On all sides, Paran could see nothing but the humped reddish-brown, dust-caked backs of the beasts. There was nowhere he could lead his horse, no place of safety within sight. Paran leaned back in his saddle and waited.Something flashed to his left, tawny and low to the ground. The captain half turned, just as something heavy hammered him from the right and clung, dragging him from the saddle. Cursing, Paran thumped heavily in the dust, grappling with wiry limbs, ragged black hair. He drove his knee up, connecting with a solid stomach. His attacker rolled to one side, gasping. Paran scrambled to his feet, found himself facing a youth in tanned hides. The boy sprang to close with the captain once again.Paran sidestepped and clouted the boy on the side of the head. His attacker sprawled unconscious.Piercing cries were sounding on all sides. The Bhederin were parting, moving away. Figures emerged, closing on Paran's position. Rhivi. Sworn enemies to the Empire, allied in the north with Caladan Brood and the Crimson Guard.Two warriors came to the unconscious boy's side; each took an arm and dragged him off.The herd had come to a stop.Another warrior approached, striding boldly up to Paran. His dust-streaked face was st.i.tched with dyed threads, black and red, from high on the cheeks down to the jawline then up and around the mouth. A Bhederin hide rode the broad line of his shoulders. Stopping less than an arm's length in front of Paran, the warrior reached out and closed his hand on the grip of Chance. Paran struck away the hand. The Rhivi smiled, stepped back and loosed a high-pitched, ululating cry.Figures rose on the backs of the surrounding Bhederin, lances balanced in one hand as they crouched on the s.h.a.ggy backs. The huge animals beneath the warriors ignored them as if they were but tick-birds.The two Rhivi who had taken the boy away now returned, joining the st.i.tch-faced warrior, who said something to the one on his left. This man moved forward. Before Paran could react, he surged into motion, throwing a leg behind the captain then driving his shoulder into Paran's chest.The warrior fell on top of him. A knife blade slid against the line of Paran's jaw, sliced through the helmet strap. The iron skullcap was pulled away and fingers snagged a handful of his hair. Dragging the warrior with him, Paran pushed himself upright. He'd had enough. Death was one thing, death without dignity quite another. As the Rhivi's hand twisted, pulling his head up, the captain reached between the warrior's legs and found his own handful. He yanked hard.The warrior shrieked, releasing Paran's hair. A knife appeared again, flashing at the captain's face. He ducked to one side, his free hand snapping up to grasp the wrist, pushing away the knife. He squeezed once more with his other hand. The Rhivi shrieked again, then Paran let go, twisted round and drove his armoured elbow into the man's face.Blood spattered like rain in the dust. The warrior reeled back, crumpled to the ground.A lance haft hammered a glancing blow along Paran's temple. He spun round with the impact. A second lance struck him in the hip, hard as a kick from a horse, numbing his leg. Something pinned his left foot to the ground.Paran unsheathed Chance. The weapon was almost knocked from his hand with a ringing, pealing sound. He swung it upward and it was struck again. Half blinded with pain, sweat and dust, Paran reared upright, shifting to a two-handed grip and drawing Chance down to a centre guard position. The sword's blade was struck a third time, but he retained his grip.There was silence. Gasping, blinking, Paran raised his head, looked around.Rhivi surrounded him, but none moved. Their dark eyes were wide.Paran flicked his gaze to his weapon, glared back up and around at the warriors, then his eyes returned to Chance. And stayed there.Three iron lanceheads sprouted from the blade like leaves, each point split and jammed, the hafts shattered and gone, leaving only white wood jutting out from the sockets.He looked down at his pinned foot. A lance had struck, through his boot, but the wide blade of the head was turned, its flat side pressing against his foot. Splintered wood surrounded him. Paran glanced at his hip, saw no wound. A jagged tear marred the leather of Chance's scabbard.The Rhivi warrior with the smashed face lay motionless a few feet from where Paran stood. The captain saw that his mount and the packhorses were untouched and had not moved. The other Rhivi had pulled back. The encirclement now divided as a small figure approached.A girl, perhaps no more than five years old. The warriors moved aside from her as if in awe, or fear, possibly both. She wore antelope skins tied with cord at the waist, and nothing on her feet.There was something familiar about her, a way of walking, her stance as she stopped before him something in her heavy-lidded eyes that made Paran frown uneasily.The girl stopped to regard him, her small round face slowly coming to mirror Paran's own frown. She raised one hand, as if reaching for him, then dropped it. The captain found he could not pull away his eyes from her. Child, do do I I know you? know you?As the silence between them lengthened, an old woman came up behind the girl, rested a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. Looking worn, almost exasperated, the old woman studied the captain. The girl beside her said something, the quick lilting language of the Rhivi, surprisingly low-pitched for one so young. The old woman crossed her arms. The girl spoke again, insistently.The old woman addressed Paran in Daru, 'Five lances claimed you as our enemy.' She paused. 'Five lances were wrong.''You've plenty more,' Paran said.'So we have, and the G.o.d favouring your sword has no followers here.''So finish it,' Paran growled. 'I'm tired of the game.'The girl spoke, a tone of command that rang like iron on stone.The old woman turned in obvious surprise.The girl continued, her words now evidently explanatory. The old woman listened, then swung her dark, glittering gaze back to the captain. 'You are Malazan, and Malazans have chosen to be the enemies of the Rhivi. Is this choice yours as well? And know this: I will recognize a lie when I hear it.''I am Malazan by birth,' Paran said. 'I have no interest in calling the Rhivi my enemy. I would rather have no enemies at all.'The old woman blinked. 'She offers you words to ease your grief, soldier.''Meaning?''You are to live.'Paran did not quite trust this turn of events. 'What words has she for me? I've never seen her before.''Nor has she seen you before. Yet you know each other.''No, we don't.'The old woman's eyes hardened. 'Will you hear her words or not? She offers you a gift. Will you throw it back in her face?'Profoundly uneasy, he said. 'No, I suppose not.''The child says you need not grieve. The woman you know has not pa.s.sed through the Arching Trees of Death. Her journey was beyond the lands you can see, beyond those of the spirit that all mortals sense. And now she has returned. You must be patient, soldier. You will meet again, so this child promises.''Which woman?' Paran demanded, his heart pounding.'The one you thought dead.'He looked again at the girl. The familiarity returned like a blow to his chest. He staggered back a step. 'Not possible,' he whispered.The girl withdrew, dust swirling. She vanished.'Wait!'Another cry sounded. The herd lurched into motion, closing in, obscuring the Rhivi. In moments all Paran could see were the backs of the giant beasts, shuffling past. He thought to push among them, but knew it would bring him only death.'Wait!' the captain shouted again, but the sound of hundreds thousands of hoofs on the plain drowned his efforts.Tattersail!

