Stormy scowled and glanced back at Gesler.
The sergeant slowly rose from the couch. ‘Well, lass, the corporal here’s better with the scary ones… since he tells them so bad they ain’t so scary any more. Since you’re being so kind with… uh, our recent push of the Lord at knuckles, me and the corporal will both weave you a tale, if that’s what you’re here for. We ain’t shy, after all. Where should we start? I was born-’
‘Not that early,’ Lostara cut in. ‘I will leave the rest to Pearl-though perhaps someone could get him something to drink to assist in his recovery. He can advise you on where to start. In the meantime, where is Pella?’
‘He’s out back,’ Gesler said.
‘Thank you.’
As she was making her way to the narrow, low door at the back of the stables, another sergeant emerged to move up alongside her. ‘I’ll escort you,’ he said.
Another damned Falari veteran. And what’s with the finger bones ? ‘Am I likely to get lost, Sergeant?’ she asked as she swung open the door. Six paces beyond was the estate’s back wall. Heaps of sun-dried horse manure were banked against it. Seated on one of them was a young soldier. At the foot of a nearby pile lay two dogs, both asleep, one huge and terribly scarred, the other tiny-a snarl of hair and a pug nose.
‘Possibly,’ the sergeant replied. He touched her arm as she made to approach Pella, and she faced him with an enquiring look. ‘Are you with one of the other legions?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Ah.’ He glanced back at the stables. ‘Newly assigned to handmaid the Claw.’
‘Handmaid?’
‘Aye. The man needs… learning. Seems he chose well in you, at least.’
‘What is it you want, Sergeant?’
‘Never mind. I’ll leave you now.’
She watched him re-enter the stables. Then, with a shrug, she swung about and walked up to Pella.
Neither dog awoke at her approach.
Two large burlap sacks framed the soldier, the one on the soldier’s right filled near to bursting, the other perhaps a third full. The lad himself was hunched over, holding a small copper awl which he was using to drill a hole into a finger bone.
The sacks, Lostara realized, contained hundreds of such bones.
‘Pella.’
The young man looked up, blinked. ‘Do I know you?’
‘No. But we perhaps share an acquaintance.’
‘Oh.’ He resumed his work.
‘You were a guard in the mines-’
‘Not quite,’ he replied without looking up. ‘I was garrisoned at one of the settlements. Skullcup. But then the rebellion started. Fifteen of us survived the first night-no officers. We stayed off the road and eventually made our way to Dosin Pali. Took four nights, and we could see the city burning for the first three. Wasn’t much left when we arrived. A Malazan trader ship showed up at about the same time as us, and took us, eventually, here to Aren.’
‘Skullcup,’ Lostara said. ‘There was a prisoner there. A young girl-’
‘Tavore’s sister, you mean. Felisin.’
Her breath caught.
‘I was wondering when somebody would find me about that. Am I under arrest, then?’ He looked up.
‘No. Why? Do you think you should be?’
He returned to his work. ‘Probably. I helped them escape, after all. The night of the Uprising. Don’t know if they ever made it, though. I left them supplies, such as I could find. They were planning on heading north then west… across the desert. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one aiding them, but I never found out who the others were.’
Lostara slowly crouched down until she was at his eye-level. ‘Not just Felisin, then. Who was with her?’
‘Baudin-a damned frightening man, that one, but strangely loyal to Felisin, though…’ He lifted his head and met her gaze. ‘Well, she wasn’t one to reward loyalty, if you know what I mean. Anyway. Baudin, and Heboric.’
‘Heboric? Who is that?’
‘Was once a priest of Fener-all tattooed with the fur of the Boar. Had no hands-they’d been cut off. Anyway, them three.’
‘Across the desert,’ Lostara murmured. ‘But the west coast of the island has… nothing.’
‘Well, they were expecting a boat, then, weren’t they? It was planned, right? Anyway, that’s as far as I can take the tale. For the rest, ask my sergeant. Or Stormy. Or Truth.’
‘Truth? Who is he?’