TableofContentsAbouttheAuthorAcclaim for StevenErikson's The Malazan

BookoftheFallen:TitlePageCopyrightPageDedicationAcknowledgementsPreface to Gardens oftheMoonreduxMapsDRAMATISPERSONAETitleLamentEpigraphPrologue

BOOKONE:PALECHAPTERONECHAPTERTWOCHAPTERTHREECHAPTERFOUR

BOOK TWO:DARUJHISTAN

CHAPTERFIVECHAPTERSIXCHAPTERSEVEN

BOOK THREE: THEMISSION

CHAPTEREIGHTCHAPTERNINE

CHAPTERTENBOOK FOUR:ASSASSINS

CHAPTERELEVENCHAPTERTWELVECHAPTERTHIRTEEN

BOOK FIVE: THEGADROBIHILLS

CHAPTERFOURTEENCHAPTER

FIFTEENCHAPTERSIXTEEN

BOOKSIX:THECITYOFBLUEFIRE

CHAPTERSEVENTEENCHAPTEREIGHTEENCHAPTERNINETEEN

BOOK SEVEN: THEFÊTE

CHAPTER

TWENTYCHAPTERTWENTY-ONECHAPTERTWENTY-TWOCHAPTERTWENTY-THREECHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

EpilogueGlossaryExtract: The MalazanBookoftheFallenAlsobyStevenErikson

NIGHTOFKNIVESACACIA BOOK ONE:THEWARWITH THEMEINDEATH'SHEAD

Steven Erikson is anarchaeologist andanthropologistandagraduateof the Iowa Writers'Workshop. The first sevennovels in hisMalazan Bookof the Fallen sequence –Gardens of the Moon,Deadhouse Gates, Memoriesof Ice, House of Chains,Midnight Tides, TheBonehunters and Reaper'sGale – have met with

widespread internationalacclaim and established himasamajorvoiceintheworldof fantasy fiction. Thethrilling eighth installment inthisremarkablestory,TolltheHounds,iscomingsoonfromBantamPress.StevenEriksonlives in British Columbia,Canada.

AcclaimforStevenErikson'sThe

MalazanBookoftheFallen:

'Steven Erikson is anextraordinary writer ... Myadvice to anyone who mightlisten tome is: treat yourselfStephenR.Donaldson

'Give me the evocation of arich, complex and yetultimately unknowable otherworld, with a compellingsuggestionofintricatehistoryandmythologyandlore.Giveme mystery amid the grandnarrative ... Give me theworld in which every seahides a crumbled Atlantis,every ruin has a tale to tell,everybrokenbladeisasilentlegacyofstrugglesunknown.

Give me in other words, thefantasy work of StevenErikson ... a master of lostand forgotten epochs, aweaver of ancient epics'Salon.com'Istandslack-jawedinaweofThe Malazan Book of theFallen. This masterwork ofthe imagination may be thehigh watermark of epicfantasy'GlenCook'Truly epic in scope, Erikson

hasnopeerwhenitcomestoaction and imagination, andjoinstheranksofTolkienandDonaldson in his mythicvision and perhaps thengoesonebetter'SFSite'Rare is the writer who sofluidly combines a sense ofmythic power and depth ofworld with fully realizedcharacters and thrillingaction, but Steven Eriksonmanages it spectacularly'

MichaelA.Stackpolewww.rbooks.co.uk/stevenerikson'Likethearchaeologistthatheis,Eriksoncontinuestodelveinto the history and ruins ofthe Malazan Empire, in theprocess revealing unforeseenriches and annals that defyexpectation ... this is truemyth in the making, adrawing upon fantasy torecreatehistoriesand legendsas rich as any found within

ourculture'Interzone'Gripping, fast-moving,delightfully dark ... Eriksonbringsapunchy,mesmerizingwritingstyleintothegenreofepic fantasy, making anindelible impression. Utterlyengrossing' ElizabethHayden'Everythingwehavecome toexpect from this mostexcellent of fantasy writers;huge in scope, vast in

implication and immensely,utterly entertaining'alienonline'One of the most promisingnew writers of the past fewyears, he has more thanproved his right to A-liststatus'Bookseller'Erikson's strengths are hisgrown-up characters and hisabilitytocreateaworldeverybit as intricate and messy asourown'J.V.Jones

'An author who neverdisappoints on deliveringstunning and hard-edgedfantasyisStevenErikson...amaster of modern fantasy'WBQmagazine'Wondrous voyages, demonsandgodsabound...denseandcomplex ... ultimatelyrewarding'Locus'Erikson... is able to create aworld that is both absorbingon a human level and full of

magical sublimity... Awonderfullygrandconception... splendidly written ...fiendishly readable' AdamRoberts'Amulti-layeredtaleofmagicandwar,loyaltyandbetrayal.Complexly drawn charactersoccupy a richly detailedworldinthispanoramicsaga'LibraryJournal'Epic in every sense of theword ... Erikson shows a

masterful control of animmenseplot... theworldsofmortals and gods meet inwhat is a truly awe-inspiringclash'Enigma

GardensoftheMoon

ATaleoftheMalazanBookoftheFallen

STEVENERIKSON

ThiseBookiscopyrightmaterialandmustnotbecopied,reproduced,

transferred,distributed,leased,licensedorpubliclyperformedorusedinanyway

exceptasspecificallypermittedinwritingbythepublishers,asallowedunderthetermsandconditions

underwhichitwaspurchasedorasstrictlypermittedbyapplicablecopyrightlaw.

Anyunauthoriseddistributionoruseofthistextmaybeadirectinfringementofthe

author'sandpublisher'srightsandthoseresponsiblemaybeliableinlawaccordingly.

ISBN9781409083108Version1.0

www.randomhouse.co.uk

GARDENSOFTHEMOON

ABANTAMBOOKOriginallypublishedinGreatBritainbyBantamPress,adivisionofTransworld

PublishersPRINTINGHISTORYBantamPressedition

published1999BantamBooksedition

published2000

1315171920181614Copyright©StevenErikson

1999PrefacetoGardensoftheMoonreduxcopyright©StevenErikson2007

MapsdrawnbyNeilGowerAllofthecharactersinthisbookarefictitious,and

anyresemblancetoactualpersons,aliveordead,ispurelycoincidental.

TherightofStevenEriksontobeidentifiedastheauthorofthisworkhasbeenasserted

inaccordancewithsections77and78oftheCopyright,Designsand

PatentsAct1988ConditionofSale

Thiselectronicbookissoldsubjecttotheconditionthatitshallnotbywayoftradeorotherwise,belent,resold,hiredout,orotherwise

circulatedwithoutthepublisher'spriorconsentinanyformotherthanthatinwhichitispublishedandwithoutasimilarcondition

includingthisconditionbeingimposedonthesubsequent

purchaserSetin10/12ptGoudyby

FalconOastGraphicArtLtd.BantamBooksarepublishedbyTransworldPublishers,61-63UxbridgeRoad,

LondonW55SA,adivisionofTheRandom

HouseGroupLtd.AddressesforRandomHouseGroupLtdcompaniesoutside

theUKcanbefoundat:

www.randomhouse.co.ukTheRandomHouseGroup

LtdReg.No.954009ISBN:9781409083108

Version1.0

ThisnovelisdedicatedtoI.C.Esslemont

worldstoconquerworldstoshare

AcknowledgementsNonoveliseverwrittenin

isolation.Theauthorwishestothankthe

followingfortheirsupportovertheyears:Clare

Thomas,Bowen,MarkPaxton-MacRae,David

Keck,Courtney,Ryan,ChrisandRick,MireilleTheriacelt,

DennisValdron,KeithAddison,Susan,David

andHarriet,ClareandDavidThomasJr,Chris

Rodell,PatrickCarroll,KatePeach,Peter

Knowlson,Rune,KentandValandthekids,

mytirelessagentPatrickWalsh,andSimon

Taylor,oneterrificeditor.

PrefacetoGardensoftheMoonredux

Thereisnopointinbeginningsomething without ambition.InsomanyaspectsofmylifeIhaveheldtothatnotion,andit has led to more than onefierycrash through theyears.I still recall, with somebitterness, the response Cam(Ian C. Esslemont) and Ireceived when flogging ourco-written feature film andtelevision scripts:'Wonderful! Unique! Very

funny,verydark...buthereinCanada, well, we just can'tbudget for this stuff. Goodluck.' In many ways, it waswhat followed by way ofadvice that proved the mostcrushing. 'Try something ...simpler. Something likeeverything else out there.Somethingless...ambitious.'We'dwalk out ofmeetings

frustrated, despondent,baffled.Didwereallyhearan

invitationtomediocrity?Suresoundedlikeit.Well,screwthat.Gardens of the Moon. Just

tomuseonthattitleresurrectsall thosenotionsofambition,all that youthful ferocity thatseemedtodrivemeheadlongagainstawalltimeandagain.The need to push. Defyconvention.Goforthethroat.IliketothinkIwasentirely

aware of what I was doingback then. That my visionwas crystal clear and that Iwas actually standing there,readytospitinthefaceofthegenre, even as I reveled in it(for how could I not? Asmuch as I railed against thetropes, I loved reading thestuff). Now, I'm not so sure.It'seasytorideoninstinct inthe moment, only to lookback later and attribute

cogent mindfulness toeverythingthatworked(whileignoring everything thatdidn't).Tooeasy.In the years and many

novels since, certain factshave made themselves plain.Beginning with Gardens oftheMoon, readerswill eitherhate my stuff or love it.There's no in-between.Naturally, I'd rathereverybody loved it, but I

understand why this willnever be the case. These arenot lazy books. You can'tfloat through, you just can't.Even more problematic, thefirst novel begins halfwaythrough a seeming marathon– you either hit the groundrunningandstayonyourfeetoryou'retoast.When challenged with

writing this preface, I didconsiderforatimeusingitas

ameansofgentlingtheblow,of easing the shock of beingdropped from a great heightinto very deep water, rightthereonpageoneofGardensof the Moon. Somebackground, some history,somesettingofthestage.I'vesincemostlyrejectedtheidea.Dammit, I don't recall FrankHerbert doing anything likethat with Dune, and if anynovel out there was a direct

inspiration in terms ofstructure, that was the one.I'm writing a history andfictionalornot,historyhasnorealbeginningpoint;eventherise and fall of civilizationsare farmoremuddled on thefront and back ends thanmanypeoplemightthink.Gardens of the Moon's barebones first saw life ina role-playinggame.Itsfirstdraughtwas as a feature film co-

writtenbythetwocreatorsofthe Malazan world, myselfandIanC.Esslemont;ascriptthat languished for lack ofinterest ('we don't do fantasyfilmsbecausetheysuck.It'sadead genre. It involvescostumes and costumedramas are as dead asWesterns' – all this before awhole slew of productioncompaniesshovedthattruismin their faces, all this long

before Lord of the Rings hitthebigscreen).And that was just it. We

were there. We had thegoods, we knew that AdultEpic Fantasy was film's lastunexploredgenre–wedidn'tcount Willow, which onlyearned merit in our eyes forthecrossroads scene; the restof the stuff was for kidsthroughand through.Andalltheotherfilmscomingout in

thatgenrewereeitherBflicksor egregiously flawed in oureyes (gods, what could havebeendonewithConan!).Wewanted a Fantasy version ofThe Lion in Winter, the onewith O'Toole and Hepburn.Or The Three Musketeersadaptation with MichaelYork, Oliver Reed, RaquelWelch,RichardChamberlain,etc, just add magic, mates.Our favourite television

production was DennisPotter's The SingingDetective, the original onewithGambon andMalahyde.Wewantedsophisticatedshit,you see. We were pushingFantasy in that sizzling,scintillating context of jaw-dropping admiration. Wewere, in other words, asambitiousashell.Probably, too, we weren't

ready. We didn't quite have

the stuff. Thinking past ourabilities, trapped in the lackof experience. The curse oftheyoung.Whenlife tookCaminone

direction and me in another,we both carried with us thenotes for an entire createdworld. Constructed throughhours upon hours of gaming.We had an enormous historyall worked out – the rawmaterial for twenty novels,

twiceasmanyfilms.Andweeach had copies of a scriptnobodywanted.TheMalazanworld was there in hundredsofhand-drawnmaps,inpagesupon pages of raw notes, inGURPS (Steve Jackson'sGeneric Universal RolePlaying System – analternative to AD&D)character sheets, buildingfloor-plans, sketches, younameit.

The decision to beginwriting the history of theMalazan world began a fewyears later. I would convertthe script into a novel. Camwould write a related novelentitled Return of theCrimsonGuard(andnow,alltheseyearslater,andfreshonthe heels of his Night ofKnives, Cam's first epic,Return, is going to bepublished). As works of

fiction, authorship wouldbelong to the actual writer,thepersonputtingwordafterword onto the page. ForGardens, the conversionmeant almost starting fromscratch. The script was threeacts all set in Darujhistan.The main events were theassassin war on the rooftopsand the grand, explosivefinale of the fete. There wasvirtually nothing else. No

backstory,nocontext,norealintroduction of characters. Itwas, in fact,moreRaidersoftheLostArkthanTheLioninWinter.Ambitionnevergoes away.

Itmayshuffleoff,grumbling,feet dragging, only to slideacross into something else –usually the next project. Itdoesn't take 'no' for ananswer.In writing Gardens, I

quickly discovered that 'backstory' was going to be aproblem no matter how farback I went. And I realizedthat, unless I spoon-fed mypotentialreaders(somethingIrefused to do, having railedoften enough at writers offantasy epics treating usreaders as ifwewere idiots),unless I 'simplified', unless Islipped down into the well-worn tracks of what's gone

before, I was going to leavereaders floundering. And notjust readers, but editors,publishers,agents...But,youknow,asareader,

as a fan, I never mindedfloundering – at least for alittle while, and sometimesfor a long while. So long asotherstuffcarriedmealong,Iwas fine. Don't forget, Iworshipped Dennis Potter. Iwas a fan of DeLillo's The

Names and Eco's Foucault'sPendulum. The reader I hadin mind was one who couldand would carry the extraweight–thequestionsnotyetanswered, the mysteries, theuncertainalliances.Historyhasprovedthisout,

Ithink.Readerseitherbailonthe series somewhere in thefirst third ofGardens of theMoon, or they're still sharingthe ride to this day, seven

goingoneightbookslater.I have been asked, would Ihavedoneitanydifferentlyinhindsight? And I honestlydon't have an answer to that.Oh, there are elements ofstylethatI'dchangehereandthere, but ... fundamentally,I'm just not sure what else Icouldhavedone.Iamnotandnever will be a writer happyto deliver exposition thatservesnoother function than

telling the reader about backstory,history,orwhatever. Ifmy exposition doesn't havemultiple functions–andIdomeanmultiple– then I'mnotsatisfied.Turnsout, themorefunctions in it, the morecomplicated it gets, themorelikelyitwillquietlyshiftintomisdirection, into sleight ofhand, and all the back storyelements, while possiblythere, end up buried and

burieddeep.Thiswasfast-pacedwriting,

but itwas also, bizarrely andin ways I still can't quitefigure, dense writing. So,Gardens invites you to readrip-roaringly fast. But theauthoradvises:you'dbestnotsuccumbtothetemptation.Hereweare,yearslaternow.Should I apologize for thatbipolar invitation? To whatextent did I shoot myself in

the foot with the kind ofintroduction to the Malazanworld as delivered inGardens of the Moon?. Andhasthisnovelleftmedancingon one foot ever since?Maybe. And sometimes, onmidnight afternoons, I askmyself:what if I'dpickedupthat fat wooden ladle, andsloppedthewholemessdownthe reader's throat, as some(highly successful) Fantasy

writers do and have done?Would I now see my salesranking in the bestseller'slists? Now hold on – am Isuggesting that those ultrapopular Fantasy writers havefoundtheirsuccessinwritingdown to their readers?Hardly.Well,notallofthem.Butthen,consideritfrommypoint of view. It took eightyears and amove to theUKfor Gardens of the Moon to

find a publisher. It took fourmore years before aUS dealwasfinalized.Thecomplaint?'Too complicated, too manycharacters.Too...ambitious.'I could take the fish-eyed

retrospective angle here andsay how Gardens marked adeparture from the usualtropes of the genre, and anydeparture is likely to meetresistance; but my ego's notthat big. It never felt like a

departure.GlenCook'sDreadEmpire and Black Companynovelshadalreadybrokenthenew ground, but I'd read allthose and, wanting more, Iprettymuchhadtowritethemmyself (and Cam felt thesame).Andwhilemystyleofwriting did not permitimitation (he's a terse one, isCook),Icouldcertainlystrivefor the same tone ofdispirited, wry cynicism, the

same ambivalence and asimilar sense of atmosphere.Maybe I was aware of theswing away from Goodversus Evil, but that justseemed a by-product ofgrowingup–therealworld'snot like that, why persist inmaking Fantasy worlds sofundamentally disconnectedwithreality?Well, I don't know. It's

exhaustingjustthinkingabout

it.Gardensiswhatitis.Ihave

no plans on revision. I don'tevenknowwhereI'dstart.Better, I think, to offer the

readers a quick decision onthisseries–rightthereinthefirst third of the first novel,thantoteasethemonforfiveor sixbooksbefore they turnawayindisgust,disinterestorwhatever. Maybe, from amarketing position, the latter

is preferred – at least in theshort term. But, thank God,my publishers know a falseeconomywhentheyseeone.Gardensof theMoon is an

invitation, then. Stay with it,andcomealongfortheride.Ican only promise that I havedone my best to entertain.Curses and cheers, laughterandtears,it'sallinhere.One last word to all younascent writers out there.

Ambitionisnotadirtyword.Piss on compromise. Go forthe throat. Write with balls,write with eggs. Sure, it's aharder journey but take itfromme,it'swellworthit.Cheers,StevenEriksonVictoria,BritishColumbiaDecember2007

DRAMATISPERSONAE

THE MALAZANEMPIRE

ONEARM'SHOST

Tattersail, Cadre Sorceress,2nd Army, a reader of theDeckofDragonsHairlock, Cadre Mage, 2ndArmy,anunpleasantrivalofTayschrennCalot, Cadre Mage, 2ndArmy,Tattersail'sloverToctheYounger,scout,2ndArmy,aClawagentbadlyscarredattheSiegeofPale

THEBRIDGEBURNERSSergeant Whiskeyjack, 9thSquad, past commander ofthe2ndArmyCorporalKalam,9thSquad,anex-ClawfromSevenCitiesQuick Ben, 9th Squad, aSevenCitiesMageSorry, 9th Squad, a deadlykiller in theguiseofayounggirl

Hedge,9thSquad,asapperFiddler,9thSquad,asapperTrotts,9thSquad,aBarghastwarriorMallet,9thSquad, the squadhealerSergeantAntsy,7thSquadPicker,7thSquadTHE IMPERIALCOMMANDGanoes Stabro Paran, anoble-born officer in the

MalazanEmpireDujek Onearm, High Fist,MalazanArmies,GenabackisCampaignTayschrenn, High Mage totheEmpressBellurdan,HighMagetotheEmpressNightchill,HighSorceresstotheEmpressA'Karonys, High Mage totheEmpress

Lorn,AdjuncttotheEmpressTopper, Commander of theClawEmpress Laseen, Ruler oftheMalazanEmpireHOUSEPARAN(UNTA)Tavore, Ganoes' sister(middle-child)Felisin, Ganoes' youngestsisterGarnet, House Guard andveteran

IN THEEMPEROR'STIME

Emperor Kellanved, thefounder of the Empire,assassinatedbyLaseenDancer, the Emperor's chiefadviser, assassinated by

LaseenSurly, Laseen's old namewhen Commander of theClawDassem Ultor, the FirstSword of Empire, killedoutsideY'ghatan,SevenCitiesToc(theElder),disappearedinLaseen'spurgesoftheOldGuard

INDARUJISTAN

ThePhoenixInnRegularsKruppe, a man of falsemodestyCrokus Younghand, ayoungthiefRallick Nom, an assassin intheGuildMurillio,acourtierColl,adrunk

Meese,aregularIrilta,aregularScurve,thebarmanSulty,aservingwomanChert,anunluckybully

TheT'orrudCabal

Baruk,aHighAlchemistDerudan,aWitchofTennesMammot, a High Priest of

D'riss and eminent scholar,uncletoCrokusTravale, a pious soldier oftheCabalTholis,aHighMageParald,aHighMage

TheCouncil

Turban Orr, a powerfulcouncilmanandSimtal'slover

Lim,anallyofTurbanOrrSimtal,LadyofSimtalEstateEstraysianD'Arle,arivalofTurbanOrrChalliceD'Arle,hisdaughter

The Guild ofAssassins

Vorcan, Mistress of theGuild (also known as theMasterof

Assassins)Ocelot, Rallick Nom's ClanLeaderTalo Krafar, an assassin ofJurrigDenatte'sClanKruteofTalient,anagentoftheGuild

Alsointhecity:

TheEel, a rumouredmaster-spy

Circle Breaker, an agent oftheEelVildrom,acityguardCaptain Stillis, Captain ofGuard,SimtalEstate

Furtherplayers:

TheTisteAndiiAnomander Rake, Lord ofMoon's Spawn, Son ofDarkness,

KnightofDarknessSerrat, second-in-commandtoRakeKorlat, a night-hunter andblood-kintoSerratOrfantal,anight-hunterHorult,anight-hunter

TheT'lanImass

Logros, Commander of theT'lanImassClansservingthe

MalazanEmpireOnos T'oolan, a clanlesswarriorPran Chole, a Bonecaster(shaman) of the Kron T'lanImassKigAvert,aClanLeader

Others:

Crone, a Great Raven andservanttoAnomanderRake

Silanah, an Eleint andcompanion to AnomanderRakeRaest,aJaghutTyrantK'rul, an Elder God, theMakerofPathsCaladanBrood,thewarlord,opposing theMalazanarmiesintheNorthCampaignKallor, Brood's second-in-command

Prince K'azz D'Avore,Commander of the CrimsonGuardJorrick Sharplance, aCrimsonGuardofficerCowl, a High Mage in theCrimsonGuardCorporalBlues, SixthBladeoftheCrimsonGuardFingers, Sixth Blade of theCrimsonGuardTheHoundBaran,aHound

ofShadowTheHound Blind, a HoundofShadowThe Hound Gear, a HoundofShadowTheHound Rood, a HoundofShadowThe Hound Shan, a HoundofShadowTheHound Doan, a HoundofShadowThe Hound Ganrod, a

HoundofShadowShadowthrone/Ammanas,Ruler of the Warren ofShadowThe Rope/Cotillion,Companion of ShadowthroneandPatronofAssassinsIcarium, Builder of theWheelofAgesinDarujhistanMappo,Icarium'scompanionThePannionSeer,aProphet

TyrantrulingthePannionDomin

GardensoftheMoon

Nowtheseasheshavegrowncold,weopentheoldbook.Theseoil-stainedpagesrecountthetalesofthe

Fallen,afrayedempire,words

withoutwarmth.Thehearthhasebbed,itsgleamandlife'ssparksarebutmemories

againstdimmingeyes–whatcastmymind,whathuemythoughtsasIopentheBook

oftheFallen

andbreathedeepthescentofhistory?

Listen,then,tothesewordscarriedonthatbreath.