It was fully an hour before the Bhederin herd's tail end appeared. As the last of the beasts strolled past the captain, he looked around. The wind rolled the dust cloud eastward, over the sloping, humped hills.Paran climbed into the saddle, swung his mount southward once again. The hills of Gadrobi rose before him. Tattersail, what did you do? Tattersail, what did you do? He recalled Toc noting the trail of small prints leading from the scorched pillar that had been all that was left of Bellurdan and Tattersail. He recalled Toc noting the trail of small prints leading from the scorched pillar that had been all that was left of Bellurdan and Tattersail. Hood's Breath, did you plan such a thing? And why the Rhivi? Reborn, already a child of five, maybe six are you even mortal any more, woman? Have you ascended? You've found yourself a people, a strange, primitive people to what end? And when we next meet, how old will you appear to be then? Hood's Breath, did you plan such a thing? And why the Rhivi? Reborn, already a child of five, maybe six are you even mortal any more, woman? Have you ascended? You've found yourself a people, a strange, primitive people to what end? And when we next meet, how old will you appear to be then?He thought again about the Rhivi. They'd been driving the herd north, a herd big enough to feed ... an army on the march. an army on the march. Caladan Brood he's on his way to Pale. That is something I don't think Dujek's prepared for. Old Onearm's in trouble. Caladan Brood he's on his way to Pale. That is something I don't think Dujek's prepared for. Old Onearm's in trouble.He had another two hours of riding before sunset. Beyond the Gadrobi Hills was Lake Azur, and the city of Darujhistan. And within the city, Whiskeyjack and his squad. And in that squad, a young woman I've been preparing to meet for three years. The G.o.d possessing her is he even my enemy any more? And in that squad, a young woman I've been preparing to meet for three years. The G.o.d possessing her is he even my enemy any more?The question arrived unbidden, turning his heart cold. G.o.ds, what a journey this has been, and here I had thought to travel this plain unnoticed. A foolish thought. Scholars and mages write endlessly of fell convergences it seems I am a walking convergence, a lodestone to draw Ascendants. To their peril, it seems. G.o.ds, what a journey this has been, and here I had thought to travel this plain unnoticed. A foolish thought. Scholars and mages write endlessly of fell convergences it seems I am a walking convergence, a lodestone to draw Ascendants. To their peril, it seems. My My sword Chance answered those five lances, despite my treatment of one of the sword Chance answered those five lances, despite my treatment of one of the Twins. Twins. How to explain that? The truth is, my cause has become my own. How to explain that? The truth is, my cause has become my own. Not Not the Adjunct's, not the Empire's. I said I'd rather have no enemies at all and the old woman saw those as true words. And so, it seems, they are. the Adjunct's, not the Empire's. I said I'd rather have no enemies at all and the old woman saw those as true words. And so, it seems, they are.Endless surprises, Ganoes Paran. Ride on, see what comes.

The track climbed a hillside and the captain spurred his horse up the slope. Reaching the summit, he yanked hard on the reins. The horse snorted indignantly and swung her head round, eyes rolling. But Paran's attention was elsewhere. He leaned back in the saddle and loosened his sword.A heavily armoured man struggled to his feet beside a small campfire. Beyond him was a hobbled mule. The man tottered, his weight on one leg, and unsheathed a b.a.s.t.a.r.d sword, which he then leaned on as he regarded the captain.Paran nudged his mount forward, scanning the immediate area. It seemed that the warrior was alone. He brought his horse to a halt with thirty feet between them.The man spoke in Daru. 'I'm in no shape for a fight, but if you want one it's yours.'Once again Paran found himself thankful for the Adjunct's insistence that he be thoroughly schooled: his reply was as fluent as this native's. 'No. I've lost the taste for it.' He waited, leaning forward in the saddle, then grinned at the mule. 'Is that beast a War Mule?'The man barked a laugh. 'I'm sure it thinks it is,' he said, relaxing. 'I've food to spare, traveller, if you're of a mind.'The captain dismounted and approached. 'My name's Paran,' he said. He sat down by the fire.The other followed suit, the fire between them. 'Coll,' he grunted, stretching out a bandaged leg. 'You down from the north?''Genabaris, initially. Spent some time in Pale, recently.'Coil's brows rose at that. 'You've the look of a mercenary,' he said, 'though likely an officer. I heard it was pretty bad up there.''I arrived a little late,' Paran admitted. 'Saw lots of rubble and lots of dead, so I'm inclined to believe the stories.' He hesitated, then said, 'There was a rumour in Pale that Moon's Sp.a.w.n is now over Darujhistan.'Coll grunted, tossing a handful of sticks on to the fire. 'So it is,' he said. He gestured at a battered pot tucked against the coals. 'That's stew, if you're hungry. Help yourself.'Paran realized he was famished. He accepted Coil's offer gratefully. As he ate, using a wooden spoon the man loaned him, he thought to ask about that leg wound. But then he recalled his Claw training. When you play a soldier, you play it to the hilt. n.o.body talks about what's obvious. Something staring you in the eye, you look around it and grumble about the weather. Anything important will come out in its own time. Soldiers have nothing to look forward to, making patience an easy virtue, and sometimes it's not just a virtue, but a contest of indifference. So Paran emptied the pot, while Coll waited in casual silence, poking at the fire and adding the occasional stick from an enormous pile behind him where the wood had come from was anybody's guess.Finally, Paran wiped his mouth with his sleeve and scrubbed the spoon as clean as he could manage without water. He sat back then, and belched.Coll spoke. 'You heading into Darujhistan, then?''I am. And you?''Should be able to manage it in another day or so, though I can't say I'm looking forward to riding into the city on the back of a mule.'Paran looked westward. 'Well,' he said, squinting, 'sun's about down. Mind if I share this camp for the night?''By all means.'The captain rose and attended to his horses. He thought about delaying a day to let this man mend some more, then lending him a horse. If he rode into the city in the company of a local, there'd be advantages someone to direct him, perhaps even give him a place to stay for a day or two. Not only that, but he might learn something in the meantime. Would another day matter? Possibly, but it looked worth it. He hobbled the Wickan horses near the mule, then carried his saddle back to the fire.'Been thinking about your problem,' Paran said, as he dropped the saddle and sat with his back against it. 'I'll ride in with you. You can use my pack horse.'Coil's eyes were alert. 'A generous offer.'Seeing the man's suspicion, Paran smiled. 'The horses could use the extra day's rest, for one. Second, I've never before been to Darujhistan, so in exchange for my so-called generosity I'd like to plague you with endless questions in the next two days. After that, I get my horse back and you're on your way, and if anyone's come out ahead, it's me.''Better warn you now, Paran, I'm not much of a talker.''I'll take the risk.'Coll considered for a time. 'h.e.l.l,' he said, 'I'd be mad not to accept, wouldn't I? You don't look the type to stick me in the back. I don't know your real story, Paran. If that's something you want to keep to yourself, that's your business. That won't stop me from asking questions, though. It's up to you whether you lie or not.''I think that goes both ways, doesn't it?' Paran responded. 'Well, you want my story straight? Fine, here it is, Coll. I'm a deserter from the Malazan Army, ranked as captain. I also did a lot of work with the Claw, and looking back on it that's where the trouble started. Anyway, it's done.' Oh, yes, and one more Oh, yes, and one more thing: thing: people who get close to me usually end up dead. people who get close to me usually end up dead.Coll was silent, his eyes glittering in the firelight and fixed on the man opposite him. Then he puffed his cheeks and blew out a loud breath of air. 'Truth as bald as that makes a challenge, don't it?' He stared into the fire, then leaned back on his elbows and lifted his face to the stars now appearing overhead. 'I was once a n.o.ble in Darujhistan, the last son of a long-lined, powerful family. I was set for an arranged marriage but I fell in love with another woman a hungry, ambitious woman, though I was blind to that.' He smiled wryly. 'She was a wh.o.r.e, in fact, only where most wh.o.r.es I've met are pretty down-to-earth, she was as twisted a soul as you could imagine.'He pa.s.sed a hand across his eyes. 'Anyway, I refuted my obligations and broke off the arranged marriage. It killed my father, I think, when I married Aystal that was the wh.o.r.e's name, though she's changed it since.' He laughed harshly at the night sky. 'Didn't take her long. I'm still not sure how she managed the details, how many men she took to bed to buy their influence, or how they did it. All I know is I woke up one day and found myself stripped of t.i.tle, stripped even of my family name. The estate was hers, the money was hers, it was all hers, and her need for me had ended.'The flames licked the dry wood between them. Paran said nothing. He sensed that more was to come from the man opposite him, and that Coll was struggling with it.'But that wasn't the worst betrayal, Paran,' he said at length, meeting the captain's eyes. 'Oh, no. That came when I walked away from it. I could've fought her. I might even have won.' His jaw tautened the only hint of anguish that escaped his self-control then he continued, in a flat, empty voice, 'Acquaintances I'd known for decades looked right through me. To everyone I was dead. They chose not to hear me. They just walked past, or didn't even come to the gates of their estates when I called on them. I was dead, Paran, even the city's records claimed it. And so I agreed with them. I walked away. Disappeared. It's one thing to have your friends mourn your pa.s.sing in your face. But it's another to betray your own life, Paran. But, as you said, it's done.'The captain looked away, squinting into the darkness. What's this human urge, he wondered, that brings us to such devastation? 'The games of the high born,' he said quietly, 'span the world. I was born a n.o.ble, like you, Coll. But in Malaz we'd met our match in the old Emperor. He crushed us at every turn until we cowered like whipped dogs. Cowered for years. But it was only an issue of power, wasn't it?' he said, more to himself than to the man who shared the fire. 'There are no lessons worthy enough for a n.o.ble to heed. I look back on my years within that twisted, hungry company I look back on that life now, Coll, and I see it wasn't a life at all.' He was silent for a time, then a slow smile curved his mouth and his gaze swung to Coll. 'Since I walked away from the Malazan Empire, and severed once and for all the dubious privileges of my n.o.ble blood, d.a.m.n, I've never felt so alive. It was never a life before, only the palest shadow of what I've now found. Is that a truth most of us are too frightened to face?'Coll grunted. 'I'm not the sharpest man you'll meet, Paran, and your thoughts are running a touch too deep for me. But if I understand you right, you're sitting there looking at a chopped-up old fool of a man and you're telling him he's alive. Right now. As alive as can be. And whatever he betrayed back then, it wasn't life, was it?''You tell me, Coll.'The man grimaced and ran a hand through his thinning hair. 'The thing is, I want it back. I want it all back.'Paran burst out laughing, and continued to laugh until sharp pains cramped his stomach.Coll sat watching him, then a low, rumbling chuckle rose from his chest. He reached back, retrieved a handful of sticks and tossed them into the fire, one at a time. 'Well, dammit, Paran,' he said, amused lines crinkling around his eyes, 'you've come out of the blue like a G.o.d-sent bolt of lightning. And I appreciate it. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.'Paran wiped tears from his eyes. 'Hood's Breath,' he said. 'Just one War Mule talking to another, right?''I guess so, Paran. Now, if you'll look in that pack of mine, you'll find a jug of Worrytown wine. Its vintage is about a week.'The captain rose. 'Meaning?''Meaning it's running out of time.'

