Free The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson

out. Fiddler and Hedge are working on the others, but they figure everybody else’s been buried for good. They tried to round up some help.” A cold, knowing smile spread across her mud-streaked face. “But your master, the High Mage, stopped them.”
    “Tayschrenn did what? Why?”
    The girl frowned, as if disappointed. Then she simply walked away, stopping at the hill’s crest and facing the city again.
    Tattersail stared after her. The girl had thrown that last statement at her as if hunting for some particular response.
Complicity?
In any case, a clean miss.
Tayschrenn’s not making any friends. Good
. The day had been a disaster, and the blame fell squarely at the High Mage’s feet. She stared at Pale, then lifted her gaze to the smoke-filled sky above it.
    That massive, looming shape she had greeted every morning for the last three years was indeed gone. She still had trouble believing it, despite the evidence of her eyes. “You warned us,” she whispered to the empty sky, as the memories of the morning returned. “You warned us, didn’t you?”
    She’d been sleeping with Calot the past four months: a little diversionary pleasure to ease the boredom of a siege that wasn’t going anywhere. At least, that was how she explained to herself their unprofessional conduct. It was more than that, of course, much more. But being honest with herself had never been one of Tattersail’s strengths.
    The magical summons, when it came, awakened her before Calot. The mage’s small but well-proportioned body was snug in the many soft pillows of her flesh. She opened her eyes to find him clinging to her like a child. Then he, too, sensed the calling and awoke to her smile.
    “Hairlock?” he asked, shivering as he climbed out from under the blankets.
    Tattersail grimaced. “Who else? The man never sleeps.”
    “What now, I wonder?” He stood, looking around for his tunic.
    She was watching him. He was so thin, making them an odd combination. Through the faint dawn light seeping through the canvas tent walls, the sharp, bony angles of his body looked soft, almost childlike. For a man a century old, he carried it well. “Hairlock’s been running errands for Dujek,” she said. “It’s probably just an update.”
    Calot grunted as he pulled on his boots. “That’s what you get for taking command of the cadre, ’Sail. Anyway, it was easier saluting Nedurian, let me tell you. Whenever I look at you, I just want to—”
    “Stick to business, Calot,” Tattersail said, meaning it with humor though it came out with enough of an edge to make Calot glance at her sharply.
    “Something up?” he asked quietly, the old frown finding its familiar lines on his high forehead.
    Thought I’d got rid of those
. Tattersail sighed. “Can’t tell, except that Hairlock’s contacted both of us. If it was just a report, you’d still be snoring.”
    In growing tension they finished dressing in silence. Less than an hour later Calot would be incinerated beneath a wave of blue fire, and ravens would be answering Tattersail’s despairing scream. But, for the moment, the two mages were readying themselves for an unscheduled gathering at High Fist Dujek Onearm’s command tent.
    In the muddy path beyond Calot’s tent, soldiers of the last watch huddled around braziers filled with burning horse dung, holding out hands to the heat. Few walked the pathways, the hour still too early. Row upon row of gray tents climbed the hills overlooking the plain that surrounded the city of Pale. Regimental standards ruffled sullenly in a faint breeze—the wind had turned since last night, carrying to Tattersail the stench of the latrine trenches. Overhead the remaining handful of stars dimmed into insignificance in the lightening sky. The world seemed almost peaceful.
    Drawing her cloak against the chill, Tattersail paused outside the tent and turned to study the enormous mountain hanging suspended a quarter-mile above the city of Pale. She scanned