And what does he do? He runs into a burning palace. With a half-dozen cussers on his back. Gods, he was right on one thing, though, the fire couldn't take him – he went, way in, and that's what's saved us… so far. Blew that storm back. Saved us…
Soldiers all round him were blistered, burned. They coughed with every breath drawn into scorched lungs. But not me. He could sense that godling, within that firestorm. Could sense it, a child raging with the knowledge that it was going to die all too soon. Good, you don't deserve nothing more. Fire couldn't hurt him, but that didn't mean he had to kneel before it in prayer, did it? He didn't ask for any of this. Him and Stormy and Truth – only, Truth was dead, now. He'd never expected…
'and I says oh I says that ole bridge got feeta stone, and mortar white as bone and the badgers dangle from the ledge swingin' alla day alla way home oh we was pullin vines from you know where and stuffin our ears with sweety sweet loam jus t'get them badgers flyin' outa there inta them cook pots in the hearthy homeand don't they taste sweet! and don't they taste sweet! sweet as peat, oh yes sweet as peat-'
When he got out of here, he was going to wring Crump's scrawny neck.
High Marshal? Gods below 'and I says oh I says that warlock's tower-'
Corporal Tarr pulled on Balgrid's arms, ignoring the man's squeals.
How the mage had managed to stay fat through that endless march was baffling. And now, all too likely to prove deadly. Mind you, fat could be squeezed, when muscled bulk couldn't. That was something, at least.
Balgrid shrieked as Tarr dragged him through the crevasse. 'You're tearing my arms off!'
'You plug up here, Balgrid,' Tarr said, 'and Urb behind you's gonna take out his knife-'
A muted voice from the huge man behind Balgrid: 'Damn right. I'll joint you like a pig, mage. I swear it.'
The darkness was the worst of all – never mind the spiders, the scorpions and centipedes, it was the darkness that clawed and chewed on Tarr's sanity. At least Bottle had a rat's eyes to look through.
Rats could see in the dark, couldn't they? Then again, maybe they couldn't. Maybe they just used their noses, their whiskers, their ears. Maybe they were too stupid to go insane.
Or they're already insane. We're being led by an insane rat'I'm stuck again, oh gods! I can't move!'
'Stop yelling,' Tarr said, halting and twisting round yet again.
Reaching out for the man's arms. 'Hear that, Balgrid?'
'What? What?'
'Not sure. Thought I heard Urb's knives coming outa their sheaths.'