BOOK SIX

THE CITY OF.

BLUE FIRE.

Rumours like tattered flags wind-snapped and echoing in the streets below told the tale of the days upon us ...

'Twas said an eel had slipped ash.o.r.e or not one but a thousand under a jagged moon that might be dead, 'twas whispered that a claw sc.r.a.ped slow on the city's cobbles, even as a dragon was seen sailing high silver and black in the nightsky.

'Twas heard, they say, a demon's death cry on the rooftops on a night of blood, even as the master's hundred hands lost a hundred daggers to the dark, and 'twas rumoured then, a lady masked highborn had offered to unbidden guests a fete to remember ...Rumour Born Fisher (b.?)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Few can see.

the dark hand holding aloft the splinter, or the notched chains fated to be heard before death's rattle, but hark the wheel of minions and victims who moan the lord's name in the dark heart of Moon's Sp.a.w.n ...SilverfoxOutrider Hurlochel, 6th Army As Rallick Nom approached the Phoenix Inn from the alleyway, a large, beefy woman stepped out from a shadowed niche and confronted him. He raised an eyebrow. 'You want something, Meese?''Never mind what I want.' She grinned invitingly. 'You've known about that for years. Anyway, I come to tell ya something, Nom. So relax.'He crossed his arms and waited.Meese glanced back up the alley, then hunched close to the a.s.sa.s.sin. 'There's someone in the bar. Been asking for ya. By name.'Startled, Rallick straightened. 'What's he look like?' he asked casually.'Like a soldier outa uniform,' Meese replied. 'Never seen him around before. So what do ya think, Nom?'He looked away. 'Nothing. Where's he sitting?'Meese grinned again. 'At Kruppe's table. Home ground. Now ain't that fine?'Rallick stepped past the woman and headed towards the inn. As she moved to follow he held out his hand. 'A minute between us, Meese,' he said, without turning. 'Where's Irilta?''Inside,' she said, behind him. 'Good luck, Nom.''Luck's never free,' Rallick muttered, as he turned the corner and climbed the steps.He stood still just within the door and surveyed the crowd. A few strangers, not enough to cause him concern, however. His gaze slid across to a man sitting at Kruppe's table. He almost had to take a second look, so nondescript was he. Then Rallick strode straight for him, the crowd parting as he went something he'd never noticed before. Amused, he held his eyes on the stranger until he was noticed. They locked gazes, though the man made no move other than to take a sip from his tankard then set it down carefully on the table.Rallick pulled out a chair and dragged it opposite. 'I'm Rallick Nom.'There was something solid about this person, a kind of a.s.surance that was calming. Rallick felt himself relaxing in spite of his habitual caution. The man's first words changed that, however.'The Eel has a message for you,' he said quietly. 'Direct, by word of mouth only. Before I deliver it, though, I'm to give you some background as only I can.' He paused to drink from the tankard, then resumed. 'Now, Turban Orr has hired another dozen hunters. What are they hunting? Well, me, for one. Your problem is that he's going to be harder to reach. The Eel approves of your efforts concerning Lady Simtal. Coil's return is desired by all who value integrity and honour within the Council. If you require anything, ask now and it's yours.'Rallick's eyes had hardened. 'Never knew Murillio had such a big mouth,' he said.The man shook his head. 'Your compatriot has revealed nothing. Nor have you. It is the Eel's business. Now, what do you require?''Nothing.''Good.' The stranger nodded, as if he'd expected that reply and was pleased. 'Incidentally, Turban Orr's efforts to pa.s.s the proclamation have been ... impeded. Indefinitely. The Eel wishes to thank you for your unwitting role in that. Nevertheless, the councilman explores other options. He has been watched closely. Hence our fortunate discovery that is at the heart of the Eel's message to you. Last night, beneath Despot's Barbican, Turban Orr met with a representative of the a.s.sa.s.sins' Guild how he managed that was quite a feat, considering how difficult your comrades have been to find. In any case, a contract was tendered by Turban Orr.' The man waited for the shock to wear off Rallick's face, then continued. 'Tendered by Turban Orr, as I said, but not on his own behalf. Rather, Lady Simtal has decided that Coil's death should be a fact in the real world as it is on paper.''Who?' Rallick rasped. 'Who was the contact?''I'm coming to that. First, it was accepted, for the payment was substantial. They are aware that Coll is presently outside Darujhistan. They simply await his return.''The a.s.sa.s.sin's name.''Ocelot.' The man rose. 'The Eel wishes you success in all your ventures, Rallick Nom. Thus the message ends. Good evening.' He turned to leave.'Wait.''Yes?''Thank you,' Rallick said.The stranger smiled, then left.The a.s.sa.s.sin took the man's seat, and leaned against the wall. He waved at Sulty, who had a pitcher of ale and a tankard waiting. She hurried over. Behind her strode, at a more leisurely pace, Irilta and Meese. They sat down without preamble, each with her own tankard.'Everybody's still breathing,' Irilta said, raising her drink. 'And here's t' that.'Meese lifted hers as well and the two women drank deep. Then Meese bent forward. 'Any word of Kruppe and the boy?'Rallick shook his head. 'I may not be here when they come back,' he said. 'Tell Murillio to go ahead if I don't show, and if other ... events occur. And, if that happens, tell him our man's eyes are open.' Rallick filled his tankard and drained it immediately. Then he rose. 'Don't wish me luck,' he said.'How about success?' Meese asked, a worried expression on her broad face.Rallick jerked his head in a nod. Then he left the inn.

