By Ian C. Esslemont

The go back of the mercenary corporation, the pink safeguard, couldn't have come at a worse time for a Malazan Empire exhausted by way of battle and weakened via betrayals and rivalries. certainly, there are those that ponder whether the Empress Laseen will not be wasting her grip on energy as she faces expanding unrest as conquered kingdoms and principalities experience freedom as soon as more.Into the seething cauldron of Quon Tali--the Empire's heartland--marches the shield. With their go back comes the reminiscence of the Empire--and but all isn't really good with the safeguard itself. components inside its elite, the Avowed, have set their points of interest on a ways larger strength. There are historic entities who additionally search to additional their very own arcane ends. And what of the swordsman referred to as vacationer who, together with his significant other Ereko, has long gone looking for a war of words from which none have ever returned?As the protect prepares to salary struggle, so Laseen's personal generals and mages, the 'Old Hands', develop impatient at what they see as her mismanagement of the Empire. yet may Laseen have outwitted all of them? may perhaps she be utilizing the uprisings to attract out and at last do away with those final irksome survivors from the times of her illustrious predecesor, Kellanved?

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Extra info for Return of the Crimson Guard: A Novel of the Malazan Empire (Malazan Empire Novels (Unnumbered))

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Here they come,’ Stoop murmured. Through the sheets of driving rain, Kyle made out a squad of men exiting the portal. Greymane emerged last. All alone he manhandled shut its stone slab of a door. The men jog-trotted across the abutting levels of gardens and patios. They threw themselves behind benches and stone garden planters that now held nothing more than the beaten down stalks of dead brush. These men and women covered the doorway while their companions jogged and skittered to another section of the courtyard.

Now he felt like the company's beggar fool. He concentrated on his footing, tried to grimace down the flaring pain of his thighs, chafed shoulders and his blazing lungs. Back among his brothers and cousins he'd been counted one of the strongest runners, able to jog from sun's rise to sun's set. There was no way he'd let this old veteran walk him into the ground. A shout from above and Kyle stopped. Distant blows sounded together with shouts of alarm. Weapons hissed from sheaths. He leaned out to peer up the inner circular gap but couldn't see what was going on.

All alone he manhandled shut its stone slab of a door. The men jog-trotted across the abutting levels of gardens and patios. They threw themselves behind benches and stone garden planters that now held nothing more than the beaten down stalks of dead brush. These men and women covered the doorway while their companions jogged and skittered to another section of the courtyard. Stalker was among them, his own crossbow held high. Greymane brought up the rear, walking slowly and heavily as if deep in thought.

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