Thesetalesarethetalesofusall,againyetagain.

Wearehistoryrelivedandthatisaft,withoutendthatis

all.

TheEmperorisdead!So too his right hand – nowcold,nowsevered!But mark these dyingshadows,twinned and flowing bloodyandbeaten,down and away from mortalsight...Fromsceptre'sruledismissed,fromgildcandelabrathelightnowfled,from a hearth ringed in hard

jewels,seven years this warmth hasbled...TheEmperorisdead.So too his master'dcompanion, the rope cutclean.But mark this burgeoningreturn–faltering dark, the tatteredshroud–embracing children inEmpire'sdyinglight.

Hear now the dirge faintreprised,before the sun's fall, thisdayspillsredon buckled earth, and inobsidianeyesvengeance chimes seventimes...

CalltoShadow(I.i.1-18)Felisin(b.ll46)

Prologue

1154thYearofBurn'sSleep96th Year of the MalazanEmpireThe Last Year of Emperor

Kellanved'sReignThe stains of rust seemed tomapbloodseason theblack,pocked surface of Mock'sVane. A century old, itsquatted on the point of anoldpike thathadbeenboltedto theouter topof theHold'swall. Monstrous andmisshapen, it had been cold-hammered into the formof awingeddemon,teethbaredinaleeringgrin,andwastugged

and buffeted in squealingprotest with every gust ofwind.The winds were contrary

the day columns of smokerose over theMouse Quarterof Malaz City. The Vane'ssilenceannouncedthesuddenfalling-off of the sea breezethat came clambering overthe ragged walls of Mock'sHold, then it creaked backinto life as the hot, spark-

scattered and smoke-filledbreath of the Mouse Quarterreached across the city tosweep the promontory'sheights.GanoesStabroParanof the

House of Paran stood ontiptoetoseeoverthemerlon.Behind him rose Mock'sHold, once capital of theEmpire but now, since themainland had beenconquered, relegated once

more to a Fist's holding. Tohis left rose the pike and itswaywardtrophy.For Ganoes, the ancient

fortification overlooking thecitywastoofamiliar tobeofinterest. This visit was histhird in as many years; he'dlong ago explored thecourtyard with its heavedcobblestones, theOldKeep–now a stable, its upper floorhome to pigeons and

swallows and bats – and thecitadel where even now hisfather negotiated the islandexport tithe with the harbourofficials. In the last instance,of course, a goodly portionwasoutofbounds,evenforason of a noble house; for itwasinthecitadelthattheFisthad his residence, and in theinner chambers that suchaffairs of the Empire asconcerned this island were

conducted.Mock's Hold forgotten

behindhim,Ganoes'attentionwas on the tattered citybelow, and the riots that ranthrough its poorest quarter.Mock's Hold stood atop acliff. The higher land of thePinnacle was reached by aswitchback staircase carvedintothelimestoneof thecliffwall. The drop to the citybelow was eighty armspans

or more, with the Hold'sbattered wall adding stillanother six. The Mouse wasat the city's inland edge, anuneven spreading of hovelsand overgrown tiers cut inhalf by the silt-heavy riverthat crawled towards theharbour.WithmostofMalazCity between Ganoes'position and the riots, it washard to make out any detail,beyondthegrowingpillarsof

blacksmoke.Itwasmidday,buttheflash

andthunderingconcussionofmagery made the air seemdarkandheavy.Armour clanking, a soldier

appeared along thewall nearhim. The man leanedvambraced forearms on thebattlement, the scabbard ofhis longsword scrapingagainst the stones. 'Glad foryour pure blood, eh?' he

asked, grey eyes on thesmoulderingcitybelow.Theboystudiedthesoldier.

He already knew thecomplete regimentalaccoutrementsoftheImperialArmy,andthemanathissidewas a commander in theThird–oneof theEmperor'sown, an elite. On his darkgrey shoulder-cloak was asilver brooch: a bridge ofstone, lit by ruby flames. A

Bridgeburner.High-ranking soldiers and

officials of the Empirecommonly passed throughMock's Hold. The island ofMalaz remained a vital portof call, especially now thatthe Korel wars to the southhad begun. Ganoes hadbrushed shoulders with morethanhisshare,hereandinthecapital,Unta.'Is it true, then?' Ganoes

askedboldly.'Iswhattrue?''TheFirstSwordofEmpire.

Dassem Ultor. We heard inthe capital before we left.He's dead. Is it true? IsDassemdead?'The man seemed to flinch,

his gaze unwavering on theMouse. 'Such is war,' hemuttered,underhisbreath,asif the words were not meant

foranyoneelse'sears.'You're with the Third. I

thought the Third was withhim, in Seven Cities. AtY'Ghatan—''Hood's Breath, they're still

looking for his body in thestill-hot rubble of thatdamned city, and here youare, a merchant's son threethousand leagues fromSevenCitieswithinformationonlyafeware supposed topossess.'

He still did not turn. 'I knownotyoursources,buttakemyadvice and keep what youknowtoyourself.'Ganoes shrugged. 'It's said

hebetrayedagod.'Finally theman faced him.

His face was scarred, andsomething that might havebeen a burn marred his jawandleftcheek.Forallthat,helooked young for acommander. 'Heed the lesson

there,son.''Whatlesson?''Every decision you make

can change the world. Thebest life is the one the godsdon'tnotice.Youwanttolivefree,boy,livequietly.''I want to be a soldier. A

hero.''You'llgrowoutofit.'Mock'sVane squealed as a

wayward gust from the

harbour cleared the grainysmoke. Ganoes could nowsmell rotting fish and thewaterfront's stink ofhumanity.Another Bridgeburner, this

one with a broken, scorchedfiddle strapped to his back,came up to the commander.Hewaswiry and if anythingyounger – only a few yearsolder than Ganoes himself,who was twelve. Strange

pockmarks covered his faceand the backs of his hands,andhisarmourwasamixtureofforeignaccoutrementsoverathreadbare,staineduniform.A shortsword hung in acracked wooden scabbard athiship.Heleanedagainstthemerlon beside the other manwith the ease of longfamiliarity.'It's a bad smell when

sorcerers panic,' the

newcomer said. 'They'relosing control down there.Hardly the need for a wholecadre of mages, just to sniffoutafewwax-witches.'The commander sighed.

'Thought to wait to see ifthey'dreinthemselvesin.'The soldier grunted. 'They

are all new, untested. Thiscould scar some of them forever. Besides,' he added,'more than a few down there

are following someone else'sorders.''Asuspicion,nomore.''Theproof'srightthere,'the

other man said. 'In theMouse.''Perhaps.''You're too protective,' the

mansaid.'Surlysaysit'syourgreatestweakness.''Surly's the Emperor's

concern,notmine.'

A second grunt answeredthat. 'Maybe all of us beforetoolong.'Thecommanderwas silent,

slowly turning to study hiscompanion.The man shrugged. 'Just a

feeling. She's taking a newname,youknow.Laseen.''Laseen?''Napanword.Means—''Iknowwhatitmeans.'

'Hope the Emperor does,too.'Ganoes said, 'It means

Thronemaster.'The two looked down at

him.The wind shifted again,

makingtheirondemongroanonitsperch–asmellofcoolstone from the Hold itself.'My tutor's Napan,' Ganoesexplained.

A new voice spoke behindthem, a woman's, imperiousandcold.'Commander.'Both soldiers turned, but

without haste. Thecommander said to hiscompanion, 'The newcompany needs help downthere.SendDujekandawing,and get some sappers tocontain the fires – wouldn'tdo to have the whole cityburn.'

The soldier nodded,marched away, sparing thewomannotasingleglance.She stood with two

bodyguardsneartheportal inthecitadel'ssquaretower.Herdusky blue skin marked heras Napan, but she wasotherwise plain, wearing asalt-stained grey robe, hermousy hair cut short like asoldier's,herfeaturesthinandunmemorable. It was,

however,herbodyguardsthatsentashiverthroughGanoes.They flanked her: tall,swathed in black, handshidden in sleeves, hoodsshadowing their faces.Ganoes had never seen aClaw before, but heinstinctively knew thesecreaturestobeacolytesofthecult.Whichmeantthewomanwas...The commander said, 'It's

your mess, Surly. Seems I'llhavetocleanitup.'Ganoeswas shocked at the

absence of fear – the near-contempt in the soldier'svoice. Surly had created theClaw, making it a powerrivalled only by theEmperorhimself.'Thatisnolongermyname,

Commander.'Themangrimaced. 'SoI've

heard. You must be feelingconfident in the Emperor'sabsence. He's not the onlyone who remembers you asnothingmore than a serving-wench down in the OldQuarter. I take it thegratitude's washed off longsince.'Thewoman's face betrayed

no change of expression tomark if theman'swords hadstung. 'The command was a

simple one,' she said. 'Itseems your new officers areunabletocopewiththetask.''It's got out of hand,' the

commander said. 'They'reunseasoned—''Not my concern,' she

snapped. 'Nor am Iparticularly disappointed.Loss of control delivers itsown lessons to those whoopposeus.'

'Oppose? A handful ofminor witches selling theirmeagre talents – to whatsinister end? Finding thecoravalschoolson theshoalsin the bay. Hood's Breath,woman,hardlyathreattotheEmpire.''Unsanctioned. Defiant of

thenewlaws—''Your laws, Surly. They

won't work, and when theEmperor returns he'll quash

your prohibition of sorcery,youcanbecertainofthat.'The woman smiled coldly.

'You'll be pleased to knowthattheTower'ssignalledtheapproachofthetransportsforyour new recruits. We'll notmiss you or your restless,seditious soldiers,Commander.'Withoutanotherword,ora

single glance spared for theboy standing beside the

commander,sheswungaboutand, flanked by her silentbodyguards, re-entered thecitadel.Ganoesandthecommander

returned theirattention to theriot in the Mouse. Flameswere visible, climbingthroughthesmoke.'One day I'll be a soldier,'

Ganoessaid.The man grunted. 'Only if

you fail at all else, son.Taking up the sword is thelast act of desperate men.Mark my words and findyourself a more worthydream.'Ganoes scowled. 'You're

notliketheothersoldiersI'vetalked to. You sound morelikemyfather.''ButI'mnotyourfather,'the

mangrowled.

'The world,' Ganoes said,'doesn't need another winemerchant.'The commander's eyes

narrowed, gauging. Heopenedhismouthtomaketheobvious reply, then shut itagain.Ganoes Paran looked back

down at the burning quarter,pleasedwithhimself.Evenaboy,Commander,canmakeapoint.

Mock's Vane swung oncemore.Hot smoke rolled overthe wall, engulfing them. Areek of burning cloth,scorchedpaintandstone,andnowof something sweet. 'Anabattoir'scaughtfire,'Ganoessaid.'Pigs.'The commander grimaced.

After a long moment hesighedandleanedbackdownon the merlon. 'As you say,boy,asyousay.'

BOOKONE

PALE

... In the eighth year theFree Cities ofGenabackis establishedcontracts with a numberof mercenary armies tooppose the Imperium'sadvance; prominentamong these were theCrimson Guard, underthe command of PrinceK'azz D'Avore (seeVolumes III & V); andthe Tiste Andii

regiments of Moon'sSpawn, under thecommand of CaladanBroodandothers.The forces of the

Malazan Empire,commandedbyHighFistDujekOnearm,consistedin that year of the 2nd,5th and 6th Armies, aswell as legions ofMoranth.In retrospect two

observations can bemade. The first is thatthe Moranth alliance of1156 marked afundamental change inthe science of warfarefor the MalazanImperium, which wouldprove efficacious in theshort term. The secondobservationworthnotingis that the involvementof the sorcerous Tiste

Andii of Moon's Spawnrepresented thebeginning of thecontinent's SorceryEnfilade, withdevastatingconsequences.In the Year of Burn's

Sleep1163, theSiegeofPale ended with a nowlegendary sorcerousconflagration...ImperialCampaigns1158-

1194VolumeTV,Genabackis

ImrygynTallobant(b.1151)

CHAPTERONE

The old stones of thisroadhaverungwithironblack-shod hoofs anddrumswhereIsawhimwalkingupfromtheseabetweenthehillssoakedredinsunsethecame,aboyamongtheechoessons and brothers all in

ranksof warrior ghosts hecametopasswhere I sat on thewornfinalleague-stoneatday'send–hisstridespokeloudallIneededknowofhimonthisroadofstone–theboywalksanother soldier, another

onebright heart not yetcooledtohardiron

Mother'sLamentAnonymous

1161stYearofBurn'sSleep103rd Year of the MalazanEmpire7thYearofEmpressLaseen'sRule

'Prod and pull,' the oldwoman was saying, ''tis theway of the Empress, as likethe gods themselves.' Sheleaned to one side and spat,thenbroughtasoiledclothtoher wrinkled lips. 'Threehusbandsand twosonsIsawofftowar.'The fishergirl's eyes shone

asshewatchedthecolumnofmounted soldiers thunderpast, and she only half

listened to the hag standingbeside her. The girl's breathhad risen to the pace of themagnificent horses. She felther faceburning, a flush thathad nothing to do with theheat.Thedaywasdying, thesun'sredsmearoverthetreeson her right, and the sea'ssighing against her face hadgrowncool.'Thatwasinthedaysofthe

Emperor,' the hag continued.

'Hoodroast thebastard'ssoulon a spit. But look on, lass.Laseen scatters bones withthe best of them. Heh, shestarted with his, didn't she,now?'The fishergirl nodded

faintly. As befitted thelowborn, they waited by theroadside, the old womanburdened beneath a roughsack filled with turnips, thegirl with a heavy basket

balanced on her head. Everyminute or so the old womanshifted the sack from onebony shoulder to the other.With the riders crowdingthem on the road and theditch behind them a steepdroptobrokenrocks,shehadno place to put down thesack.'Scatters bones, I said.

Bones of husbands, bones ofsons, bones of wives and

bones of daughters. All thesame to her.All the same tothe Empire.' The old womanspat a second time. 'Threehusbands and two sons, tencoin apiece a year. Five often's fifty. Fifty coin a year'scold company, lass. Cold inwinter,coldinbed.'The fishergirl wiped dust

fromherforehead.Herbrighteyes darted among thesoldiers passing before her.

The young men top theirhigh-backed saddles heldexpressions stern and fixedstraight ahead. The fewwomen who rode amongthem sat tall and somehowfiercer than the men. Thesunset cast red glints fromtheir helms, flashing so thatthe girl's eyes stung and hervisionblurred.'You're the fisherman's

daughter,' the old woman

said. 'I seenyouaforeon theroad,anddownonthestrand.Seen you and your dad atmarket.Missinganarm,ain'the? More bones for hercollection is likely, eh?' Shemadeachoppingmotionwithone hand, then nodded.'Mine's the first houseon thetrack. I use the coin to buycandles. Five candles I burnevery night, five candles tokeepoldRiggacompany. It's

a tired house, full of tiredthings and me one of them,lass. What you got in thebasketthere?'Slowly the fishergirl

realized that a question hadbeenaskedofher.Shepulledherattentionfromthesoldiersand smiled down at the oldwoman. 'I'm sorry,' she said,'thehorsesaresoloud.'Rigga raised her voice. 'I

asked what you got in your

basket,lass?''Twine. Enough for three

nets. We need to get oneready for tomorrow. Daddalost his last one – somethinginthedeepwaterstookitanda whole catch, too. IlgrandLender wants the money heloaned us and we need acatchtomorrow.Agoodone.'She smiled again and swepthergazebacktothesoldiers.'Isn't it wonderful?' she

breathed.Rigga's hand shot out and

snagged thegirl's thickblackhair,yankedithard.The girl cried out. The

basket on her head lurched,then slid down on to oneshoulder. She grabbedfranticallyforitbutitwastooheavy. The basket struck thegroundandsplitapart.'Aaai!'thegirlgasped,attempting tokneel. But Rigga pulled and

snappedherheadaround.'Youlistentome,lass!'The

old woman's sour breathhissed against the girl's face.'The Empire's been grindingthis landdown forahundredyears. You was born in it. Iwasn't.When IwasyourageItko Kan was a country.Weflewabanneranditwasours.Wewerefree,lass.'The girl was sickened by

Rigga's breath. She squeezed

shuthereyes.'Mark this truth, child, else

theCloak of Lies blinds youfor ever.' Rigga's voice tookonadroningcadence,andallat once the girl stiffened.Rigga,Riggalai the Seer, thewax-witchwho trapped soulsin candles and burned them.Souls devoured in flame—Rigga's words carried thechilling tone of prophecy.'Markthistruth.Iamthelast

to speak to you.You are thelast to hearme. Thus arewelinked,youand I, beyondallelse.'Rigga's fingers snagged

tighter in the girl's hair.'Across the sea the Empresshas driven her knife intovirgin soil. The blood nowcomesinatideandit'llsweepyouunder,child,ifyou'renotcareful.They'llputaswordinyour hand, they'll give you a

fine horse, and they'll sendyou across that sea. But ashadow will embrace yoursoul. Now, listen! Bury thisdeep!Riggawillpreserveyoubecause we are linked, youand I. But it is all I can do,understand?LooktotheLordspawned in Darkness; his isthe hand that shall free you,thoughhe'llknowitnot—''What's this?' a voice

bellowed.

Rigga swung to face theroad.Anoutriderhadslowedhismount.TheSeer releasedthegirl'shair.The girl staggered back a

step. A rock on the road'sedge turned underfoot andshefell.Whenshelookeduptheout riderhad trottedpast.Another thundered up in hiswake.'Leavetheprettyonealone,

hag,'thisonegrowled,andas

he rode by he leaned in hissaddle and swung an open,gauntleted hand. The iron-scaled glove cracked againstRigga's head, spinning heraround.Shetoppled.The fishergirl screamed as

Rigga landed heavily acrossher thighs. A thread ofcrimson spit spattered herface. Whimpering, the girlpushed herself back acrossthegravel, thenusedher feet

to shove away Rigga's body.Sheclimbedtoherknees.Something within Rigga's

prophecy seemed lodged inthe girl's head, heavy as astone and hidden from light.She found she could notretrieve a single word theSeer had said. She reachedout and grasped Rigga'swoollenshawl.Carefully,sherolled the old woman over.Blood covered one side of

Rigga's head, running downbehind the ear. More bloodsmeared her lined chin andstained her mouth. The eyesstaredsightlessly.The fishergirl pulled back,

unable to catch her breath.Desperate, she looked about.The column of soldiers hadpassed, leaving nothing butdust and the distant trembleof hoofs. Rigga's bag ofturnips had spilled on to the

road. Among the trampledvegetables lay five tallowcandles. The girl managed aragged lungful of dusty air.Wiping her nose, she lookedtoherownbasket.'Never mind the candles,'

shemumbled, ina thick,oddvoice. 'They're gone, aren'tthey, now? Just a scatteringof bones. Never mind.' Shecrawled towards the bundlesof twine thathad fallen from

the breached basket, andwhen she spoke again hervoice was young, normal.'We need the twine. We'llwork all night and get oneready. Dadda's waiting. He'srightatthedoor,he'slookingup the track, he's waiting toseeme.'She stopped, a shiver

running through her. Thesun's light was almost gone.Anunseasonalchillbledfrom

the shadows, which nowflowed like water across theroad.'Here it comes, then,' the

girl grated softly, in a voicethatwasn'therown.A soft-gloved hand fell on

her shoulder. She duckeddown,cowering.'Easy, girl,' said a man's

voice.'It'sover.Nothingtobedoneforhernow.'

Thefishergirl lookedup.Aman swathed in black leanedover her, his face obscuredbeneathahood'sshadow.'Buthe hit her,' the girl said, in achild's voice. 'And we havenetstotie,meandDadda—''Let'sgetyouonyour feet,'

the man said, moving hislong-fingered hands downunder her arms. Hestraightened, lifting hereffortlessly. Her sandalled

feetdangled in theairbeforehesetherdown.Nowshesawasecondman,

shorter,alsoclothedinblack.This one stood on the roadand was turned away, hisgaze in the direction thesoldiers had gone.He spoke,his voice reed-thin. 'Wasn'tmuch of a life,' he said, notturning to face her. 'Aminortalent, long since dried up oftheGift.Oh, shemight have

managed onemore, butwe'llneverknow,willwe?'The fishergirl stumbled

over to Rigga's bag andpicked up a candle. Shestraightened, her eyessuddenly hard, thendeliberately spat on to theroad.The shorter man's head

snapped towards her. Withinthe hood it seemed theshadowsplayedalone.

Thegirlshrankbackastep.'It was a good life,' shewhispered. 'She had thesecandles, you see. Five ofthem.Fivefor—''Necromancy,' the short

mancutin.The taller man, still at her

side, said softly, 'I see them,child. Iunderstandwhat theymean.'Theothermansnorted.'The

witch harboured five frail,weak souls. Nothing grand.'He cocked his head. 'I canhear them now. Calling forher.'Tears filled the girl's eyes.

A wordless anguish seemedto well up from that blackstoneinhermind.Shewipedher cheeks. 'Where did youcome from?' she askedabruptly. 'We didn't see youontheroad.'

The man beside her halfturnedtothegraveltrack.'Onthe other side,' he said, asmile in his tone. 'Waiting,justlikeyou.'The other giggled. 'On the

other side indeed.' He faceddown the road again andraisedhisarms.The girl drew in a sharp

breathasdarknessdescended.A loud, tearing sound filledtheair for a second, then the

darkness dissipated and thegirl'seyeswidened.SevenmassiveHoundsnow

sat around the man in theroad.Theeyesofthesebeastsglowed yellow, and all wereturned in the same directionasthemanhimself.Sheheardhimhiss, 'Eager,

arewe?Thengo!'Silently, theHounds bolted

downtheroad.

Their master turned andsaid to the man beside her,'Something to gnaw onLaseen's mind.' He giggledagain.'Must you complicate

things?' the other answeredwearily.The short man stiffened.

'They are within sight of thecolumn.'Hecockedhishead.From up the road came thescream of horses.He sighed.

'You've reached a decision,Cotillion?'The other grunted

amusedly. 'Using my name,Ammanas,means you've justdecided for me. We canhardly leave her here now,canwe?''Of course we can, old

friend.Justnotbreathing.'Cotillion looked down on

thegirl. 'No,'he saidquietly,

'she'lldo.'The fishergirl bit her lip.

StillclutchingRigga'scandle,she took another step back,her wide eyes darting fromonemantotheother.'Pity,'Ammanassaid.Cotillion seemed to nod,

thenheclearedhisthroatandsaid,'It'lltaketime.'An amused note entered

Ammanas's reply. 'And have

we time? True vengeanceneeds the slow, carefulstalking of the victim. Haveyou forgotten the pain sheonce delivered us? Laseen'sback is against the wallalready. She might fallwithout our help. Wherewould be the satisfaction inthat?'Cotillion's response was

cool and dry. 'You've alwaysunderestimated the Empress.

Hence our presentcircumstances ... No.' Hegestured at the fishergirl.'We'llneedthisone.Laseen'sraised the ire of Moon'sSpawn, and that's a hornet'snest if ever there was one.Thetimingisperfect.'Faintly, above the

screaming horses, came theshrieksofmenandwomen,asound that pierced the girl'sheart. Her eyes darted to

Rigga's motionless form onthe roadside, then back toAmmanas, who nowapproached her. She thoughtto run but her legs hadweakened to a helplesstrembling.Hecamecloseandseemed to study her, eventhough the shadows withinhis hood remainedimpenetrable.'Afishergirl?'heasked,ina

kindlytone.