Anomander Rake was hiding something. Baruk was certain of it as he stared moodily into the fireplace. In his right hand was a goblet of goat's milk, and in his left a large fragment of Daru flatbread. Why had the Tiste Andii permitted the Ima.s.s to enter the barrow? He'd asked that question already of the Lord sitting beside him, but an answer didn't seem forthcoming. Instead, all the alchemist got from Rake was that irritating smugness. Baruk took a bite from the flatbread, the crack loud between them.Rake stretched out his legs and sighed. 'An odd hour to dine,' he said.'All my hours have been odd, lately,' Baruk said, around the bread. He drank a mouthful of milk.'I'd no idea that both the Shadow Lord and Oponn had become involved in affairs,' Rake said.Baruk felt the Lord's eyes on him, but he remained staring at the fire. 'I had an intimation of Oponn,' he said. 'But nothing definite.'Rake snorted in reply.Baruk downed some more milk. 'You hold your hunches close to your chest. I do the same.''This avails us nothing,' Rake snapped.The alchemist turned in his chair to face the Tiste Andii. 'Your ravens watched that woman and the T'lan Ima.s.s enter the barrow. Do you still believe they will fail?''Do you?' Rake retorted. 'I seem to recall that that was your position on the matter, Baruk. As far as I was and am concerned, I don't much care whether they succeed or not. Either way, there'll be a fight. I suspect you'd imagined there would be a way to avoid one. Obviously, your intelligence concerning the Malazan Empire is sorely lacking. Laseen knows only one thing, and that's force. She'll ignore power until it's unveiled, and then she'll hit you with everything at her disposal.''And you just wait for it to happen?' Baruk scowled. 'That's how cities are destroyed. That's how thousands of people die. Does any of that matter to you, Anomander Rake? So long as you win in the end?'A tight smile played on the Lord's thin lips. 'An accurate a.s.sessment, Baruk. In this case, however, Laseen wants Darujhistan intact. I mean to prevent that. But destroying the city to defy her would be too easy. I could have managed that weeks ago. No, I want Darujhistan to remain as it is. Yet out of Laseen's reach. That, Alchemist, is victory.' His grey eyes were on Baruk. 'I would not have sought an alliance with you otherwise.'The alchemist frowned. 'Unless you plan treachery.'Rake was silent for a time, studying his hands clasped on his lap. 'Baruk,' he said softly, 'as any commander of long standing knows, treachery breeds its own. Once committed, whether against an enemy or an ally, it becomes a legitimate choice for everyone in your command, from the lowest private seeking promotion, to your personal aides, bodyguards and officers. My people know of our alliance with you, Alchemist. If I were to betray it, I would not long remain the Lord of Moon's Sp.a.w.n. And rightly so.'Baruk smiled. 'And who could challenge your power, Rake?''Caladan Brood, for one,' Rake replied immediately. 'And then there's my four a.s.sa.s.sin mages. Even Silanah, the dweller within the Moon's caverns, might take it upon herself to exact judgement on me. I can think of others, Baruk, many others.''So fear holds you in check, Son of Darkness?'Rake scowled. 'That t.i.tle is held by those fools who think me worthy of worship. I dislike it, Baruk, and would not hear it again from you. Does fear hold me in check? No. As powerful as fear is, it is no match for what compels me. Duty.' The Lord's eyes had shifted into a dun tone as they remained fixed on his hands, which he now turned palms up. 'You have a duty to your city, Baruk. It drives you, shapes you. I'm no stranger to such a thing. Within Moon's Sp.a.w.n are the last of the Tiste Andii on this world. We are dying, Alchemist. No cause seems great enough to return to my people the zest for life. I try, but inspiration has never been a great talent of mine. Even this Malazan Empire could not make us rise to defend ourselves until we ran out of places to run to.'We still die on this continent. Better that it be by the sword.' He let his hands slip from his lap. 'Imagine your spirit dying while your body lives on. Not for ten years, not for fifty. But a body that lives on for fifteen, twenty thousand years.'Rake rose swiftly. He looked down upon a silent Baruk, and smiled a smile that launched a dagger of pain into the alchemist's heart. 'Thus duty holds me, yet a duty that is in itself hollow. Is it enough to preserve the Tiste Andii? Simply preserve them? Do I raise Moon's Sp.a.w.n into the heavens, where we live on, beyond any risk, any threat? What, then, will I be preserving? A history, a particular point of view.' He shrugged. 'The history is done, Baruk, and the Tiste Andii point of view is one of disinterest, stoicism and quiet, empty despair. Are these gifts to the world worthy of preservation? I think not.'Baruk had no immediate response. What Anomander Rake had described was almost beyond comprehension, yet its anguished cry reached through to the alchemist. 'And yet,' he said, 'here you are. Allied with the Empire's victims. Do you stand alone in this, Anomander Rake? Do your people approve?''They care not,' Rake said. 'They accept my commands. They follow me. They serve Caladan Brood when I ask them to. And they die in the mud and forests of a land that is not their own, in a war not their own, for a people who are terrified of them.'Baruk sat forward. 'Then why? Why do you do all this?'A harsh laugh was Rake's response. After a moment, however, his bitter amus.e.m.e.nt fell away and he said, 'Is an honourable cause worth anything these days? Does it matter that we've borrowed it? We fight as well as any man. We die alongside them. Mercenaries of the spirit. And even that is a coin we scarcely value. Why? It doesn't matter why. But we never betray our allies.'I know you are worried that I did nothing to prevent the T'lan Ima.s.s from entering the barrow. I believe the Jaghut Tyrant will be freed, Baruk. But better now, with me here beside you, than at some other time when the Jaghut has no one capable of opposing him. We'll take this legend and carve the life from it, Alchemist, and never again will the threat haunt you.'Baruk stared at the Tiste Andii. 'Are you that certain you'll be able to destroy the Jaghut?''No. But when it is finished with us, it will have been much reduced. Then it falls to others to your Cabal, in fact. There's no certainty in this, Baruk. That seems a fact particularly galling to you humans. You'd better learn to accept it. We may well be able to destroy the Jaghut Tyrant, but even this will serve Laseen's plans.'The alchemist was bemused. 'I don't understand.'Rake grinned. 'When we are finished with it, we we will have been much reduced. And then will come the powers of the Malazan Empire. So, you see, either way she wins. If anything has her worried, it's your T'orrud Cabal, Baruk. Of your abilities she knows nothing. Which is why her agents seek this Vorcan. The Guild Master accepting the contract will solve the problem you represent.' will have been much reduced. And then will come the powers of the Malazan Empire. So, you see, either way she wins. If anything has her worried, it's your T'orrud Cabal, Baruk. Of your abilities she knows nothing. Which is why her agents seek this Vorcan. The Guild Master accepting the contract will solve the problem you represent.''Yet,' Baruk mused, 'there are other factors involved.''Oponn,' Rake stated. 'That is a danger to everyone involved. Do you think Oponn cares for a mortal city? For its people? It is the nexus of power that matters to Oponn, the whirlwind where games get nasty. Will immortal blood be spilled? That's the question the G.o.ds are eager to have answered.'Baruk stared down at his goblet of goat's milk. 'Well, at least we've avoided that so far.' He took a sip.'Wrong,' Rake said. 'Forcing Shadowthrone out of the game marked the first spilling of immortal blood.'Baruk almost choked on the milk. He set down the goblet and stared up at the Tiste Andii. 'Whose?''Two Hounds died by my sword. Knocked Shadowthrone somewhat off-balance, I believe.'Baruk leaned back and closed his eyes. 'Then the stakes have risen,' he said.'As far as Moon's Sp.a.w.n, Alchemist.' Rake returned to his chair and sat, once again stretching his legs out to the fire's warmth. 'Now, what more can you tell me about this Jaghut Tyrant? I recall you said you wished to consult an authority.'Baruk opened his eyes and tossed the flatbread into the fire. 'There's a problem there, Rake. I'm hoping you can help explain what's happened. Please,' he said, rising, 'follow me.'Grunting, Rake climbed back to his feet. This night he'd not worn his sword. To Baruk the Lord's broad back looked incomplete, but he was thankful for the weapon's absence.He led Rake from the room and down the central stairs to the lower chambers. The first of these subterranean rooms held a narrow cot, and on the cot lay an old man. Baruk indicated him. 'As you see, he appears to be sleeping. He is named Mammot.'Rake raised an eyebrow. 'The historian?''Also a High Priest of D'rek.''That explains the cynicism in his writings,' Rake said, grinning. 'The Worm of Autumn breeds an unhappy lot.'Baruk was surprised that this Tiste Andii had read Mammot's Histories Histories but, then, why not? A life spanning twenty thousand years necessitated hobbies, he supposed. but, then, why not? A life spanning twenty thousand years necessitated hobbies, he supposed.'So,' Rake said, striding to the bed, 'this Mammot sleeps a deep sleep. What triggered it?' He crouched before the old man.Baruk joined him. 'That is the odd part. I admit to knowing little of earth magic. D'riss is a Warren I've never explored. I called on Mammot, as I indicated to you, and upon his arrival I asked him to tell me all he knew of the Jaghut Tyrant and the barrow. He promptly sat down and closed his eyes. They've yet to open, and he's not uttered a single word since.'Rake straightened. 'He took your request seriously, I see.''What do you mean?''As you guessed, he opened his D'riss Warren. He sought to answer your question by rather, shall we say, direct means. And now something's trapped him.''He travelled by Warren to the Jaghut Tyrant's barrow? The old fool!''Into a concentration of Tellann sorcery, not to mention Jaghut Omtose Ph.e.l.lack. On top of all that, a woman with an Otataral sword.' Rake crossed his arms. 'He'll not come round until both the T'lan Ima.s.s and the Otataral have left the barrow. And even then, if he's not quick, the awakening Jaghut might take him.'A chill burgeoned in Baruk's bones. 'Take, as in possession?'Rake nodded, his expression grim. 'A High Priest, is he? The Jaghut would find him very useful. Not to mention the access Mammot provides to D'rek. Do you know, Baruk, if this Tyrant's capable of enslaving a G.o.ddess?''I don't know,' Baruk whispered, sweat trickling down his round face as he stared at Mammot's rec.u.mbent form. 'Dessembrae fend,' he added.

