicious-looking long-bladed knives at her hips. ‘Wish I was with my own squad,’ she said, then drew a step closer to where Brullyg sat.

‘Stay put,’ she murmured.

Mouth dry, he nodded.

‘It’s likely the ale delivery,’ Lobe said from one side of the door, while Gait unlocked it and pushed it out wide enough to enable him to peer through the crack.

‘Sure, but those boots sound wrong.’

‘Not the usual drooling fart and his son?’

‘Not even close.’

‘All right.’ Lobe reached under the table and lifted into view a crossbow. A truly foreign weapon, constructed entirely of iron-or something very much like Letherii steel. The cord was thick as a man’s thumb, and the quarrel set into the groove was tipped with an x-shaped head that would punch through a Letherii shield as if it was birch bark. The soldier cranked the claw back and somehow locked it in place. Then he moved along the door’s wall to the corner.

Gait edged back as the footsteps on the stairs drew nearer. He made a series of hand gestures to which Masan Gilani grunted in response and Brullyg heard ripping cloth behind him and a moment later the point of a knife pressed between his shoulder blades-thrust right through the damned chair. She leaned down. ‘Be nice and be stupid, Brullyg. We know these two and we can guess why they’re here.’

Glancing back at Masan Gilani, nodding once, Gait then moved into the doorway, opening wide the door. ‘Well,’ he drawled in his dreadful Letherii, ‘if it isn’t the captain and her first mate. Run out of money comes too soon? What you making to comes with ale?’

A heavy growl from beyond. ‘What did he say, Captain?’

‘Whatever it was, he said it badly.’ A woman, and that voice-Brullyg frowned. That was a voice he had heard before. The knife tip dug deeper into his spine.

‘We’re bringing Shake Brullyg his ale,’ the woman continued.

‘That’s nice,’ Gait replied. ‘We see he comes gets it.’

‘Shake Brullyg’s an old friend of mine. I want to see him.’

‘He’s busy.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Thinking.’

‘Shake Brullyg? I really doubt that-and who in the Errant’s name are you anyway? You’re no Letherii, and you and those friends of yours hanging out at the tavern, well, none of you were prisoners here either. I asked around. You’re from that strange ship anchored in the bay.’

‘Why, Captain, it is simple. We comes to goes all the ice. So Brullyg he rewards us. Guests. Royal guests. Now we keep him company. He is smiles nice all the time. We nice too.’

‘Nice idiots, I think,’ the man outside-presumably the captain’s first mate-said in a growl. ‘Now, my arm’s getting tired-move aside and let me deliver this damned thing.’

Gait glanced back over a shoulder at Masan Gilani, who said in Malazan, ‘Why you looking at me? I’m just here to keep this man’s tongue hanging.’

Brullyg licked sweat from his lips. So even knowing that, why does it still work? Am 1 that stupid? ‘Let them in,’ he said in a low voice. ‘So I can ease their minds and send them away.’

Gait looked at Masan Gilani again, and though she said nothing, some kind of communication must have passed between them, for he shrugged and stepped back. ‘Comes the ale.’

Brullyg watched as the two figures entered the chamber. The one in the lead was Skorgen Kaban the Pretty. Which meant… yes. The would-be king smiled, ‘Shurq Elalle. You’ve not aged a day since I last saw you. And Skorgen-put the cask down, before you dislocate your shoulder and add lopsided to your list of ailments. Broach the damned thing and we can all have a drink. Oh,’ he added as he watched the two pirates take in the soldiers-Skorgen almost jumping when he saw Lobe in the corner, crossbow now cradled in his arms-‘these are some of my royal guests. At the door, Gait. In the corner, Lobe, and this lovely here with the one hand behind the back of my chair is Masan Gilani.’