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

Reaper's Gale (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #7) Page 402

Seventy thousand or two hundred thousand. The destruction of Bivatt and her army. Neither mattered in the greater scheme of things. The Letherii Empire would throw back these new invaders. Failing that, they would bribe them away from the Bolkando; indeed, turn them round to fashion an alliance that would sweep into the border kingdoms in waves of brutal slaughter.

Perhaps, she suddenly realized, there was a way through this… She glanced about until she saw one, of her Finadds. Walked over. ‘Prepare a delegation, Finadd. We will seek parley with this new enemy.’

‘Yes sir.’ The man rushed off.

‘Atri-Preda!’

Bivatt turned to see Brohl Handar approach. The Overseer did not, at this moment, look like an imperial governor. He was covered in gore, gripping his sword in one hand thick with dried blood.

‘It seems we are not too late after all,’ he said.

‘These are not Awl, Overseer.’

‘I see that clearly enough. I see also, Atri-Preda, that you and I will die here today.’ He paused, then grunted a laugh. ‘Do you recall, Bivatt, warning me that Letur Anict sought to kill me? Yet here I have marched with you and your army, all this way-’

‘Overseer,’ she cut in. ‘The Factor infiltrated my forces with ten assassins. All of whom are dead.’

His eyes slowly widened.

Bivatt continued, ‘Have you seen the tall soldier often at your side? I set him the task of keeping you alive, and he has done all that I commanded. Unfortunately, Overseer, I believe that he shall soon fail at it.’ Unless I can negotiate our way out of this.

She faced the advancing enemy once more. They were now raising standards. Only a few, and identical to each other. Bivatt squinted in the afternoon light.

And recognized those standards.

She went cold inside. ‘Too bad,’ she said.

Atri-Preda?’

‘I recognize those standards, Overseer. There will be no parley. Nor any chance of surrender.’

‘Those warriors,’ Brohl Handar said after a moment, ‘are the ones who have been raising the cairns.’

‘Yes.’

‘They have been with us, then, for some time.’

‘Their scouts at the least, Overseer. Longer than you think.’

Atri-Preda.’

She faced him, studied his grave expression. ‘Overseer?’

‘Die well, Bivatt.’

‘I intend to. And you. Die well, Brohl Handar.’

Brohl walked away from her then, threading through a line of soldiers, his eyes fixed on one in particular. Tall, with a gentle face streaked now in mud.

The Tiste Edur caught the man’s gaze, and answered the easy smile with one of his own.

‘Overseer, I see you have had an exciting day.’

‘I see the same on you,’ Brohl replied, ‘and it seems there is more to come.’

‘Yes, but I tell you this, I am pleased enough. For once, there is solid ground beneath me.’

The Overseer thought to simply thank the soldier, for keeping him alive this long. Instead, he said nothing for a long moment.

The soldier rubbed at his face, then said, ‘Sir, your Arapay await you, no doubt. See, the enemy readies itself.’

And yes, this is what Brohl Handar wanted. ‘My Arapay will fight well enough without me, Letherii. I would ask one final boon of you.’

‘Then ask, sir.’

‘I would ask for the privilege of fighting at your side. Until we fall.’

The man’s soft eyes widened slightly, then all at once the smile returned. ‘Choose, then, Overseer. Upon my right or upon my left.’

Brohl Handar chose the man’s left. As for guarding his own unprotected flank, he was indifferent.

Somehow, the truth of that pleased him.

In the city of Drene at this time, riots raged over the entire north half of the city, and with the coming night the mayhem would spread into the more opulent south districts.

Venitt Sathad, granted immediate audience with Factor Letur Anict-who awaited him standing before his desk, his round, pale face glistening with sweat, and in whose eyes the steward saw, as he walked towards the man, a kind of bemusement at war with deeper stresses-walked forward, in neither haste nor swagger. Rather, a walk of singular purpose.

He saw Letur Anict blink suddenly, a rapid reassessment, even as he continued right up to the man.

And drove a knife into the Factor’s left eye, deep into the brain.

The weight of Letur Anict, as he collapsed, pulled the weapon free.

Venitt Sathad bent to clean the blade off on the Factor’s silk robe; then he straightened, turned for the door, and departed.