The old woman sitting on the tenement steps squinted at the late afternoon sky while she tamped dried Italbe leaves into her steat.i.te pipe. On the wooden steps beside her was a small covered bronze brazier. Thin kindling sticks jutted from holes around the bowl. The old woman withdrew one and set it to her pipe, then tossed it into the street.The man walking down the opposite side of the street caught the signal and ran a hand through his hair. Circle Breaker felt near to panic. This taking to the streets was far too risky. Turban Orr's hunters were close to him he could feel it with dread certainty. Sooner or later, the councilman would recall his many meetings beneath Despot's Barbican, and the guard who'd been stationed there every time. This brazen showing of himself compromised everything.He turned a corner, pa.s.sing beyond the old woman's sight, and. continued for three blocks until he came opposite the Phoenix Inn. Two women lounged by the door, laughing at some joke between them.Circle Breaker tucked his thumbs into his sword-belt and angled the scabbard out to the side. Its bronze-capped end sc.r.a.ped against the stone wall beside him. Then he withdrew his hands and continued on his way towards Lakefront. Well, it's done. Well, it's done. All that remained for him was one final contact, possibly redundant, but he would follow the Eel's orders. Things were coming to a head. He did not expect to live much longer, but he'd do what he must until that time. What more could be asked of him? All that remained for him was one final contact, possibly redundant, but he would follow the Eel's orders. Things were coming to a head. He did not expect to live much longer, but he'd do what he must until that time. What more could be asked of him?

At the entrance of the Phoenix Inn, Meese nudged Irilta. 'That's it,' she muttered. 'You do the back-up this time. Usual pattern.'Irilta scowled, then nodded. 'Head off, then.'Meese descended the steps and turned up the street. She reversed the route taken by Circle Breaker until she reached the tenement. She saw the old woman still sitting there, lazily watching pa.s.sers-by. As Meese pa.s.sed through her line of vision, the old woman removed the pipe from her mouth and tapped it against the heel of her shoe. Sparks rained on to the cobbles.That was the signal. Meese came to the corner of the block, then turned right and entered the alley running the building's length. A door opened for her a third of the way down and she strode into a dimly lit room with an open door beyond. Someone hid behind the first door but she did not acknowledge that someone's presence. She pa.s.sed through the second, inner door and found herself in a hallway. From there it was a quick jog up the stairs.

