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Hu He waved the mace one final time over his head, then lowered it

The duel had begun

Trotts stepped back, crouching loith the shield ried outward as he half extended his arm

The youth pivoted to face hi, snake-head ht fro in a haphazard, desultory defence, but the big Bridgeburner did not come forward Ten paces still remained between them

Every move the lad makes tells Trotts more, fills out the tactical map What the boy reacts to, what ht, the play over the ground and the balls of his feet and Trotts has yet toat an angle that Trotts eburner’s sword slid out to the side The lad skittered back, then he neared again, sharpening the angle

Like a stolid infantryhast attacked

A snort gusted froeburner’s heavy-footedness vanished Negating his own advantage in height, Trottsforward unexpectedly into the lad’s high-bladed attack Hook-knife glanced without strength off Trotts’s helm, then the heavy round shield ha hi, raising a cloud of dust as he tumbled and rolled

A fool would have pursued, only to find the lad’s knife slashing through the sunlit cloud -- but Trotts sied fro His smile remained

Not a style the lad’s used to Trotts could well be standing front-line in a phalanx, shoulder to shield with hard-eyed Malazan infantry More than one barbaric horde has been deflowered and cut to pieces against that deadly human wall These White Faces have never experienced an Ian a swift, darting dance, circling Trotts, edging in then back out, playing with the bright sunlight and flashes on weapon and areburner sis -- he had beco to hold a position too long before shifting, each ti the methodical steps of the Malazan infantry drill like a thick-skulled recruit He ignored every feint, would not be pulled forward by the lad’s moments of imbalance and aardness -- which were theun shouting their frustration This was not a duel as they knew duels Trotts would not play the lad’s game He is now a soldier of the Empire, and that is the addendum to his tale

The youth launched another attack, his blade blurring in a wild skein of feints, then slashing low, seeking the Bridgeburner’s right knee -- the hinge in the ar the knife away Broadsword slashed horizontally for the boy’s head He ducked lower, hook-blade dropping down to slash ineffectually across the toe-cap of Trotts’s boot The Bridgeburner snapped his shield into the boy’s face

The youth reeled, blood spraying fro the ri deep into the are of Trotts’s left araments and veins

The Malazan chopped doith his broadsword, severing the lad’s knife-hand at the wrist

Blood poured froement was not yet complete Paran watched in aered, beneath the chin-guard of Trotts’s hel sound ca senseless in a welter of blood, knees buckling, the Bridgeburner sank to the ground

Trotts’s final gesture was a lightning-quick sweep of his broadsword across the lad’s stomach Sleek flesh parted and the youth looked down in tiush of fluids He convulsed around theround

Trotts lay before the dying boy, clawing frantically at his throat, legs kicking

The captain lurched forward, but one of his Bridgeburners was quicker -- Mulch, a minor healer from the Eleventh Squad, raced into the Circle to Trotts’s side A small flickblade flashed in the soldier’s hand as he straddled the writhing warrior and pushed his head back to expose the throat

What in Hood’s name -