The sergeant nodded. "Apsalar said as much. Now, what kind of ghosts?"
Frowning, Bottle hesitated.
Fiddler hissed a curse. "Bottle."
"Well, I was assuming she knows, only has her reasons for not mentioning it, so I was thinking, it wouldn't be polite—"
"Soldier—"
"I mean, she was a squad-mate of yours, and—"
"A squad-mate who just happened to have been possessed herself, by the Rope, almost all the time that I knew her. So if she's not talking, it's no surprise. Tell me Bottle, what manner of flesh did those souls call home?"
"Are you saying you don't trust her?"
"I don't even trust you."
Frowning, Bottle looked away, watched Deadsmell working on Masan Gilani on the slope, sensed the whisper of Denul sorcery… and something like Hood's own breath. The bastard is a necromancer, damn him! "Bottle."
"Sergeant? Oh, sorry. I was just wondering."
"Wondering what?"
"Well, why Apsalar has two dragons in tow."
"They're not dragons. They're tiny lizards—"
"No, Sergeant, they're dragons."
Slowly, Fiddler's eyes widened.
Bottle'd known he wouldn't like it.
The Bonehunters, by Steven Erikson (Malazan Book of the Fallen #6)
