Steven Erikson - Memories of Ice

The lanky figure riding what seemed to be an odd breed of dray horse cautiously walked his mount forward. In terribly accented Daru, he called out, 'Hello, friends! Is this a bad time? It seems you argue-'

'Argue?' Stonny snorted. 'You've been living in the woods too long if you think that was an argument! Come closer, and how by the Abyss did you come by such a huge nose?'

The man wilted, hesitated.

'Stonny!' Gruntle admonished. He addressed the rider, 'This woman is rude and miserable to everyone, soldier.'

'I wasn't being rude!' she exclaimed. 'Big noses are like big hands, that's all…'

No-one spoke.

Slowly, the stranger's long, narrow face deepened to crimson.

'Welcome, sir,' Itkovian said. 'Regrets that we have not met before — especially since we all seem to have been left behind by Brood's vanguard, and the Rhivi and all the other companies.'

The man managed a nod. 'Yeah. We'd noticed. I am High Marshal Straw, of the Mott Irregulars.' His pale, watery eyes flicked to Gruntle. 'Nice tattoos. I've got one, too.' He rolled up a grimy sleeve, revealing a muddled, misshapen image on his dirt-smeared shoulder. 'Not sure what happened to it, but it was supposed to be a treefrog on a stump. Of course, treefrogs are hard to see, so it might be pretty good at that — that smudge — here — I think that's the treefrog. Could be a mushroom, though.' His smile revealing enormous teeth, he rolled down his sleeve once more and settled back in his saddle. He suddenly frowned. 'Do you know where we're marching to? And why is everyone in such a hurry?'

'Uh …'

It seemed all Gruntle could manage, so Itkovian spoke up, 'Excellent questions, sir. We march to a city called Maurik, there to rejoin the Malazan army. From Maurik, we will proceed further south, to the city of Coral.'

Straw frowned. 'Will there be a battle at Maurik?'

'No, the city is abandoned. It is simply a convenient locale for the reunification.'

'And Coral?'

'There will likely be a battle there, yes.'

'Cities don't run away. So why are they all rushing?'

Itkovian sighed. 'A perspicacious enquiry, sir, one that leads to certain challenges to previously held assumptions for all concerned.'

'What?'

'Good question, he said,' Stonny drawled.

The Marshal nodded. 'That's why I asked it. I'm known for asking good questions.'

'We see that,' she replied levelly.

'Brood's in a hurry,' Gruntle said, 'because he wants to get to Maurik before the Malazans — who seem to be marching at a faster pace than we'd thought possible.'

'So?'

'Well, uh, the alliance has become rather. uncertain, of late.'

'They're Malazans — what did you expect?'

'To be honest,' Gruntle said, 'I don't think Brood knew what to expect. Are you saying you're not surprised by the recent schism?'

'Schism? Oh, right. No. Anyway, it's obvious why the Malazans are moving so fast.'

Itkovian leaned forward in his saddle. 'It is?'

Straw shrugged. 'We've some of our people there-'

'You have spies among the Malazans?' Gruntle demanded.

'Sure. We always do. It pays to know what they're up to, especially when we was fighting them. Just because we allied with them there was no reason not to keep watching.'

'So why are they marching so fast, Marshal Straw?'

'The Black Moranth, of course. Coming each night, taking whole companies away. There's only about four thousand Malazans left on the road, and half of them support. Dujek's gone, too. Whiskeyjack leads the march — they've come to Maurik River and are making barges.'

'Barges?'

'Sure. To float down the river, I guess. Not to cross, since there was a ford there anyway, and the barges are downriver of it besides.'

'And the river, of course,' Gruntle muttered, 'will take them straight to Maurik. In only a few days.'

Itkovian addressed the Marshal. 'Sir, have you made Caladan Brood aware of this information?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

Straw shrugged again. 'Well, me and the Bole brothers, we talked about that, some.'

'And?'

'We decided that Brood's kind of forgotten.'

'Forgotten, sir? Forgotten what?'

'About us. The Mott Irregulars. We think maybe he'd planned on leaving us behind. Up north. Blackdog Forest. There might have been some kind of order, back then, something about us staying while he went south. We're not sure. We can't remember.'

Gruntle cleared his throat. 'Have you considered informing the warlord of your presence?'

'Well, we don't want to make him mad. I think there was some kind of order, you see. Something like "go away", maybe.'

'Go away? Why would Brood say that to you?'

'Uh, that's just it. Not the warlord. Kallor. That's what had us confused. We don't like Kallor. We usually ignore his orders. So, anyway, here we are. Who are you people?'

'I think, sir,' Itkovian said, 'you should send a rider to Brood — with your report on the Malazans.'

'Oh, we have people there, too, up in the vanguard. They'd been trying to reach the warlord, but Kallor kept turning them back.'

'Now, that's curious,' Gruntle murmured.

'Kallor says we shouldn't even be here. Says the warlord will be furious. So, we're not going close any more. We're thinking of turning round, in fact. We miss Mott Wood — there's no trees here. We like wood. All kinds — we've just reacquired this amazing table … no legs, though, they seemed to have snapped off.'

'For what it is worth,' Gruntle said, 'we'd rather you didn't leave the army, Marshal.'

The man's long face grew glum.

'There's trees!' Stonny suddenly exclaimed. 'South! A forest, around Coral!'

The High Marshal brightened. 'Really?'

'Indeed,' Itokovian said. 'Purportedly a forest of cedars, firs and spruce.'

'Oh, that's OK, then. I'll tell the others. They'll be happy again, and it's better when they're all happy. They've been blunting their weapons of late — a bad sign when they do that.'

'Blunting, sir?'

Straw nodded. 'Dull the edges, make nicks. That way, the damage they do is a lot messier. It's a bad sign when they get into that kind of mood. Very bad. Pretty soon they start dancing around the fire at night. Then that stops and when it stops you know it couldn't get worse, because that means the lads are ready to make war parties, head out in the night looking for something to kill. They been eyeing that big wagon on our trail…'

'Oh,' Gruntle said, 'don't do that — tell them not to do that, Marshal. Those people-'

'Necromancers, yeah. Dour. Very dour. We don't like necromancers, especially the Bole brothers don't like necromancers. They had one squatting on their land, you know, holed up in some old ruined tower in the swamp. Wraiths and spectres every night. So finally the Boles had to do something about it, and they went and rousted the squatter. It was messy, believe me — anyway, they strung up what was left of him at the Low Crossroads, just as a warning to others, you see.'

'These Bole brothers,' Itkovian said, 'sound to be a formidable pair.'

'Pair?' Straw's tangled brows rose. 'There's twenty-three of 'em. Not one of 'em shorter than me. And smart — some of 'em, anyway. Can't read, of course, but can count past ten and that's something, isn't it? Anyway, I got to go. Tell everyone about the trees down south. Goodbye.'

They watched the man ride off.

'He never did get an answer to his question,' Gruntle said after a while.

Itkovian glanced at him. 'Which was?'

'Who we are.'

'Don't be an idiot,' Stonny said, 'he knows precisely who we are.'

'You think that was an act?'

'High Marshal Straw! Abyss take me, of course it was! And he had you both, didn't he? Well, not me. I saw right through it. Instantly.'

'Do you think Brood should be informed, sir?' Itkovian asked her.