Shenodded.'Haveyouaname?''Enough!' Cotillion

growled. 'She's not somemouse under your paw,Ammanas. Besides, I'vechosen her and Iwill choosehernameaswell.'Ammanas stepped back.

'Pity,'hesaidagain.The girl raised imploring

hands. 'Please,' she begged

Cotillion, 'I've done nothing!My father's a poor man, buthe'll pay you all he can. Heneeds me, and the twine –he's waiting right now!' Shefelt herself go wet betweenherlegsandquicklysatdownon the ground. 'I've donenothing!'Shamerosethroughher and she put her hands inherlap.'Please.''I've no choice any more,

child,' Cotillion said. 'After

all,youknowournames.''I've never heard them

before!'thegirlcried.The man sighed. 'With

what'shappeningup theroadright now, well, you'd bequestioned. Unpleasantly.There are those who knowournames.''You see, lass,' Ammanas

added, suppressing a giggle,'we're not supposed to be

here. There are names, andthen there are names.' Heswung to Cotillion and said,inachillingvoice,'Herfathermust be dealt with. MyHounds?''No,' Cotillion said. 'He

lives.''Thenhow?''I suspect,' Cotillion said,

'greed will suffice, once theslateiswipedclean.'Sarcasm

filledhisnextwords.'I'msureyou can manage the sorceryinthat,can'tyou?'Ammanas giggled. 'Beware

ofshadowsbearinggifts.'Cotillion faced the girl

again.He lifted his arms outtothesides.Theshadowsthatheld his features in darknessnow flowed out around hisbody.Ammanasspoke,andtothe

girl his words seemed tocome from a great distance.'She's ideal. The Empresscould never track her down,couldneverevensomuchasguess.' He raised his voice.'It'snotsobadathing,lass,tobethepawnofagod.''Prod and pull,' the

fishergirlsaidquickly.Cotillion hesitated at her

strange comment, then heshrugged. The shadows

whirledouttoengulfthegirl.With their cold touch hermind fell away, down intodarkness. Her last fleetingsensationwasofthesoftwaxof the candle in her righthand, and how it seemed towell up between the fingersofherclenchedfist.The captain shifted in hissaddle and glanced at thewoman riding beside him.

'We've closed the road onboth sides, Adjunct. Movedthelocaltrafficinland.Sofar,no word's leaked.' He wipedsweat from his brow andwinced.Thehotwoollen capbeneath his helm had rubbedhisforeheadraw.'Something wrong,

Captain?'He shook his head,

squinting up the road.'Helmet's loose. Had more

hairthelasttimeIworeit.'TheAdjuncttotheEmpress

didnotreply.Themid-morningsunmade

theroad'swhite,dustysurfacealmost blinding. The captainfelt sweat running down hisbody, and the mail of hishelm's lobster tail keptnippingthehairsonhisneck.Already his lower backached.Ithadbeenyearssincehe'd last ridden a horse, and

the rollwas slow in coming.With every saddle-bounce hefeltvertebraecrunch.It had been a long time

since somebody's title hadbeen enough to straightenhim up. But this was theAdjunct to the Empress,Laseen's personal servant, anextension of her Imperialwill. The last thing thecaptain wanted was to showhis misery to this young,

dangerouswoman.Upaheadtheroadbeganits

long,windingascent.Asaltywind blew from their left,whistling through the newlybudding trees lining that sideof the road. By mid-afternoon, that wind wouldbreathehotasabaker'soven,carryingwith it the stenchofthe mudflats. And the sun'sheat would bring somethingelse as well. The captain

hoped to be back in Kan bythen.He tried not to think about

the place they rode towards.Leave that to theAdjunct. Inhis years of service to theEmpire, he'd seen enough toknow when to shuteverything down inside hisskull. This was one of thosetimes.TheAdjunctspoke.'You've

been stationed here long,

Captain?''Aye,'themangrowled.The woman waited, then

asked,'Howlong?'He hesitated. 'Thirteen

years,Adjunct.''You fought for the

Emperor,then,'shesaid.'Aye.''Andsurvivedthepurge.'The captain threw her a

look. If she felthisgaze, she

gave no indication. Her eyesremained on the road ahead;sherolledeasilyinthesaddle,the scabbarded longswordhitched high under her leftarm – ready for mountedbattle.Herhairwaseithercutshort or drawn up under herhelm. Her figure was litheenough,thecaptainmused.'Finished?'sheasked.'Iwas

asking about the purgescommanded by Empress

Laseen following herpredecessor'suntimelydeath.'The captain gritted his

teeth,duckedhischintodrawupthehelm'sstrap–hehadn'thad time to shave and thebuckle was chafing. 'Noteveryonewaskilled,Adjunct.ThepeopleofItkoKanaren'texactly excitable. None ofthose riots and massexecutionsthathitotherpartsoftheEmpire.Wealljustsat

tightandwaited.''I take it,' theAdjunct said,

withaslightsmile,'you'renotnoble-born,Captain.'He grunted. 'If I'd been

noble-born, I wouldn't havesurvived, even here in ItkoKan.Webothknowthat.Herorders were specific, andeven the droll Kanese didn'tdaredisobeytheEmpress.'Hescowled. 'No, up through theranks,Adjunct.'

'Yourlastengagement?''WickanPlains.'They rodeon in silence for

atime,passingtheoccasionalsoldier stationedon the road.Off to their left the trees fellaway to ragged heather, andthe sea beyond showed itswhite-capped expanse. TheAdjunct spoke. 'This areayou've contained, how manyof your guard have youdeployedtopatrolit?'

'Eleven hundred,' thecaptainreplied.Herheadturnedat this,her

cool gaze tightening beneaththerimofherhelm.The captain studied her

expression. 'The carnagestretches half a league fromthe sea, Adjunct, and aquarter-leagueinland.'Thewomansaidnothing.They approached the

summit. A score of soldiershadgatheredthere,andotherswaited along the slope's rise.Allhadturnedtowatchthem.'Prepareyourself,Adjunct.'The woman studied the

facesliningtheroadside.Sheknew these to be hardenedmen andwomen, veterans ofthe siegeofLiHeng and theWickanWarsoutonthenorthplains. But something hadbeen clawed into their eyes

that had left them raw andexposed. They looked uponher with a yearning that shefound disturbing, as if theyhungered for answers. Shefought the urge to speak tothem as she passed, to offerwhatever comforting wordsshecould.Suchgiftswerenothers to give, however, norhad they ever been. In thisshewasmuchthesameastheEmpress.

From beyond the summitshe heard the cries of gullsand crows, a sound that roseinto a high-pitched roar asthey reached the rise.Ignoringthesoldiersoneitherside, the Adjunct moved herhorse forward. The captainfollowed. They came to thecrest and looked down. Theroad dipped here for perhapsa fifth of a league, climbingagain at the far end to a

promontory.Thousands of gulls and

crows covered the ground,spilling over into the ditchesand among the low, roughheather and gorse. Beneaththischurningseaofblackandwhite the ground was auniform red. Here and thererose the ribbed humps ofhorses, and from among thesquallingbirdscametheglintofiron.

Thecaptainreachedupandunstrappedhishelm.Heliftedit slowly fromhis head, thenset it down over his saddlehorn.'Adjunct...''I am named Lorn,' the

womansaidsoftly.'One hundred and seventy-

five men and women. Twohundred and ten horses. TheNineteenth Regiment of theItko Kanese Eighth Cavalry.'Thecaptain'sthroattightened

briefly. He looked at Lorn.'Dead.'Hishorseshiedunderhim as it caught anupdraught. He closedsavagelyon thereinsand theanimal stilled, nostrils wideand ears back, musclestrembling under him. TheAdjunct's stallion made nomove. 'Allhadtheirweaponsbared. All fought whateverenemyattackedthem.Butthedeadareallours.'

'You've checked the beachbelow?' Lorn asked, stillstaringdownontheroad.'No signs of a landing,' the

captain replied. 'No tracksanywhere, neither seawardnor inland. There are moredead than these, Adjunct.Farmers, peasants, fisherfolk,travellers on the road.All ofthem torn apart, limbsscattered – children,livestock, dogs.' He stopped

abruptly and turned away.'Over four hundred dead,' hegrated. 'We're not certain oftheexactcount.''Of course,' Lorn said, her

tone devoid of feeling. 'Nowitnesses?''None.'A man was riding towards

them on the road below,leaning close to his horse'searashetalkedthefrightened

animal through the carnage.Birds rose in shriekingcomplaint in front of him,settling again once he hadpassed.'Who is that?' the Adjunct

asked.The captain grunted.

'Lieutenant Ganoes Paran.He's new to my command.FromUnta.'Lorn'seyesnarrowedonthe

youngman.He'd reached theedge of the depression,stoppingtorelayorderstothework crews. He leaned backinhissaddlethenandglancedin their direction. 'Paran.FromHouseParan?''Aye, gold in his veins and

allthat.''Callhimuphere.'The captain gestured and

the lieutenant kicked his

mount's flanks. Momentslater he reined in beside thecaptainandsaluted.Themanandhishorsewere

covered from head to toe inblood and bits of flesh. Fliesand wasps buzzed hungrilyaround them. Lorn saw inLieutenant Paran's face noneof the youth that rightlybelongedthere.Forallthat,itwasaneasy face to resteyesupon.

'Youcheckedtheotherside,Lieutenant?' the captainasked.Paran nodded. 'Yes, sir.

There's a small fishingsettlement down from thepromontory. A dozen or sohuts. Bodies in all but two.Most of the barques look tobe in, though there's oneemptymooringpole.'Lorn cut in. 'Lieutenant,

describetheemptyhuts.'

He batted at a threateningwasp before answering. 'Onewas at the top of the strand,just off the trail from theroad.Wethinkitbelongedtoanoldwomanwefounddeadon the road, about half aleaguesouthofhere.''Why?''Adjunct, the hut's contents

were that of an old woman.Also,sheseemedinthehabitof burning candles. Tallow

candles, in fact. The oldwoman on the road had asack full of turnips and ahandful of tallow candles.Tallow's expensive here,Adjunct.'Lorn asked, 'How many

times have you riddenthrough this battlefield,Lieutenant?''Enough to be getting used

toit,Adjunct.'Hegrimaced.

'Andthesecondemptyhut?''Amanandagirl,wethink.

The hut's close to thetidemark, opposite the emptymooringpole.''Nosignofthem?''None, Adjunct. Of course,

we're still finding bodies,along the road, out in thefields.''Butnotonthebeach.''No.'

The Adjunct frowned,aware that both men werewatching her. 'Captain, whatkind of weapons killed yoursoldiers?'The captain hesitated, then

turned a glare on thelieutenant. 'You've beencrawling around down there,Paran, let's hear youropinion.'Paran's answering smile

was tight. 'Yes, sir. Natural

weapons.'The captain felt a sinking

feeling in his stomach. He'dhopedhe'dbeenwrong.'What do you mean,' Lorn

asked,'naturalweapons?''Teeth, mostly. Very big,

verysharpones.'The captain cleared his

throat, then said, 'Therehaven't been wolves in ItkoKan for a hundred years. In

anycase,nocarcassesaround—''If it was wolves,' Paran

said,turningtoeyethebasin,'they were as big as mules.Notracks,Adjunct.Notevenatuftofhair.''Not wolves, then,' Lorn

said.Paranshrugged.The Adjunct drew a deep

breath, held it, then let it out

ina slowsigh. 'Iwant to seethisfishingvillage.'The captain made ready to

don his helmet, but theAdjunct shook her head.'LieutenantParanwillsuffice,Captain. I suggest you takepersonal command of yourguard in the meantime. Thedead must be removed asquickly as possible. Allevidenceofthemassacreistobeerased.'

'Understood, Adjunct,' thecaptainsaid,hopinghe'dkeptthereliefoutofhisvoice.Lorn turned to the young

noble.'Well,Lieutenant?'Henodded and cluckedhis

horseintomotion.It was when the birds

scattered from their path thatthe Adjunct found herselfenvying the captain. Beforeher the roused carrion-eaters

exposed a carpet of armour,broken bones and meat. Theair was hot, turgid andcloying. She saw soldiers,still helmed, their headscrushed by what must havebeen huge, terribly powerfuljaws. She saw torn mail,crumpled shields, and limbsthat had been ripped frombodies.Lornmanagedonlyafew moments of carefulexamination of the scene

aroundthembeforeshefixedher gaze on the promontoryahead, unable to encompassthe magnitude of theslaughter. Her stallion, bredof the finest lines of SevenCities stock, a warhorsetrained in the blood forgenerations, had lost itsproud, unyielding strut, andnowpicked itsway carefullyalongtheroad.Lorn realized she needed a

distraction, and sought it inconversation. 'Lieutenant,have you received yourcommissionyet?''No,Adjunct.Iexpecttobe

stationedinthecapital.'She raised an eyebrow.

'Indeed. And how will youmanagethat?'Paran squinted ahead, a

tightsmileonhislips.'Itwillbearranged.'

'Isee.'Lornfellsilent. 'Thenobles have refrained fromseeking militarycommissions,kepttheirheadslow for a long time, haven'tthey?''Since the first days of the

Empire.TheEmperorheldnoloveforus.WhereasEmpressLaseen'sconcernsseemtolieelsewhere.'Lorneyedtheyoungman.'I

see you like taking risks,

Lieutenant,' she said. 'Unlessyour presumption extends togoading the Adjunct to theEmpress. Are you thatconfident of your blood'sinvincibility?''Sincewhenisspeakingthe

truthpresumptuous?''Youareyoung,aren'tyou?'ThisseemedtostingParan.

A flush rose in his smooth-shaven cheeks. 'Adjunct, for

the past seven hours I havebeen knee-deep in torn fleshand spilled blood. I've beenfighting crows and gulls forbodies – do you know whatthese birds are doing here?Precisely?They'retearingoffstrips of meat and fightingover them; they're getting faton eyeballs and tongues,livers and hearts. In theirfrantic greed they fling themeat around ...' He paused,

visiblyregainingcontroloverhimself as he straightened inhissaddle.'I'mnotyounganymore, Adjunct. As forpresumption, I honestlycouldn'tcare less.Truthcan'tbe danced around, not outhere,notnow,noteveragain.'They reached the far slope.

Off to the leftanarrowtrackled down towards the sea.Paran gestured to it, thenangledhishorseforward.

Lorn followed, herthoughtfulexpressionholdingon the lieutenant's broadback, before she turned herattention to the route theytook. The path was narrow,skirting the promontory'sbluff.Offtotheleftthetrail'sedge dropped away to rockssixtyfeetbelow.Thetidewasout, thewaves breaking on areef a few hundred yardsoffshore. Pools filled the

black bedrock's cracks andbasins, dully reflecting anovercastsky.They came to a bend, and

beyondandbelowstretchedacrescent-shaped beach.Aboveit,at thepromontory'sfoot,layabroad,grassyshelfon which squatted a dozenhuts.The Adjunct swung her

gaze seaward. The barquesrested on their low flanks

beside their mooring poles.The air above the beach andthetidalflatwasempty–notabirdinsight.She halted her mount. A

moment later Paran glancedbackatherthendidthesame.He watched her as sheremoved her helmet andshook out her long, auburnhair. It was wet and stringywith sweat. The lieutenantrode back to her side, a

questioninglookinhiseyes.'Lieutenant Paran, your

wordswerewellspoken.'Shebreathedinthesaltyair, thenmet his gaze. 'You won't bestationed in Unta, I'm afraid.You will be taking yourorders from me as acommissioned officer on mystaff.'His eyes slowly narrowed.

'What happened to thosesoldiers,Adjunct?'

She didn't answerimmediately,leaningbackonher saddle and scanning thedistant sea. 'Someone's beenhere,' she said. 'Asorcererofgreat power. Something'shappened, and we're beingdivertedfromdiscoveringit.'Paran's mouth dropped

open. 'Killing four hundredpeoplewasadiversion?''If that man and his

daughter had been out

fishing, they'd have come inwiththetide.''But—''You won't find their

bodies,Lieutenant.'Paran was puzzled. 'Now

what?'She glanced at him, then

swungherhorsearound. 'Wegoback.''That's it?' He stared after

herasshedirectedhermount

backupthetrail,thenrodetocatch up. 'Wait a minute,Adjunct,'hesaid,ashecamealongside.She gave him a warning

look.Paran shook his head. 'No.

If I'm now on your staff, Ihave to know more aboutwhat'sgoingon.'Sheplacedherhelmetback

onandcinchedtightthestrap

underherchin.Herlonghairdangled in tattered ropesdownoverherImperialcape.'Very well. As you know,Lieutenant,I'mnomage—''No,' Paran cut in, with a

coldgrin,'youjusthuntthemdownandkillthem.''Don't interrupt me again.

As I was saying, I amanathema to sorcery. Thatmeans,Lieutenant, that, eventhough I'mnotapractitioner,

I have a relationship withmagic. Of sorts. We knoweach other, if you will. Iknow thepatternsof sorcery,andIknowthepatternsoftheminds that use it. We weremeant to conclude that theslaughter was thorough, andrandom. It was neither.There's a path here, and wehavetofindit.'SlowlyParannodded.'Your first task,Lieutenant,

istoridetothemarkettown–what'sitsnameagain?''Gerrom.''Yes,Gerrom.They'llknow

this fishing village, sincethat'swherethecatchissold.Ask around, find out whichfisher family consisted of afather and daughter. Get metheir names, and theirdescriptions.Usethemilitiaifthelocalsarerecalcitrant.'

'Theywon'tbe,'Paransaid.'TheKanese are co-operativefolk.'Theyreachedthetopofthe

trail and stopped at the road.Below, wagons rockedamong the bodies, the oxenbraying and stamping theirblood-soaked hoofs. Soldiersshouted in the press, whileoverhead wheeled thousandsof birds. The scene stank ofpanic.Atthefarendstoodthe

captain, his helmet hangingfromitsstrapinonehand.The Adjunct stared down

on the scenewith hard eyes.'For their sake,' she said, 'Ihopeyou'reright,Lieutenant.'Ashewatchedthetworidersapproach, something told thecaptain that his days of easein Itko Kan were numbered.His helmet felt heavy in his

hand. He eyed Paran. Thatthin-blooded bastard had itmade. A hundred stringspulling him every step of thewaytosomecushypostinginsomepeacefulcity.He saw Lorn studying him

as they came to the crest.'Captain, Ihavea request foryou.'The captain grunted.

Request, hell. The Empresshas to check her slippers

every morning to make surethisoneisn'talreadyinthem.'Ofcourse,Adjunct.'Thewomandismounted, as

did Paran. The lieutenant'sexpression was impassive.Was that arrogance, or hadthe Adjunct given himsomethingtothinkabout?'Captain,' Lorn began, 'I

understandthere'sarecruitingdrive under way in Kan. Doyou pull in people from

outsidethecity?''To join? Sure, more of

them than anyone else. Cityfolkgottoomuchtogiveup.Besides, they get the badnews first. Most of thepeasants don't knoweverything's gone to hell onGenabackis. A lot of themfigure city folk whine toomuch anyway. May I askwhy?''You may.' Lorn turned to

watch the soldiers cleaningup the road. 'I need a list ofrecentrecruits.Withinthelasttwo days. Forget the onesborn in the city, just theoutlying ones. And only thewomenand/oroldmen.'The captain grunted again.

'Should be a short list,Adjunct.''Ihopeso,Captain.''You figured out what's

behindallthis?'Still following the activity

ontheroadbelow,Lornsaid,'Noidea.'Yes, the captain thought,

and I'm the Emperorreincarnated. 'Too bad,' hemuttered.'Oh.' The Adjunct faced

him.'LieutenantParanisnowon my staff. I trust you'llmake the necessary

adjustments.''As you wish, Adjunct. I

lovepaperwork.'That earned him a slight

smile. Then it was gone.'Lieutenant Paran will beleavingnow.'The captain looked at the

young noble and smiled,letting the smile sayeverything. Working for theAdjunct was like being the

worm on the hook. TheAdjunctwasthehook,andattheother endof the linewastheEmpress.Lethimsquirm.A sour expression flitted

across Paran's face. 'Yes,Adjunct.' He climbed backinto the saddle, saluted, thenrodeoffdowntheroad.The captain watched him

leave, then said, 'Anythingelse,Adjunct?'

'Yes.'Her tone brought him

around.'I would like to hear a

soldier's opinion of thenobility's present inroads onthe Imperial commandstructure.'The captain stared hard at

her.'Itain'tpretty,Adjunct.''Goon.'Thecaptaintalked.

It was the eighth day ofrecruiting and Staff SergeantAragan sat bleary-eyedbehindhisdeskasyetanotherwhelp was prodded forwardby the corporal. They'd hadsome luck here in Kan.Fishing's best in thebackwaters, Kan's Fist hadsaid.Alltheygetaroundhereis stories. Stories don't makeyoubleed.Storiesdon'tmake

yougohungry,don'tgiveyousorefeet.Whenyou'reyoungand smelling of pigshit andconvinced there ain't aweaponinallthedamnworldthat's going to hurt you, allstories do is make you wanttobepartofthem.The old woman was right.

As usual. These people hadbeen under the boot so longthey actually liked it. Well,Aragan thought, the

educationbeginshere.Ithadbeenabadday,with

the local captain roaring offwith three companies andleaving not one solid rumourintheirwakeaboutwhatwasgoing on. And if that wasn'tbadenough,Laseen'sAdjunctarrived from Unta not tenminutes later, using one ofthose eerie magical Warrensto get here. Though he'dneverseenher,justhername

on the hot, dry wind wasenough to give him theshakes. Mage killer, thescorpion in the Imperialpocket.Aragan scowled down at

the writing tablet and waiteduntil the corporal cleared histhroat.Thenhelookedup.The recruit standing before

him took the staff sergeantaback.Heopenedhismouth,onhistonguealashingtirade

designed to send the youngones scampering. A secondlater he shut it again, thewords unspoken. Kan's Fisthad made her instructionsabundantly clear: if they hadtwo arms, two legs and ahead, take them. TheGenabackis campaign was amess. Fresh bodies wereneeded.He grinned at the girl. She

matchedtheFist'sdescription

perfectly.Still.'Allright,lass,youunderstandyou're in lineto join theMalazanMarines,right?'The girl nodded, her gaze

steadyandcool and fixedonAragan.The recruiter's expression

tightened.Damn,shecan'tbemore than twelveor thirteen.Ifthiswasmydaughter...What'sgothereyeslooking

sobloodyold? The last timehe'd seen anything like themhadbeenoutsideMottForest,on Genabackis – he'd beenmarching through farmlandhitbyfiveyears'droughtanda war twice as long. Thoseold eyes were brought byhunger,ordeath.Hescowled.'What'syourname,girl?''Am I in, then?' she asked

quietly.Aragan nodded, a sudden

headache pounding againsttheinsideofhisskull. 'You'llget your assignment in aweek'stime,unlessyougotapreference.''Genabackancampaign,'the

girl answered immediately.'Under thecommandofHighFistDujekOnearm.Onearm'sHost.'Araganblinked. 'I'llmakea

note,' he said softly. 'Yourname,soldier?'

