Leoman reined in before the platform. ‘Chosen One! We set out now, and when we return we shall bring you word of the Malazan army. Their disposition. Their rate of march—’

‘But not,’ Sha’ik cut in sternly, ‘their mettle. No engagements, Leoman. The first blooding of her army will be here. By my hand.’

Mouth pressing into a thin line, Leoman nodded, then he said, ‘Tribes will have conducted raids on them, Chosen One. Likely beginning a league beyond the walls of Aren. They will have already been blooded—’

‘I cannot see such minor exchanges as making a difference either way,’ Sha’ik replied. ‘Those tribes are sending their warriors here – they arrive daily. Your forces would be the largest she would have to face – and I will not have that. Do not argue this point again, Leoman, else I forbid you to leave Raraku!’

‘As you say, Chosen One,’ Leoman grated. His startling blue eyes fixed on Ghost Hands. ‘If you require anything, old man, seek out Mathok.’

Korbolo’s brows rose.

‘An odd thing to say,’ Sha’ik commented. ‘Ghost Hands is under my protection, after all.’

‘Minor requirements only, of course,’ Leoman said, ‘such as might prove distracting, Chosen One. You have an army to ready, after all—’

‘A task,’ Korbolo cut in, ‘which the Chosen One has entrusted in me, Leoman.’

The desert warrior simply smiled. Then he collected his reins. ‘May the Whirlwind guard you, Chosen One.’

‘And you, Leoman.’

The man rode back to his waiting horse warriors.

May your bones grow white and light as feathers, Leoman of the Flails. Korbolo swung to Sha’ik. ‘He will disobey you, Chosen One.’

‘Of course he will.’

The Napan blinked, then his gaze narrowed. ‘Then it would be madness to yield the wall of sand to him.’

She faced him, her eyes questioning. ‘Do you fear the Adjunct’s army, then? Have you not said to me again and again how superior you have made our forces? In discipline, in ferocity? This is not Onearm’s Host you will be facing. It is a shaky mass of recruits, and even should they have known hardening in a minor engagment or two, what chance have they against your Dogslayers? As for the Adjunct... leave her to me. Thus, what Leoman does with his fifteen hundred desert wolves is, in truth, without relevance. Or are you now revising all your opinions, Korbolo Dom?’

‘Of course not, Chosen One. But a wolf like Leoman should remain leashed.’

‘Leashed? The word you’d rather have used is killed. Not a wolf, but a mad dog. Well, he shall not be killed, and if indeed he is a mad dog then where better to send him than against the Adjunct?’

‘You are wiser in these ways than I, Chosen One.’

Ghost Hands snorted at that, and even Sha’ik smiled. The blood was suddenly hot in Korbolo’s face.