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'A beast? What kind of beast, darling?'Advertisement

The T'lan Imass shrugged. 'A large cat. A tiger, perhaps — forests such as these suit them, I believe.'

'Now, isn't that titillating? By all means, Lanas Tog, strike out on this fated trail — we shall follow upon your very heels!'

The trenches and tunnel entrances had been well disguised, beneath cedar branches and piles of moss, and without the preternatural skills of the mages the Bridgeburners might not have found them.

Paran made his way down what he had mentally labelled the command tunnel, passing racks of weapons — pikes, halberds, lances, longbows and bundles of arrows — and alcoves packed solid with food, water and other supplies, until he came to the large, fortified chamber which the Septarch had clearly intended to be his headquarters.

Quick Ben and his motley cadre of mages sat, squatted or sprawled in a rough half-circle near the far end, beyond the map table, looking like a pack of water-rats who'd just taken over a beaver's lodge.

The captain glanced down at the large painted hide pinned to the tabletop as he strode past, on which the Pannions had conveniently mapped out the entire maze of tunnels and entrenchments, the location of supplies and what kind, the approaches and retreats.

'All right,' Paran said as he joined the mages, 'what do you have?'

'Someone's got wise in Coral,' Quick Ben said, 'and realized that this place should have a company holed up here, as a guard — Trotts was keeping an eye on the city and watched them file out. They'll reach us in a bell.'

'A company,' Paran scowled. 'What's that in Pannion terms?'

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'Four hundred Beklites, twenty Urdomen, four Seerdomin, one of them ranking and likely a sorcerer.'

'And which approaches do you think they'll use?'

'The three stepped ones,' Spindle replied, reaching to scratch under his hairshirt. 'They go under trees all the way, lots of switchbacks, meaning the poor bastards will have a hard time rushing our positions once we let loose.'

Paran turned back to study the map. 'Assuming they're flexible, what will they choose as an alternative?'

'The main ramp,' Quick Ben said, rising to join the captain. He tapped a finger on the map. 'The one they'd planned on using for the downward march to launch the ambush. No cover for them, but if they can lock shields out front and turtle … well, there's only forty of us …'

'Munitions?'

The wizard looked back at Spindle, who made a sour face and said, 'We're short. Maybe if we use 'em right, we'll squash this company — but then the Seer will know what's up, and he'll send twenty thousand up this mountainside. If Dujek doesn't show soon, we'll have to pull out, Captain.'

'I know, Spindle, which is why I want you to set aside the cussers and burners — I want these tunnels rigged. If we have to scramble, we leave this strongpoint nothing but mud and ashes.'

The sapper gaped. 'Captain, without them cussers and burners, the Seer won't need to send anybody after this company — it'll take us clean out!'

'Assuming there's enough of them left to regroup and come up the main ramp. In other words, Spindle, pull the sappers together and cook up the messiest stew you can for those three hidden trails. If we can make it seem like the whole Malazan army's up here … better yet, if we can make sure not one soldier in this company gets out alive, we'll have purchased the time we need. The less certain we leave the Seer the safer we'll be. So, close that mouth and find Hedge and the rest. Your moment of glory's arrived, Spindle — go.'

Muttering, the man scrambled out of the chamber.

Paran faced the others. 'A Seerdomin sorcerer, you said. All right, he needs to drop fast once the fun starts. What do you have in mind, gentlemen?'

Shank grinned. 'My idea, Captain. It's classic, deadly — especially because it's so unexpected. I've already completed the ritual, left it primed — all Quick Ben needs to do is tell me when he's spotted the bastard.'

'What kind of ritual, Shank?'

'The ingenious kind, Captain — Bluepearl loaned me the spell, but I can't describe it, can't write it down and show you, neither. Words and meanings hang around in the air, you know, seep into suspicious minds and trigger gut instinct. There's nothing to blocking it if you know it's coming — it only works when you don't.'

Scowling, Paran turned to Quick Ben.

The wizard shrugged, 'Shank wouldn't cough himself to the front of the line if he wasn't sure of this, Captain. I'll sniff the Seerdomin out as he's asked. And I'll have a few back-ups in case it goes sour.' pqdm.com