'Sorry.MynameisSorry.'Aragan jotted the name

down on his tablet.'Dismissed, soldier. Thecorporal will tell you whereto go.' He looked up as shewasnearthedoor.'Andwashall that mud off your feet.'Aragan continuedwriting fora moment, then stopped. Ithadn't rained in weeks. Andthe mud around here washalf-way between green and

grey,notdark red.He tosseddown the stylus andmassaged his temples. Well,at least the headache'sfading.Gerrom was a league and ahalfinlandalongtheOldKanRoad, a pre-Empirethoroughfare rarely usedsince the Imperial raisedcoast road had beenconstructed. The traffic on it

these days was mostly onfoot,localfarmersandfisherswith their goods. Of themonly unravelled and tornbundles of clothing, brokenbaskets and trampledvegetables littering the trackremained togiveevidenceoftheir passage. A lame mule,the last sentinel overseeingtherefuseofanexodus,stooddumblynearby,ankle-deepinaricepaddy.ItsparedParana

single forlorn glance as herodepast.Thedetrituslookedtobeno

morethanadayold,thefruitsand green-leaved vegetablesonly nowbeginning to rot intheafternoonheat.Hishorsecarryinghimata

slowwalk, Paranwatched asthe first outbuildings of thesmall trader town came intoview through the dusty haze.No one moved between the

shabby mudbrick houses; nodogs came out to challengehim,andtheonlycartinsightleaned on a singlewheel.Toaddtotheuncannyscene,theair was still, empty ofbirdsong. Paran loosened theswordinitsscabbard.As he neared the

outbuildings he halted hismount. The exodus had beenswift, a panicked flight. Yethesawnobodies,nosignsof

violence beyond the hasteevident in those leaving. Hedrew a deep breath, slowlyreleased it, then clicked hishorse forward. The mainstreetwasineffectthetown'sonly street, leading at its farend to a T intersectionmarked by a single two-storey stone building: theImperial Constabulary. Itstin-backed shutters wereclosed,itsheavybandeddoor

shut.AsheapproachedParanheldhiseyesonthebuilding.He dismounted before it,

tyinghismaretothehitchingrail then lookingbackup thestreet. No movement.Unsheathing his blade, Paranswung back to theConstabularydoor.A soft, steady sound from

within stopped him, too lowtobeheardfromanydistancebut now, as he stood before

thehugedoor,hecouldhearaliquid murmuring that raisedthe hairs on his neck. Paranreached out with his swordand set its point under thelatch. He lifted the ironhandle upward until itdisengaged,thenpushedopenthedoor.Movement rippled in the

gloomwithin,a flapandsoftthumping of air carrying toParan the redolent stench of

putri-fying flesh. Breathinghardandwithamouthdryasold cotton, he waited for hiseyestoadjust.He stared into the

Constabulary's outer room,and it was a mass ofmovement, a chilling softsussuration of throats givingvoice.Thechamberwasfilledwith black pigeons cooing inicy calm. Uniformed humanshapes lay in their midst,

stretched haphazardly acrossthe flooramiddroppingsanddrifting black down. Sweatand death clung to the airthickasgauze.He took a step inside. The

pigeons rustledbutotherwiseignored him. None made fortheopendoorway.Swollen faces with coin-

dull eyes stared up from theshadows;thefaceswereblue,as of men suffocated. Paran

looked down at one of thesoldiers.'Notahealthything,'he muttered, 'wearing theseuniformsthesedays.'Aconjuringofbirdstokeep

mockingvigil.Darkhumour'snot tomy liking anymore, 1think. He shook himself,walked across the room.Thepigeons tracked away fromhisboots,clucking.Thedoorto the captain's office wasajar.Mustylightbledthrough

the shuttered windows'uneven joins. Sheathing hissword, Paran entered theoffice.Thecaptainstillsatinhischair,hisfacebloatedandbruised in shades of blue,greenandgrey.Paran swept damp feathers

from the desktop, rummagedthrough the scroll work. Thepapyrus sheets fell apartunder his touch, the leavesrotten and oily between his

fingers.A thorough eliminating of

thetrail.He turned away, walked

swiftlybackthroughtheouterroomuntilhesteppedintothewarm light. He closed theConstabulary door as, nodoubt,thevillagershad.The dark bloom of sorcery

was a stain few cared toexamine too closely. It hada

wayofspreading.Paran untethered his mare,

climbed into the saddle androde from the abandonedtown.Hedidnotlookback.Thesunsatheavyandbloatedamid a smear of crimsoncloud on the horizon. Paranfoughttokeephiseyesopen.It had been a long day. Ahorrificday.Thelandaround

him, once familiar and safe,hadbecomesomethingelse,aplace stirred with the darkcurrents of sorcery. He wasnotlookingforwardtoanightcampedintheopen.Hismountploddedonward,

head down, as dusk slowlyenveloped them. Pulled bythe weary chains of histhoughts,Parantriedtomakesense of what had happenedsincemorning.

Snatched out from theshadow of that sour-faced,laconic captain and thegarrisonatKan,thelieutenanthadseenhisprospectsbeginaquick rise. Aide to theAdjunctwasanadvancementin his career he could nothave even imagined a weekago.Despitetheprofessionhehadchosen,hisfatherandhissisters were bound to beimpressed, perhaps even

awed, by his achievement.Like so many other noble-bornsonsanddaughters,he'dlong since set his sights onthe Imperialmilitary, hungryfor prestige and bored withthe complacent, staticattitudesof thenobleclass ingeneral. Paran wantedsomething more challengingthan co-ordinating shipmentsof wine, or overseeing thebreedingofhorses.

Norwasheamongthefirsttoenlist, thuseasing thewayfor entrance into officertraining and selectivepostings. It had just been ill-luck that saw him sent toKan,whereaveterangarrisonhad been licking its woundsfornighonsixyears.There'dbeen little respect for anuntested lieutenant, and evenlessforanoble-born.Paran suspected that that

had changed since theslaughter on the road. He'dhandleditbetterthanmanyofthose veterans, helped in nosmall part by the superbbreeding of his horse. More,toprove to themallhiscool,detached professionalism,he'd volunteered to lead theinspectiondetail.He'd done well, although

the detail had proved ...difficult. He'd heard

screaming while crawlingaround among the bodies,coming from somewhereinsidehisownhead.Hiseyeshad fixed on details, oddities– the peculiar twist of thisbody, the inexplicable smileon that dead soldier's face –but what had proved hardestwas what had been done tothe horses. Crusted foam-filled nostrils and mouths –the signs of terror – and the

wounds were terrible, hugeand devastating. Bile andfaecesstainedtheonce-proudmounts, and over everythingwas a glittering carpet ofbloodandsliversofredflesh.Hehadnearlywept for thosehorses.He shifted uneasily on the

saddle, feeling a clamminesscometohishandswheretheyrested on the ornate horn.He'd held on to his

confidencethroughthewholeepisode; yet now, as histhoughts returned to thathorrid scene, it was as ifsomething that had alwaysbeen solid in his mind nowstuttered, shied, threateninghis balance; the faintcontempt he'd shown forthose veterans in his troop,kneeling helpless on theroadside racked by dry-heaves, returned to him now

withaghoulishcast.Andtheecho that came from theConstabulary at Gerrom,arrivinglikealateblowtohisalready bruised and batteredsoul,roseonceagaintopluckat the defensive numbnessstillholdinghimincheck.Paran straightened with an

effort. He'd told the Adjuncthisyouthwasgone.He'dtoldher other things as well,fearless,uncaring, lackingall

the caution his father hadinstilledinhimwhenitcameto the many faces of theEmpire.Fromagreatdistanceinhis

mind came old, old words:livequietly.He'drejectedthatnotion then; he rejected itstill. The Adjunct, however,had noticed him. Hewondered now, for the firsttime, if he was right to feelpride. That hard-bitten

commanderofsomanyyearsago, on the walls of Mock'sHold, would have spat atParan's feet, with contempt,hadhenowstoodbeforehim.Theboywasaboynolonger,but a man. Should've heededmy words, son. Now look atyou.His mare pulled up

suddenly, hoofs thumpingconfusedlyontheruttedroad.Paranreachedforhisweapon

ashe lookeduneasilyaroundin the gloom. The track ranthrough rice paddies, thenearestshacksofthepeasantsonaparallel ridge ahundredpaces from the road. Yet afigurenowblockedtheroad.Acoldbreathswirledlazily

past, pinningback themare'searsandwideninghernostrilsassheflinched.The figure – a man by his

height – was swathed in

shades of green: cloaked,hooded,wearingafadedtunicand linen leggings abovegreen-dyed leather boots. Asinglelong-knife,theweaponofchoiceamongSevenCitieswarriors,wasslungthroughathin belt. The man's hands,faintly grey in the afternoonlight, glittered with ring's,rings on every finger, aboveand below the knuckles. Heraisedonenow,holdingupa

clayjug.'Thirsty, Lieutenant?' The

man'svoicewassoft,thetonestrangelymelodic.'HaveIbusinesswithyou?'

Paran asked, his handremaining on the grip of hislongsword.The man smiled, pulling

back his hood. His face waslong, the skin a lighter shadeof grey, the eyes dark and

strangely angled. He lookedto be in his early thirties,though his hair was white.'The Adjunct asked of me afavour,' he said. 'She growsimpatient for your report. Iam to escort you ... withhaste.'Heshookthejug. 'Butfirst, a repast. I have averitablefeastsecretedinmypockets– farbetter fare thana browbeaten Kanese villagecan offer. Join me, here on

the roadside. We can amuseourselvesinconversationandidle watching of peasantstoilingendlessly.IamnamedTopper.''I know that name,' Paran

said.'Well, you should,' Topper

replied. 'I am he, alas. Theblood of a Tiste Andii racesin my veins, seeking escape,no doubt, from its morecommonhumanstream.Mine

wasthehandthattookthelifeof Unta's royal line, king,queen,sonsanddaughters.''And cousins, second

cousins,third—''Expunging all hope,

indeed.Suchwasmydutyasa Claw of unsurpassed skill.But you have failed inansweringmyquestion.''Whichwas?''Thirsty?'

Scowling, Parandismounted. 'I thought yousaid the Adjunct wished forhaste.''Hasten we shall,

Lieutenant, once we've filledour bellies, and conversed incivilfashion.''Your reputation puts

civility far down your list ofskills,Claw.''It'samostcherishedtraitof

mine that sees far too littleopportunityforexercisethesefell days, Lieutenant. Surelyyou'dgrantme someofyourprecioustime,sinceI'mtobeyourescort?''Whatever arrangement you

made with the Adjunct isbetween you and her,' Paransaid,approaching. 'Ioweyounothing, Topper. Exceptenmity.'The Claw squatted,

removing wrapped packagesfromhispockets,followedbytwo crystal goblets. Heuncorked the jug. 'Ancientwounds. I was led tounderstand you've taken adifferentpath,leavingbehindthedull, jostling ranksof thenobility' He poured, fillingthe goblets with amber-colouredwine. 'You are nowonewiththebodyofEmpire,Lieutenant.Itcommandsyou.

You respondunquestioninglyto its will. You are a smallpartofamuscleinthatbody.No more. No less. The timefor old grudges is long past.So,' he set down the jug andhanded Paran a goblet, 'wenow salute new beginnings,GanoesParan, lieutenant andaidetoAdjunctLorn.'Scowling, Paran accepted

thegoblet.Thetwodrank.

Toppersmiled,producingasilk handkerchief to dabagainst his lips. 'There now,that wasn't so difficult, wasit? May I call you by yourchosenname?''Paran will do. And you?

What title does thecommander of the Clawhold?'Topper smiled again.

'Laseen still commands theClaw.Iassisther.Inthisway

Itooamanaideofsorts.Youmay call me by my chosenname, of course. I'm not onefor maintaining formalitiesbeyond a reasonable point inanacquaintance.'Paran sat down on the

muddy road. 'And we'vepassedthatpoint?''Indeed.''Howdoyoudecide?''Ah, well.' Topper began

unwrapping his packages,revealing cheese, fistbread,fruit and berries. 'I makeacquaintances in one of twoways.You'veseenthesecondofthose.''Andthefirst?''No time for proper

introductions in thoseinstances,alas.'Wearily Paran unstrapped

and removed his helm. 'Do

youwishtohearwhatIfoundinGerrom?'heasked,runningahandthroughhisblackhair.Toppershrugged. 'Ifyou've

theneed.''PerhapsI'dbetterawaitmy

audiencewiththeAdjunct.'The Claw smiled. 'You

have begun to learn, Paran.Never be too easy with theknowledge you possess.Wordsare likecoin– itpays

tohoard.''Until you die on a bed of

gold,'Paransaid.'Hungry? I hate eating

alone.'Paran accepted a chunk of

fistbread. 'So, was theAdjunct truly impatient, orare you here for otherreasons?'With a smile, the Claw

rose. 'Alas, genteel

conversation is done. Ourway opens.' He faced theroad.Paran turned to see a

curtainintheairtearopenonthe road, spilling dull yellowlight. A Warren, the secretpaths of sorcery. 'Hood'sBreath.' He sighed, fightingoff a sudden chill.Within hecould see a greyish pathway,humpedoneithersidebylowmounded walls and vaulted

overhead by impenetrableochre-hued mist. The airsweptpastintotheportallikeadrawnbreath, revealing thepathway to be of ash asinvisible currents stirred andraisedspinningdust-devils.'You will have to get used

tothis,'Toppersaid.Paran collected his mare's

reins and slung his helm onthe saddlehorn. 'Lead on,' hesaid.

TheClaw cast him a quickappraisingglance,thenstrodeintotheWarren.Paran followed. The

portalway closed behindthem, in its place acontinuationof thepath. ItkoKanhadvanished,andwithitall signs of life. The worldthey had enteredwas barren,deathly. The banked moundslining the trail proved to bemore ash.Theairwasgritty,

tastingofmetal.'Welcome to the Imperial

Warren,' Topper said, with ahintofmockery.'Pleasant.''Carved by force out of...

what was here before. Hassuch an effort ever beenachieved before? Only thegodscansay.'Theybeganwalking.'I take it, then,' Paran said,

'that no god claims thisWarren. By this, you cheatthe tolls, thegatekeepers, theguardians on unseen bridges,and all the others said todwell in the Warrens inservice to their immortalmasters.'Topper grunted. 'You

imagine the Warrens ascrowded as that? Well, thebeliefs of the ignorant areever entertaining. You shall

be good company on thisshortjourney,Ithink.'Paran fell silent. The

horizons beyond the bankedheaps of ash were close, avague blending of ochre skyandgrey-blackground.Sweattrickled under his mailhauberk. His mare snortedheavily.'In case you were

wondering,'Toppersaid,afteratime,'theAdjunctisnowin

Unta. We will use thisWarrentocrossthedistance–threehundredleaguesinonlyafewshorthours.Somethinkthe Empire has grown toolarge, some even think theirremote provinces are beyondthe Empress Laseen's reach.As you have just learned,Paran, such beliefs are heldbyfools.'Themaresnortedagain.'I've shamed you into

silence, then?Idoapologize,Lieutenant, formockingyourignorance—''It'sariskyou'llhavetolive

with,'Paransaid.Thenext thousandpacesof

silencebelongedtoTopper.No shifting of light markedthe passing of hours. Anumber of times they cameupon places where the ash

embankments had beendisturbed,asifbythepassageof something large,shambling;andwide,slitherytrails led off into the gloom.Inonesuchplace they foundadarkencrustedstainandthescatter of chain links likecoins in the dust. Topperexamined the scene closelywhileParanwatched.Hardlythesecureroadhe'd

have me believe. There're

strangers here, and they'renotfriendly.Hewasnotsurprisedtofind

Topper increasing their pacethereafter.Ashortwhilelatertheycametoastonearchway.It had been recentlyconstructed, and Paranrecognized the basalt asUntan, from the Imperialquarries outside the capital.The walls of his family'sestatewereofthesamegrey-

black glittering stone. At thecentre of the arch, high overtheir heads, was carved atalonedhandholdingacrystalglobe: the Malazan Imperialsigil.Beyond the arch was

darkness.Paran cleared his throat.

'Wehavearrived?'Topper spun to him. 'You

answer civility with

arrogance, Lieutenant. You'ddo well to shed the noblehauteur.'Smiling, Paran gestured.

'Leadon,escort.'In a whirl of cloak Topper

stepped through the arch andvanished.The mare bucked as Paran

pulled her closer to the arch,head tossing. He tried tosootheherbut itwasnouse.

Finally, he climbed into thesaddle and gathered up thereins. He straightened thehorse, then drove hard hisspurs into her flanks. Shebolted,leapedintothevoid.Light andcolours exploded

outward,engulfingthem.Themare's hoofs landed with acrunching thump, scatteringsomething that might begravelinalldirections.Paranhalted his horse, blinking as

he took in the scene aroundthem. A vast chamber, itsceiling glittering with beatengold, its walls lined withtapestries, and a score ofarmoured guards closing inonallsides.Alarmed, the mare

sidestepped to send Toppersprawling.Ahoof lashedoutafter him, missing by ahandspan. More gravelcrunched – only it was not

gravel,Paransaw,butmosaicstones. Topper rolled to hisfeet with a curse, his eyesflashing as he glared at thelieutenant.The guardsmen seemed to

respond to some unspokenorder, slowlywithdrawing totheir positions along thewalls. Paran swung hisattentionfromTopper.Beforehim was a raised daissurmounted by a throne of

twistedbone.InthethronesattheEmpress.Silence fell in the chamber

except for the crunch ofsemiprecious gems beneaththe mare's hoofs. Grimacing,Paran dismounted, warilyeyeing the woman seated onthethrone.Laseen had changed little

sincetheonlyothertimehe'dbeen this close to her; plainandunadorned,herhairshort

andfairabovethebluetintofher unmemorable features.Herbrowneyesregardedhimnarrowly.Paran adjusted his sword-

belt, clasped his hands andbowed from the waist.'Empress.''Isee,'Laseendrawled,'that

you did not heed thecommander'sadviceofsevenyearsago.'

Heblinkedinsurprise.She continued, 'Of course,

he did not heed the advicegiven him, either. I wonderwhat god tossed you twotogether on that parapet – Iwould do service toacknowledge its sense ofhumour.DidyouimaginetheImperial Arch would exit inthestables,Lieutenant?''My horse was reluctant to

makethepassage,Empress.'

'Withgoodreason.'Paran smiled. 'Unlike me,

she'sofabreedknownforitsintelligence.Pleaseacceptmyhumblestapologies.''Topperwill see you to the

Adjunct.'Shegestured,andaguardsman came forward tocollectthemare'sreins.Paran bowed again then

facedtheClawwithasmile.Topper led him to a side

door.'You fool!' he snapped, as

the door was closed soundlybehind them. He strodequickly down the narrowhallway.Paranmadenoeffortto keep pace, forcing theClaw to wait at the far endwhere a set of stairs woundupward. Topper's expressionwas dark with fury. 'Whatwas that about a parapet?You've met her before –

when?''Since she declined to

explainIcanonlyfollowherexample,'Paransaid.Heeyedthesaddle-backedstairs.'Thiswould be the West Tower,then.TheTowerofDust—''To the top floor. The

Adjunct awaits you in herchambers – there's no otherdoors so you won't get lost,just keep on until you reachthetop.'

Paran nodded and beganclimbing.Thedoor to the tower's top

roomwas ajar. Paran rappeda knuckle against it andstepped inside. The Adjunctwas seated at a bench at thefar end, her back to a widewindow. Its shutters werethrown open, revealing thered glint of sunrise. Shewasgettingdressed.Paranhalted,embarrassed.

'I'm not one for modesty,'the Adjunct said. 'Enter andclosethedoorbehindyou.'Parandidashewasbidden.

He looked around. Fadedtapestries lined the walls.Ragged furs covered thestone tiles of the floor. Thefurniture – what little therewas–wasold,Napaninstyleandthusartless.The Adjunct rose to shrug

into her leather armour. Her

hair shimmered in the redlight. 'You look exhausted,Lieutenant.Please,sit.'He looked around, found a

chair and slumped gratefullyinto it. 'The trail's beenthoroughly obscured,Adjunct.Theonlypeopleleftin Gerrom aren't likely totalk.'She fastened the last of the

clasps.'UnlessIweretosendanecromancer.'

He grunted. 'Tales ofpigeons – I think thepossibilitywasforeseen.'She regarded him with a

raisedbrow.'Pardon, Adjunct. It seems

that death's heralds were ...birds.''And were we to glance

through the eyes of the deadsoldiers, we would see littleelse.Pigeons,yousaid?'

Henodded.'Curious.'Shefellsilent.He watched her for a

moment longer. 'Was I bait,Adjunct?''No.''And Topper's timely

arrival?''Convenience.'He fell silent. When he

closedhiseyeshisheadspun.He'd not realized howweary

he'd become. It was amomentbeforeheunderstoodthatshewasspeakingtohim.He shook himself,straightened.The Adjunct stood before

him. 'Sleep later, not now,Lieutenant. I was informingyou of your future. It wouldbewell if youpaid attention.You completed your task asinstructed. Indeed, you haveproved yourself highly ...

resilient. To all outwardappearances, I am done withyou, Lieutenant.Youwill bereturned to theOfficerCorpshere in Unta. What willfollow will be a number ofpostings, completing yourofficial training. As for yourtime in Itko Kan, nothingunusual occurred there, doyouunderstandme?''Yes.''Good.'

'And what of what reallyhappened there,Adjunct?Dowe abandon pursuit? Do weresign ourselves to neverknowing exactly whathappened, or why? Or is itsimply me who is to beabandoned?''Lieutenant,thisisatrailwe

must not follow too closely,but follow it we shall, andyou will be central to theeffort. I have assumed –

perhaps in error – that youwouldwishtoseeit through,to be witness when the timeforvengeance finally arrives.WasIwrong?Perhapsyou'veseen enough and seek only areturntonormality.'He closed his eyes.

'Adjunct, I would be therewhenthetimecame.'Shewassilentandheknew

withoutopeninghiseyesthatshe was studying him,

gauging his worth. He wasbeyond unease and beyondcaring.He'dstatedhisdesire;thedecisionwashers.'We proceed slowly. Your

reassignment will take effectin a few days' time. In themeanwhile, go home to yourfather'sestate.Getsomerest.'He opened his eyes and

rosetohisfeet.Ashereachedthedoorwayshespokeagain.'Lieutenant, I trust youwon't

repeatthesceneintheHalloftheThrone.''I doubt I'd earn as many

laughs the second timearound,Adjunct.'As he reached the stairs he

heardwhatmighthavebeenacough from the room behindhim. It was hard to imaginethat it could have beenanythingelse.

As he led his horse throughthe streets of Unta he feltnumb inside. The familiarsights, the teeming,interminable crowds, thevoicesandclashoflanguagesallstruckParanassomethingstrange, something altered,notbeforehiseyesbutinthatunknowable place betweenhiseyesandhisthoughts.Thechange was his alone, and itmadehimfeelshorn,outcast.

