‘Belongs to that song. The, uh, Bridgeburners’ song.’

Strings closed his eyes, settled his head against the boulder behind him. Kimloc, that damned Tanno Spiritwalker in Ehrlitan. I said no, but he did it anyway. He stole my story — not just mine, but the Bridgeburners’ — and he made of it a song. The bastard’s gone and given us back to Raraku...

‘Go help the others, Bottle.’

‘Aye, Sergeant.’

‘And ... thanks.’

‘I’ll pass that along, when next I meet the Eres witch.’

Strings stared after the mage. So there’ll be a next time, will there? Just how much didn’t you tell me, lad? He wondered if the morrow would indeed be witness to his last battle. Hardly a welcome thought, but maybe it was necessary. Maybe he was being called to join the fallen Bridgeburners. Not so bad, then. Couldn’t ask for more miserable company. Damn, but I miss them. I miss them all. Even Hedge.

The sergeant opened his eyes and climbed to his feet, collecting then donning his helm. He turned to stare out over the basin to the northeast, to the enemy emplacements and the dust and smoke of the city hidden within the oasis. You too, Kalam Mekhar. I wonder if you know why you’re here ...

The shaman was in a frenzy, twitching and hissing as he scuttled like a crab in dusty circles around the flat slab of bone that steadily blackened on the hearth. Corabb, his mouth filled with a half-dozen of the scarab shells strung round his neck to ward off evil, winced as his chattering teeth crunched down on one carapace, filling his mouth with a bitter taste. He plucked the necklace from his mouth and began spitting out pieces of shell.

Leoman strode up to the shaman and grabbed the scrawny man by his telaba, lifted him clear off the ground, then shook him. A flurry of cloth and hair and flying spittle, then Leoman set the shaman down once more and growled, ‘What did you see?’

‘Armies!’ the old man shrieked, tugging at his nose as if it had just arrived on his face.

Leoman scowled. ‘Aye, we can see those too, you damned fakir—’

‘No! More armies!’ He scrabbled past and ran to the southern crest of the tel, where he began hopping about and pointing at the Malazans entrenching on the island opposite the old drainage channel.

Leoman made no move to follow. He walked over to where Corabb and three other warriors crouched behind a low wall. ‘Corabb, send another rider to Sha’ik — no, on second thought, you go yourself. Even if she will not bother acknowledging our arrival, I want to know how Mathok’s tribes will be arrayed come the dawn. Find out, once you have spoken with Sha’ik – and Corabb, be certain you speak with her in person. Then return here.’

‘I shall do as you command,’ Corabb announced, straightening.