‘We’d break all the land and the wild animals would have nowhere to live,’ Brys replied.
‘So we should see these domesticated beasts as sacrifices in the name of wildness.’
‘You could,’ he said, ‘if it helps.’
‘I’m not sure it does.’
‘Nor am I.’
‘I think I am too soft for all this,’ she concluded. ‘I have a sentimental streak. Maybe you can hide from the slaughter itself, but if you possess any imagination at all, well, there’s no real hiding, is there?’
They drew closer to a broad intersection, and opposite them a sizeable troop of riders was converging on the same place, coming up from the south track. ‘Well now,’ said Brys, ‘are those Bolkando royal standards?’
‘Seems the queen has taken her escort duties well beyond her kingdom’s borders.’
‘Yes, most curious. Shall we await them?’
‘Why not?’
They reined in at the intersection.
The queen’s entourage was oversized, yet as it drew closer Brys frowned. ‘Those are Evertine regulars, I think,’ he said. ‘Not an officer among them.’
In addition to these hardened soldiers, three Barghast warriors rode close to Abrastal, while off to the right rode two Khundryl women, one of them seven or eight months pregnant. On the left was a pair of armoured foreigners – the Perish? Aranict drew a sharp breath. ‘That must be Mortal Sword Krughava. She alone could command a palace tapestry.’
Brys grunted. ‘I know what you mean. I have seen a few hard women in my time, but that one … formidable indeed.’
‘I doubt I could even lift that sword at her belt.’
With a gesture Queen Abrastal halted the entire troop. She said something to one of her soldiers, and suddenly the veterans were all dismounting, lifting satchels from their saddle horns and setting out into the Malazan camp. Aranict watched the soldiers fanning out, apparently seeking squad camps. ‘What are they doing?’
Brys shook his head. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘They’ve brought … bottles.’
Brys Beddict grunted, and then tapped his horse’s flanks. Aranict followed suit.
‘Commander Brys Beddict,’ said Queen Abrastal, settling back in her saddle. ‘We finally meet. Tell me, does your brother know where you are?’
‘Highness, does your husband?’
Her teeth flashed. ‘I doubt it. But isn’t this better than our meeting in anger?’
‘Agreed, Highness.’
‘Now, barring this Gilk oaf at my side and of course you, it seems this will be a gathering of women. Do you quake in your boots, Prince?’
‘If I am, I am man enough to not admit it, Highness. Will you be so kind as to perform introductions?’
Abrastal removed her heavy gauntlets and gestured to her right. ‘From the Khundryl, Hanavat, wife to Warleader Gall, and with her Shelemasa, bodyguard and One of the Charge.’
Brys tilted his head to both women. ‘Hanavat. We were witness to the Charge.’ His gaze momentarily flicked to Shelemasa, then back to Hanavat. ‘Please, if you will, inform your husband that I was shamed by his courage and that of the Burned Tears. Seeing the Khundryl stung me to action. I would he understand that all that the Letherii were subsequently able to achieve in relieving the Bonehunters is set in humble gratitude at the Warleader’s feet.’
Hanavat’s broad, fleshy face remained expressionless. ‘Most generous words, Prince. My husband shall be told.’
The awkwardness of that reply hung in the dusty air for a moment, and then Queen Abrastal gestured to the Perish. ‘Mortal Sword Krughava and Shield Anvil Tanakalian, of the Grey Helms.’
Once again Brys tilted his head. ‘Mortal Sword. Shield Anvil.’
‘You stood in our place six days ago,’ said Krughava, her tone almost harsh. ‘This is now an open wound upon the souls of my brothers and sisters. We grieve at the sacrifice you suffered in our stead. This is not your war, after all, yet you stood firm. You fought with valour. Should the opportunity ever arise, sir, we shall in turn stand in your place. This the Perish Grey Helms avow.’
Brys Beddict seemed at a loss.
Aranict cleared her throat and said, ‘You have humbled the prince, Mortal Sword. Shall we now present ourselves to the Adjunct?’
Queen Abrastal collected up her reins and swung her mount on to the track leading to the camp’s centre. ‘Will you ride at my side, Prince?’
‘Thank you,’ Brys managed.