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“From now on I will be grateful for every moment that I can walk.” Ninefingers grinned. “That feeling lasts a day or two, then you’ll be moaning about the food again.”
“And this is why I love to travel,” breathed Longfoot. “At one stroke, in one moment, this whole journey has been made worthwhile. Has there ever been such another sight? How many men living can have gazed upon it? The three of us stand at a window upon history, at a gate into the long-forgotten past. No longer will I dream of fair Talins, glittering on the sea in the red morning, or Ul-Nahb, glowing beneath the azure bowl of the heavens in the bright midday, or Ospria, proud upon her mountain slopes, lights shining like the stars in the soft evening. From this day forth, my heart will forever
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Words, my friends. There can be a greater power in words than in all the steel within the Circle of the World.” “A blade in your ear still hurts more than a word in it, though,”
“This is the age of little men, doing what they must. Little men, with little dreams, walking in giant footsteps.
Only friends get left behind. Enemies are always at your heels.
Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers, say that he has poor luck.
“Have to be realistic,” she whispered. Her fingers uncurled, letting him go. Logen remembered hanging from a building, far above a circle of yellow grass. He remembered sliding back, whispering for help. He remembered Ferro’s hand closing round his, pulling him up. He slowly shook his head, and gripped her wrist tighter than ever. She rolled her yellow eyes at him. “Stupid fucking pink!”
“Do you have to?” he muttered, looking her right in one yellow eye. “Have to what?” “Be a cunt. Do you have to?”
If only the old crew could’ve seen him now. Logen Ninefingers, the most feared man in the North, piss-wet frightened of the dark, clinging tight to the hand of a woman who hated him, like a child clinging to his mother’s tit. He might almost have laughed out loud. But he was scared the Shanka would hear.
Back then, he might easily have been the last man in the world she would have trusted. Now he might easily have been the only one. He had not let her fall, even though she had told him to. He had chosen to fall with her rather than let her go. Out there on the plain, he had said he would stick if she did. Now he had proved it.
Hatred was a powerful weapon, in the right hands. The Bloody-Nine hated everything. But his oldest buried, and his deepest rooted, and his hottest burning hatred, that was for the Shanka.
“That’s it,” she heard Ninefingers muttering. “By the fucking dead, that’s it. I’m done. I’m not moving another stride.” Ferro shook her head. “We need to make some distance while we still have light.” She snatched up her weapons from the dirt. “You call this light? Are you fucking crazy, woman?” “You know I am. Let’s go, pink.” And she poked him in the ribs with her wet boot.
“What did I do?” She turned and looked at him, standing there, wet hair dripping round his face. “What did I do, back there?” “You got us through.” “I meant—” “You got us through. That’s all.”
Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers, say he’s a lover.
She shifted back against him, her bare arse pressing into his stomach, lifting one knee up. “Why should I be giving you another chance?” “I don’t know…” he muttered, starting to grin. He slid his hand gently over her chest, across her belly, down between her legs. “Same reason you gave me the first one?”
And that was when Ferro realised that she had made three serious mistakes. She had let herself fall asleep, and nothing good ever happened when she did that. Then she had elbowed Ninefingers in the face. And what was much, much worse, so stupid she almost grimaced to think of it: She had fucked him the night before.
A few months in the sun and you feel as though you’ll never be cold again. How soon we forget.
Just another day for Practical Severard. Never thinking more than an hour ahead. What a gift.
Strange how, as long as the hardship lasts, we can stand it. As soon as the crisis is over, the strength all leeches away in an instant.
“It seems I owe you an apology.” “Keep it. It isn’t worth shit to me. Just trust me next time.” “A fair demand,” he conceded, glancing sideways at her. But you have to be joking.
War killed a lot of men, it seemed. But it gave a few a second chance.
The Broken Mountains,” breathed Brother Longfoot, his voice hushed with awe. “Truly, a magnificent sight.” “I think I’d like it better if I didn’t have to climb ’em,” grunted Logen.
“Well, you got it all figured, don’t you?” said Dow, looking sideways. “There’s just one thing we still need to know. She suck your cock yet?” “What?” said the Dogman, caught not knowing what to say. Tul spluttered with laughter. Threetrees started chuckling to himself. Even Grim made a kind of sound, like breath, but louder. “Simple question, ain’t it?” asked Dow. “Has she, or has she not, sucked it?” Dogman frowned and hunched his shoulders. “Shit on that.” Tul could barely hold his giggling back. “She did what to it? She shit on it? You was right, Dow, they don’t do it the same down there
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“Time has not been kind to the place.” “Time is never kind.”
“Sult wants you.” “Now?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh no, we can take our time. You know how he is.”
Leaders don’t get to be legendary by handing out light duty.
Watching a man’s entrails spilling out is excellent entertainment, but the sight of his cock, well, that would be obscene.
“It’s not here.” Logen shook his head sadly. “Say one thing for—”
It was a bad day for men, all in all, and a good one for the ground. Always the way, after a battle. Only the ground wins.
Never took an easy path if he thought it was the wrong one. Never stepped back from a fight if he thought it had to be done.