Yettheplacewasthesame:thescenesbeforehimwereasthey always had been andeven in watching it pass byall around him, nothing hadchanged. It was the gift ofnoble blood that kept theworld at a distance, to beobserved from a positionunsullied, unjostled by thecommonry.Gift...andcurse.Now, however, Paran

walked among them without

thefamilyguards.Thepowerofbloodwasgone,andallhepossessed by way of armourwas the uniform he nowwore.Not a craftsman, not ahawker,notamerchant,butasoldier. A weapon of theEmpire, and the Empire hadthoseinthetensofthousands.He passed through Toll

RampGateandmadehiswayalong Marble Slope Road,where the first merchant

estatesappeared,pushedbackfrom the cobbled street, halfhidden by courtyard walls.Thefoliageofgardensjoinedtheir lively colours withbrightly painted walls; thecrowds diminished andprivate guards were visibleoutside arching gates. Thesweltering air lost its reek ofsewage and rotting food,slippingcooler acrossunseenfountains and carrying into

the avenue the fragrance ofblossoms.Smellsofchildhood.Theestatesspreadoutashe

led his horse deeper into theNoble District. Breathing-space purchased by historyandancientcoin.TheEmpireseemed to melt away, adistant, mundane concern.Here, families traced theirlines back seven centuries tothose tribal horsemen who

had first come to this landfrom the east. In blood andfire, as was always the way,they had conquered andsubdued the cousins of theKanese who'd built villagesalongthiscoast.Fromwarriorhorsemen tohorsebreeders tomerchants of wine, beer andcloth. An ancient nobility ofthe blade, now a nobility ofhoarded gold, tradeagreements, subtle

manoeuvrings and hiddencorruptions in gilded roomsandoil-litcorridors.Paranhadimaginedhimself

acquiring trappings thatclosedacircle,areturntotheblade from which his familyhad emerged, strong andsavage, all those centuriesago.Forhischoice,hisfatherhadcondemnedhim.He came to a familiar

postern, a single high door

along one side wall andfacinganalleythatinanotherpart of the city would be awide street. There was noguard here, just a thin bell-chain,whichhepulledtwice.Alone in the alley, Paran

waited.A bar clanked on the other

side,avoicegrowledacurseas the door swung back onprotestinghinges.

Paranfoundhimselfstaringdown at an unfamiliar face.Themanwasold,scarredandwearingmuch-mendedchain-mail that ended raggedlyaround his knees. His pot-helm was uneven withhammered-out dents, yetpolishedbright.ThemaneyedParanupand

downwithwatery grey eyes,then grunted, 'The tapestrylives.'

'Excuseme?'The guardsman swung the

door wide. 'Older now, ofcourse,butit'sallthesamebythe lines. Good artist, tocapture the way of standing,the expression and all.Welcomehome,Ganoes.'Paran ledhishorse through

thenarrowdoorway.Thepathwas between twooutbuildings of the estate,showingskyoverhead.

'I don't know you, soldier,'Paran said. 'But it seemsmyportraithasbeenwellstudiedby the guards. Is it now athrow-ruginyourbarracks?''Somethinglikethat.''Whatisyourname?''Garnet,' the guard

answered, as he followedbehind the horse aftershuttingandlockingthedoor.'Inservicetoyourfatherthese

lastthreeyears.''Andbeforethat,Garnet?''Notaquestionasked.'Theycametothecourtyard.

Paran paused to study theguardsman. 'My father'susually thorough inresearching the histories ofthoseenteringhisemploy.'Garnet grinned, revealing a

full set of white teeth. 'Oh,that he did. And here I am.

Guess it weren't toodishonourable.''You'reaveteran.''Here, sir, I'll take your

horse.'Paranpassedoverthereins.

He swung about and lookedround the courtyard. Itseemed smaller than heremembered. The old well,madebythenamelesspeoplewho'd livedhere before even

the Kanese, looked ready tocrumble into a heap of dust.No craftsman would resetthose ancient carved stones,fearingthecurseofawakenedghosts. Under the estatehouse itself were similarlyunmortared stones in thedeepest reaches, the manyrooms and tunnels too bent,twistedanduneventouse.Servants and

groundskeepers moved back

and forth in the yard. Nonehad yet noticed Paran'sarrival.Garnet cleared his throat.

'Yourfatherandmotheraren'there.'Henodded.There'dbefoals

to care for at Emalau, thecountryestate.'Your sisters are, though,'

Garnet continued. 'I'll havethehouseservantsfreshenup

yourroom.''It's been left as it was,

then?'Gametgrinnedagain.'Well,

clear out the extra furnitureand casks, then. Storagespace at a premium, youknow...''As always.' Paran sighed

and, without another word,made his way to the houseentrance.

The feast hall echoed toParan's boots as he strode tothe long dining table. Catsbolted across the floor,scatteringathisapproach.Heunclasped his travellingcloak, tossed it across thebackof a chair, then sat at alongbench and leaned hisback against the panelledwall.Heclosedhiseyes.Afewminutespassed,then

a woman's voice spoke. 'Ithought you were in ItkoKan.'He opened his eyes. His

sisterTavore, ayearyoungerthan him, stood close to theheadofthetable,onehandonthe back of their father'schair. She was as plain asever, a slash of bloodlesslinescomprisingherfeatures,her reddish hair trimmedshorter than was the style.

She was taller than the lasttimehe'dseenher,nearlyhisown height, no longer theawkward child. Herexpression revealed nothingasshestudiedhim.'Reassignment,'Paransaid.'To here? We would have

heard.'Ah, yes, you would have,

wouldn't you? AM the slywhisperings among the

connectedfamilies.'Unplanned,' he conceded,

'but done nevertheless. Notstationed here in Unta,though.Myvisitisonlyafewdays.''Haveyoubeenpromoted?'He smiled. 'Is the

investment about to reapcoin?Reluctantas itwas,westill must think in terms ofpotential influence, mustn't

we?''Managing this family's

position is no longer yourresponsibility,brother.''Ah, it's yours now, then?

Has Father withdrawn fromthedailychores?''Slowly. His health is

failing. Had you asked, eveninItkoKan...'He sighed. 'Stillmakingup

for me, Tavore? Assuming

the burden of my failings? Ihardlylefthereonacarpetofpetals,youmayrecall.Inanycase, I always assumed thehouse affairs would fall intocapablehands...'Herpaleeyesnarrowed,but

pride silenced the obviousquestion.He asked, 'And how is

Felisin?''At her studies. She's not

heardofyourreturn.Shewillbeveryexcited, thencrushedto hear of the shortness ofyourvisit.''Is she your rival now,

Tavore?'His sister snorted, turning

away. 'Felisin? She's too softfor this world, brother. Foranyworld, I think. She's notchanged. She'll be happy toseeyou.'

He watched her stiff backassheleftthehall.He smelled of sweat – his

own and the mare's – traveland grime, and of somethingelse aswell...Old blood andold fear. Paran lookedaround.Much smaller than Iremembered.

CHAPTERTWO

With thecomingoftheMoranththetideturned.And like ships in aharbourtheFreeCitiesweresweptunderImperialseas.The war entered itstwelfthyear,the Year of the

ShatteredMoonand its suddenspawnofdeathlyrainandblack-wingedpromise.Twocitiesremainedtocontestthe Malazanonslaught.One stalwart, proudbannersbeneath Dark's

powerfulwing.Theotherdivided–-withoutanarmy,bereftofallies–The strong city fellfirst.

CalltoShadowFelisin(b.1146)

1163rd Year of Burn's Sleep(twoyearslater)105th. Year of the Malazan

Empire9thYearofEmpressLaseen'sRuleThrough the pallor of smokeravens wheeled. Their callsraised a shrill chorus abovethe cries of wounded anddying soldiers.The stenchofseared fleshhungunmovinginthehaze.On the third hill

overlooking thefallencityofPale, Tattersail stood alone.

Scattered around thesorceress the curled remainsof burnt armour – greaves,breastplates, helms andweapons – lay heaped inpiles. An hour earlier therehad been men and womenwearing that armour, but ofthem there was no sign. Thesilence within those emptyshells rang like a dirge inTattersail'shead.Her arms were crossed,

tight against her chest. Theburgundycloakwithitssilveremblem betokening hercommand of the 2nd Army'swizard cadre nowhung fromher round shoulders stainedand scorched. Her oval,fleshy face, usually paradingan expression of cherubichumour, was etched withdeep-shadowed lines, leavinghercheeksflaccidandpale.For all the smells and

sounds surroundingTattersail, she found herselflistening to a deeper silence.In some ways it came fromthe empty armoursurrounding her, an absencethat was in itself anaccusation. But there wasanothersourceof thesilence.The sorcery that had beenunleashed here today hadbeenenoughtofraythefabricbetween the worlds.

Whatever dwelt beyond, inthe Warrens of Chaos, feltcloseenoughtoreachoutandtouch.She'd thought her emotions

spent, used up by the terrorshehadjustbeenthrough,butasshewatchedthetightranksofa legionofMoranthBlackmarching into thecitya frostof hatred slipped over herheavy-liddedeyes.Allies. They're claiming

their hour of blood. At theend of that hour therewouldbe a score thousand fewersurvivors among the citizensof Pale. The long savagehistory between theneighbouring peoples wasabout to have the scales ofretribution balanced. By thesword. Shedunul's mercy,hasn'ttherebeenenough?A dozen fires raged

unchecked through the city.

The siege was over, finally,after three long years. ButTattersailknewthattherewasmore to come. Somethinghid, and waited, in thesilence.Soshewouldwaitaswell. The deaths of this daydeserved thatmuch from her– after all, she had failed inall the other ways thatmattered.On the plain below, the

bodies of Malazan soldiers

covered the ground, arumpled carpet of dead.Limbsjuttedupwardhereandthere, ravens perching onthem like overlords. Soldierswho had survived theslaughterwandered inadazeamong the bodies, seekingfallen comrades. Tattersail'seyesfollowedthemachingly.'They're coming,' said a

voice,adozenfeettoherleft.Slowly she turned. The

wizardHairlock laysprawledontheburntarmour, thepateof his shaved skull reflectingthe dull sky. A wave ofsorcery had destroyed himfrom the hips down. Pink,mud-spattered entrailsbillowed out from under hisribcage, webbed by dryingfluids. A faint penumbra ofsorceryrevealedhiseffortsatstayingalive.'Thought you were dead,'

Tattersailmuttered.'Feltluckytoday.''Youdon'tlookit.'Hairlock's grunt released a

goutofdarkthickbloodfrombelow his heart. 'They'recoming,' he said. 'See themyet?'She swung her attention to

the slope, her pale eyesnarrowing. Four soldiersapproached.'Whoarethey?'

Thewizarddidn'tanswer.Tattersail faced him again

andfoundhishardgazefixedon her, intent in the way adying person achieves inthose lastmoments. 'Thoughtyou'dtakeawavethroughthegut, huh? Well, I supposethat'soneway toget shippedoutofhere.'His reply surprised her.

'Thetoughfaçadeillfitsyou,'Sail. Always has.' He

frowned and blinked rapidly,fighting off darkness, shesupposed. 'There'salways theriskofknowingtoomuch.BegladIsparedyou.'Hesmiled,unveiling red-stained teeth.'Think nice thoughts. Thefleshfades.'She eyed him steadily,

wondering at his sudden ...humanity. Maybe dying didaway with the usual games,the pretences of the living

dance.Maybeshe justwasn'tprepared to see the mortalman in Hairlock finallyshowing itself. Tattersailprised her arms from thedreadful, aching hug she hadwrapped around herself, andsighed shakily. 'You're right.It'snotthetimeforfaçades,isit? I never liked you,Hairlock, but I'd neverquestion your courage – Inever will.' She studied him

critically, a part of herastonished that the horror ofhiswound didn't somuch asmakeherflinch.'Idon'tthinkeven Tayschrenn's arts areenough to save you,Hairlock.'Something cunning flashed

in his eyes and he barked apained laugh. 'Dear girl,' hegasped, 'your naivety neverfailstocharmme.''Of course,' she snapped,

stungatfallingforhissuddeningenuousness. 'One last jokeon me, just for old times'sake.''Youmisunderstand—''Areyousocertain?You're

saying it isn't over yet. Yourhatred of our High Mage isfierce enough to let you slipHood's cold grasp, is that it?Vengeance from beyond thegrave?'

'You must know me bynow.Ialwaysarrangeabackdoor.''Youcan'tevencrawl.How

doyouplanongettingtoit?'The wizard licked his

crackedlips.'Partofthedeal,'he said softly. 'The doorcomes tome.Comesevenaswespeak.'Unease coiled around her

insides.Behindher,Tattersail

heard the crunch of armourand the rattle of iron, thesound arriving like a coldwind. She turned to see thefour soldiers appear on thesummit. Three men, onewoman, mud-smeared andcrimson-streaked, their facesalmost bone-white. Thesorceress found her eyesdrawn to the woman, whohungbacklikeanunwelcomeafterthoughtas the threemen

approached. The girl wasyoung,prettyasanicicleandlookingaswarmtothetouch.Something wrong there.Careful.The man in the lead – a

sergeantby the torqueonhisarm – came up to Tattersail.Setdeepinalined,exhaustedface, his dark grey eyessearchedhersdispassionately.'This one?' he asked, turningto the tall, thinblack-skinned

man who came up besidehim.This man shook his head.

'No, theonewewant isoverthere,' he said. Though hespoke Malazan, his harshaccentwasSevenCities.Thethirdandlastman,also

black, slipped past on thesergeant's left and for all hisgirthseemedtoglideforward,his eyes on Hairlock. Hisignoring Tattersail made her

feel somehow slighted. Sheconsidered a well-chosenword or two as he steppedaround her, but the effortseemedsuddenlytoomuch.'Well,' she said to the

sergeant, 'if you're the burialdetail, you're early. He's notdead yet. Of course,' shecontinued, 'you're not theburial detail. I know that.Hairlock'smadesomekindofdeal – he's thinking he can

survivewithhalfabody.'The sergeant's lips grew

tautbeneathhisgrizzled,wirybeard. 'What's your point,Sorceress?'The black man beside the

sergeant glanced back at theyoung girl still standing adozenpacesbehindthem.Heseemedtoshiver,buthisleanfacewasexpressionlessasheturned back and offeredTattersail an enigmatic shrug

beforemovingpasther.Sheshudderedinvoluntarily

aspowerbuffetedhersenses.Shedrewasharpbreath.He'samage.TattersailtrackedthemanashejoinedhiscomradeatHairlock's side, striving tosee through the muck andblood covering his uniform.'Whoareyoupeople?''Ninthsquad,theSecond.''Ninth?' The breath hissed

from her teeth. 'You'reBridgeburners.' Her eyesnarrowed on the batteredsergeant. 'The Ninth. ThatmakesyouWhiskeyjack.'Heseemedtoflinch.Tattersail found her mouth

dry. She cleared her throat.'I've heard of you, of course.I'veheardthe—''Doesn't matter,' he

interrupted,hisvoicegrating.

'Oldstoriesgrowlikeweeds.'She rubbed at her face,

feeling grime gather underher nails. Bridgeburners.They'd been the oldEmperor's elite, hisfavourites,but sinceLaseen'sbloody coup nine years agothey'd been pushed hard intoevery rat's nest in sight.Almost a decade of this hadcut them down to a single,undermanned division.

Among them, names hademerged. The survivors,mostly squad sergeants,names that pushed their wayinto the Malazan armies onGenabackis, and beyond.Names, spicing the alreadysweepinglegendofOnearm'sHost. Detoran, Antsy,Spindle,Whiskeyjack. Namesheavy with glory and bitterwith the cynicism that everyarmy feeds on. They carried

withthemlikeanemblazonedstandard the madness of thisunendingcampaign.Sergeant Whiskeyjack was

studyingthewreckageonthehill. Tattersail watched himpiece together what hadhappened. A muscle in hischeek twitched.He lookedatherwithnewunderstanding,ahint of softening behind hisgrey eyes that almost brokeTattersailthenandthere.'Are

youthelastleftinthecadre?'heasked.She looked away, feeling

brittle. 'Thelast leftstanding.It wasn't skill, either. Justlucky.'Ifheheardherbitternesshe

gavenosign,fallingsilentashe watched his two SevenCities soldiers crouching lowoverHairlock.Tattersail licked her lips,

shifted uneasily. She glancedover to the two soldiers. Aquiet conversationwas underway. She heard Hairlocklaugh, the sound a soft joltthatmadeherwince.'Thetallone,' she said. 'He's a mage,isn'the?'Whiskeyjack grunted, then

said,'Hisname'sQuickBen.''Not the one he was born

with.'

'No.'She rolled her shoulders

against the weight of hercloak,momentarilyeasingthedullpaininherlowerback.'Ishould know him, Sergeant.That kind of power getsnoticed.He'snonovice.''No,' Whiskeyjack replied.

'Heisn't.'She felt herself getting

angry.'Iwantanexplanation.

What'shappeninghere?'Whiskeyjack grimaced.

'Notmuch,bythelooksofit.'He raised his voice. 'QuickBen!'The mage looked over.

'Some last-minutenegotiations, Sergeant,' hesaid,flashingawhitegrin.'Hood's Breath.' Tattersail

sighed, turning away. Thegirl,shesaw,stillstoodatthe

hill's crest and seemed to bestudying the Moranthcolumnspassingintothecity.As if sensing Tattersail'sattention, her head snappedaround. Her expressionstartled the sorceress.Tattersail pulled her eyesaway. 'Is this what's left ofyour squad, Sergeant? Twodesertmaraudersandablood-hungryrecruit?'Whiskeyjack's tone was

flat:'Ihavesevenleft.''Thismorning?''Fifteen.'Something's wrong here.

Feeling a need to saysomething, she said, 'Betterthan most.' She cursedsilently as the blood drainedfrom the sergeant's face.'Still,' she added, 'I'm suretheyweregoodmen,theonesyoulost.'

'Goodatdying,'hesaid.The brutality of his words

shocked her. Mentallyreeling,shesqueezedshuthereyes, fighting back tears ofbewildermentandfrustration.Toomuch has happened. I'mnot ready for this. I'm notready for Whiskey jack, aman buckling under his ownlegend, amanwho's climbedmore than one mountain ofthe dead in service to the

Empire.The Bridgeburners hadn't

shownthemselvesmuchoverthepastthreeyears.Sincethesiege began, they'd beenassigned the task ofundermining Pale's massive,ancientwalls.Thatorderhadcome straight from thecapital, and it was either acruel joke or the product ofappalling ignorance: thewhole valley was a glacial

dump, a rockpilepluggingacrevice that reached so farunderground evenTattersail'smageshad trouble finding itsbottom. They've beenunderground three yearsrunning. When was the lasttimetheysawthesun?Tattersail stiffened

suddenly. 'Sergeant.' Sheopened her eyes to him.'You've been in your tunnelssincethismorning?'

With sinkingunderstanding, she watchedanguish flit across the man'sface. 'What tunnels?' he saidsoftly, then moved to stridepasther.She reachedoutandclosed

herhandonhisarm.Ashockseemed to run through him.'Whiskeyjack,'shewhispered,'you've guessed as much.About – about me, aboutwhat happened here on this

hill, all these soldiers.' Shehesitated, then said, 'Failure'ssomething we share. I'msorry.'He pulled away, eyes

averted. 'Don'tbe,Sorceress.'Hemethergaze.'Regret'snotsomethingwecanafford.'She watched him walk to

hissoldiers.A young woman's voice

spoke directly behind

Tattersail. 'We numberedfourteen hundred thismorning,Sorceress.'Tattersail turned. At this

close range, she saw that thegirl couldn't be more thanfifteen years old. Theexception was her eyes,which held the dull glint ofweatheredonyx–theylookedancient, every emotioneroded away into extinction.'Andnow?'

Thegirl'sshrugwasalmostcareless. 'Thirty, maybethirty-five. Four of the fivetunnelsfellincompletely.Wewere in the fifthanddugourway out. Fiddler and Hedgeareworkingontheothers,butthey figure everybody else'sbeen buried for good. Theytried to roundup somehelp.'Acold,knowingsmilespreadacrosshermudstreakedface.'But your master, the High

Mage,stoppedthem.''Tayschrenn did what?

Why?'The girl frowned, as if

disappointed. Then shesimply walked away,stoppingatthehill'screstandfacingthecityagain.Tattersail stared after her.

The girl had thrown that laststatementatheras ifhuntingfor some particular response.

Complicity? In any case, aclean miss. Tayschrenn's notmaking any friends. Good.The day had been a disaster,andtheblamefellsquarelyatthe High Mage's feet. Shestared at Pale, then lifted hergaze to the smoke-filled skyaboveit.That massive, looming

shape she had greeted everymorning for the last threeyears was indeed gone. She

still had trouble believing it,despite the evidence of hereyes. 'You warned us,' shewhispered to the empty sky,as the memories of themorning returned. 'Youwarnedus,didn'tyou?'She'd been sleeping withCalot thepast fourmonths:alittle diversionary pleasure toease the boredom of a siegethat wasn't going anywhere.

At least, that was how sheexplained to herself theirunprofessional conduct. Itwasmorethanthat,ofcourse,muchmore.Butbeinghonestwith herself had never beenoneofTattersail'sstrengths.The magical summons,

when it came, awakened herbefore Calot. The mage'ssmall but well-proportionedbody was snug in the manysoft pillowsofher flesh.She

opened her eyes to find himclinging to her like a child.Then he, too, sensed thecalling and awoke to hersmile.'Hairlock?' he asked,

shivering as he climbed outfromundertheblankets.Tattersail grimaced. 'Who

else?Themanneversleeps.''What now, I wonder?' He

stood, looking around for his

tunic.She was watching him. He

was so thin,making themanodd combination. Throughthe faint dawn light seepingthroughthecanvastentwalls,the sharp, bony angles of hisbody looked soft, almostchild-like. For a man acenturyold,hecarrieditwell.'Hairlock's been runningerrands for Dujek,' she said.'It'sprobablyjustanupdate.'

Calot grunted as he pulledonhisboots.'That'swhatyouget for taking command ofthe cadre, 'Sail. Anyway, itwaseasiersalutingNedurian,let me tell you. Whenever Ilookatyou,Ijustwantto—''Stick to business, Calot,'

Tattersail said, meaning itwith humour though it cameoutwithenoughofanedgetomake Calot glance at hersharply.

'Something up?' he askedquietly,theoldfrownfindingits familiar lines on his highforehead.ThoughtI'dgotridofthose.

