The Bonehunters

On a slight ledge near his left shoulder crouched the rat. He wanted to kiss the damned thing.

But not yet. Things looked badly jammed up around that hole. Big stones. Panic whispered through him.

With the rock in his hand, Bottle struck at the stone. A spurt of blood from one fingertip, crushed by the impact – he barely felt it.

Hammering, hammering away. Chips raining down every now and then. His arm tiring – he was ru

Each impact weaker than the one before.

No, damn you! No!

He swung again.

Blood spattered his eyes.

Captain Faradan Sort reined in on the ridge, just north of the dead city. Normally, a city that had fallen to siege soon acquired its scavengers, old women and children scrambling about, picking through the ruins. But not here, not yet, anyway. Maybe not for a long time.

Like a cracked pot, the steep sides of Y'Ghatan's tel had bled out – melted lead, copper, silver and gold, veins and pools filled with accreted stone chips, dust and potsherds.

Offering an arm, Sort helped Si

And the captain had begun to doubt her own reading of the child Si

Or, perhaps not. Perhaps nothing more than an insane grief – for her lost brother.

Sca

Si

The captain unstrapped her helm and lifted it clear to settle it on the saddle horn. She wiped grimy sweat from her brow. Desertion. Well, it wasn't the first time, now, was it? If not for Si

She watched as Si

Now what?

Replacing the helm, the sodden leather inside-rim momentarily cool against her brow, the strap feeling stretched as she fixed the clasp beneath her jaw, Faradan Sort collected the reins and guided her horse into a slow descent down the scree.

The scavenger was crying, grubby hands pressed against her eyes. All that dust on her, the webs in her hair – this was the true face of war, the captain knew. That child's face would haunt her memories, joining the many other faces, for as long as she lived.

Si

Too much, Sort decided. The child was mad. She glanced again at the scavenger, who did not seem aware that they had arrived. Hands still pressed against eyes. Red scrapes through the dust, a trickle of blood down one shin. Had she fallen? From where?

The captain rode up to halt her horse beneath Si

Si

Grimacing, the captain side-stepped the mount closer to the wall, then reached up to pull Si

Squealing, the girl lunged upward, one hand shooting into a hole**** His strength, his will, was gone. A short rest, then he could begin again. A short rest, the voices below drifting away, it didn't matter.

Sleep, now, the dark, warm embrace – drawing him down, ever deeper, then a blush of sweet golden light, wind rippling yellow grasses-and he was free, all pain gone. This, he realized, was not sleep. It was death, the return to the most ancient memory buried in each human soul. Grasslands, the sun and wind, the warmth and click of insects, dark herds in the distance, the lone trees with their vast canopies and the cool shade beneath, where lions dozed, tongues lolling, flies dancing round indifferent, languid eyes…

Death, and this long buried seed. We return. We return to the world…

And she reached for him, then, her hand damp with sweat, small and soft, prying his fingers loose from the rock they gripped, blood sticking – she clutched at his hand, as if filled with fierce need, and he knew the child within her belly was calling out in its own silent language, its own needs, so demanding…

Nails dug into the cuts on his handBottle jolted awake, eyes blinking – daylight almost gone – and a small hand reaching through from outside, grasping and tugging at his own.

Help. 'Help – you, outside – help us-'

As she reached up yet further to tug the girl down, Sort saw Si

'What now-' And then there came a faint voice, seemingly from the very stones. Faradan Sort's eyes widened. 'Si

The girl's hand, shoved into that crack – it was holding on to something.

Someone.

'Oh, gods below!'

Crunching sounds outside, boots digging into stone, then gloved fingers slipped round one edge beside the child's forearm, and Bottle heard: 'You, inside – who? Can you hear me?'

A woman. Accented Ehrlii… familiar? 'Fourteenth Army,' Bottle said.

'Malazans.' The child's grip tightened.

'Opo

Si

We've been found! They're going to dig us out! Let everyone know!'

Si

The woman spoke again. 'Soldier, move away from the hole – I'm going to use my sword.'

'Captain? Is that you?'

'Aye. Now, move back and cover your eyes – what? Oh, where'd all those children come from? Is that one of Fiddler's squad with them? Get down there, Si

The sword-point dug into the concreted brick and stone. Chips danced down.

Cuttle was climbing up from below, grunting. 'We gotta widen this some more, Bottle. That runt who dropped down the hole. We sent Smiles after her. A tu

'Good. Cuttle, it's the captain. The Adjunct, she must have waited for us – sent searchers out to find us.'

'That makes no sense-'

'You're right,' Faradan Sort cut in. 'They've marched, soldiers. It's just me, and Si

'They left you behind?'

'No, we deserted. Si

'Her brother's down here,' Cuttle said. 'Corporal Shard.'

'Alive?'

'We think so, Captain. How many days has it been?'

'Three. Four nights if you count the breach. Now, no more questions, and cover your eyes.'

She chopped away at the hole, tugged loose chunks of brick and stone.

The dusk air swept in, cool and, despite all the dust, sweet in Bottle's lungs. Faradan Sort began work on one large chunk, and broke her sword. A stream of Korelri curses.