Dunsparrow reached out and grasped Leoman's arm. 'The portal's crumbling, Leoman.'
The warrior, last commander of Dryjhna, turned away, and, the woman at his side, strode into the gate. Moments later it dissolved, and there was nothing.
Nothing but the strange, swirling wind, skirling dust-devils tracking the inlaid tile floor.
Corabb blinked, looked round. Outside the temple, it seemed the world was ending, voicing a death-cry ever rising in timbre. No… not a death-cry. Something else…
Hearing a closer sound – from a side passage – a scuffle – Corabb drew his scimitar. Approached the curtain barring the corridor. With the tip of his blade, he swung the cloth aside.
To see children. Crouching, huddled. Ten, fifteen – sixteen in all.
Smudged faces, wide eyes, all looking up at him. 'Oh gods,' he murmured. 'They have forgotten you.'
They all have. Every single one of them.
He sheathed his weapon and stepped forward. 'It's all right,' he said.
'We shall find us a room, yes? And wait this out.'
Something else… Thunder, the death of buildings, the burgeoning wails of fire, howling winds. This is what is outside, the world beyond, this… spirits below, DryjhnaOutside, the birth-cries of the Apocalypse rose still higher.
'There!' Throatslitter said, pointing.
Sergeant Balm blinked, the smoke and heat like broken glass in his eyes, and could just make out a half-score figures crossing the street before them. 'Who?'
'Malazans,' Throatslitter said.
From behind Balm: 'Great, more for the clam-bake, what a night we're going to have-'
'When I said be quiet, Widdershins, I meant it. All right, let's go meet them. Maybe they ain't as lost as us.'
'Oh yeah? Look who's leading them! That drunk, what's her name? They' re probably trying to find a bar!'
'I ain't lying, Widdershins! One more word and I'll skewer you!'
Urb's huge hand landed on her arm, gripping hard, turning her round, and Hellian saw a squad stumbling towards them. 'Thank the gods,' she said in a ravaged voice, 'they got to know where they're going-'
A sergeant approached in a half-crouch. Dal Honese, his face patchy with dried mud. 'I'm Balm,' he said. 'Wherever you're headed, we're with you!'
Hellian scowled. 'Fine,' she said. 'Just fall in and we'll all be rosy in no time.'
'Got us a way out?'
'Yeah, down that alley.'
'Great. What's down there?'
'The only place not yet burning, you Dal Honese monk-rat!' She waved at her troop and they continued on. Something was visible ahead. A huge, smudgy dome of some kind. They were passing temples now, the doors swinging wide, banging in the gusting, furnace-hot wind. What little clothes she was still wearing had begun smoking, thready wisps stretching out from the rough weave. She could smell her own burning hair.
A soldier came up alongside her. He was holding twin long-knives in gloved hands. 'You ain't got no cause to curse Sergeant Balm, woman.
He brought us through this far.'
'What's your name?' Hellian demanded.
'Throatslitter-'
'Nice. Now go and slit your own throat. Nobody's gotten through nowhere, you damned idiot. Now, unless you got a bottle of chilled wine under that shirt, go find someone else to annoy.'
'You was nicer drunk,' he said, falling back.
Yeah, everyone's nicer drunk.
At the far edge of the collapsed palace, Limp's left leg was trapped by a sliding piece of stonework, his screams loud enough to challenge the fiery wind. Cord, Shard and a few others from the Ashok squad pulled him free, but it was clear the soldier's leg was broken.
Ahead was a plaza of some sort, once the site of a market of some kind, and beyond it rose a huge domed temple behind a high wall.
Remnants of gold leaf trickled down the dome's flanks like rainwater.
A heavy layer of smoke roiled across the scene, making the dome seem to float in the air, firelit and smeared. Strings gestured for everyone to close in.
'We're heading for that temple,' he said. 'It likely won't help – there's a damned firestorm coming. Never seen one myself, and I'm wishing that was still the case. Anyway,' he paused to cough, then spit, 'I can't think of anything else.'
'Sergeant,' Bottle said, frowning, 'I sense… something. Life. In that temple.'
'All right, maybe we'll have to fight to find a place to die. Fine.
