Return of the Crimson Guard

Traveller glanced back over his shoulder. Ereko saw no humour in the man's dark-blue eyes even though he'd lately been complaining of human ignorance and bigotry. ‘Ask him yourself,’ he answered. ‘He can speak.’

‘Yes?’ The brigand chief raised his chin to Ereko. ‘Well? Who are your people?’

Though Traveller had his back turned, at that particular phrasing of the question Ereko saw him flinch beneath his layered shirts, armour and pelts. Ereko thanked him silently for that gesture of empathy.

‘Cousins. Those you name and I. We are something of cousins.’

The bandit chief grunted, placated. He cut a strip of flesh from a boar's thigh skewered over the fire's embers. ‘And the Malazans? What of them? The traders say they have been as quiet as stones all summer.’

‘That is so. Mare and the Korelans hold them pinned in Fist. There they rot.’

The bandit chief slapped his thigh. ‘Good!’

Ereko kept watch on the woods — was this man delaying while his rabble completed an encirclement? But no one moved through the sparse forest of scrawny spruce and short pine over naked granite. The bandit chief had stepped out to meet them with six men — two of whom appeared to be his own sons. They wanted to kill the both of them, Ereko could see that. How often the chief's eyes went to the slim sword strapped on Traveller's back. But Traveller's assured manner gave them pause. That, and Ereko's size and even taller spear.

‘I say good because we are all descended here by pure blood from the Crimson Guard. Know you that, friend?’

Traveller nodded.

The bandit chief's voice grew louder. He gestured to the woods around. ‘Yes. The Malazans are frightened to come here because the bones of Guardsmen protect these lands. I myself am a descendant of Hap the Elder, a sergeant under Lieutenant Striker. The bones of many Guardsmen litter these northern forests. And there is an ancient legend, you know. A prophecy. A promise that should the Malazans come again the Guardsmen will rise from the dead to destroy them. That is why they have never come back to our lands. They are afraid. We beat them once.’

‘That is true,’ said Traveller. ‘You beat them once.’

‘And you, friend? There are many black men among the Malazans and some among the Korelri as well. But you are no Korelri. You speak the Talian tongue well.’

Traveller shrugged beneath his shaggy bear hide cloak. ‘I am of Jakata myself. My companion is from farther afield as you can see. I'm travelling south to find a spot to build a ship. My companion here wishes to travel beyond, down to the old North Citadel to take passage east around the Cape.’

The chieftain smiled as if he'd been expecting an answer similar to that. ‘It takes much gold to build a ship — or buy any passage. Traders come down this pass each year bearing much wealth for just such a purpose.’

Traveller laughed easily despite this ominous threat. ‘Those men are rich traders. They can also afford many guards, can they not? We have no guards for we have no wealth to guard. I will build the ship myself. With my own hands. My friend here plans to work for his passage east. He is of great use at sea.’

The chief joined in Traveller's easy laughter and stuffed more shreds of greasy boar meat into his mouth. ‘Of course, of course. Visit the coast by all means. See how you like it.’ And he laughed anew.

Traveller handed a drinking skin across the fire and Ereko winced to see it was one of their three of Jourilan brandy. The bandit gulped it down without comment, spilling much from his mouth. He slung it over his shoulder. Ereko groaned silently at that — does Traveller want him to think we're afraid and trying to buy him off?

‘I have heard rumours that the Korelri claim the Malazans have formed unholy pacts with the Ice Demons. What think you of that?’

Traveller's answered that he had neither seen nor heard anything to substantiate such a rumour. The two exchanged more news then on the Council of the Chosen, the likelihood of this winter being a harsh one, and, as usual when such shallow and shifting topics as contemporary politics among humans came up, Ereko became bored. The chief's six men in their mismatching of studded leather hauberks, rusting iron helmets and vests of rings sown on to leather watched him unswervingly. Avarice, boredom, fascination and dull angry resentment glittered in their eyes as they glanced between Traveller and him.

The treat dragged on past the mid-day and into the afternoon and still Traveller made no move to break off. Ereko wondered at such uncharacteristic patience. Normally it was Traveller who chafed to be on, who resented any delay or obstruction in his path. Surely he must see that this man sought to delay them — perhaps he had sent for the rest of his men and now waited for their arrival.