Tattersail sighed. 'Can't tell,except that Hairlock'scontactedbothofus.Ifitwasjust a report, you'd still besnoring.'In growing tension they

finished dressing in silence.Less thananhour laterCalot

wouldbe incineratedbeneatha wave of blue fire, andravens would be answeringTattersail'sdespairingscream.But, for themoment, the twomages were readyingthemselves for anunscheduled gathering atHigh Fist Dujek Onearm'scommandtent.In the muddy path beyond

Calot's tent, soldiers of thelast watch huddled around

braziers filled with burninghorsedung,holdingouthandsto the heat. Few walked thepathways, the hour still tooearly.Rowupon rowofgreytents climbed the hillsoverlooking the plain thatsurrounded the city of Pale.Regimental standards ruffledsullenlyinafaintbreeze–thewind had turned since lastnight, carrying to Tattersailthe stench of the latrine

trenches. Overhead theremaining handful of starsdimmedintoinsignificanceinthelighteningsky.Theworldseemedalmostpeaceful.Drawing her cloak against

the chill, Tattersail pausedoutsidethetentandturnedtostudytheenormousmountainhanging suspendedaquarter-mile above the city of Pale.ShescannedthebatteredfaceofMoon's Spawn – its name

for as long as she couldremember. Ragged as ablackened tooth, the basaltfortresswashometothemostpowerful enemy theMalazanEmpire had ever faced.Highabove the earth, Moon'sSpawncouldnotbebreachedby siege. Even Laseen's ownundeadarmy,theT'lanImass,who travelled as easily asdust on the wind, wereunable, or unwilling, to

penetrate its magicaldefences.Pale's wizards had found a

powerful ally. Tattersailrecalled that the Empire hadlockedhornswiththeMoon'smysterious lord once before,in the days of the Emperor.Things had threatened to getugly,butthenMoon'sSpawnwithdrew from thegame.Noone still living knew why –just one of the thousand

secretstheEmperortookwithhimtohiswaterygrave.The Moon's reappearance

hereonGenabackishadbeena surprise. And this time,there was no last-minutereprieve. A half-dozenlegionsofthesorcerousTisteAndiidescendedfromMoon'sSpawn, and under thecommandofawarlordnamedCaladan Brood they joinedforces with the Crimson

Guardmercenaries.Together,the two armies proceeded todrive back the Malaz 5thArmy, which had beenpushing eastward along thenorthernedgeofRhiviPlain.For the past four years thebattered5thhadbeenboggeddown in Blackdog Forest,forcingthemtomakeastandagainst Brood and theCrimson Guard. It was astand fast becoming a death

sentence.But,clearly,CaladanBrood

and the Tiste Andii weren'tthe only inhabitants ofMoon's Spawn. An unseenlordremainedincommandofthe fortress, bringing it hereandsealingapactwithPale'sformidablewizards.Tattersail's cadre had little

hope of magicallychallenging such opposition.So the siegehadground to a

halt,withtheexceptionoftheBridgeburners who neverrelaxed their stubborn effortsto undermine the city'sancientwalls.Stay, she prayed toMoon's

Spawn. Turn your faceendlessly, and keep the smellof blood, the screams of thedying from settling on thisland. Wait for us to blinkfirst.Calotwaitedbesideher.He

said nothing, understandingthe ritual this had become. Itwasoneof themany reasonswhyTattersaillovedtheman.As a friend, of course.Nothing serious, nothingfrightening in the love for afriend.'I sense impatience in

Hairlock,' Calot murmuredbesideher.Shesighed.'Ido,too.That's

whyI'mreluctant.'

'I know, but we can't dallytoo long, 'Sail.' He grinnedmischievously.'Badform.''Hmmm, can't have them

jumping to conclusions, canwe?''They wouldn't have to

jump very far. Anyway,' hissmile faltered slightly, 'let'sgetgoing.'A few minutes later they

arrived at the command tent.

The lone marine standingguard at the flap seemednervousashesalutedthetwomages. Tattersail paused andsearched his eyes. 'SeventhRegiment?'Avoiding her gaze, the

guard nodded. 'Yes,Sorceress.ThirdSquad.''Thought you looked

familiar. Give my regards toSergeant Rusty.' She steppedcloser. 'Something in the air,

soldier?'Heblinked.'Highintheair,

Sorceress. High as theycome.'Tattersail glanced at Calot,

who had paused at the tentflap. Calot puffed out hischeeks, making a comicalface.'ThoughtIsmelledhim.'She winced at this

confirmation. The guard, shesaw, was sweating under his

iron helmet. 'Thanks for thewarning,soldier.''Always an even trade,

Sorceress.' Theman snappeda second salute, this onesharper, and in itswaymorepersonal.Years and years ofthis. Insisting I'm family tothem,oneofthe2ndArmy—theoldestintactforce,oneofthe Emperor's own. Alwaysan even trade, Sorceress.Save our skins, we'll save

yours.Family,afterall.Why,then, do 1 always feel soestranged from them?Tattersailreturnedthesalute.They entered the command

tent. She sensed immediatelythe presence of power, whatCalot called smell. It madehis eyes water. It gave her amigraine headache. Thisparticular emanation was apower she knewwell, and itwas anathema to her own.

Which made the headachesalltheworse.Insidethetent,lanternscast

a dim smoky light on thedozenorsowoodenchairsinthe first compartment. Acamp-table off to one sideheld a tin pitcher of wateredwine and six tarnished cupsthatglistenedwithdropletsofcondensation.Calot muttered beside her,

'Hood's Breath, 'Sail, I hate

this.'Asher eyes adjusted to the

gloom, Tattersail saw,through the opening that ledinto the tent's secondcompartment, a familiarrobed figure.He leanedwithlong-fingered hands onDujek's map-table. Hismagenta cloak rippled likewater though he remainedmotionless. 'Oh, really now,'Tattersailwhispered.

'Just my thought,' Calotsaid,wipinghiseyes.'Doyou think,' she said, as

they took their seats, 'it's astudiedpose?'Calot grinned. 'Absolutely.

Laseen'sHighMage couldn'tread a battle map if his lifedependedonit.''So long as our lives don't

dependonit.'Avoicespokefromachair

nearthem,'Todaywework.'Tattersail scowled at the

preternatural darknessenwreathingthechair.'You'reas bad as Tayschrenn,Hairlock.AndbegladIdidn'tdecidetositinthatchair.'Dully,arowofyellowteeth

appeared, then the restof themage took shape asHairlockrelinquished the spell. Beadsof sweat marked the man'sflat,scarredbrowandshaved

pate–nothingunusual there:Hairlock would sweat in anice-pit.Heheldhisheadatanangle, achieving in hisexpression something likesmug detachment combinedwith contempt. He fixed hissmalldarkeyesonTattersail.'You remember work, don'tyou?' His smile broadened,further flatteninghismashed,misaligned nose. 'It's whatyou were doing before you

started rolling in the sackwith dear Calot here. Beforeyouwentsoft.'Tattersaildrewbreath fora

retort,butwas interruptedbyCalot's slow, easy drawl.'Lonely, Hairlock? Should Itell you that the camp-followers demand double thecoin from you?' Hewaved ahand, as if clearing awayunsavoury thoughts. 'Thesimple fact is, Dujek chose

Tattersail to command thecadre after Nedurian'suntimely demise at MottWood. You may not like it,butthat'sjusttoobad.It'stheprice you pay forambivalence.'Hairlockreacheddownand

brushed a speck of dirt fromhis satin slippers,which had,improbably, escapedunmarred the muddy streetsoutside. 'Blind faith, dear

comrades,isforfools—'He was interrupted by the

tentflapswishingaside.HighFist Dujek Onearm entered,thesoapofhismorningshavestill clotting the hair in hisears, the smell of cinnamonwaterwaftingafterhim.Over the years, Tattersail

had come to attach much tothataroma.Security,stability,sanity. Dujek Onearmrepresented all those things,

andnot just toherbut to thearmy that fought forhim.Ashe stoppednow in the centreoftheroomandsurveyedthethreemages, she leanedbackslightly and, from underheavy lids, studied the HighFist. Three years of enforcedpassivityinthissiegeseemedto have acted like a tonic onthe ageing man. He lookedmorelikefiftyratherthanhisseventy-nine years. His grey

eyes remained sharp andunyieldinginhistanned,leanface.Hestoodstraight,whichmadehimseemtallerthanhisfive and a half feet, wearingsimple, unadorned leathers,stained as much by sweat asby theImperialmagentadye.Thestumpofhisleftarm,justbelow the shoulder, waswrappedinleatherstrips.Hishairychalk-whitecalveswerevisiblebetween thesharkskin

strapsoftheNapansandals.Calot withdrew a

handkerchief from his sleeveandtossedittoDujek.TheHighMagesnagged it.

'Again?Damnthatbarber,'hegrowled, wiping the soapfrom his jaw and ears. 'Iswearhedoes itonpurpose.'He balled the handkerchiefandflungitontoCalot'slap.'Now, we're all here. Good.Regular business first.

Hairlock,youfinishedjawingwiththeboysbelow?'Hairlock stifled a yawn.

'Some sapper named Fiddlertook me in, showed mearound.' He paused to plucklintfromhisbrocadedsleeve,then met Dujek's eyes. 'Givethem six or seven years andthey might have reached thecitywallsbythen.''It's pointless,' Tattersail

said, 'which is what I put in

myreport.'ShesquintedupatDujek. 'Assuming it evermadeittotheImperialCourt.''Camel's still swimming,'

Calotsaid.Dujekgrunted–ascloseas

he ever got to laughing. 'Allright, cadre, listen carefully.Two things.' A faint scowlcrossed his scarred features.'One, theEmpress has sent aClaw. They're in the city,huntingdownPale'swizards.'

A chill danced upTattersail's spine. No oneliked having the Clawsaround. Those Imperialassassins–Laseen'sfavouredweapon–kepttheirpoisoneddaggerssharpforanyoneandeveryone,Malazansincluded.It seemed Calot was

thinking the same thing, forhe sat up sharply. 'If they'rehereforanyotherreason...''They'll have to come

throughmefirst,'Dujeksaid,his lone hand reaching downto rest on the pommel of hislongsword.He has an audience, there

intheotherroom.He'stellingthe man commanding theClaw how things stand.Shedunulblesshim.Hairlock spoke. 'They'll go

to ground. They're wizards,notidiots.'

It was a moment beforeTattersail understood theman's comment. Oh, right.Pale'swizards.Dujek glanced down at

Hairlock, gauging, then henodded.'Two,we'reattackingMoon'sSpawntoday.'In the other compartment,

High Mage Tayschrennturned at these words andapproached slowly. Withinhis hood a broad smile

creased his dark face, amomentary cracking ofseamless features. The smilepassed quickly, the agelessskin becoming smooth onceagain. 'Hello,mycolleagues,'he said, droll and menacingallatonce.Hairlock snorted. 'Keep the

melodrama to a minimum,Tayschrenn, and we'll all behappier.'Ignoring Hairlock's

comment, the High Magecontinued, 'The Empress haslostherpatiencewithMoon'sSpawn—'Dujek cocked his head and

interrupted, his voice softlygrating. 'The Empress isscaredenoughtohitfirstandhit hard. Tell it plain,Magicker. This is your frontline you're talking to here.Showsomerespect,dammit.'The High Mage shrugged.

'Of course, High Fist.' Hefaced thecadre. 'Yourgroup,myself and three other HighMages will strike Moon'sSpawn within the hour. TheNorth Campaign has drawnmost of the edifice'sinhabitantsaway.Webelievethat theMoon's lordisalone.For almost three years hismere presence has beenenough to hold us in check.Thismorning,mycolleagues,

wewilltestthislord'smettle.''Andhope tohellhe'sbeen

bluffing all this time,' Dujekadded,ascowldeepeningthelines on his forehead. 'Anyquestions?''How soon can I get a

transfer?'Calotasked.Tattersailclearedherthroat.

'What doweknowabout theLordofMoon'sSpawn?''Scant little, I'm afraid,'

Tayschrenn said, his eyesveiled. 'A Tiste Andii, forcertain.Anarchmage.'Hairlock leaned forward

and deliberately spat at thefloor in front of Tayschrenn.'Tiste Andii, High Mage? Ithinkwecanbea littlemorespecificthanthat,don'tyou?'Tattersail's migraine

worsened. She realized shewas holding her breath,slowly forced it out as she

gaugedTayschrenn's reaction– to the man's words and tothe traditional Seven Citieschallenge.'An archmage,' Tayschrenn

repeated. 'Perhaps theArchmageoftheTisteAndii.DearHairlock,'headded,hisvoice loweringanotch, 'yourprimitive tribal gesturesremain quaint, if somewhattasteless.'Hairlock bared his teeth.

'The Tiste Andii are MotherDark's first children. You'vefelt the tremors through theWarrens of Sorcery,Tayschrenn. So have I. AskDujek about the reportscomingdownfromtheNorthCampaign. Elder magic –Kurald Galain. The Lord ofMoon's Spawn is the MasterArchmage — you know hisnameaswellasIdo.''Iknownothingofthesort,'

the High Mage snapped,losing his calm at last.'Perhaps you'd care toenlighten us, Hairlock, andthen I can begin inquiries astoyoursources.''Ahh!' Hairlock bolted

forwardinhischair,aneagermalice in his taut face. 'Athreat from the High Mage.Now we're gettingsomewhere. Answerme this,then. Why only three other

High Mages? We've hardlybeen thinned out that badly.More, why didn't we do thistwoyearsago?'Whatever was building

between Hairlock andTayschrenn was interruptedby Dujek, who growledwordlessly, then said, 'We'redesperate, mage. The NorthCampaignhasgonesour.TheFifth is damnnear gone, andwon't be getting any

reinforcements until nextspring. The point is, theMoon's lord could have hisarmy back any day now. Idon't want to have to sendyou up against an army ofTisteAndii,andIsureashelldon'twanttheSecondhavingto show two fronts with arelieving force coming downon them. Bad tactics, andwhoever this Caladan Broodis, he's shown himself adept

at making us pay for ourmistakes.''Caladan Brood,' Calot

murmured.'IswearI'veheardthatnamesomewherebefore.Odd that I've never given itmuchthought.'Tattersail's eyes narrowed

on Tayschrenn. Calot wasright: the name of the mancommanding the Tiste Andiialongside theCrimsonGuarddidsoundfamiliar–butinan

old way, echoing ancientlegends, perhaps, or someepicpoem.The High Mage met her

gaze, flat and calculating.'Theneed,'hesaid,turningtothe others, 'for justificationshaspassed.TheEmpress hascommanded, and we mustobey.'Hairlock snorted a second

time. 'Speaking of twistingarms,' he sat back, still

smiling contemptuously atTayschrenn, 'remember howwe played cat and mouse atAren? This plan has yourstink on it. You've beenitching for a chance like thisfor a long time.' His grinturnedsavage.'Who,then,arethe other three HighMages?Letmeguess—''Enough!' Tayschrenn

stepped close to Hairlock,who went very still, eyes

glittering.The lanterns had dimmed.

Calot used the handkerchiefin his lap towipe tears fromhischeeks.Power, oh, damn, my head

feels ready to crack wideopen.'Very well,' Hairlock

whispered, 'let's lay it out onthe table. I'm sure the HighFist will appreciate you

putting all his suspicions inthe proper order. Make itplain,oldfriend.'TattersailglancedatDujek.

The commander's face hadclosed up, his sharp eyesnarrow and fixed onTayschrenn. He was doingsomehardthinking.Calot leaned against her.

'What the hell's going on,'Sail?'

'No idea,' she whispered,'but it's heating up nicely.'Though she'd made hercomment light,hermindwaswhirling around a cold knotof fear. Hairlock had beenwith the Empire longer thanshehad–orCalot.He'dbeenamong the sorcerers who'dfought against the Malazansin Seven Cities, before ArenfellandtheHolyFalah'dwerescattered, before he'd been

given the choice of death orservice to the new masters.He'djoinedthe2nd'scadreatPan'potsun – like Dujekhimself he'd been there,withthe Emperor's old guard,when the first vipers ofusurpation had stirred, theday theEmpire'sFirstSwordwas betrayed and brutallymurdered. Hairlock knewsomething.Butwhat?'All right,' Dujek drawled,

'we've got work to do. Let'sgetatit.'Tattersail sighed. Old

Onearm's way with words.Sheswungalookontheman.She knew himwell, not as afriend – Dujek didn't makefriends – but as the bestmilitary mind left in theEmpire. If, as Hairlock hadjust implied, the High Fistwas being betrayed bysomeone, somewhere, and if

Tayschrenn was part of it ...we'reabentbough,Calothadonce said of Onearm's Host,andbewaretheEmpirewhenit breaks. Seven Cities'soldiery, the closeted ghostsof the conquered butunconquerable...Tayschrenn gestured to her

and to the other mages.Tattersail rose, as did Calot.Hairlock remained seated,eyesclosedasifasleep.

Calotsaid toDujek, 'Aboutthattransfer.''Later,' the High Fist

grunted. 'Paperwork's anightmare when you've onlygotonearm.'Hesurveyedhiscadre and was about to addsomething but Calot spokefirst.'Anomandaris.'Hairlock's eyes snapped

open, foundTayschrennwith

bright pleasure. 'Ahhh,' hesaid, into the silencefollowing Calot's singlepronouncement. 'Of course.Three more High Mages?Onlythree?'Tattersail stared at Dujek's

pale, still face. 'The poem,'she said quietly. 'I remembernow.'Caladan Brood, themenhiredone,winter-bearing,

harrowed andsorrowless...'Calot picked up the next

lines.'...inatombbereavedofwords,and in his hands thathavecrushedanvils—'Tattersailcontinued,'thehammerofhissong–he lives asleep, so give

silentwarningtoall–wakehimnot.Wakehimnot.'Everyone in the

compartment was staring atTattersail now as her lastwordsfellaway.'He'sawake,itseems,'shesaid,hermouthdry. '"Anomandaris",theepicpoembyFisherKeltath.''The poem's not about

Caladan Brood,' Dujek said,frowning.

'No,'sheagreed.'It'smostlyabouthiscompanion.'Hairlock climbed slowly to

his feet. He stepped close toTayschrenn. 'AnomanderRake,LordoftheTisteAndii,who are the souls of StarlessNight. Rake, the Mane ofChaos.That'swhotheMoon'slordis,andyou'repittingfourHigh Mages and a singlecadreagainsthim.'Tayschrenn's smooth face

held the faintest sheen ofsweatnow. 'TheTisteAndii,'hesaid,inanevenvoice,'arenot likeus.Toyou theymayseem unpredictable, but theyaren't. Just different. Theyhave no cause of their own.They simply move from onehumandramatothenext.Doyou actually thinkAnomander Rake will stayandfight?''HasCaladanBroodbacked

away?'Hairlocksnapped.'He is not Tiste Andii,

Hairlock.He'shuman–somesaywithBarghast blood, butnone the less he sharesnothingofElderblood,or itsways.'Tattersail said, 'You're

counting on Rake betrayingPale'swizards–betrayingthepactmadebetweenthem.''The risk is not as

overreachingasitmayseem,'the High Mage said.'Bellurdan has done theresearch in Genabaris,Sorceress. Some new scrollsof Gothos' Folly werediscovered in a mountainfastness beyond BlackdogForest. Among the writingsare discussions of the TisteAndii,andotherpeoplesfromthe Elder Age. Andremember,Moon'sSpawnhas

retreated from a directconfrontationwiththeEmpirebefore.'Thewavesoffearsweeping

through Tattersail made herknees weak. She sat downagain, heavily enough tomake the camp chair creak.'You've condemned us todeath,' she said, 'if yourgamble proves wrong. Notjust us, High Mage, all ofOnearm'sHost.'

Tayschrenn swung roundslowly, putting his back toHairlock and the others.'Empress Laseen's orders,' hesaid, without turning. 'Ourcolleagues come by Warren.Whentheyarrive,Iwilldetailthe positioning. That is all.'Hestrodeintothemaproom,resumedhisoriginalstance.Dujekseemedtohaveaged

in front of Tattersail's eyes.Swiftly she slid her glance

from him, too anguished tomeet the abandonment in hiseyes, and the suspicioncurdling beneath its surface.Coward–that'swhatyouare,woman.Acoward.Finally the High Fist

cleared his throat. 'Prepareyour Warrens, cadre. Asusual,alwaysaneventrade.'Give the High Mage credit,

Tattersail thought.TherewasTayschrenn, standing on thefirst hill, almost inside theMoon's shadow. They hadarrayed themselves into threegroups, each taking a hilltopon the plain outside Pale'swalls. The cadre's was mostdistant, Tayschrenn's theclosest. On the centre hillstood the three other HighMages. Tattersail knew themall. Nightchill, raven-haired,

tall, imperious and with acruel streak the old Emperorused to drool over. At herside her lifelong companion,Bellurdan, skull-crusher, aThelomen giant who wouldtest his prodigious strengthagainst the Moon's portal,should it come to that. AndA'Karonys,fire-wielder,shortand round, his burning stafftallerthanaspear.The 2nd and 6th Armies

had formed ranks on theplain, weapons bared andawaitingthecall tomarchonthe citywhen the timecame.Seven thousand veterans andfour thousand recruits. TheBlack Moranth legions linedthe ridge to the west aquarter-miledistant.Nowindstirredthemidday

air. Biting midges roved invisible clouds through thesoldiers waiting below. The

sky was overcast, the cloudcoverthinbutabsolute.Tattersailstoodonthehill's

crest, sweat running downunder her clothing, andwatched the soldiers on theplain before facing hermeagre cadre. At fullstrength, six mages shouldhavebeenarrayedbehindher,but therewere only two.Offto one side Hairlock waited,wrapped in the dark grey

rain-cloak thatwas his battleattire–lookingsmug.CalotnudgedTattersailand

jerked his head towardsHairlock.'What'shesohappyabout?''Hairlock,' Tattersail called.

The man swung his head.'Were you right about thethreeHighMages?'He smiled, then turned

awayagain.

'I hate it when he's hidingsomething,'Calotsaid.Thesorceressgrunted.'He's

addedsomethingup,allright.What's so particular aboutNightchill, Bellurdan andA'Karonys? Why didTayschrenn pick them andhow did Hairlock know he'dpickthem?''Questions,questions.'Calot

sighed. 'All three are oldhands at this kind of stuff.

Back in the days of theEmperor they eachcommanded a company ofAdepts – when the Empirehad enough mages in theranks to form actualcompanies. A'Karonysclimbed through the ranks inthe Falari Campaign, andBellurdan and Nightchillwerefrombeforeeventhen–camedownfromFennontheQuon mainland during the

unificationwars.''All old hands,' Tattersail

mused, 'as you said. Nonehave been active lately, havethey? Their last campaignwasSevenCities—''Where A'Karonys took a

beating in the Pan'potsunWastes—''He was left hanging – the

Emperor had just beenassassinated. Everything was

chaotic. The T'lan Imassrefused to acknowledge thenew Empress, marchedthemselves off into the JhagOdhan.''Rumourhasitthey'reback,

at half-strength – whatevertheyran intoout therewasn'tpleasant.'Tattersail nodded.

'Nightchill and Bellurdanwere told to report toNathilog, left sitting on their

hands for the past six, sevenyears—''Until Tayschrenn sent the

ThelomenofftoGenabaris,tostudyapileofancientscrolls,ofallthings.''I'm frightened,' Tattersail

admitted. 'Very frightened.DidyouseeDujek'sface?Heknew something – arealization,andithithimlikeadaggerintheback.'

'Time to work,' Hairlockcalled.Calot and Tattersail swung

around.A shiver ran through her.

Moon's Spawn had beenrevolvingsteadilyforthelastthree years. It had juststopped.Nearitsverytop,onthe side facing them, was asmall ledge, and a shadowedrecesshadappeared.Aportal.No movement showed yet.

