The women were singing an ancient song in a language that was anything but Imass. Filled with strange clicks and phlegmatic stops, along with rhythmic gestures of the hands, and the extraordinary twin voices emerging from each throat, the song made the hair on the back of Hedge’s neck stand on end. ‘Eres’al,’ Quick Ben had whispered, looking a little ashen himself. ‘The First Language.’
No wonder it made the skin crawl, awakening faint echoes in the back of his skull-as if stirring to life the soft murmurings of his mother a handful of days after he’d been born, even as he clung by the mouth to her tit and stared stupidly up at the blur of her face. A song to make a grown man feel horribly vulnerable, weak in the limbs and desperate for comfort.
Muttering under his breath, Hedge plucked at Quick Ben’s sleeve.
The wizard understood well enough and they both rose, then backed away from the hearth and all the gathered Imass. Out into the darkness beneath a spray of glittering stars, up into the sprawl of tumbled boulders away from the rock shelters of the cliff face.
Hedge found a flat stone the size of a skiff, lying at the base of a scree. He sat down on it. Quick Ben stood nearby, bending down to collect a handful of gravel, then pacing as he began examining his collection-more by feel than sight-flinging rejections off into the gloom to bounce and skitter. ‘So, Hedge.’
‘What?’
‘How’s Fiddler these days?’
‘It’s not like I’m squatting on his shoulder or anything.’
‘Hedge.’
‘All right, I catch things occasionally. Whiffs. Echoes. He’s still alive, I can say that much.’
Quick Ben paused. ‘Any idea what the Adjunct’s up to?’
‘Who? No, why should I-never met her. You’re the one should be doing the guessing, wizard. She shackled you into being her High Mage, after all. Me, I’ve been wandering for what seems for ever, in nothing but the ashes of the dead. At least until we found this place, and it ain’t nearly as far away from the underworld as you might think.’
‘Don’t tell me what I think, sapper. I already know what I think and it’s not what you think.’
‘Well now, you’re sounding all nervous again, Quick. Little heart going pitterpat?’
‘She was taking them to Lether-to the Tiste Edur empire-once she managed to extricate them from Malaz harbour. Now, Cotillion says she managed that, despite my disappearing at the worst possible moment. True, some nasty losses. Like Kalam. And T’amber. Me. So, Lether. Pitching her measly army against an empire spanning half a continent or damn near, and why? Well, maybe to deliver some vengeance on behalf of the Malazan Empire and every other kingdom or people who got cut up by those roving fleets. But maybe that’s not it at all, because, let’s face it, as a motive it sounds, well, insane. And I don’t think the Adjunct is insane. So, what’s left?’
‘Sorry, was that actually a question? For me?’
‘Of course not, Hedge. It was rhetorical.’
‘That’s a relief. Go on, then.’
‘Seems more likely she’s set herself against the Crippled God.’
‘Oh yeah? What’s this Lether Empire got to do with the Crippled God?’
‘A whole lot, that’s what.’
‘Meaning me and Fiddler are back fighting the same damned war.’
‘As if you didn’t already know that, Hedge-and no, wipe that innocent look off your face. It’s not dark enough and you know that so that look is for me and it’s a damned lie so get rid of it.’
‘Ouch, the wizard’s nerves are singing!’
‘This is why I liked you least of all, Hedge.’
‘I remember once you being scared witless of a recruit named Sorry, because she was possessed by a god. And now here you are, working for that god. Amazing, how things can turn right round in ways you’d never expect nor even predict.’
The wizard stared long and hard at the sapper. Then he said, ‘Now hold on, Hedge.’
‘You really think Sorry was there to get at the Empress, Quick? Some sordid plan for vengeance against Laseen? Why, that would be… insane.’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘Just wondering if you should be as sure of the ones you’re working for as you think you are. Because, and it only seems this way to me, all this confusion you’re feeling about the Adjunct might just be coming from some wrong-footed, uh, misapprehensions about the two gods crouching in your shadow.’
‘Is all this just another one of your feelings?’
‘I ain’t Fiddler.’
‘No, but you’ve been so close to him-in his damned shadow-you’re picking up all his uncanny, whispered suspicions, and don’t even try to deny it, Hedge. So now I better hear it straight from you. You and me, are we fighting on the same side, or not?’
Hedge grinned up at him. ‘Maybe not. But, just maybe, more than you know, wizard.’
Quick Ben had selected out a half-dozen water-worn pebbles. Now he flung the rest away. ‘That answer was supposed to make me feel better?’
‘How do you think I feel?’ Hedge demanded. ‘Been at your damned side, Quick, since Raraku! And I still don’t know who or even what you are!’
‘What’s your point?’
