Their spokesman turned suddenly, a fluid, frighteningly graceful motion, and faced Corporal Picker. ‘You have something for me,’ he rumbled.

Her eyes widened. ‘What?’

He sheathed one of his cutlasses and stepped up to her.

Paran and the others nearby watched as the man reached out to Picker’s right arm. He gripped her chain-sleeved bicep. A muted clatter sounded.

Picker gasped.

After a moment she dropped her sword to clunk on the tarred rooftop, and began stripping off her chain surcoat with quick, jerky motions. In a flood of relief, she spoke. ‘Bern’s blessing! I don’t know who in Hood’s name you are, sir, but they’ve been killing me. Getting tighter and tighter. Gods, the pain! He said they’d never come off. He said they’d be on me for good. Even Quick Ben said that – can’t make a deal with Treach. The Tiger of Summer’s mad, insane—’

‘Dead,’ the Daru cut in.

Half out of her surcoat, Picker froze. ‘What?’ she whispered. ‘Dead? Treach is dead?’

‘The Tiger of Summer has ascended, woman. Treach – Trake – now strides with the gods. I will have them now, and I thank you for delivering them to my hand.’

She pulled her right arm clear of the chain sleeve. Three ivory arm-torcs clattered down to her hand. ‘Here! Yes, please! Glad to oblige—’

‘Hood take your tongue, Picker,’ Antsy snapped. ‘You’re embarrassing us! Just give him the damned things!’

The corporal stared about. ‘Blend! Where in the Abyss you hiding, woman?’

‘Here,’ a voice murmured beside Paran.

Startled, he stepped back. Damn her!

‘Hah!’ Picker crowed. ‘You hear me, Blend? Hah!’

The squads were converging once more.

The Daru rolled up a tattered sleeve. The striped pattern covered the large, well-defined muscles of his arm. He slid the three torcs up past the elbow. The ivory clicked. Something flashed amber in the darkness beneath the rim of his helmet.

Paran studied the man. A beast resides within him, an ancient spirit, reawakened. Power swirled around the Daru, but the captain sensed that it was born as much from a natural air of command as from the beast hiding within him – for that beast preferred solitude. Its massive strength had, somehow, been almost subsumed by that quality of leadership. Together, a formidable union. There’s no mistaking, this one’s important. Something’s about to happen here, and my presence is no accident. ‘I am Captain Paran, of Onearm’s Host.’

‘Took your time, didn’t you, Malazan?’

Paran blinked. ‘We did the best we could, sir. In any case, your relief this night and tomorrow will come from the White Face clans.’

‘Hetan and Cafal’s father, Humbrall Taur. Good. Time’s come to turn the tide.’

‘Turn the tide?’ Antsy sputtered. ‘Looks like you didn’t need no help to turn the tide, man!’