Steven Erikson - Memories of Ice

'Back off, Gruntle. I'd hurt you bad before you finished using those cutlasses on me.'

'Oh, that's sweet — get one of your few remaining friends to kill you. Seems I was wrong, it's not just self-pity, is it? You're not obsessed with the tragic deaths of your family, you're obsessed with yourself, Buke. Your guilt's an endlessly rising tide, and that ego of yours is a levee and all you do is keep slapping fresh bricks on it. The wall gets higher and higher, and you're looking down on the world from a lofty height — with a Hood-damned sneer.'

Buke was pale and trembling. 'If that's the way you see it,' he rasped, 'then why call me friend at all?'

Beru knows, I'm beginning to wonder. He drew a deep breath, managed to calm himself down. 'We've known each other a long time. We've never crossed blades.' And you were in the habit of getting drunk for days on end, a habit you broke. but one I haven't. Took the deaths of everyone you loved to do that, and I'm terrified it might take the same for me.

Thank Hood the lass married that fat merchant.

'Doesn't sound like much, Gruntle.'

We're two of a kind, you bastard — cut past your own ego and you'd see that fast enough. But he said nothing.

'Sun's almost down,' Buke observed after a time. They'll attack when it's dark.'

'How do you defend against them?'

'You don't. Can't. Like chopping into wood, from what I've seen, and they're fast. Gods, they're fast! We're all dead, Gruntle. Bauchelain and Korbal Broach ain't got much left — did you see them sweat mending the carriage? They're wrung dry, those two.'

'Keruli is a mage as well,' Gruntle said. 'Well, more likely a priest.'

'Let's hope his god's cocked an eye on us, then.'

And what are the chances of that?

With the sun's light pooling crimson on the horizon behind them, they made camp. Stonny guided the horses and oxen into a makeshift, rope-lined kraal to one side of the carriages — a position that would give them a chance to flee inland if it came to that.

A kind of resignation descended within the growing gloom as a meal was prepared over a small fire, Harllo electing himself cook. Neither Keruli nor the two sorcerers emerged from their respective carriages to join the small group.

Moths gathered around the smokeless flames. Sipping mulled wine, Gruntle watched their fluttering, mindless plunges into oblivion with a faintly bitter amusement.

Darkness closed in, the scatter of stars overhead sharpening. With the supper done, Hetan rose. 'Harllo, come with me now. Quickly.'

'My lady?' the man enquired.

Gruntle sprayed a mouthful of wine. Choking, coughing, with Stonny pounding on his back, it was a while before he managed to recover. Through watering eyes, he grinned at Harllo. 'You heard the lady.'

He watched his friend's eyes slowly grow wide.

Impatient, Hetan stepped forward and gripped Harllo by one arm. She pulled him to his feet, then dragged him out into the darkness.

Staring after them, Stonny frowned. 'What's all that about?'

Not a single man spoke up.

She swung a glare on Gruntle. After a moment, she hissed with understanding. 'What an outrage!'

'My dear,' the captain laughed, 'after Saltoan, that's a little rich coming from you.'

'Don't you "dear" me, Gruntle! What are the rest of us supposed to do — sit here and listen to gross grunting and groaning from that hump of grasses over there? Disgusting!'

'Really, Stonny. In the circumstances, it makes perfect sense-'

'It's not that, you idiot! That woman chose Harllo ! Gods, I'm going to be sick! Harllo! Look around this fire — there's you, and let's face it, a certain type of uncultured, trashy woman couldn't resist you. And Buke, tall and weathered with a tortured soul — surely worth a snakefight or three. But Harllo? That tangled-haired ape?'

'He's got big hands,' Gruntle murmured. 'So Hetan observed last… uh, last night.'

Stonny stared, then leaned forward. 'She had you last night! Didn't she? That loose, grease-smeared savage had you! I can see the truth in your smug face, Gruntle, so don't deny it!'

'Well, you just heard her — how could any warm-blooded man resist?'

'Fine, then!' she snapped, rising. 'Buke, on your feet, damn you.'

He flinched back. 'No — I couldn't — I, uh, no, I'm sorry, Stonny-'

Snarling, she whirled on the two silent Barghast.

Cafal smiled. 'Choose Netok. He's yet-'

'Fine!' She gestured.

The youth rose unsteadily.

'Big hands,' Gruntle observed.

'Shut up, Gruntle.'

'Head in the other direction, please,' he continued. 'You wouldn't want to stumble over anything … unsightly.'

'Damn right in that. Let's go, Netok.'

They walked off, the Barghast trailing like a pup on a leash.

The captain swung to Buke. 'You fool.'

The man just shook his head, staring down at the fire.

Emancipor Reese reached for the tin pot holding the spiced wine. 'Two more nights,' he muttered. 'Typical.'

Gruntle stared at the old man for a moment, then grinned. 'We ain't dead yet — who knows, maybe Oponn's smiling down on you.'

'That'd make a change,' Reese grumbled.

'How in Hood's name did you get tied up with your two masters, anyway?'

'Long story,' he muttered, sipping at his wine. 'Too long to tell, really. My wife, you see … Well, the posting offered travel. '

'Are you suggesting you chose the lesser of two evils?'

'Heavens forfend, sir.'

'Ah, you've regrets now, then.'

'I didn't say that, neither.'

A sudden yowl from the darkness startled everyone.

'Which one made that sound, I wonder?' Gruntle mused.

'None,' Reese said. 'My cat's come back.'

A carriage door opened. Moments later Bauchelain's black-clad form appeared. 'Our sticksnare returns. hastily. I suggest you call in the others and prepare your weapons. Tactically, attempt to hamstring these hunters, and stay low when you close — they prefer horizontal cuts. Emancipor, if you would kindly join us. Captain Gruntle, perhaps you might inform your master, though no doubt he is already aware.'

Suddenly chilled, Gruntle rose. 'We'll be lucky to see anything, dammit.'

'That will not be an issue,' Bauchelain replied. 'Korbal, dear friend,' he called out behind him, 'a broad circle of light, if you please.'

The area was suddenly bathed in a soft, golden glow, reaching out thirty or more paces on all sides.

The cat yowled again and Gruntle caught sight of a tawny flash, darting back out into the darkness. Hetan and Harllo approached from one side, hastily tucking in clothing. Stonny and Netok arrived as well. The captain managed a strained grin. 'Not enough time, I take it,' he said to her.

Stonny grimaced. 'You should be more forgiving — it was the lad's first try.'

'Oh, right.'

'A damned shame, too,' she added, pulling on her duelling gloves. 'He had potental, despite the grease.'

The three Barghast had gathered now, Cafal jabbing a row of lances into the stony earth whilst Hetan busied herself tying a thick cord to join the three of them. Fetishes of feather and bone hung from knots in the cord, and Gruntle judged that the span between each warrior would be five or six arm-lengths. When the other two were done, Netok handed them double-bladed axes. All three set the weapons down at their feet and collected a lance each. Hetan leading, they began a soft, rumbling chant.

'Captain.'

Gruntle pulled his gaze from the Barghast and found Master Keruli at his side. The man's hands were folded on his lap, his silk cape shimmering like water. 'The protection I can offer is limited. Stay close to me, you and Harllo and Stonny. Do not allow yourselves to be drawn forward. Concentrate on defence.'