To which Brukhalian adds, ‘Too the Grey Swords who fell

And this you call Corporal was reborn only to die,

A new bridge forged between you and me, good sir.’

They turn then on their unbreathing mounts

To review the ranks arrayed in grainy mass on the plain

Onward to war from where and what they had once been

When all that was known is all that one knows again

And in this place the heather never blooms

The blood to be spilled never spills and never flows

Iskar Jarak, Bird That Steals, sits astride a black horse

And looks to command once more

– Sword And Shield , Fisher Kel That

Bliss on a sun-warmed sandy beach, on a remote island, proves tedious to souls habituated to stimulation and excitement. The smaller the island, the faster the scene palls. So Gruntle concluded after completing his thirtieth circle round the white rim of the shore, finding himself fascinated by his own footprints, especially when a new set arrived to track his path. Dulled and insensate as he had become, it was a moment before it occurred to him to halt and turn round, to see the one who now followed.

Master Quell was sweating, gasping, fighting through the soft sand as he prob-ably fought through all of life, one wheezing step at a time. He was sunburned on one side of his body, face and neck, bared forearm, ankle and foot, the result of falling asleep in an unwise position. That he had been pursuing Gruntle for some time was clear in that his footprints completed an entire circumlocution, leaving Gruntle to wonder why the man had not simply called out to capture his atten-tion. Indeed, if Gruntle had not noticed the new trail upon his own, they might well have gone round all day, one pursuing, the other simply walking at a pace the pursuer could not achieve.

‘A simple shout,’ he said as the man drew closer.

‘I did not, uh, want, uh, to call undue attention, uh, upon us.’

‘You do not sound well.’

‘I need to pee.’

‘Then-’

‘I can’t. Well, I can, but intermittently. Generally when I’m not, er, thinking about it.’

‘Ah. A healer could-’

‘Yes, yes, I know. Never mind that. Listen-’

‘Master Quell,’ said Gruntle, ‘this was not the way to avoid undue attention-everyone else is sitting right there in the shade of the carriage, and they have been watching us for some time. Me, at least. Why, the Bole brothers wave to me with every pass I make.’

They both glanced over and, sure enough, Jula and Amby waved.

Master Quell rubbed at his bicolour red and pasty face. ‘I need an escort.’

‘For what? To where?’

‘Back to the realm of the dead. No, not in the carriage. Just you and me, Gruntle. I need to get a sense of what’s going on. We need to just, er, slip in. A quick look round, then back out.’

‘And then?’

Quell’s brows lifted. ‘Then? Well, we resume our journey, of course.’

‘You want me to escort you into Hood’s realm, as what, your bodyguard?’

The man bristled slightly. ‘The shareholder agreement you have made with the Guild includes discretionary tasks as assigned by the Pilot.’

Gruntle shrugged. ‘I was but wondering, Master Quell, what possible use I could be, given that the realm is awash with rabid masses of miserable corpses.’

‘I said we’d go in quiet!’

‘We could ask the passenger we picked up back there.’

‘What? Oh, is he still here?’

‘Under the palm trees.’

‘Under them? Only a dead man could be so stupid. Fine, let’s see what we can find out-but I still need to see some things for myself.’

The rest of the crew, along with Mappo, watched them walk over to the twin palm trees, edging into their shade to stand-nervously-before the gaunt, with-ered undead who was piling up coconuts into pyramids like catapult ammuni-tion. Even as he worked, unmindful of his new guests, another nut thumped heavily on the sand nearby, making both Gruntle and Quell flinch.

‘You,’ said Quell.

The ghastly face peered up with shrunken eyes. ‘Do you like these? Patterns. I like patterns.’

‘Happy for you,’ Quell muttered. ‘How long have you been dead?’

‘How long is a taproot?’

‘What? Well, show it to me and I’ll guess.’

‘It’s three times the length of the aboveground stalk. In the baraka shrub, any-way. Does the ratio hold for other plants? Should we find out?(

‘No. Later, I mean. Look, you were marching with all the rest in Hood’s realm. Why? Where were you all going? Or coming from? Was it Hood himself who sum-moned you? Does he command all the dead now?’