'Quiet, sapper. If you've got the strength left – and you'd better – you need to help the others out.'
'Aye, Captain.' He turned about and began climbing back up.
Still lying on his back, Bottle closed his eyes. He stroked Y'Ghatan's smooth-furred back. My darling. You're with me, now. Ah, you're hungry – we'll take care of that. Soon you'll be waddling fat again, I promise, and you and your kits will be… gods, there's more of you, isn't there? No problem. When it comes to your kind, there's never a shortage of food…
He realized Smiles was standing over him. Staring down.
He managed a faint, embarrassed smile, wondering how much she'd heard, how much she'd just put together.
'All men are scum.'
So much for wondering.
Coughing, crying, babbling, the soldiers were lying or sitting all around Gesler, who stood, trying to make a count – the names, the faces, exhaustion blurred them all together. He saw Shard, with his sister, Sinn, wrapped all around him like a babe, fast asleep, and there was something like shock in the corporal's staring, unseeing eyes. Tulip was nearby – his body was torn, shredded everywhere, but he'd dragged himself through without complaint and now sat on a stone, silent and bleeding.
Crump crouched near the cliff-side, using rocks to pry loose a slab of melted gold and lead, a stupid grin on his ugly, overlong face. And Smiles, surrounded by children – she looked miserable with all the attention, and Gesler saw her staring up at the night sky again and again, and again, and that gesture he well understood.
Bottle had pulled them through. With his rat. Y'Ghatan. The sergeant shook his head. Well, why not? We're all rat-worshippers right now.
Oh, right, the roll call… Sergeant Cord, with Ebron, Limp and his broken leg. Sergeant Hellian, her jaw swollen in two places, one eye closed up, and blood matting her hair, just now coming round – under the tender ministrations of her corporal, Urb, Tarr, Koryk, Smiles and Cuttle. Tavos Pond, Balgrid, Mayfly, Flashwit, Saltlick, Hanno, Shortnose and Masan Gilani. Bellig Harn, Maybe, Brethless and Touchy.
Deadsmell, Galt, Sands and Lobe. The sergeants Thom Tissy and Balm.
Widdershins, Uru Hela, Ramp, Scant and Reem. Throatslitter… Gesler's gaze swung back to Tarr, Koryk, Smiles and Cuttle.
Hood's breath.
'Captain! We've lost two!'
Every head turned.
Corporal Tarr shot to his feet, then staggered like a drunk, spinning to face the cliff-wall.
Balm hissed, 'Fiddler… and that prisoner! The bastard's killed him and he's hiding back in there! Waiting for us to leave!'
Corabb had dragged the dying man as far as he could, and now both he and the Malazan were done. Crammed tight in a narrowing of the tunnel, the darkness devouring them, and Corabb was not even sure he was going in the right direction. Had they been turned round? He could hear nothing… no-one. All that dragging, and pushing… they'd turned round, he was sure of it.
No matter, they weren't going anywhere.
Never again. Two skeletons buried beneath a dead city. No more fitting a barrow for a warrior of the Apocalypse and a Malazan soldier. That seemed just, poetic even. He would not complain, and when he stood at this sergeant's side at Hood's Gate, he would be proud for the company.
So much had changed inside him. He was no believer in causes, not any more. Certainty was an illusion, a lie. Fanaticism was poison in the soul, and the first victim in its inexorable, ever-growing list was compassion. Who could speak of freedom, when one's own soul was bound in chains?
He thought, now, finally, that he understood Toblakai.
And it was all too late. This grand revelation. Thus, I die a wise man, not a fool. Is there any difference? I still die, after all.
No, there is. I can feel it. That difference – I have cast off my chains. I have cast them off!
A low cough, then, 'Corabb?'
'I am here, Malazan.'
'Where? Where is that?'
'In our tomb, alas. I am sorry, all strength has fled. I am betrayed by my own body. I am sorry.'
Silence for a moment, then a soft laugh. 'No matter. I've been unconscious – you should have left me – where are the others?'
'I don't know. I was dragging you. We were left behind. And now, we're lost, and that's that. I am sorry-'
'Enough of that, Corabb. You dragged me? That explains all the bruises. For how long? How far?'
'I do not know. A day, maybe. There was warm air, but then it was cool – it seemed to breathe in and out, past us, but which breath was in and which was out? I do not know. And now, there is no wind.'