The Malazans assembled on the waterfront set to muttering among themselves. Lee had to shake her head in admiration. Well played, Koreth.
Mock could also see this news spreading among the crews, so he put on a stern face, shocked. ‘And where are these prisoners?’
Koreth gestured lazily to his vessel. ‘Why, on board the Sapphire, now.’
Mock set his hands on his hips, raising his voice. ‘I demand you hand them over immediately!’
‘In return for the Napan criminals in your midst, aye.’
‘First bring them all ashore.’
‘Half, first.’
‘You fetch these Napans – I’ll not lift a hand against any free resident.’
Koreth inclined his head, pleased. ‘As it should be. Done.’
‘Done!’
Koreth nodded to one of his escort, who began signalling the Sapphire. Mock turned to his captains. ‘Give the Napans some help in bringing our lads and lasses ashore.’ Hess, Guran and Renish set off down the pier, shouting orders.
Lee turned away. Everything seemed to be well in hand. Koreth’s hands, that is. A straight exchange, and one Mock could not have dared turn down. Could those damned Napans really be out of her way? She paused as she pushed through the crowd, thinking that she should get over there herself with her boys and be ready to move in immediately.
A familiar face caught her attention among the press: that scarred old mage who now worked for the Napans. She gave him her best savage smile. You, my friend, are about to be out of a job.
But the mage wasn’t even looking at her. His attention was focused to the north-east, far out to sea. The man’s eyes grew huge and he went scrambling off, shoving men and women out of his way.
Lee peered out over the bay, frowning. Some sort of strange disturbance was headed their way. It looked like a waterspout, or one of those twisting, gyring winds that could whip up over the plains. What did they call them – wind-devils? Cyclones?
She shaded her gaze now from dust being thrown up by the gathering winds. What was so frightening about a little localized blow like this? And there wasn’t even a cloud in the sky.
*
Cartheron came thumping down the stairs of Smiley’s, kitbag on his shoulder, sword at his hip. He was rather surprised to find the whole crew gathered in the common room. ‘We have to go now,’ he said, a touch uncertain. But Urko, leaning against a wall, just pointed to Surly. She had her arms crossed and Cartheron thought, Shit!
‘I’m not running,’ she said. ‘There’s nowhere to run to.’
Urko nodded his fierce agreement.
‘We can find a ship on the far side of the island…’
Choss snorted. ‘A ship? Rowboat, you mean.’
‘There’s bound to be something.’
Surly shook her head. ‘No. I’ll not be run down like a rabbit. We meet them here.’
Urko smacked a fist into a palm with a resounding slap. ‘About damned time.’
Cartheron motioned to the local hires watching the windows. ‘And the locals?’
Surly eyed them as well, then raised her voice to address them. ‘You’re all free to go. I give you leave. This isn’t your fight.’
Their unofficial leaders, the old veteran Dujek and his seeming adjutant Jack, shared a glance, then Dujek cleared his throat. ‘If it’s all right with all a’ you, we’ll stay.’
Surly nodded her gratitude. ‘You’re more than welcome.’
Two Malazan toughs watching the door shouted a warning, and yanked it open. In burst Hawl and Nedurian. ‘I have an errand!’ the old Talian mage shouted to Surly, then Hawl pushed him back towards the door and he was off.
Surly raised her hands to Hawl. ‘It’s okay, we know.’
Hawl shook her head, short of breath. ‘No – you most certainly don’t.’
*
Once again, Nedurian found Agayla out in the street before her shop. The cobbled way ran more or less east–west down to the waterfront and she was watching the waters of the bay in the darkening dusk. Barely visible far out across the waves rose a strange blur of a disturbance, and it looked to be headed straight for them.
‘Impressive, yes?’ he said to Agayla.
She nodded, her scowling face showing her habitual disapproval, together with a touch of apprehensiveness. ‘I’ve not seen the like in a century. And it is still leagues off…’
‘Who do you think it could be?’
She shook her head in a negative. ‘I do not know … but there are few who are that powerful.’
He blinked in the gusting winds, blew on his fists to warm his hands. ‘I’m not looking forward to this.’
She eyed him, frowned her confusion, then shook her head. ‘We’re not interfering. It’s not our fight.’
‘But the city…’
She continued shaking her head in a firm negative. ‘Even so. Our duties lie elsewhere. Understood?’
‘But escalation … what of the other? This Nightchill?’
‘She has already moved out of the way. She’s in the south. In fact,’ and Agayla rubbed her arms as if chilled, ‘we should join her. We will be lodestones to what is coming.’
He looked away, into town. ‘I have other duties…’
‘You will be a danger to everyone around you and they will be helpless before this.’
He risked another glance towards the disturbance and winced at the yammering lashing power at its heart. He’d seen such things before. Abyss, he’d been a participant.
A full-on to the death mage duel, Warren sizzling against Warren. He’d seen such things brush entire battalions aside. For now, whoever it was, they appeared entirely engrossed with one another. He dared not upset that balance.
He gave a curt bob of his head. ‘Very well. Though it galls me to retreat like this.’
‘With luck they will sweep right on across the island. Frankly, to them, it is as if we aren’t even here.’
*
Kellanved shifted the three of them from Shadow and Dancer was relieved to find himself back within the House. No surprises for once! After brushing dust from his shirt and trousers, he led the way to the front door. As usual, the armoured giant stood resting in its alcove. Here, Dassem paused, eyeing the empty side room where they had left his friend.
‘As I said,’ Kellanved murmured in the silence, ‘the House has moved her somewhere.’
‘But where?’ the Dal Hon swordsman answered, and Dancer could tell he was upset by the way his hands clenched.
Kellanved gave a small shrug. ‘Perhaps somewhere less … busy.’
Dancer snorted his agreement. ‘I’ll say. It must seem like a major port now with us coming and going.’ He pushed open the door and set out across the yard to the gate. It was evening, the stars emerging overhead. Kellanved followed, and Dassem came along behind.
The wind was high; some sort of blow was closing upon them from the east, which was surprising as most storms swept in from the south. Strange, given that it was a clear night. Not one cloud in the darkening sky.
Dancer glanced down the way to the waterfront and stopped, surprised. A damned huge man-o-war lay at anchor, effectively blockading the harbour. And though its sails were down for the blow, they were clearly a very dark blue.
He gestured towards the bay. ‘What’s this?’
‘That is a Napan vessel,’ Dassem answered.