‘All right, you three, get going.’

Dawn still almost two bells away, the mists drifted grey and low through the parkland north of Coral, reaching tendrils out onto the plain beyond.

Korlat rode to where Whiskeyjack had halted beneath the tree-lined crest that marked the beginning of the coppiced parkland, and drew rein alongside him.

The Malazan wasted no time, ‘What did he say?’

‘All rather peculiar, Whiskeyjack. Formal apologies from himself and from Brood. He humbly offers both his sword and his, as he called it, tactical prowess. I admit, it leaves me ... uneasy.’

Whiskeyjack shrugged. ‘I’d welcome any advice Kallor might provide.’

He noted but chose to ignore Korlat’s wry disbelief at this statement.

After a moment, the Malazan continued, ‘Follow me.’ He nudged his horse forward, down the wide trader road as it wound between groves and across gently humped glades.

Their horses stumbled often, heads drooping as they trotted through the dark. A short while later they approached another ridge, this one cleared of trees. Beyond it, rising slowly as they drew nearer, was the city of Coral, climbing in tiers revealed by dull reflections of torchlight from the streets. The dark mass of the keep was an indistinct presence hunched above the last visible tier.

They reached the ridge and halted.

Korlat studied the lie of the land before them. The killing ground before the city’s wall was a sixth of a league across, a single stone bridge spanning a ditch close to the wall. Half a league to the west loomed a forested mountain, the flank facing them wreathed in mist or smoke.

‘Aye,’ Whiskeyjack said, following her gaze, ‘that’s where the flashes of sorcery came from. It’s where I would have positioned an army to break the siege, were I the Seer.’

‘And Dujek has fouled their plans.’

‘He’s there, I suspect. Likely driven back or surrounded – that magic we saw lighting the sky was mostly Pannion. Quick Ben must have been overwhelmed. I think Dujek’s taken a beating, Korlat. We need to draw the Seer’s attention away from that mountain, buy the High Fist time to regroup.’

She faced him, was silent for a moment, then said, ‘Your soldiers are dead on their feet, Whiskeyjack.’ As you are, my love.

‘None the less, I will have us lining this ridge come the dawn, the Ilgres Clan on our left, Taur and his White Faces on our right.’ He glanced at her. ‘I admit the thought of the other ... form you can assume still leaves me, uh, alarmed. None the less, if you and Orfantal could take to the sky...’

‘My brother and I have already discussed it, Whiskeyjack. He would fly to Dujek. Perhaps his presence will give the Seer’s condors pause.’

‘More likely draw them like a lodestone, Korlat. With the two of you together, guarding each other ...’