The Bonehunters

'They look scared witless,' Kindly said.



'So those marines have got themselves a collection of heads,' Pores said, shrugging.



'You idiot. Those heads are still alive.'



'They're what?'



'Alive, Lieutenant. I have this from reliable sources.'



'Even so, sir, since when did Malazans get so soft?'



Kindly regarded him as he would a skewered grub. 'Your powers of observation are truly pathetic. That ship is filled with Untans.



Coddled nobleborn pups. Look at those damned uniforms, will you? The only stains they got on 'em is gull shit, and that's because the gulls keep mistaking them for dead, bloated seals.'



'Nice one, sir.'



'Another comment like that,' Kindly said, 'and I'll get the stitcher to sew up your mouth, Lieutenant. Ha, we're changing course.'



'Sir?'



'For Hood's sake, what are those fools doing?'



Pores followed his captain's glare, to the stern of their own ship, where two heavy infantry soldiers were seated side by side, their leggings round their ankles. 'I would hazard a guess, sir, that Hanfeno and Senny are adding their stone's worth.'



'Get back there and make them stop, Lieutenant. Now!'



'Sir?'



'You heard me! And I want those two on report!'



'Stop them, sir? How do I do that?'



'I suggest corks. Now move!'



Pores scrambled.



Oh please, please be finished before I arrive. Please…



****

The send-off to the Jakatakan Fleet encompassed every Malazan ship, a cavalcade of defecation that brought sea-gulls for leagues round with mad shrieks and wheeling plunges. The Adjunct had not remained on deck for very long, but issued no orders to halt the proceedings. Nor did Admiral Nok, although Keneb noticed that the sailors of the dromon escorts and the transports did not participate. This gesture belonged exclusively to the Fourteenth Army.



And maybe it had some value. Hard to tell with things like this, Keneb knew.



The wind drove them onward, east by southeast now, and before a quarter bell was sounded, the Jakatakans were far behind.



Destriant Run'thurvian had appeared earlier, and had watched the escapades of the marines on the surrounding ships. Frowning for some time, he eventually spotted Keneb and approached. 'Sir,' he said, 'I am somewhat confused. Is there no honour between elements of the Mezla military?'



'Honour? Not really, Destriant. Rivalries provide the lifeblood, although in this case matters proved somewhat one-sided, and for the reason for that you will have to look to the Silanda.'



A sage nod. 'Of course, the ship woven in sorceries, where time itself is denied.'



'Do you know the manner of those sorceries, Destriant?'



'Kurald Emurlahn, Tellann, Telas and a residue of Toblakai, although in this latter case the nature of the power is… uncertain. Of course,' he added, 'there is nothing unusual in that. Among the ancient Toblakai – according to our own histories – there could arise individuals, warriors, who became something of a warren unto themselves. Such power varies in its efficacy, and it would appear that this sort of blood talent was waning in the last generations of the Toblakai civilization, growing ever weaker. In any case,' the Destriant added, shrugging, 'as I said, a residue remains on this Silanda. Toblakai. Which is rather interesting, since it was believed that the giant race was extinct.'



'There are said to be remnants,' Keneb offered, 'in the Fenn Range of north Quon Tali. Primitive, reclusive…'



'Oh yes,' Run'thurvian said, 'of mixed bloods there are known examples, vastly diminished, of course. The Trell, for example, and a tribe known as the Barghast. Ignorant of past glories, as you suggest.



Fist, may I ask you a question?'



'Of course.'



'The Adjunct Tavore. It appears that the relationship with her Empress has become strained. Have I surmised correctly? This is disturbing news, given what awaits us.'



Keneb looked away, then he cleared his throat. 'Destriant, I have no idea what awaits us, although it seems that you do. As for the Empress, again, there is nothing I can imagine to give rise to mutual distrust. The Adjunct is the Hand of the Empress. An extension of Laseen's will.'



'The Empress would not be inclined, therefore,' Run'thurvian said, 'to sever that hand, yes? I am relieved to hear this.'



'Good… why?'



'Because,' the Destriant said, turning away, 'your Fourteenth Army will not be enough.'



****