Return of the Crimson Guard

Ho, his eyes closed, nodded, almost despairing. Yes, a throat. And none of our sounding stones have yet to reach bottom. There is not enough rope in all the island to descend the i

‘And what do you hear?’ Yath urged, a hand clutched at his own throat, his eyes feverishly bright.

Grief cocked his head, crouched, silent for a time. Everyone below stilled as well. ‘I hear a breeze… sighing, or whispering… like the wind through a forest in the fall.’

‘He's a strong one,’ Su whispered to Ho. Edging her head sideways, she glanced up. ‘What did you hear?’

‘Screams of the insane. You?’

She dropped her head. ‘Inconsolable weeping.’

Yath now spread both his hands over the carved jade face, his long fingers splayed. He pressed the side of his own face to it, his mouth moving silently.

‘What in Opo

Sensing something, Grief peered up. ‘What?’ He shifted to the lip of the walkway, glanced down to them uncertainly. ‘I am amazed, I'll grant you that. And if we had-’

‘Wait,’ Yath interrupted, moving away from the opening.

Something drew Grief around. Ho felt it as well, in the stirring of his own thin hair, the pressing of the cloth of his shirt against his chest. A hiss of alarm escaped Su's lips.

Roaring burst from the mouth in a rushing torrent. Grief ducked but an explosion of air erupted from the mouth like the giant's own exhalation of breath. It plucked the man from the landing and threw him flying across the cavern. Everyone clapped hands to their heads as their ears popped. Several fell, screaming excruciating pain. A storm of dust roiled about the cavern blocking all vision, while above them Yath laughed and howled like a madman possessed.

As the dust settled Ho found the knot of inmates who had gathered around the fallen Malazan. He pushed his way through; Treat was there, kneeling at the side of his friend, who lay motionless.

‘Bring the next one!’ Yath ordered from the walkway, but no one listened. Everyone was shouting at him at once: when did he discover this capability? Why hadn't he shared his knowledge? How had he come to it? Was it conscious, or merely reflexive? What of the qualities of the air?

Ho stood silent, looking down at the dead man. The fellow had been difficult, brusque, highhanded even, but he had liked him. And none of them had even suspected what Yath had intended. That is, none except Su.

Treat raised a hand and slapped it hard across his dead friend's face. Inmates took hold of the man to pull him away, but Grief coughed, wincing, and covered his face with both hands. He groaned. ‘Hood take me, that hurt.’

Ho gaped – this was impossible! The man flew right over their heads! How… without magic… how? Treat pulled Grief upright and he stood swaying, brushed the dust from his leathers. He cupped his neck in both hands, twisted his head side to side. ‘Well, now that that's out of the way maybe we can get out of here.’

‘What!’ came a bellow of consternation from above.

The inmates flinched away leaving a broad empty circle around the three Malazans. Su burst out laughing her contempt. ‘Difficult to kill, these two.’ She cocked her head, addressed Grief. ‘Come recruiting?’

Grief examined her up and down. ‘Wickan? Definitely.’

Yath arrived, his eyes wild. ‘What is this? Still alive?’ He gestured to the spearmen. ‘What are you waiting for? They are obviously a threat! Kill them now.’

Treat snatched a spear from the nearest, levelled it against Yath. Sessin was suddenly there to slap his hands on the haft just short of the knapped stone point. The two men yanked back and forth, spear between them, sandalled feet shifting in the dry dirt. ‘Stop this now!’ Ho shouted. Yath waved everyone back. The tug of war continued, Sessin gri

Yath raised a hand, shouted something in the Seven Cities dialect. He addressed Grief: ‘Who are you?’

‘An ally.’ Grief raised his voice to address everyone. ‘We've come to bring you all back to Quon to fight the Empire. What say you? Revenge against those who imprisoned you?’

Yath stared, eyes bulging, then he laughed his madman's laugh. ‘You idiot! What use can any of these old men and women be? What of the Otataral?’

Grief shrugged. ‘The Pit has long since been mined out. It's just a prison now. The little ore that remains that you have been digging out contains the barest trace element. And that raw, unrefined. It can be cleaned off.’

‘It's in the food!’ someone called out.

Again the shrug. ‘A change of diet. It will pass.’

Yath smoothed his beard, thinking. ‘If its presence is as mild as you say – then why can none of us draw upon the Warrens? Why is all theurgy closed to us?’

‘Proximity. It's our location here on the island. Once we get away it will come back.’

‘But we've been breathing it in!’ a voice objected.

‘There are many alchemical treatments, expectorants.’

‘That's true,’ someone said. ‘D'bayang powder inhaled with sufficient force can-’

‘Will you shut up!’ Yath snarled. He clasped his staff in both hands across his middle. ‘Believe me, Mezla, I want revenge upon your Empire more than you can possibly imagine. But we are down here in this – prison – as you name it and I do not see how you propose to get us out!’

Grief was rubbing and rolling a shoulder, grimacing. ‘Fair enough.’ He glanced around. ‘What time of day is it above?’

‘Before dawn,’ someone answered, nods all around.

‘OK. Let's go up to the mine-head and we'll have you lot out by dawn.’

Yath sneered. ‘Lies! Once there you'll call for the guards to rescue you.’

‘So stick us with your spears.’

Yath subsided, glowering, his mouth working. Su laughed her scorn. The two headed to the tu

Ho brought up the rear, waiting for Su. Once the rest of the inmates were sufficiently ahead he asked, ‘So, who are they then?’

The witch cast him a creamy self-satisfied look. ‘Have you not guessed by now?’

‘No. So, they're not Malazan.’

Her stick lashed him across his shin and he danced away, wincing. ‘Please! Of course they are Malazan. But then there are Malazans and then there are Malazans.’

‘I don't understand.’

‘Obviously.’

They walked along in silence for a time. ‘So they're with this secessionist movement we've been hearing of.’

Su waved him away like an a

Ho shook his head. ‘I've never thought about it.’

She studied him keenly once more, frowning. ‘You have no imagination, Ho. In fact, you lack many things that would make a man whole.’

‘Is that an insult?’

‘A temper, for example. I don't recall ever seeing you angry. Where did your temper walk off to, magus? Your ambition? Your drive?’

‘That subject's closed, Su,’ he growled and headed off.

He waited for her where the sloping tu