Apsalar or Sorry, as she had been known before hadn't been much impressed by her first sight of Darujhistan. For some reason, despite her excitement and antic.i.p.ation, it had all seemed too familiar.Disappointed, Crokus had wasted no time in taking her to his uncle's home once they'd stabled Coil's horse. The journey to the city, and then through its crowded streets, had been, for Crokus, a continual storm of confusion. This woman seemed to have a knack for catching him off-guard, and all he desired now was to throw her into someone else's lap and be done with it.Yet, if that was truly the case, why did he feel so miserable about it?Crokus left Mammot's library and returned to the outer room. Moby chirped and stuck out its red tongue at him from Mammot's desk. Ignoring the creature, Crokus stood before Apsalar, who'd seated herself in the better of the two chairs his chair, of course. 'I don't understand. From the looks of it, he's been gone for a couple of days at least.''So? Is that so unusual?' Apsalar asked casually.'It is,' he grumbled. 'Did you feed Moby as I asked?'She nodded. 'The grapes?''Yes.' He placed his hands on his hips. 'Strange. Maybe Rallick knows something about it.''Who's Rallick?''An a.s.sa.s.sin friend,' Crokus replied distractedly.Apsalar shot to her feet, her eyes wide.'What's wrong?' Crokus asked, stepping close. The girl looked positively terrified. He glared around, half expecting to see some demon rise out of the floor or the cupboard, but the room was unchanged a little messier than usual, though. Moby's fault, he a.s.sumed.'I'm not sure,' she said, relaxing with an effort. 'It was as if I was about to remember something. But it never came.''Oh,' Crokus said. 'Well, we could-'A knock sounded on the door.Crokus brightened, walking over to it. 'Oh, he probably lost his keys or something,' he said.'It was unlocked,' Apsalar pointed out.Crokus opened the door. 'Meese! What're you-?''Quiet!' the big woman hissed, pushing past him and shutting the door. Her gaze fell on Apsalar and her eyes widened. Then she turned back to Crokus. 'Good I found you, lad! You've seen no one since getting back?''Why, no. That's just it-''A stabler,' Apsalar said, frowning up at Meese. 'Have we met?''She's lost her memory,' Crokus explained. 'But, yes, we stabled Coil's horse.''Why?' Meese demanded, then as Crokus was about to elaborate she went on, 'Never mind. The stabler shouldn't prove a problem. Well, we're in luck!''Dammit, Meese,' Crokus said. 'What's going on?'She met his eyes. 'That D'Arle guard you killed the other night. The one in the garden. They've got your name and description, lad. Don't ask me how. But the D'Arles are talking high gallows when you're caught.'The blood left Crokus's face. Then his head jerked to Apsalar. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. No, she truly didn't remember. But it must have been her. He collapsed into Mammot's chair.'We've got to hide you, lad,' Meese said. 'Both of you, I guess. But don't you worry, Crokus, me and Irilta, we'll take care of you till something can be worked out.''I don't believe this,' he whispered, staring at the wall opposite him. 'She betrayed me, d.a.m.n her!'Meese looked questioningly at Apsalar, who said, 'It's a guess, but I'd say a girl named Challice.'Meese closed her eyes briefly. 'Challice D'Arle, the court's honey these days.' Compa.s.sion softened her face as she looked down on Crokus. 'Oh, lad. That's the way of it, then.'He jerked in the seat and glared up at her. 'It isn't any more.'Meese grinned. 'Right. For now,' she said, arms folded over her chest, 'we just sit tight till night, then it's the rooftops for us. Don't worry, we'll handle things, lad.'Apsalar rose. 'My name's Apsalar,' she said. 'Pleased to meet you, Meese. And thank you for helping Crokus.''Apsalar, huh? Well,' her grin broadened, 'guess the rooftops will be no problem for you, then.''None,' she replied, knowing somehow that she was right in this.'Good enough,' Meese said. 'Now, how about we find something to drink?''Meese,' Crokus asked, 'do you know where my uncle might have gone?''Can't help you there, lad. No idea.'

She wasn't sure about the old woman on the steps, but the one immediately below, tucked into a shadowed niche and steadily watching the tenement building that one would have to be taken care of. It seemed that this Coin Bearer had protection.Serrat was not unduly concerned. Next to her lord, Anomander Rake, she ranked the deadliest among the Tiste Andii of Moon's Sp.a.w.n. Finding this boy-servant of Oponn's had not proved difficult. Once her lord had given her the necessary details, Oponn's magical signature had been easy to find. It helped that she'd encountered it before and from this very boy on the rooftops two weeks past. Her agents had chased the Coin Bearer that night, abandoning him once he'd entered the Phoenix Inn but only at her command. If she'd suspected then what she now knew, Oponn's presence would have ended that very night.Ill luck, Serrat smiled to herself, taking a more comfortable position on the rooftop. They'd move at night, she suspected. As for the woman hiding below, she'd have to be removed. Indeed, with a spell of blurring and enough in the way of shadows, she might as easily take the woman's place.There'd be no suspicion from the other woman, then, the one presently inside with the Coin Bearer. Serrat nodded. Yes, that would be how she'd play it.But for now, she'd wait. Patience ever rewards.

'Well,' Murillio said, as he scanned the crowd, 'they're not here. Which means they're with Mammot.'Kruppe drew a deep breath of the sweaty, smoky air. 'Ah, civilization. Kruppe believes your a.s.sessment is accurate, friend. If so, then we might as well rest here, drinking and supping for an hour or two.' With that, he strode into the Phoenix Inn.A few old hands, seated at Kruppe's table, gathered their tankards and pitcher and left, murmuring apologies and grinning among themselves. Kruppe gave them a gracious nod and settled with a loud sigh into his usual chair. Murillio paused at the bar and spoke with Scurve, then he joined Kruppe.Brushing dust from his shirt, Murillio frowned distractedly at his road-weary condition. 'I look forward to a bath,' he said. 'Apparently Scurve saw Rallick in here earlier, talking with some stranger. Since then, n.o.body's seen him.'Kruppe waved an uninterested hand. 'Kind Sulty arrives,' he announced. A moment later a pitcher of ale stood on the table. Kruppe wiped his tankard with his silk handkerchief, then filled it with the foaming brew.'Weren't we supposed to report to Baruk?' Murillio asked, his eyes on his friend.'All in due time,' Kruppe said. 'First, we must recover from our ordeals. What if Kruppe were to lose his voice in very mid-sentence of said report? What would avail Baruk of that?' He raised his tankard and drank deep.Murillio drummed the fingers of one hand restlessly on the table, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd. Then he straightened in his seat. He filled his tankard. 'So now that you know what Rallick and I are up to,' he said, 'what do you plan to do about it?'Kruppe's eyebrows lifted. 'Kruppe? Why, nothing but good, of course. Timely a.s.sistance, and such. No need for blatant fretting, friend Murillio. By all means proceed as planned. Think of wise Kruppe as no more than a kindly chaperon.''Hood's Breath,' Murillio groaned, eyes rolling. 'We were doing fine without your help. The best thing you could do for us is stay out of our way. Don't get involved.''And abandon my friends to the fates? Nonsense!'Murillio finished his ale and rose. 'I'm going home,' he said. 'You can make the report to Baruk in a week's time for all I care. And when Rallick finds out you know all about our plans, well, Kruppe, I'd hate to be in your boots.'Kruppe waved dismissively. 'See Sulty yon? Upon her tray is Kruppe's supper. Rallick Nom's nasty daggers and nastier temper pale to insignificance before such repast as now approaches. Goodnight to you, then, Murillio. Until the morrow.'Murillio stared down at him, then grumbled, 'Goodnight, Kruppe.'He left the bar through the kitchen door. As soon as he stepped into the back alley a figure accosted him from across the way. Murillio frowned. 'That you, Rallick?''No,' the shadowed figure said. 'Fear me not, Murillio. I have a message to you from the Eel. Call me Circle Breaker.' The man strode closer. 'The message concerns Councilman Turban Orr ...'

