Chapters (37)
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- DRAMATIS PERSONAE
- PROLOGUE
- BOOK ONE - RARAKU
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- BOOK TWO - WHIRLWIND
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- BOOK THREE – CHAIN OF DOGS
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- BOOK FOUR - DEADHOUSE GATES
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- GLOSSARY
- TRIBES OF THE SEVEN SUBCONTINENTS
- PLACE NAMES
- TITLES AND GROUPS
- ASCENDANTS
‘It cost me a virgin’s ransom. I figure if something’s expensive it’s probably good, and that’s how much I know horses.’
‘You still haven’t explained why you’re here,’ the captain muttered, but Kalam could see he was relaxing his guard.
‘Smelled the uprising in the wind,’ the assassin said. ‘The Empire brought peace to Seven Cities. Sha’ik wants a return to the old days – tyrants, border wars and slaughter. I ride for Aren. That’s where the punitive force will land – and if I’m lucky I can slip myself in, maybe as a guide.’
‘You’ll ride with us, then, Corporal,’ the captain said. ‘If you’re truly a Bridgeburner you’ll know how to soldier, and if that’s what you show me on the way to Aren, I’ll see you rejoin the Imperial ranks without fuss.’
Kalam nodded. ‘Can I retrieve my weapons now, Captain?’
‘Go ahead.’
The assassin crouched down, reached for his long-knife, paused. ‘Oh, one thing, Captain ...’
The man had sagged against his wife. He swung bleary eyes on Kalam. ‘What?’
‘Better my name should change ... I mean, officially. I wouldn’t welcome the gallows if I’m marked in Aren. Granted, Kalam is common enough, but there’s always the chance I’d be recognized—’
‘You’re that Kalam? You said the Ninth, didn’t you? Hood’s breath!’ If the captain had planned to say more it was lost as the man’s knees buckled. With a soft whimper his wife eased him down to the ground, looked up at her sister with frightened eyes, then over at Kalam.
‘Relax, lass,’ the assassin said, straightening. He grinned. ‘I’m back in the army now.’
The two boys, one about seven and the other four, moved with exaggerated caution towards the unconscious man and his wife. She saw them and opened her arms. They rushed to her embrace.
‘He was trampled,’ Minala said. ‘One of the bandits dragged him behind his horse. Sixty paces before he cut himself free.’
Women who lived with garrisons were either harlots or wives – there was little doubt which one Minala had been. ‘Your husband was in the company as well?’
‘He commanded it, but he’s dead.’
It could have been a statement about the weather for all the emotion expressed, and Kalam sensed the rigid control that held the woman. ‘And the captain’s your brother-in-law?’
‘His name is Keneb. You’ve met my sister Selv. The older boy is Kesen, the younger Vaneb.’
‘You’re from Quon?’
‘Long ago.’
Not the talkative type. The assassin glanced over at Keneb. ‘Will he live?’
‘I don’t know. He has dizzy spells. Blackouts.’
‘Sagging face, slurred words?’
‘No.’
Kalam went to his horse and gathered up the reins.
‘Where are you going?’ Minala demanded.
‘There’s one bandit standing guard over food, water and horses. We need all three.’
‘Then we all go.’