The new fist that arrived hammered like a maul against the side of the Errant’s head, snapping it far over. The gleaming eye seemed to wink out and the god crumpled, vanishing from Brys’s dwindling vision.
All at once the coils weakened, and then frayed into dissolving threads.
Brys drew a ragged, delicious breath of chill night air.
He heard horse hoofs, a half dozen beasts, maybe more, approaching at a canter from up the street. Blinking sweat from his eyes, Brys rolled on to his stomach and then forced himself to his knees.
A hand closed on his harness and lifted him to his feet.
He found himself staring up at a Tarthenal-a familiar face, the heavy, robust features knotted absurdly into a fierce frown.
‘I got a question for you. It was for your brother and I was on my way but then I saw you.’
The riders arrived, horses skidding on the dew-slick cobbles-a Malazan troop, Brys saw, weapons unsheathed. One of them, a dark-skinned woman, pointed with a sword. ‘He crawled into that alley-come on, let’s chop the bastard into stewing meat!’ She made to dismount and then seemed to sag and an instant later she collapsed on to the street, weapon clattering.
Other soldiers dropped down from their mounts. Three of them converged on the unconscious woman, while the others fanned out and advanced into the alley.
Brys was still having difficulty staying upright. He found himself leaning with one forearm against the Tarthenal. ‘Ublala Pung,’ he sighed, ‘thank you.’
‘I got a question.’
Brys nodded. ‘All right, let’s hear it.’
‘But that’s the problem. I forgot what it was.’
One of the Malazans crowded round the woman now straightened and faced them. ‘Sinter said there was trouble,’ he said in heavily accented trader tongue. ‘Said we needed to hurry-to here, to save someone.’
‘I believe,’ Brys said, ‘the danger has passed. Is she all right, sir?’
‘I’m a sergeant-people don’t “sir” me… sir. She’s just done in. Both her and her sister.’ He scowled. ‘But we’ll escort you just the same, sir-she’d never forgive us if something happened to you now. So, wherever you’re going…’
The other soldiers emerged from the alley, and one said something in Malazan, although Brys needed no translation to understand that they’d found no one-the Errant’s survival instincts were ever strong, even when he’d been knocked silly by a Tarthenal’s fist.
‘It seems,’ Brys said, ‘I shall have an escort after all.’
‘It is not an offer you can refuse, sir,’ said the sergeant.