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‘What? We’ve lost hostages?’

Trout scowled, reaching up to pull at the folds of wrinkled flesh on his cheeks, plucking them away from the bones underneath as if he sought to peel off his own face. It was an old habit, Kagamandra recalled, and probably responsible for the man’s flaccid mien. ‘Might look like that, but it wasn’t none of our doing. The imps like fighting each other. The weakest ones died first. Those that are left are the nasty ones, and I reckon it’s not over. Nassaras thinks it’s to do with keeping them penned up. They’re wild, you see. Some of them are still known to sleep outside, huddled under furs – sometimes the kind that’re worn, sometimes their own.’

‘They veer into their wolf forms?’

‘They ain’t got much control of that, sir. Not yet. Too young, I wager, and with no elders to teach them anything, who knows what’ll come of this.’ His dark, red-rimmed eyes flicked to Kagamandra. ‘We beat ’em on the field of battle, sir. Demanded terms of surrender and made them kneel with heads bowed. Hostages, we said. Insisted, even.’

Sighing, Kagamandra nodded. ‘No doubt it sounded reasonable in principle.’

Braphen reappeared and behind her walked Igur Lout carrying a battered silver tray on which rested a meal of mostly meat.

‘Milord!’ Igur said. ‘You look awful. I’ve seen stuff spat up by one of the orphans with more life in it. Here. Eat. Braph, get that decanter of wine over there, and some mugs. It’s a puking reunion, by the Abyss! The old company – or what’s left of it. But the captain’s back – the real captain, I mean, not money-grubbing feckers like Trout here.’ The squat, wide man set the tray down in front of Kagamandra and then sat opposite Trout. Eyes on the ugly man, he raised a hand and made a strange corkscrewing motion with his index finger, grinning. ‘Goes in one way and out the other, hey?’

Trout said, ‘If the rest of us didn’t hate cooking, Lout, I’d gut you right here, right now, begging the lord’s pardon.’

‘I see that little has changed,’ Kagamandra said. ‘Igur, that joke was old before I ever made captain in the Legion.’

‘It’s the only one he has,’ Trout said, ‘which ably underscores his pathetic state.’

‘This meat – is it horse?’

Igur nodded. ‘Last one, sir. What we could scavenge off it. Had to beat the orphans back and half of them veered and slathered in gore. That was the day the rest of the Houseblades quit, the shit-smeared cowards. I trust, sir, you’re already planning your revenge on Scara.’

Braphen finished pouring out the wine and turned to depart the room, before Kagamandra gestured and said, ‘Sit down, castellan. Join us.’

‘It’s not fitting, sir. I expect they’ve got complaints about me and the like. In any case, I need to see that your bedroom’s made ready.’

‘Sit down. My room can wait.’

Igur leaned forward. ‘Milord, I told you the first time we rode back in through yon gate, and I’ll tell you now. Your father was a fuckwit. We buried him and shed not a tear, except in relief. Even his own staff spat on his shadow and they’re long gone besides. It’s all yours now, sir, and rightly so. I hear you got a wife coming. Good. Let’s hope she has spirit, enough to break the legs on your bed.’ He reached out and collected a goblet of wine, and added, ‘Your health, milord.’ He drank, and leaned back.

There was a long moment of silence, until Trout pointed a finger at Igur and said, ‘And this is why no one likes you, Lout, excepting when you cook for us. You got all the delicacy of a pig on a place mat.’

Distant thumping drew everyone’s attention. Braphen rose. ‘Someone’s at the gate, milord.’

‘Ah,’ said Kagamandra, ‘that would be Sergeant Savarro and her deserters. Igur, best return to the kitchen and begin preparations to feed our guests. They might number a score or more.’

Cursing under her breath, Braphen made for the gate.

Igur rose, collected up the decanter of wine. ‘Sir,’ he said, ‘they might change their mind.’

At that moment, a chorus of howls erupted from somewhere on the estate grounds.

Kagamandra glanced down at the supper he had but just started, and then he stood. ‘Well, yes. A warning does seem appropriate, under the circumstances. But I doubt they will change their minds, since they have nowhere else to go.’

‘They got horses, sir?’

‘And mules, Igur.’

Trout groaned and climbed upright. ‘I’ll see ’em stabled and all, sir, and I’ll take the first watch, too.’

By the time Kagamandra reached the gate, Savarro, Ristand and a half-dozen other Wardens were already crowding Braphen, who stood blocking their way in with one shoulder leaning against the door. Upon seeing Kagamandra, Sergeant Savarro’s eyes brightened, and then an expression of dread crossed her features.

Braphen glanced back. ‘Milord, they are proving most insistent.’

‘Step back, castellan.’

‘Milord, it’s the discourtesy I am objecting to. They are in no position to insist.’


Tags: Steven Erikson The Kharkanas Trilogy Fantasy