Deadhouse Landing

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Table of Contents

About the Author

Copyright Page

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For Simon Taylor

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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.

Quon Tali

MALAZ CITY: Pre-Empire

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The New Arrivals

Wu

A mysterious mage

Dancer

A notorious assassin

The Napans

Lady Sureth

Exiled noblewoman of Nap

Cartheron

An ex-flank admiral

Urko

An ex-captain

Hawl

A mage of Ruse

Grinner

Lady Sureth’s bodyguard

Choss

An ex-captain

Tocaras

An archer

Amiss

A sailor

Shrift

A swordswoman

Of Malaz Island

Mock

Ruler of Malaz, admiral, and marquis

Tattersail

A mage of Malaz

Viv

A serving girl

Nedurian

A retired mage

Obo

A wizard of Malaz

Agayla

A sorceress of Malaz

Hess

A Malazan captain

Guran

A Malazan captain

Renish

A Malazan captain

Dujek

A marine

Jack

A marine

Of Kartool

Tallow

The Holy Invigilator of D’rek

Ithell

The Demidrek (a high priest)

Salleen

A high-ranking priestess

Tayschrenn

A high-ranking priest

Silla Leansath

A priestess

Koarsden Taneth

A priest

Feneresh

A priest

Others

Dassem Ultor

The Mortal Sword of Hood

Nara

A follower of Dassem

Lars Jindrift

An adventurer

Tarel

Newly installed king of Nap

Koreth

A Napan admiral

Clementh

A Napan officer

Horst Grethall

A caravan-master

Shear

A masked caravan guard

Geffen

A Malazan crime boss

Koro

A winged inhabitant of Shadow

Prologue

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! We’ve 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 Napan’s indigo features darkened even further as her lips clenched in disappointment. She saluted. ‘I’m … 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?’

‘We’ve lost control of the north quarter. Your brother no doubt intends to close the harbour at the mole. M’lady, we must withdraw or risk capture.’