Jute kept his hands on his head, if only to stop himself from grabbing hold of the woman. God’s blood! Fifty ships pushing out to chase them! Nowhere to run! But … there was one place. He raised his head. ‘We’ve been had, dearest,’ he said.

‘How so, luv?’ Ieleen answered.

‘Cartheron … This is what he intended from the start – or was hired for!’ He thrust a finger at Jalaz. ‘Were you sent ahead?’

The woman’s face wrinkled up in a scowl. ‘What in the name of the Sky King are you talking about?’ And she cursed, studying the blood dripping to the decking from her hand. Letita had joined them and now she lifted the hand then pulled a strip of cloth from her belt and began tying up the wound.

‘Calm yourself, luv,’ Ieleen said. ‘Lieutenant – why don’t you tell us what Cartheron told you?’

Lurjen, at the tiller, cleared his throat. ‘Shall I follow the Rag-stopper, cap’n?’

‘Aye!’ Jute snapped. ‘We can’t let him out of our sight now, can we?’

The lieutenant shrugged. ‘He just asked whether we wanted a share o’ all that gold those lying bastards had been cheating from everyone. And we were all in, of course.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘No, why?’

Jute gestured to the dark waters of the bay. ‘Because anchored out there is a sorceress and a pocket army of mercenaries who could sweep this entire northern region if they wanted to, that’s why. And if they’re not interested in this sorry-ass tent city – then the question is … why are they here?’

Jalaz glanced ahead to the starlit bay. The dark silhouette of one ship was just visible. It appeared that the Ragstopper was making for them. ‘I see only one vessel.’

‘Trust me. Those are the Blue Shields out there.’

‘Bullshit.’

Jute blinked at the woman, surprised by the strength of her reaction. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Listen, Malazan, I may be from the north, but even I have heard of the Blue Shields and the Grey Swords. The Blue are not really mercenaries – they fight only for Togg. You can’t hire them. They’re a religious order. Fanatics.’

Jute gestured ahead again, invitingly. ‘Well, they’re here. Along with their Mortal Sword of Togg, Tyvar Gendarian.’

Giana glanced away once more, scanned the waters. She drew a hand down her face, rubbing away the sweat. ‘Great gods,’ she murmured. ‘He’s actually left Elingarth?’

‘Ragstopper veering east,’ Dulat, the lookout, shouted down. ‘Resolute and Supplicant drawing anchor, raising sail.’

‘What’s east of here?’ Jute asked the retired officer, though he suspected he knew.

She looked back, blew out a long hard breath. ‘Some sort of fortress at Mantle. Ruled by a fellow who calls himself King Ronal the Bastard.’

Chapter IX

CHAPTER IX