Esslemont's new prequel trilogy takes readers deeper into the politics and intrigue of the *New York Times* bestselling Malazan Empire. *Dancer's Lament* focuses on the genesis of the empire, and features Dancer, the skilled assassin, who, alongside the mage Kellanved, would found the Malazan empire. At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
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About the Author
Copyright Page
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For Simon Taylor
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Once again I wish to thank A. P. Canavan for his insight, attention and discretion as a prereader and editor. Also, my gratitude to Nancy Webber for her sharp pencil and precise mind. And thanks as always to my agent Howard Morhaim for all his work on behalf of the World of Malaz.
Quon Tali
MALAZ CITY: Pre-Empire
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
The New Arrivals
Wu
A mysterious mage
Dancer
A notorious assassin
The Napans
Lady Sureth
Exiled noblewoman of Nap
Cartheron
An ex-flank admiral
Urko
An ex-captain
Hawl
A mage of Ruse
Grinner
Lady Sureth’s bodyguard
Choss
An ex-captain
Tocaras
An archer
Amiss
A sailor
Shrift
A swordswoman
Of Malaz Island
Mock
Ruler of Malaz, admiral, and marquis
Tattersail
A mage of Malaz
Viv
A serving girl
Nedurian
A retired mage
Obo
A wizard of Malaz
Agayla
A sorceress of Malaz
Hess
A Malazan captain
Guran
A Malazan captain
Renish
A Malazan captain
Dujek
A marine
Jack
A marine
Of Kartool
Tallow
The Holy Invigilator of D’rek
Ithell
The Demidrek (a high priest)
Salleen
A high-ranking priestess
Tayschrenn
A high-ranking priest
Silla Leansath
A priestess
Koarsden Taneth
A priest
Feneresh
A priest
Others
Dassem Ultor
The Mortal Sword of Hood
Nara
A follower of Dassem
Lars Jindrift
An adventurer
Tarel
Newly installed king of Nap
Koreth
A Napan admiral
Clementh
A Napan officer
Horst Grethall
A caravan-master
Shear
A masked caravan guard
Geffen
A Malazan crime boss
Koro
A winged inhabitant of Shadow
Prologue
Dariyal, capital city of the Napan Isles, burned in the night. From the heights of the harbour fortifications Cartheron Crust watched the flames swirl and dance and leap through the smoke. He followed that black plume as it billowed higher to obscure the bright silver eye of the waxing moon, and whispered to himself, ‘So it all ends.’ In fire, destruction and betrayal. Even the best laid plans.
He leaned forward to peer over the guano-stained edge of the battlements to the streets below, where bands of militia and partisans loyal to either side of this transfer of power hunted one another in the clash of running city-wide battle.
‘Captain!’ a voice called, and Cartheron glanced to his cordon of guards; a messenger had arrived. He waved forward the sweaty, soot-smeared woman.
She saluted. ‘Sir! We’ve lost control of the north quarter.’ Involuntarily, he glanced towards the arc of the harbour, and cursed inwardly. ‘Sir … the mole…’
He nodded. ‘Yes. I understand. Who are you with?’
‘Captain Hawl, sir.’
‘Very good.’ He took a slow breath, tasted the smoke on his tongue, and, grimacing, thought,
The young Napan’s indigo features darkened even further as her lips clenched in disappointment. She saluted. ‘I’m … sorry, sir.’
He waved her off. ‘Go quickly.’
She ran. Cartheron turned to the stairs behind him that led to the top of a curtain tower. He drew off his helmet and dragged a hand through his tangled sweaty hair. He let out a long low breath; now for the hard part. He started up the stairs.
When he reached the topmost landing he found her looking out across the city, her back to him, slim, ramrod straight, hands clasped behind her back, in a plain long cotton shirt and trousers. He cleared his throat into a fist and inclined his head. ‘Princess Sureth…’
She turned and Crust found himself confronted once again by the hard wall of that flat gaze. Even now, he thought, with everything on the line, so damned … distant.
‘Yes, captain?’
‘We’ve lost control of the north quarter. Your brother no doubt intends to close the harbour at the mole. M’lady, we must withdraw or risk capture.’