Rallick moved from rooftop to rooftop in the darkness. The need for absolute silence slowed his hunt considerably. There'd be no conversation with Ocelot. Rallick expected he'd have but one shot at the man. If he missed his chance, his Clan Leader's sorcery would prove the deciding factor. Unless ... Unless ...Rallick paused and checked his pouch. Years back, the alchemist Baruk had rewarded him for work well done with a small bag of reddish dust. Baruk had explained its magic-deadening properties, but Rallick resisted placing his trust in the powder. Had its potency survived the years? Was it a match for Ocelot's powers? There was no telling.He crossed a high rooftop, skirting the edge of a dome. Off to his right and below was the city's eastern wall. The faint glow of Worrytown rose beyond it. The a.s.sa.s.sin suspected that Ocelot would await Coil's arrival at Worry Gate, hiding within crossbow range. Better to kill the man before he entered the city.This limited the possibilities considerably. Lines of sight were few, and K'rul Hill was the best of them. Still, Ocelot might well have used sorcery already, and lie hidden from mundane eyes. Rallick might stumble right over him.He reached the north side of the dome's skirt. Before him rose the K'rul Temple. From the belfry, there'd be a clean shot just as Coll entered the gate. Rallick removed the pouch from his bag. Whatever the dust covered, Baruk had said, would be impervious to magic. More, it had an area effect. The a.s.sa.s.sin scowled. How much of an area? And did it wear off? Most importantly, Baruk had said and Rallick remembered this clearly do not let it touch your skin. Poison? he'd asked. 'No,' the alchemist had replied. 'The powder changes some people. There is no predicting such changes, however. Best not to take the chance, Rallick.'Sweat trickled down his face. Finding Ocelot was already a slim chance. Coil's death would ruin everything and, more, it would strip from Rallick his last claim ... to what? To humanity. humanity. The price of failure had become very high. 'Justice,' he hissed angrily. 'It has to mean something. It has to!' The price of failure had become very high. 'Justice,' he hissed angrily. 'It has to mean something. It has to!'Rallick untied the pouch. He dipped into it and sc.r.a.ped out a handful of the powder. He rubbed it between his fingers. It felt like rust. 'That's it?' he wondered. Maybe it had deteriorated. Shrugging, he began to ma.s.sage it into his skin, starting with his face. 'What changes?' he muttered. 'I don't feel any changes.'Reaching under his clothing as much as was possible, Rallick used up the last of the powder. The pouch itself was stained on the inside. He turned it inside out, then stuffed it into his belt. Now, he grimaced, the hunt continues. Somewhere out there an a.s.sa.s.sin waited, eyes fixed on Jammit's Worry Road. 'I'll find you, Ocelot,' he whispered, his eyes fixed on K'rul's belfry tower. 'And magic or no magic, you won't hear me, you won't even feel my breath on your neck until it's too late. I swear it.'He began his ascent.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

This blue city.

hides under its cloak a hidden hand that holds like stone a blade envenomed by the eight limbed Paralt the sting brings death in the span of grief that marks a final breath so this hand defies sorcery's web and trembles the gossamer strand of a spider's deadly threat.

This hand beneath the blue city's cloak drives home Power's gentle balance.The Conspiracy Blind Gallan(b. 1078) Sergeant Whiskeyjack strode to the bedside. 'You sure you're up to it?' he asked Kalam.The a.s.sa.s.sin, sitting with his back against the wall, glanced up from honing his long knives. 'Not much choice, is there?' He returned to his sharpening.Whiskeyjack's expression was drawn and haggard from lack of sleep. He looked across the small room to where Quick Ben crouched in a corner. A fragment of bedroll was clutched in the wizard's hands, and his eyes were closed.At the table, Fiddler and Hedge had dismantled their ma.s.sive arbalest. They now sat cleaning and examining each piece. They were looking at a fight ahead of them.Whiskeyjack shared their conviction. Each hour that pa.s.sed brought their many hunters that much closer. Of those it was the Tiste Andii he feared the most. His squad was good, but not that good.By the window was Trotts, leaning against the wall with his burly arms crossed. And against one wall slept Mallet, his snores loud in the room.The sergeant returned his attention to Kalam. 'It's a long shot, isn't it?'The a.s.sa.s.sin nodded. 'No reason for the man to keep showing himself. They got burned the last time.' He shrugged. 'I'll try the inn again. If anything, someone will mark me and the Guild will come. If I can get a word in before they kill me, there's a chance. It's not much ...''... but it'll have to do,' Whiskeyjack finished. 'You've got tomorrow. If we draw a blank,' he looked over to Fiddler and Hedge and found their eyes on him, 'we detonate the intersections. Do damage, hurt them.'The two saboteurs grinned their antic.i.p.ation.Quick Ben's loud hiss of frustration brought everyone round. The wizard's eyes had opened. He tossed the torn cloth contemptuously on to the floor. 'No good, Sergeant,' he said. 'Can't find Sorry anywhere.'Kalam rumbled a curse and thrust his weapons into their scabbards.'So, what does that mean?' Whiskeyjack asked the wizard.'Most likely,' Quick Ben said, 'she's dead.' He gestured at the cloth. 'With that, there's no way the Rope could hide from me. Not while still possessing Sorry.''Maybe once you told him you'd figured him out,' Fiddler said, 'he tossed in his coins and quit the game.'Quick Ben made a face. 'The Rope isn't scared of us, Fiddler. Come back to earth. If anything, he'd be coming down on us. Shadowthrone must've told him by now who I am or, rather, who I once was. It's not the Rope's business, but Shadowthrone might insist. G.o.ds don't like being cheated. Especially being cheated twice.' He climbed to his feet and stretched the kinks from his back. He met Whiskeyjack's gaze. 'I don't understand this, Sergeant. I'm stumped.''Do we abandon her?' Whiskeyjack asked.Quick Ben nodded. 'Might as well.' He paused, then stepped forward. 'We were all wishing we were wrong about her,' he said, 'but what Sorry did had nothing to do with being human. And, as far as I'm concerned, I'm glad of that.''I'd hate to think,' Kalam said, from the bed, 'that evil was real, that it existed with a face as plain as the next man's. I know, Whiskeyjack, you've got your reasons for wanting it that way.'Quick Ben moved closer to the sergeant, his gaze softening. 'Keeps you sane every time you order somebody to die,' he said. 'We all know about that, Sergeant. And we'd be the last to suggest there's some other way that maybe you haven't thought of yet.''Well, I'm glad to hear it,' Whiskeyjack growled. He surveyed everyone in the room, seeing that Mallet was awake and watching him. 'Anybody else got something to say?''I have,' Fiddler said, then ducked at the sergeant's glower. 'Well, you asked, didn't you?''Out with it, then.'Fiddler straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. Hedge poked him in the ribs as he was about to begin. After a menacing scowl, he tried again. 'It's like this, Sergeant. We've seen a h.e.l.l of a lot of our friends die, right? And maybe we didn't have to give the orders, so maybe you think it's easier for us. But I don't think so. You see, to us those people were living, breathing. They were friends. When they die, it hurts. But you go around telling yourself that the only way to keep from going mad is to take all that away from them, so you don't have to think about it, so you don't have to feel anything when they die. But, d.a.m.n, when you take away everybody else's humanity, you take away your own. And that'll drive you mad as sure as anything. It's that hurt we feel that makes us keep going, Sergeant. And maybe we're not getting anywhere, but at least we're not running away from anything.'There was silence in the room. Then Hedge punched Fiddler in the arm. 'I'll be d.a.m.ned! You got a brain in there, after all. I guess I been wrong about you all these years.''Yeah, right,' Fiddler said, rolling his eyes at Mallet, 'and who is it who's burned his hair off so many times he's gotta wear some ugly leather cap all the time, hey?'Mallet laughed, but the tension remained and everyone's gaze swung back to fix on their sergeant. Slowly, Whiskeyjack studied each man in his squad. He saw the caring in their eyes, the open offer to the friendship he'd spent years suppressing. All that time pushing them away, pushing everyone away, and the stubborn b.a.s.t.a.r.ds just kept on coming back.So Sorry hadn't been human. His conviction that all she'd done was within the possibilities of humanity now seemed to rest on uncertain ground. But it did not collapse. He'd seen too much in his life. There'd be no sudden faith in his view of human history, no burgeoning optimism to chase away all the demonic memories of the h.e.l.ls he'd lived through.Still, there came a time when some denials lost their function, when the world's relentless battering at him made his foolishness obvious even to himself. He was, finally, and after all these years, among friends. That was a hard admission and he realized he was already impatient with it. 'All right,' he growled, 'enough with the flapping lips. We've got work to do. Corporal?''Sergeant?' Kalam replied.'Get yourself ready. You've got the daylight hours to reestablish contact with the a.s.sa.s.sins' Guild. Meanwhile, I want everyone else to lay out their weapons and give them a good cleaning. Repairs to armour. There'll be an inspection, and if I find a single d.a.m.n thing I don't like, there'll be h.e.l.l coming down. Understood?''We hear ya,' Mallet said, grinning.

