* * *
Seti warriors whooped and sang their war-chants through the next day, riding circles around Toc's command tent where he reclined together with Choss and the Assembly leaders. Occasionally a warrior would ride past the opened flaps and Toc would glimpse a piece of booty held high, a sword, silver plate, silk cloth, a severed human head. His gaze shifted to Choss who lay back, an arm over one knee, his mouth sour behind his dirty-blond beard, eyes downcast. Sorry, Choss. Things did not go as hoped. We were stopped on two counts by acts eerily reminiscent of Old Empire tactics. Toc shifted his numb elbow, straightening it and wincing. It was as if they faced themselves – and he supposed in fact they were. Malazan-trained military engineers, masters of siegecraft. Poor Captain Leen, blasted from the face of the earth by what was probably the largest mangonel ever constructed on the continent. Then that same engineer dumps his ammunition to immolate the curtain wall. It cost almost an entire battle group. But they took the Outer Round. Yes, the Outer. When we'd planned to have the Inner. Plan was … Toc let his gaze slide up to the bright canvas roof of the tent. Well, plan was to be nearing Unta by now.
‘Why so grim, Malazans?’ Imotan called across the tent.
Toc forced a smile. ‘We'd hoped for more.’
‘Yes, yes. That is plain. But you should rejoice for what you have accomplished! Never before have the walls of Heng been breached! We have entered! Soon the rest will fall like a tree wounded and tottering.’
Toc raised a tumbler of tea to that, which Imotan answered. The walls weren't breached, you fool. Can't you see this was but the first blooding in what would surely prove to be a fight to the death for the both of them? And they'd shot their best bolt first. All to bind you lot to the siege. Now this Fist, Storo, will be wary It won't work a second time. But then you can rejoice, can't you, Imotan, and your lackey, Hipal? Heng wounded all without your warriors hardly spilling a drop? It's our war, Malazan versus Malazan while you watch us bloody each other – no wonder you're grinning!
Raising the tumbler a second time, Toc held Imotan's gaze. That's the deal, shaman. We'll remove this thorn from your side, which you have failed to reach for so long. In return, you will accompany us east with every living soul able to mount a horse to burn, harass, worry and harry, harry, harry any force she might field against us.
Imotan answered with his tumbler. His smile behind his grey beard was savage, and his glittering black eyes held the knowing promise of bloodshed – for Malazans.