The Crippled God (Malazan Book of the Fallen, #10)

by Steven Erikson

Taking a narrow, twisted route between outcrops of bedrock, he heard boots behind him and turned. ‘Deadsmell. You following me for a reason or is it my cute backside?’ ‘Your cute backside, but I need to talk to Fid, too. Two joys in one, what can I say?’ ‘This hill—’ ‘Barrow.’ ‘Right, fine. Barrow. There’s something—’ ‘Sunk deep all the way round it, aye. Widdershins damn near shit himself the moment he hit the slope.’ Bottle shrugged. ‘Us other squaddies call him Widdershits, on account of his loose bowels. What about it?’ ‘Really? Widdershits? That’s great. Wait till Throatslitter hears that one. But listen, how come you’re keeping secrets from us like that? Names like that? We wouldn’t do it to you, you know.’ ‘Stifflips and Crack? Scuttle and Corncob? Turd and Brittle?’ ‘Oh, you heard them, huh?’