'Heknows,'shewhispered.'Andheisn'trunning,'Calot

added.Downonthefirsthill,High

Mage Tayschrenn rose andlifted his arms out to thesides. A wave of goldenflamespannedhishands,thenrolled upward, growing as itracedtowardsMoon'sSpawn.The spell crashed against theblack rock, sending chunkshurtling out, then down. A

rain of death descended intothe city of Pale, and amongthe Malazan legions waitingintheplain.'It'sbegun,'Calotbreathed.Silence answered

Tayschrenn'sfirstattack,savefor the faint scatterof rubbleonthecity'stiledrooftopsandthe distant cries of woundedsoldiers on the plain.Everyone's eyeswere trainedupward.

The reply was not whatanyoneexpected.A black cloud enshrouded

Moon's Spawn, followed byfaint shrieking. A momentlater the cloud spread out,fragmenting, and Tattersailrealizedwhatshewasseeing.Ravens.Thousands upon thousands

of Great Ravens. They musthave nested among the crags

and pocks in the Moon'ssurface. Their shrieks grewmore defined, a caterwaul ofoutrage. They wheeled outfrom theMoon, their fifteen-foot wingspans catching thewind and lifting them highabovethecityandplain.Fear lurched into terror in

Tattersail'sheart.Hairlockbarkedalaughand

whirled to them. 'These arethe Moon's messengers,

colleagues!' Madnessglittered in his eyes. 'Thesecarrion birds!'He flung backhiscloakandraisedhisarms.'Imagine a lord who's keptthirty thousandGreatRavenswellfed!'A figure had appeared on

theledgebeforetheportal,itsarms upraised, long silverhairblowingfromitshead.ManeofChaos.Anomander

Rake. Lord of the black-

skinned Tiste Andii, who haslooked down on a hundredthousand winters, who hastasted the blood of dragons,wholeadsthelastofhiskind,seated in the Throne ofSorrowandakingdomtragicandfey—akingdomwithnolandtocallitsown.Anomander Rake looked

tiny against the backdrop ofhis edifice, almostinsubstantial at this distance.

The illusionwas about to beshattered. She gasped as theaura of his power bloomedoutward– to see it at such adistance ... 'Channel yourWarrens,' Tattersailcommanded, her voicecracking.'Now!'Even as Rake gathered his

power, twinballsofbluefireracedupwardfromthecentrehill. They struck the Moonnear its base and rocked it.

Tayschrenn launched anotherwave of gilden flames,crashing with amber spumeandred-tonguedsmoke.TheMoon'slordresponded.

Ablack,writhingwaverolleddown to the first hill. TheHigh Mage was buffeted tohis knees deflecting it, thehilltoparoundhimblightedasthe necrous power rolleddown the slopes, engulfingnearby ranks of soldiers.

Tattersail watched as amidnight flashswallowed thehapless men, followed by athumpthatthunderedthroughthe earth. When the flashdissipated, the soldiers lay inrotting heaps, mown downlikestalksofgrain.Kurald Galain sorcery.

Elder magic, the Breath ofChaos.Herbreathscomingfastand

tight in her chest, Tattersail

felt her Thyr Warren flowinto her. She shaped it,muttering chain-words underherbreath,thenunleashedthepower. Calot followed,drawing from his MockraWarren. Hairlock surroundedhimselfinhisownmysterioussource, and thecadreenteredthefray.Everything narrowed down

for Tattersail from then on,yet a part of her mind

remained distant, held on aleashoftenor,observingwitha kind of muffled vision allthathappenedaroundher.Theworld became a living

nightmare, as sorcery flewupward to batter Moon'sSpawn, and sorcery raineddownward, indiscriminateand devastating. Earth roseskyward in thunderingcolumns. Rocks rippedthrough men like hot stones

throughsnow.Adownpourofash descended to cover thelivinganddeadalike.Theskydimmed to pallid rose, thesunacopperydiscbehindthehaze.Shesawawavesweeppast

Hairlock's defences, cuttinghim in half. His howl wasmoreragethanpain,instantlymuted as virulent powerwashed over Tattersail andshe found her own defences

assailedbythesorcery'scold,screamingwillasitsoughttodestroy her. She reeled back,brought up short byCalot ashe added his Mockra powerto bolster her falteringparries. Then the assaultpassed, sweeping on anddownthehilltotheirleft.Tattersail had fallen to her

knees. Calot stood over her,chaining words of poweraround her, his face turned

away from Moon's Spawn,fixed on something orsomeone down below on theplain. His eyes were widewithterror.Too late Tattersail

understood what washappening. Calot wasdefending her at his ownexpense.A final act, even ashe watched his own deatherupt around him.A blast ofbright fire engulfed him.

Abruptlythenetofprotectionover Tattersail vanished. Awash of crackling heat fromwhere Calot had stood senthertumblingtooneside.Shefeltmore thanheardherownshriek, and her sense ofdistance closed in then, alayer of mental defenceobliterated.Spitting dirt and ashes,

Tattersail climbed to her feetand fought on, no longer

launching attacks, juststruggling to remain alive.Somewhereinthebackofherhead a voice was screaming,urgent, panicked. Calot hadfaced the plain not Moon'sSpawn — he'd faced right!Hairlock had been struckfromtheplain!ShewatchedasaKenryll'ah

demon arose beneathNightchill. Laughing shrilly,the towering, gaunt creature

tore Nightchill limb fromlimb.Ithadbegunfeedingbythe time Bellurdan arrived.The Thelomen bellowed asthedemonrakeditsknife-liketalons against his chest.Ignoring the wounds and thebloodthatsprayedfromthem,he closed his hands aroundthedemon'sheadandcrushedit.A'Karonys unleashed gouts

of flamefromthestaff inhis

hands until Moon's Spawnalmost disappeared inside aball of fire. Then etherealwings of ice closed aroundtheshort,fatwizard,freezinghim where he stood. Aninstantlaterhewascrushedtodust.Magic rained in an endless

storm around Tayschrenn,where he still knelt on thewithered, blackened hilltop.But every wave directed his

way he shunted aside,wreaking devastation amongthe soldiers cowering on theplain. Through the carnagefillingtheair,throughtheashand shrill-tongued ravens,throughtherainingrocksandthe screams of the woundedanddying,throughtheblood-chilling shrieks of demonsflingingthemselvesintoranksof soldiery – through it allsoundedthesteadythunderof

the High Mage's onslaught.Enormous cliffs, shearedfrom the Moon's face andragingwithflameandtrailingcolumnsof black smoke, felldown into the city of Pale,transforming the city into itsown cauldron of death andchaos.Her ears numbed and body

throbbingasifherfleshitselfgasped for breath, Tattersailwas slow to grasp that the

sorceryhad ceased.Even thevoiceshriekinginthebackofher mind had fallen silent.She raisedbleary eyes to seeMoon's Spawn, billowingsmokeandablaze in adozenplaces on its ravaged mien,moving away, pulling back.Then it was past the city,unsteady in its revolutionsand leaning to one side.Moon's Spawnheaded south,towards the distant Tahlyn

Mountains.Shelookedaround,vaguely

recalling that a company ofsoldiershadsoughtrefugeonthe blasted summit. Thensomethinghadhither, takingall she had left to resist it.Now, nothingwas left of thecompany but their armour.Always an even trade,Sorceress.Shefoughtagainsta sob, then swung herattentiontothefirsthill.

Tayschrenn was down, butalive. A half-dozen marinesscampered up the hillside togatheraroundtheHighMage.A minute later they carriedhimaway.Bellurdan, most of his

clothingburnedawayandhisflesh scorched red, remainedon the centre hill, collectingNightchill's scattered limbsand raising his voice in amournful wail. The sight, in

all its horror and pathos,struckTattersail'sheart likeahammeronananvil.Quicklyshe turnedaway. 'Damnyou,Tayschrenn.'Pale had fallen. The price

was Onearm's Host and fourmages. Only now were theBlack Moranth legionsmoving in. Tattersail's jawclenched, her lips drawingfromtheirfullnessintoathinwhite line.Something tugged

athermemory,andshefeltagrowing certainty that thisscenewasnotyetplayedout.Thesorceresswaited.

TheWarrens of Magic dweltin the beyond. Find the gateand nudge it open a crack.What leaks out is yours toshape. With these words ayoungwoman set out on thepathtosorcery.Openyourself

to the Warren that comes toyou — that finds you. Drawforth its power–asmuchasyour body and soul arecapable of containing— butremember, when the bodyfails,thegatecloses.Tattersail's limbs ached.

She felt as though someonehad been beating her withclubs for the past two hours.The last thing she hadexpectedwas that bitter taste

on her tongue that saidsomethingnastyanduglyhadcome to the hilltop. Suchwarnings seldom came to apractitioner unless the gatewasopen, aWarrenunveiledand bristling with power.She'd heard tales from othersorcerers, and she'd readmouldy scrolls that touchedonmoments like these,whenthe power arrived groaninganddeadly, andeach time, it

was said, a god had steppedontothemortalground.Ifshecouldhavedriventhe

nail of immortal presence inthis place, however, itwouldhave tobeHood, theGodofDeath. Yet her instincts saidno. She didn't believe a godhad arrived, but somethingelsehad.What frustrated thesorceress was that shecouldn't decide who amongthe people surrounding her

was the dangerous one.Something kept drawing hergaze back to the young girl.But the child seemed onlyhalftheremostofthetime.The voices behind her

finally drew her attention.Sergeant Whiskeyjack stoodoverQuickBenandtheothersoldier, both of whom stillkneltatHairlock'sside.QuickBen clutched an oblongobject,wrappedinhides,and

waslookingupathissergeantasifawaitingapproval.Therewas tension between

the two men. Frowning,Tattersailwalkedover. 'Whatare you doing?' she askedQuick Ben, her eyes on theobject in the wizard's almostfeminine hands. He seemednottohaveheard,hiseyesonthesergeant.Whiskeyjack shot her a

glance. 'Goahead,Quick,'he

growled, then strode off tostandatthehill'sedge,facingwest – towards the MoranthMountains.Quick Ben's fine, ascetic

featurestightened.Henoddedathiscompanion. 'Get ready,Kalam.'The soldier named Kalam

leanedbackonhishaunches,his hands in his sleeves. Theposition seemed an oddresponse to Quick Ben's

request,butthemageseemedsatisfied. Tattersail watchedas he laid one of his thin,spidery hands on Hairlock'strembling, blood-splashedchest. He whispered a fewchainingwordsandclosedhiseyes.'That sounded like Denul,'

Tattersail said, glancing atKalam, who remainedmotionlessinhiscrouch.'Butnot quite,' she added slowly.

'He's twisted it somehow.'She fell silent then, seeingsomething in Kalam thatreminded her of a snakewaiting to strike. Wouldn'ttake much to set him off, Ithink. Just a few more ill-timedwords,acarelessmovetowards Quick Ben orHairlock. The man was big,bearish, but she rememberedhis dangerous glide past her.Snake indeed, the man's a

killer, a soldier who'sreached the next level in theart ofmurder.Not just a jobany more, this man likes it.Shewonderedthenifitwasn'tthisenergy,thisquietpromiseof menace, that swept overherwiththeflavourofsexualtension. Tattersail sighed. Adayforperversity.QuickBenhadresumedhis

chaining words, this timeovertheobject,whichhenow

set down beside Hairlock.She watched as enwreathingpowerenvelopedthewrappedobject, watched in growingapprehension as the magetraced his long fingers alongthe hide's seams. The energytrickled from him withabsolute control. He was hersuperior in the lore. He hadopened a Warren she didn'tevenrecognize.'Who are you people?' she

whispered,steppingback.Hairlock's eyes snapped

open,clearofpainandshock.HisgazefoundTattersailandthestainedsmilecameeasilyto his broken lips. 'Lost arts,'Sail. What you're about tosee hasn't been done in athousand years.' His facedarkened then and the smilefaded. Something burned inhis eyes. 'Think back,woman! Calot and I. When

wewentdown.Whatdidyousee?Didyoufeelsomething?Something odd? Come on,think! Look at me! See mywound, see how I'm lying!Whichdirectionwas I facingwhenthatwavehit?'Shesawthefireinhiseyes,

of anger mingled withtriumph. 'I'm not sure,' shesaidslowly. 'Something,yes.'Thatdetached,reasoningpartofhermindthathadlaboured

with her throughout thebattle, that had screamed inher mind at Calot's death,screamed in answer to thewavesofsorcery–tothefactthat they had come from theplain. Her eyes narrowed onHairlock. 'Anomander Rakenever bothered to aim. Hewas being indiscriminate.Those waves of power wereaimed,weren't they?Comingat us from the wrong side.'

Shewastrembling.'Butwhy?Why would Tayschrenn dothat?'Hairlock reached up one

mangled hand and clutchedQuick Ben's cloak. 'Use her,Mage.I'lltakethechance.'Tattersail's thoughts raced.

Hairlockhadbeensentdowninto the tunnels by Dujek.And Whiskeyjack and hissquad had been down there.A deal had been struck.

'Hairlock, what's happeninghere?' she demanded, fearclenching themuscles of herneckandshoulders. 'Whatdoyoumean,"use"me?''You'renotblind,woman!''Quiet,'QuickBensaid.He

laid down the object on thewizard's ravaged chest,positioningitcarefullysothatit was centred lengthwaysalong Hairlock's breastbone.The top end reached to just

under the man's chin, thebottom end extending a fewinches beyond what was leftof his torso. Webs of blackenergy spun incessantly overthehide'smottledsurface.Quick Ben passed a hand

over the object and the webspread outward. Theglitteringblackthreadstraceda chaotic pattern thatinsinuated Hairlock's entirebody, over flesh and through

it, the pattern ever changing,the changes coming fasterand faster. Hairlock jerked,his eyes bulging, then fellback. A breath escaped hislungs in a slow, steady hiss.When it ceased with a wetgurgle, he did not drawanother.Quick Ben sat back on his

haunchesandglancedoveratWhiskeyjack. The sergeantwas now facing them, his

expressionunreadable.Tattersailwipedsweatfrom

herbrowwithagrimysleeve.'It didn't work, then. Youfailed to do whatever it wasyouweretryingtodo.'Quick Ben climbed to his

feet. Kalam picked up thewrapped object and steppedclose to Tattersail. Theassassin's eyes were dark,penetrating as they searchedherface.

QuickBen spoke. 'Holdonto it, Sorceress. Take it backto your tent and unwrap itthere. Above all, don't letTayschrennseeit.'Tattersail scowled. 'What?

Just like that?' Her gaze fellon the object. 'I don't evenknow what I'd be accepting.Whateveritis,Idon'tlikeit.'The girl spoke directly

behindherinavoicethatwassharp and accusing. 'I don't

know what you've done,Wizard.Ifeltyoukeepingmeaway.Thatwasunkind.'Tattersail faced the girl,

then glanced back at QuickBen. What is all this? Theblack man's expression wasglacial, but she saw a flickeraround his eyes. Looked likefear.Whiskeyjack rounded on

thegirlatherwords.'Yougotsomething to say about all

this, recruit?' His tone wastight.The girl's dark eyes slid to

her sergeant. She shrugged,thenwalkedaway.Kalamofferedtheobject to

Tattersail. 'Answers,' he saidquietly, in a north SevenCities accent, melodic andround. 'We all need answers,Sorceress. The High Magekilledyourcomrades.Lookatus,we're all that's left of the

Bridgeburners. Answersaren't easily ... attained.Willyoupaytheprice?'With a final glance at

Hairlock's lifeless body – sobrutally torn apart – and thelifeless stare of his eyes, sheaccepted the object. It feltlight in her hands.Whateverwas within the hide cocoonwas slight in size; parts of itmoved and against her gripshe felt knobs and shafts of

somethinghard.Shestaredatthe assassin's bearish face. 'Iwant,'shesaidslowly,'toseeTayschrenn get what hedeserves.''Then we're in agreement,'

Kalam said, smiling. 'This iswhereitstarts.'Tattersail felt her stomach

jump at that smile. Woman,what's got into you? Shesighed. 'Done.'As she turnedaway to descend the slope

andmakeherwaybacktothemain camp, she caught thegirl's eye. A chill rippledthrough her. The sorceressstopped. 'You, recruit,' shecalled.'What'syourname?'The girl smiled as if at a

privatejoke.'Sorry.'Tattersail grunted. It

figured. She tucked thepackageunderanarmandstaggereddown

theslope.Sergeant Whiskey jackkicked at a helmet andwatched as it tumbled andbounced down the hillside.He spun and glared atQuickBen.'It'sdone?'Thewizard's eyesdarted to

Sorry,thenhenodded.'Youwilldrawunwarranted

attention on our squad,' the

young girl toldWhiskeyjack.'High Mage Tayschrenn willnotice.'The sergeant raised an

eyebrow. 'Unwarrantedattention?What thehelldoesthatmean?'Sorrymadenoreply.Whiskeyjackbitbacksharp

words. What had Fiddlercalledher?Anuncannybitch.He'd said it to her face and

she'd just stared him downwith those dead, stony eyes.Asmuchashehatedtoadmitit, Whiskeyjack shared thesapper's crude assessment.Whatmadethingsevenmoredisturbing, this fifteen-year-oldgirlhadQuickBenscaredhalf out of his wits, and thewizard didn't want to talkaboutit.WhathadtheEmpiresenthim?His gaze swung back to

Tattersail. She was crossingthe killing field below. Theravens rose screaming fromher path, and remainedcircling overhead, their cawsuneasy and frightened. Thesergeant felt Kalam's solidpresenceathisside.'Hood's Breath,'

Whiskeyjack muttered. 'Thatsorceress seems an unholyterrorasfarasthosebirdsareconcerned.'

'Not her,' Kalam said. 'It'swhatshe'scarrying.'Whiskeyjack scratched his

beard, his eyes narrowing.'This stinks. You sure it'snecessary?'Kalamshrugged.'Whiskeyjack,' Quick Ben

said, behind them, 'they keptus in the tunnels. Do youthinktheHighMagecouldn'thave guessed what would

happen?'The sergeant faced his

wizard. A dozen pacesbeyond stood Sorry, wellwithin hearing range.Whiskeyjack scowled at her,butsaidnothing.After a moment of heavy

silence, the sergeant turnedhis attention to the city. Thelast of the Moranth legionswas marching beneath theWestGate'sarch.Columnsof

black smoke rose frombehind the battered, scarredwalls.Heknewsomethingofthe history of grim enmitybetween theMoranthand thecitizensoftheonceFreeCityof Pale. Contested traderoutes,twomercantilepowersat each other's throat. AndPalewonmoreoftenthannot.Atlonglastitseemedthattheblack-armoured warriorsfrom beyond the western

mountains, whose facesremained hidden behind thechitinous visors on theirhelms and who spoke inclicks and buzzes, wereevening the score. Faintly,beyond the cries of carrionbirds, came thewail ofmen,women and children dyingbeneaththesword.'SoundsliketheEmpressis

keeping her word with theMoranth,' Quick Ben said

quietly.'Anhourofslaughter.Ididn'tthinkDujek—''Dujek knows his orders,'

Whiskeyjack cut in. 'Andthere's a High Mage talonedonhisshoulder.''An hour,' Kalam repeated.

"Thenwecleanupthemess.''Not our squad,'

Whiskeyjack said. 'We'vereceivedneworders.'Thetwomenstaredattheir

sergeant.'And you still need

convincing?' Quick Bendemanded.'They'redrivingusinto the ground. They meanto—''Enough!' Whiskeyjack

barked. 'Not now. Kalam,find Fiddler. We needresupply from the Moranth.Rounduptherest,Quick,andtakeSorrywithyou. JoinmeoutsidetheHighFist'stentin

anhour.''And you?' Quick Ben

asked.'Whatareyougoingtodo?'The sergeant heard an ill-

concealed yearning in thewizard's voice. The manneeded a direction, ormaybeconfirmation that they weredoing the right thing.A littlelate for that. Even so,Whiskeyjack felt a pang ofregret–hecouldn'tgivewhat

Quick Ben wanted the most.He couldn't tell him thatthingswould turnout for thebest. He sank down on hishaunches, his eyes on Pale.'What am I going to do? I'mgoing to do some thinking,QuickBen.I'vebeenlisteningto you andKalam, toMalletand Fiddler, even Trotts hasbeen jawing inmyear.Well,nowit'smyturn.Soleavemebe, Wizard, and take that

damngirlwithyou.'Quick Ben flinched,

seeming to withdraw.Something in Whiskeyjack'swords had made him veryunhappy – or maybeeverything.The sergeant was too tired

to worry about it. He hadtheirnewassignmenttothinkover.Hadhebeenareligiousman, Whiskeyjack wouldhave let blood in Hood's

Bowl,callingupontheshadesof his ancestors.Asmuch ashehatedtoadmitit,hesharedthe feeling among his squad:someone in the Empirewanted the Bridgeburnersdead.Palewasbehindthemnow,

thenightmarenothingbutthetaste of ashes in his mouth.Ahead lay their nextdestination:thelegendarycityof Darujhistan. Whiskeyjack

hadapremonitionthatanewnightmarewasabouttobegin.Down in the camp justbeyond the last crest ofdenuded hills, horse-drawncarts loaded with woundedsoldiers crowded the narrowaisles between the tent rows.All the precise order of theMalazan encampment haddisintegrated,and theairwasfebrile with soldiers

screaming their pain, givingvoicetohorror.Tattersail threaded herway

around the dazed survivors,stepping across puddles ofblood in the wagon-ruts, hereyes lingering on an obscenepile of amputated limbsoutside thecutter tents.Fromthe massive sprawl of thecampfollowers'slumoftentsand shelters came a wailingdirge – a broken chorus of

thousands of voices, thesoundachillingreminderthatwar was always a thing ofgrief.In some military

headquarters back in theEmpire's capital of Unta,three thousand leaguesdistant, an anonymous aidewould paint a red strokeacross the 2nd Army on theactive list, and then write infinescriptbesideit:Pale,late

winter, the 1163rd Year ofBurn'sSleep.Thuswould thedeath of nine thousand menand women be noted. Andthenforgotten.Tattersail grimaced. Some

of us won't forget. TheBridgeburners harbouredsome frightening suspicions.The thought of challengingTayschrenn in a directconfrontationappealed tohersense of outrage and – if the

HighMagehadkilledCalot–her feeling of betrayal. Butshe knew that her emotionshad a way of running awaywithher.Asorceryduelwiththe Empire's High Magewould buy her a quickpassagetoHood'sGate.Self-righteous wrath had plantedmore corpses in the groundthan an empire could layclaimto,andasCalotusedtosay: Shake your fist all you

wantbutdeadisdead.She'd witnessed all too

many scenes of death sinceshe'd first joined theranksofthe Malazan Empire, but atleast they couldn't be laidsquarelyatherfeet.Thatwasthe difference, and it hadbeenenough for a long time.Notas1oncewas.I'vespenttwenty years washing theblood from my hands. Rightnow,however, the scene that

rose again and again behindher eyes was the emptyarmour on the hilltop, and itgnawed at her heart. Thosemen and women had beenrunning to her, looking forprotectionagainst thehorrorsof the plain below. It hadbeen a desperate act, a fatalone, but she understood it.Tayschrenn didn't care aboutthem, but she did. She wasone of their own. In past

battles they'd fought likerabid dogs to keep enemylegionsfromkillingher.Thistime, itwasamagewar.Herterritory.Favoursweretradedin the 2nd. It's what kepteveryone alive, and it waswhat had made the 2nd alegion of legend. Thosesoldiershadexpectations,andthey had the right to them.They'd come to her forsalvation. And they died for

it.And if I had sacrificed

myself then? Cast myWarren'sdefencesontotheminstead of shielding my ownhide?She'dbeensurvivingoninstinct back then, and herinstincts had had nothing todowith altruism.Those kindof people didn't live long inwar.Being alive, Tattersail

concluded as she approached

her tent, isn't the same asfeeling good about it. Sheentered her tent and closedthe flap behind her, thenstood surveying her worldlypossessions. Scant few, aftertwo hundred and nineteenyears of life. The oak chestcontaining her book of Thyrsorcery remained sealed bywarding spells; the smallcollection of alchemicaldevices lay scattered on the

tabletopbesidehercot,likeachild's toys abandoned inmid-game.Amid the clutter sat her

Deck of Dragons. Her gazelingeredon the readingcardsbefore continuing its round.Everything looked differentnow, as if the chest, thealchemy, and her clothes allbelonged to someone else:someone younger, someonestill possessing a shred of

vanity. Only the Deck – theFatid – called out to her likeanoldfriend.Tattersail walked over to

stand before it. With anabsent gesture she set downthe package given her byKalam,thenpulledoutastoolfrom under the table. Sittingdown, she reached for theDeck.Shehesitated.It had been months.

