Return of the Crimson Guard

For her part, Shimmer saw the humour. She, Ski

But no. Ski

The final tall set of double doors crashed open under Ski

‘Empty,’ Shimmer said, mostly because someone had to.

‘Almost,’ Ski

A short chubby man in rich blue and green robes bowed where he waited next to a pillar. He gestured to a table holding carafes of clear water. ‘Refresh yourselves please, honoured ones. I see that your passage has been a particularly desiccating one.’

Ski

The man bowed again. ‘As I know. Which is why I would never make such an ill-advised attempt.’

Shimmer drew off her helmet, tucked it under one arm. ‘You are?’

‘Mallick Rel. Duly elected spokesman for the Assembly of regional governors and representatives.’ He smiled unctuously, bobbing his head.

Shimmer helped herself to the water, drank deeply and found it wonderfully refreshing. ‘Come to take the measure of your new masters?’

The man's lips drew back in a thin smile, revealing sickly green teeth. ‘If the Gods should will it so…’

It seemed to Shimmer that this man was not nearly as nervous as he should be. Ski

The man's eyes fluttered as he blinked his confusion. ‘But wasn't the water cool and fresh?’

Shimmer laughed. ‘It was that. My thanks.’

‘Excellent. A job well done is its own reward.’

Now it was Shimmer's turn to stare, uncertain. This man's game was deep – was he angling to maintain his position, or was that actually… mockery?

But Ski

The man bowed and backed out. Lazar pulled the doors shut.

This whole thing is a mistake, Ski

Ski

Shimmer bowed. ‘You are going on alone?’

‘Yes. There is are some… options… Cowl and I wish to look into.’

Shimmer bowed again. ‘As you order.’ She gestured Smoky behind her, faced Lazar, Black the Lesser, Shijel and Kalt. ‘Form up and have a care.’

They'd left behind the i

The muted, distant murmur of battle; her command was under attack.

Possum strode beneath the fluttering awnings of Collunus Bourse, the second largest of the covered exchanges specializing in imported goods. Deserted, now, in the chaos and rioting of this evening. His guards flanked him and Claw ru

A ru

Possum did not try to answer for now they had entered the clamour of the battle zone. Malazan regulars came and went, hustling equipment to the engagement: flammables, shields, sheaths of arrows and crossbow bolts. The disassembled components of a harbour siege weapon came dragged by. Possum thought that a damned good idea. But the regulars were few, vastly outnumbered by the Untan citizen volunteer militia that had arisen to the challenge with a will and a fury no one, certainly not Possum, had anticipated. He couldn't help reflecting with a dose of his old cynicism that it mustn't have hurt that the Claw had spread the offer of ten thousand Imperial gold discs for the head of each Avowed.

The ru

‘How many?’

‘A few – less than ten. Maybe a blade.’

Possum took the opportunity to look out over the city. The sky was taking on an orange glow, tinted by the flames; the afternoon was giving way to evening. Smoke plumes rose like a handful of tossed markers a

‘Munitions?’

‘Yes.’

The man, his face marred by a severe youthful dose of the pox, glanced sidelong to the ru

‘Wait?

‘Yes.’

‘Wait for what? For Gods or Ascendants to appear in the bloody streets? We don't have to wait for anything! I'm the Lady-damned Clawmaster!’