Despite their slow pace, Coil's wound had opened half a dozen times since they'd begun the journey. He'd found a way of sitting in his saddle, leaning to one side and taking most of the weight on his uninjured leg, and since this morning the wound had yet to reopen. The awkward position brought pains and cramps to the rest of him, however.Paran knew a foul mood when he saw one. Though it was clear to both of them that a bond had formed between them, comfortable and unfettered by pretences, they'd exchanged but scant words as the ravages of Coil's wound continued to take its toll.Coil's entire left leg, from the hip where the sword had done its damage down to the foot, was a uniform sun-darkened brown colour. Clots of drying blood gathered in the joints of his upper leg plates and knee guard. As the thigh swelled, they were forced to slice the leather padding beneath the plate.Succour had been denied them at the Catlin Bridge garrison, since the lone surgeon stationed there had been sleeping off one of his 'bad nights'. Clean bandages had been donated, though, and it was these already soaked through that now covered the wound.There was little traffic on Jammit's Worry despite the city's walls being within sight. The flood of refugees from the north had since ended, and those who would gather for the Gedderone Festival had already done so.As they approached the edge of Worrytown, Coll raised himself from the semi-conscious state he'd been in for the last few hours. His face was deathly white. 'Is this Worry Gate?' he asked dully.'I believe so,' Paran said, since they were on the road sharing that strange name. 'Will we be permitted to pa.s.s within?' he asked. 'Will the guards call for a surgeon?'Coll shook his head. 'Take me on through. Phoenix Inn. Take me to the Phoenix Inn.' His head sagged again.'Very well, Coll.' He'd be surprised if the guards permitted it, and he'd need a story to tell them, though Coll had said nothing of how he'd been wounded. 'I hope,' he muttered, 'there's someone in this Phoenix Inn with a healer's touch.' The man looked bad. Paran fixed his gaze on the city's gates. He'd already seen enough to understand why the Empress wanted it so avidly. 'Darujhistan.' He sighed. 'My, but you are a wonder, aren't you?'

Rallick nudged himself another inch upward. His limbs trembled with exhaustion. If not for the morning shadows on this side of the belfry, he'd have been spotted long ago. As it was, he would not remain hidden much longer.Taking the stairs would have been suicide in the darkness. Ocelot would have set alarms all along the way the man was no fool at covering the approaches to his position.If he was up there, Rallick reminded himself. If not, Coll was in trouble. There was no telling if his friend had arrived at the gates yet, and the silence from the top of the belfry could mean anything. He paused to rest and glanced up. Ten feet to go, the most critical ones yet. He was so tired it was all he could do simply to retain the handholds. The silent approach was now beyond him. His only advantage lay in that Ocelot's concentration would be eastward, while he now climbed the west side of the tower.He drew some deep breaths, then reached for another hand-hold.

Pa.s.sers-by stopped to watch Paran and Coll move slowly through Worrytown towards the gate. Ignoring them, and the questions they asked, the captain focused his attention on the two guards at the gate itself. They'd spotted him and Coll, and now stood waiting.Reaching the gate, Paran motioned that they would pa.s.s through. One guard nodded while the other walked alongside the captain's horse. 'Your friend needs a surgeon,' he said. 'If you wait just inside we can have one here in five minutes.'Paran refused the offer. 'We need to find the Phoenix Inn. I'm from the north, never been here before. The man said the Phoenix Inn, so that's where I'm going to take him.'The guard was dubious. 'Be surprised if he'd make it that far. But if that's what you want, the least we can do is give you an escort.'As they emerged from the gate's shadow the other guard cried out in surprise.Paran held his breath as the man stepped close to Coll. 'I know him,' he said. 'He's Coll Jhamin, of House Jhamin. I served under him. What happened?''I thought Coll died a few years back,' the other guard said.'Screw the writs,' his companion snapped. 'I know what I know, Vildron. This is Coll, all right.''He wants to go to the Phoenix Inn,' Paran told the man. 'That's the last thing he said to me.'The man nodded. 'Let's do it right, though.' He turned to the other guard. 'I'll take the grief if there's any, Vildron. Get me the wagon it's still hitched up from this morning, right?' The guard smiled up at Paran. 'Thanks for getting him here. Some of us in the city still got eyes, and d.a.m.n what the highbrows whisper. We'll put him in the back of the wagon less jarring that way.'Paran relaxed. 'Thanks, soldier.' He looked past the man, eager to see what he could of the city now that the wall was behind him. Immediately before them rose a humped hill, its sides overgrown with weeds and gnarled trees. On its summit squatted a temple of some kind, abandoned long ago, from which a square-sided tower rose, capped by a bronze-tiled roof. As his eyes reached the belfry's open-sided platform, he saw a flash of movement. He squinted.

Rallick raised his head cautiously over the platform's edge. He almost gasped aloud. The belfry was empty. Then he remembered Ocelot's sorcery. Holding his breath, he strained one last time with leaden arms, drawing himself flat on to the platform. As soon as he moved to gather in his feet, the barren stone of the platform shimmered and he saw Ocelot lying before him, crossbow c.o.c.ked, taking aim at something below.Rallick unsheathed his knives and moved all at once. But his exhaustion gave him away, his boots scuffing the stone.Ocelot spun on to his back, weapon swinging to fix on Rallick. The Clan Leader's face twisted into a mask of rage and fear. He wasted no time with words and immediately released the quarrel set in his crossbow.Rallick tensed for the impact that he was certain would throw him across the platform and possibly over the edge. A flash of red before his chest blinded him momentarily, but no impact came. Blinking, Rallick looked down. The quarrel had vanished. The truth came to him in an instant. The quarrel had been magic, created by sorcery to fly unimpeded, but Baruk's rusty powder had worked. Even as this thought burst into his head, he propelled himself forward.Ocelot swore and dropped the crossbow. As he reached for his knife, Rallick landed on him. A loud grunt sounded from the Clan Leader, his eyes squeezing shut in pain.Rallick drove the dagger in his right hand against Ocelot's chest. The weapon sc.r.a.ped across mail beneath the cloth shirt. d.a.m.n, the man had le