Ian C. Esslemont - Deadhouse Landing

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For Simon Taylor

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.

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! Weve 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, It is now irrevocable. My compliments to Captain Hawl. Have her withdraw. We will regroup at the agreed location.

The young Napans indigo features darkened even further as her lips clenched in disappointment. She saluted. Im 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?

Weve lost control of the north quarter. Your brother no doubt intends to close the harbour at the mole. Mlady, we must withdraw or risk capture.

Her dark gaze slid aside to the north and it occurred to him that no longer was he looking down at the tousled, mousy hair that she always kept so short; the princess was now nearly as tall as he. Has the ruling Garell House strength, she has. And trains harder than any of us.

If only her brother hadnt been so damned greedy

She gave one slight nod. Her stony gaze returned to him. I see. And what of our vaunted circle of Napan councillors?

Cartheron could not hold her eyes. He glanced aside. Im sorry, mlady. Tarel offered more.

She set her hands over the stone parapet before her hands he knew to be as hard as the stone itself. Councillor Amaron must have offered just as much on my behalf.

Cartheron pulled his fingers through his beard. Gods! How to say this? Your demeanour. Your ah, frankness mlady, has won you no friends on the council.

She blew a harsh breath out her nose. I see. They prefer Tarels shallow glad-handing and easy demeanour to my what? Cartheron?

He cleared his throat. Gods give him strength! Shed spoken truth to those fool councillors that their policies were leading Nap into further decline could he do any less? He drew a steeling breath. They preferred the lies that you chose not to give them.