Something had kept her

away. Maybe Calot's deathcouldhavebeenforetold,andmaybe that suspicion hadbeen pacing in the darknessof her thoughts all this time.Pain and fear had beenshaping her soul all her life,but her time with Calot hadbeenanotherkindofshaping,something light, happy,pleasantly floating. She'dcalleditmerediversion.'How's that for wilful

denial?' She heard thebitterness in her tone andhated herself for it. Her olddemons were back, laughingat the death of her illusions.You refused the Deck oncebefore, the night beforeMock's throat was opened,,the night before Dancer andthe man who would one dayruleanEmpirestoleintoyourmaster's – your lover's –Hold.Would youdeny thata

patternexists,woman?Her vision blurry with

memories she'd thoughtburied for ever, she lookeddown at the Deck, blinkingrapidly.'DoIwantyoutotalktome, old friend?Do I needyour reminders, your wryconfirmation that faith is forfools?'Amotioncaughtthecorner

of her eye. Whatever wasinside the bound hide had

moved.Lumps rosehere andthere, pushing against theseams. Tattersail stared.Then,herbreathcatching,shereachedtoitandsetitinfrontofher.Shewithdrewa smalldagger from her belt andbegan to cut the seams. Theobjectwithinwent still, as ifawaiting the result of herefforts. She peeled back aslicedflapofhide.''Sail,'saidafamiliarvoice.

Her eyes widened as awooden marionette, wearingbright yellow silk clothing,climbed out of the bag.Painted on its round facewerefeaturessherecognized.'Hairlock.''Goodtoseeyouagain,'the

marionette said, rising to itsfeet. Itwobbledandheldoutartfully carved hands toregainbalance. 'And the souldidshift,'hesaid,doffinghis

floppy hat and managing anunsteadybow.Soul shifting. 'But that's

been lost for centuries. Noteven Tayschrenn—' Shestopped,pursingherlips.Herthoughtsraced.'Later,' Hairlock said. He

tookafewsteps,thenbenthisheadforwardtostudyhisnewbody. 'Well,' he sighed, 'onemustn't quibble, must one?'He looked up and fixed

paintedeyesonthesorceress.'You have to go to my tentbefore the thought occurs toTayschrenn.IneedmyBook.You're part of this now.There'snoturningback.''Partofwhat?'Hairlock made no reply,

having broken his uncannystare. He lowered himselfdowntohisknees.'ThoughtIsmelledaDeck,'hesaid.

Sweat ran in cold rivuletsunder Tattersail's arms.Hairlock had made heruneasy at the best of times,but this ... She could smellher own fear. That he'dswung his gaze from hermade her grateful for smallmercies. This was ElderMagic, Kurald Galain, if thelegendsweretrue,anditwasdeadly, vicious, raw andprimal. The Bridgeburners

had a reputation for being amean crowd, but towalk theWarrensclosesttoChaoswaspure madness. Ordesperation.Almost of its own accord,

herThyrWarren opened anda surge of power filled herweary body. Her eyessnappedtotheDeck.Hairlock must have sensed

it. 'Tattersail,' he whispered,amusement in his tone.

'Come.TheFatidcallstoyou.Readwhatistoberead.'Profoundlydisturbedbyher

own answering flush ofexcitement, Tattersailreluctantly reached for theDeck of Dragons. She sawherhand tremble as it closedon it. She shuffled slowly,feeling the chill of thelacqueredwooden cards seepinto her fingers and then herarms.'Ifeelastormragingin

them already,' she said,trimming the Deck andsetting it down on thetabletop.Hairlock's answering laugh

was eager and mean. 'FirstHouse sets the course.Quickly!'She turned over the top

card. Her breath caught.'KnightofDark.'Hairlock sighed. 'The Lord

of Night rules this game. Ofcourse.'Tattersail studied the

painted figure. The faceremainedblurredasitalwaysdid; the Knight was naked,his skin jet black. From thehips up he was human,heavily muscled, holdingaloft a black two-handedsword that trailed smoky,ethereal chains drifting offinto the background's empty

darkness.Hislowerbodywasdraconian, its armouredscalesblack,palingtogreyatthebelly.Asalways,shesawsomething new, somethingshehadneverseenbeforethatpertained to the moment.Therewasashapesuspendedin the darkness above theKnight'shead:shecouldonlydetect it on the edge of hervision, a vague hint thatvanished when she focused

ontheplaceitself.Ofcourse,younevergiveupthetruthsoeasily,doyou!'Second card,' Hairlock

urged, crouching close to theplayingfieldinscribedonthetabletop.Sheflippedthesecondcard.

'Oponn.'Thetwo-facedJesterofChance.'Hood's Curse on their

meddling ways,' Hairlock

growled.The Lady held the upright

position, her male twin'sbemusedstareupsidedownatthe card's foot. Thus thethread of luck that pulledback rather than pushedforward – the thread ofsuccess. The Lady'sexpression seemed soft,almost tender, a new facetmarking how things nowbalanced. A second

heretofore unseen detailcaught Tattersail's intensestudy.WheretheLord'srighthand reachedup to touch theLady's left a tiny silver discspanned the space betweenthem. The sorceress leanedforward, squinting. A coin,andon the faceamalehead.She blinked. No, female.Thenmale, then female. Shesat back suddenly. The coinwasspinning.

'Next!' Hairlock demanded.'Youaretooslow!'Tattersail saw that the

marionette was paying noattention to the card Oponn,and had in fact probablygivenitonlysufficientnoticetoidentifyit.Shedrewadeepbreath. Hairlock and theBridgeburnersweretiedupinthis, she knew thatinstinctively,butherownrolewas as yet undecided. With

these two cards, she alreadyknew more than they did. Itstillwasn'tmuch,butitmightbeenoughtokeepheraliveinwhat was to come. Shereleased her breath all atonce, reached forward andslammedapalmdownontheDeck.Hairlock jumped, then

whirled to her. 'You hold onthis?' he raged. 'Youhold onthe Fool? The second card?

Absurd!Playon,woman!''No,' Tattersail replied,

sweeping the two cards intoherhandsandreturningthemto the Deck. 'I've chosen tohold.Andthere'snothingyoucandoaboutit.'Sherose.'Bitch! Icankillyou in the

blink of an eye! Here andnow!''Fine,' Tattersail said. 'A

good excuse for missing

Tayschrenn's debriefing. Byallmeans proceed,Hairlock.'Crossing her arms, shewaited.The marionette snarled.

'No,' he said. 'I have need ofyou. And you despiseTayschrennevenmorethanI.'He cocked his head,reconsidering his last words,then barked a laugh. 'Thus Iam assured there will be nobetrayal.'

Tattersail thought aboutthat. 'Youareright,'shesaid.Sheturnedandwalkedtothetent flap.Herhandclosedonthe rough canvas, then shestopped. 'Hairlock, how wellcanyouhear?''Well enough,' the

marionette growled behindher.'Do you hear anything,

then?'Aspinningcoin?

'Camp sounds, is all.Why,whatdoyouhear?'Tattersail smiled. Without

answering she pulled asidethetentflapandwentoutside.As she headed towards thecommandtent,astrangehopesangthroughher.She'd never held Oponn as

an ally. Calling on luck inanything was sheer idiocy.The first House she hadplaced,Darkness,touchedher

hand ice-cold, loud with thecrashing waves of violenceand power run amok – andyet an odd flavour there,somethinglikesalvation.TheKnight could be enemy orally, or more likely neither.Just out there, unpredictable,self-absorbed. But Oponnrode the warrior's shadow,leavingHouseDark totteringon the edge, suspended in aplacebetweennightandday.

More than anything else, ithad been Oponn's spinningcoin that had demanded herchoicetohold.Hairlock heard nothing.

Wonderful.Even now, as she

approached the commandtent, the faint soundcontinued in her head, as itwould for some time, shebelieved. The coin spun, andspun. Oponn whirled two

faces to the cosmos, but itwas the Lady's bet. Spin on,silver.Spinon.

CHAPTERTHREE

Thelomen TarthenoTobbkai...find thenamesof apeoplesoreluctanttofadeintooblivion...Theirlegendrotsraycynicalcastandblightsmyeyeswithbrightglory...

'Cross not the loyalcageembracing theirunassailableheart...... Cross not thesestolidmenhirs,ever loyal to theearth.'Thelomen TarthenoToblakai...Still standing, thesetoweringpillarsmarthegelidscape

ofmymind...Gothos'Folly(11.iv)

Gothos(b.?)

The imperial trireme carvedthe deep-sea troughs like arelentless axe-blade, sailsstretched and spars creakingunder the steady wind.Captain Ganoes Paranremainedinhiscabin.Hehadlong since grown tired of

scanning the eastern horizonfor the first sighting of land.It would come, and it wouldcomesoon.He leaned against the

sloping wall opposite hisbunk, watching the lanternssway and idly tossing hisdagger into the lone table'scentre pole, which was nowstudded with countless tinyholes.A cool musty brush of air

swept across his face and heturned to see Topper emergefrom the ImperialWarren. Ithadbeentwoyearssincehe'dlast seen the Claw Master.'Hood's Breath, man,' Paransaid, 'can't you find anothercolourofcloth?Thisperverselove of greenmust surely becurable.'The tall half-blood Tiste

Andii seemed to be wearingthe same clothes as the last

time Paran had seen him:green wool, green leather.Only the countless ringsspearing his long fingersshowed any splash ofcontrary colour. The ClawMaster had arrived in a sourmood and Paran's openingwords had not improved it.'You imagine I enjoy suchjourneys, Captain? Seekingout a ship on the ocean is achallenge of sorcery few

couldmanage.''Makes you a reliable

messenger, then,' Paranmuttered.'Iseeyou'vemadenoeffort

to improve on courtesy,Captain – I admit Iunderstand nothing of theAdjunct'sfaithinyou.''Don't lose sleep over it,

Topper. Now you've foundme,whatisthemessage?'

The man scowled. 'She'swith the Bridgeburners.OutsidePale.''The siege continues? How

oldisyourinformation?''Lessthanaweek,whichis

as long as I've been huntingyou. In any case,' hecontinued, 'the deadlock isabouttobebroken.'Paran grunted. Then he

frowned.'Whichsquad?'

'Youknowthemall?''Yes,'Paranasserted.Topper's scowl deepened,

then he raised a hand andbegan examining his rings.'Whiskeyjack's. She's one ofhisrecruits.'Paran closed his eyes. It

should not have surprisedhim. The gods are playingwith me. Question is, whichgods?Oh,Whiskey jack.You

once commanded an army,backwhenLaseenwasnamedSurly, back when you couldhave listened to yourcompanion, when you couldhave made a choice. Youcould've stopped Surly. Hell,perhaps you could havestopped me. But now youcommand a squad, just asquad,andshe'stheEmpress.And me? I'm a fool whofollowedhis dream,andnow

all 1 desire is its end. HeopenedhiseyesandregardedTopper. 'Whiskeyjack. TheWarofSevenCities: throughthe breach atAren, theHolyDesert Raraku, Pan'potsun,Nathilog...''All in the Emperor's time,

Paran.''So,'Paransaid,'I'mtotake

command of Whiskeyjack'ssquad. Themissionwill takeus toDarujhistan, to the city

ofcities.''Yourrecruitisshowingher

powers,' Topper said,grimacing. 'She's corruptedthe Bridgeburners, possiblyeven Dujek Onearm and theentire Second and ThirdArmiesonGenabackis.''You can't be serious.

Besides, my concern is withthe recruit. With her. Onlyher. The Adjunct agreeswe've waited long enough.

Now you're tellingmewe'vewaited too long? I can'tbelieve Dujek's about tobecome a renegade – notDujek. Not Whiskeyjackeither.''You are to proceed as

planned, but I have beeninstructed to remind you thatsecrecy is paramount, nowmore than ever. An agent ofthe Claw will contact youonceyoureachPale.Trustno

oneelse.Yourrecruit'sfoundher weapon, and with it shemeanstostrikeattheheartoftheEmpire.Failurecannotbeconsidered.' Topper's oddeyesglinted. 'Ifyounowfeelunequaltothetask...'Paran studied the man

standingbeforehim.Ifit'sasbadasyoudescribe,whynotsend in a hand of Clawassassins?Theman sighed, as if he'd

somehowheardParan'ssilentquestion. 'Agodisusingher,Captain.Shewon'tdieeasily.Theplanfordealingwithherhas required ... adjustments.Expansion,infact.Additionalthreatsmustbetakencareof,but these are threads alreadywoven.Doasyouhavebeencommanded.Allriskmustberemoved if we are to takeDarujhistan,and theEmpresswants Darujhistan. She also

feels it is time for DujekOnearmtobe...'hesmiled'...disarmed.''Why?''Hehasafollowing.It'sstill

heldthattheEmperorhadoldOnearminmindashisheir.'Paran snorted. 'The

Emperor planned to rule forever, Topper. This suspicionofLaseen'sisplainridiculousand persists only because it

justifiesherparanoia.''Captain,' Topper said

quietly,'greatermenthanyouhave died for less. TheEmpressexpectsobedienceofher servants, and demandsloyalty.''Anyreasonablerulerwould

have the expectation and thedemandtheotherwayround.'Topper'smouththinnedtoa

pale line. 'Assume command

ofthesquad,stayclosetotherecruit but otherwise donothing to make hersuspicious of you. Once inplace you are to wait.Understood?'Paran looked away, his

gaze finding the porthole.Beyond was blue sky. Therewere too many omissions,half-truthsandoutrightliesinthis...thischaoticmess.Howwill I play it, when the time

comes?The recruitmust die.At least thatmuch is certain.But the rest?Whiskeyjack, 1rememberyou,youstood tallthen, and in my dreams Inever imagined this growingnightmare. Will I have yourblood on my hands when allthisisdone?Attheveryheartof things, he realized, he nolonger knew who was theultimatebetrayerinallthis,ifabetrayertheremustbe.Was

the Empire the Empress? Orwas it something else, alegacy, an ambition, a visionat the far end of peace andwealth for all? Or was it abeast that could not ceasedevouring?Darujhistan – thegreatest city in the world.WoulditcometotheEmpireinflames?Wastherewisdomin opening its gates? Withinthe troubled borders of theMalazanEmpire,peoplelived

in such peace as theirancestors had neverimagined; and if not for theClaw,for theendlesswars indistant lands, therewould befreedom as well. Had thisbeen the Emperor's dream atthe very beginning? Did itmatteranymore?'Are my instructions

understood,Captain?'Heglancedoverattheman

and waved a hand. 'Well

enough.'Snarling, Topper spread

wide his arms. The ImperialWarren yawned behind him.He stepped back and wasgone.Paran leaned forward, his

headinhishands.ItwastheSeasonofCurrentsand in the port city ofGenabaristheheavyMalazan

transportsrockedandtwisted,straining at their ropes likemassive beasts. The piers,unused to such gargantuancraftmooredalongside them,creakedominouslywitheverywayward, savage pull on thebollards.Crates and cloth-wrapped

bundles crowded the yards,supplies fresh in from theSevenCitiesanddestinedforthe front lines. Supply clerks

clambered over them likemonkeys, hunting sigils ofidentification and chatteringto each other over the headsofdockmenandsoldiers.The agent leaned against a

crate at the foot of the pier,hisburlyarmscrossedandhissmall, narrow eyes fixed ontheofficersittingonabundlesome thirty yards furtherdown the pier. Neither hadmovedinthelasthour.

The agent was having ahard timeconvincinghimselfthat this was the man he'dbeen sent to retrieve. Helookedawfullyyoung,andasgreen as the rancid water ofthis bay. His uniform stillbore its maker's chalk lines,and the leather grip of hislongsword showed not asinglesweat-stain.Hehadthestink of nobility about himlike a perfumed cloud. And

for the past hour he'd justbeen sitting there, hands inlap, shoulders hunched,watching like some stupidcow the frenzied activityswirlingaroundhim.Thoughhe ranked captain, not asingle soldier even botheredto salute him – the stinkwasn'tsubtle.The Adjunct must have

been knocked on her headduring that last assassination

attempt on the Empress. Itwas the only possibleexplanationforthisfarceofamanratingthekindofservicethe agent was about todeliver. Inperson,yet. Thesedays, he concluded sourly,the whole show was beingrunbyidiots.Witha loudsigh, theagent

pushed himself upright andsaunteredovertotheofficer.The man didn't even know

he had company until theagentsteppedinfrontofhim,thenhelookedup.The agent did some quick

rethinking. Something in thisman's gaze was dangerous.There was a glitter there,buried deep, that made theman's eyes seem older thanthe rest of his face. 'Name?'The agent's question was astrainedgrunt.'Took your time about it,'

thecaptainsaid,rising.A tall bastard, too. The

agent scowled. He hated tallbastards.'Who'reyouwaitingfor,Captain?'Themanlookedupthepier.

'The waiting's over. Let'swalk. I'll just take it on faithyouknowwherewe'regoing.'He reached down andretrieved a duffel bag, thentookthelead.

Theagentmovedupbesidethe captain. 'Fine,' hegrowled. 'Be thatway.' Theyleft the pier and the agentturnedthemupthefirststreeton the right. 'AGreenQuorlcame in last night. You'll betaken directly to CloudForest, and from there aBlackwilltakeyouintoPale.'The captain gave the agent

ablankstare.'You never heard of

Quorls?''No. I assume they're a

meansoftransportation.WhyelsewouldIberemovedfroma ship a thousand leaguesdistantfromPale?''TheMoranthusethem,and

we'reusingtheMoranth.'Theagent scowled to himself.'Usingthemalot,thesedays.The Green do most of thecourier stuff, and movingpeople around like you and

me, but the Black arestationed in Pale, and thedifferent clans don't like tomix. The Moranth are madeup of a bunch of clans, gotcolours for names, and wearthem too. Nobody getsconfusedthatway.''And I'm to ride with a

Green,onaQuorl?''Yougotit,Captain.'They headed up a narrow

street.Malazanguardsmilledaround every crossing, handsontheirweapons.The captain returned a

salute from one such squad.'Having trouble withinsurrections?'heasked.'Insurrections, yeah.

Trouble,no.''Let's see if I understand

you correctly.' The captain'stone was stiff. 'Instead of

delivering me by ship to apointnearestPale,I'mtorideoverland with a bunch ofhalf-human barbarians whosmell like grasshoppers anddresslikethem,too.Andthisway, no one will notice,especiallysince it'll takeusayear to get to Pale and bythen everything will havegone all to hell. Correct sofar?'Grinning, the agent shook

his head. Despite his hatredfor tall men or, rather, mentallerthanhimself,hefelthisguard going down. At leastthisonetalkedstraight–and,for a noble, that was prettyimpressive. Maybe Lorn stillhad the old stuff after all.'You said overland? Well,hell, yes, Captain. Wayoverland.' He stopped at anondescript doorway andturned to the man. 'Quorls,

you see, they fly. They gotwings.Four in fact.Andyoucan see right through everyoneofthem,andifyou'reofamind you can poke yourfinger through one of thosewings.Onlydon'tdo itwhenyou're a quarter-mile up,right?'Causeitmaybealongway down but it'll seemawfully fast at the time.Youhearme,Captain?'Heopenedthe door. Beyond rose a

staircase.Theman's face had lost its

colour. 'So much forintelligence reports,' hemuttered.The agent's grin widened.

'We see them before you do.Life's on a need-to-know.Rememberthat,Captain...?'The man's smile was the

onlyanswerhegave.Theyenteredandclosedthe

doorbehindthem.A young marine interceptedTattersail as she made herway across the compound inwhat was now Empireheadquarters in Pale. Theboy's face had bewildermentwritten all over it, and heopenedhismouthafewtimesbeforeanywordscameout.'Sorceress?'

Shestopped.Thethoughtofhaving Tayschrenn wait alittle longer appealed to her.'Whatisit,soldier?'The marine stole a glance

over one shoulder, then said,'The guards, Sorceress.They've got something of aproblem.Theysentmeto—''Who?Whichguards?Take

metothem.''Yes,Sorceress.'

She followed the marinearound the nearest corner ofthemain building,where thecompound wall ran close,creating a narrow passagerunning thebuilding's length.At the far endknelt a figure,his bare head bowed. Besidehim was a large, lumpyburlapsack,coveredinbrownstains. Clouds of fliesswarmed around both themanandthesack.

The marine halted andturned to the sorceress. 'Hestillhasn'tmoved.Theguardskeep getting sick when theypatrolthroughhere.'Tattersail stared at the

huddled man, a suddenwelling of tears behind hereyes.Ignoringthemarine,shestrode into the aisle. Thestench hit her like a wall.Damn,shethought,he'sbeenhere since the battle. Five

days. The sorceress camecloser. Though Bellurdanknelt, his head came near toher own height. TheThelomen High Mage stillwore what was left of hisbattle garb, the ragged stripsof fur scorched and torn, theroughweave of fragments oftunic stained with blood. Asshe arrived to stop beforehim, she saw that his neckandfacewerecoveredinburn

blisters, andmost of his hairwasgone.'You look terrible,

Bellurdan,'shesaid.The giant's head slowly

turned. Red-rimmed eyesfocused on her face. 'Ah,' herumbled. 'Tattersail.' Hisexhausted smile cracked thecharred flesh of one cheek.The wound gaped red anddry.

Thatsmilealmostbrokeherdown. 'Youneedhealing,oldfriend.' Her gaze flicked tothe burlap sack. Its surfacecrawledwithflies. 'Comeon.Nightchill would bite yourheadoff ifshecouldseeyounow.' She felt a tremblingsteal into her, but grimlypressedon.'We'lltakecareofher, Bellurdan. You and me.Butwe'llneedourstrengthtodothat.'

The Thelomen shook hishead slowly. 'I choose this,Tattersail. The scars withoutarethescarswithin.'Hedrewa deep breath. 'I will survivethese wounds. And I alonewill raise my love's barrow.But the time isnotyet right.'Helaidamassivehandonthesack. 'Tayschrenn has givenmeleavetodothis.Willyoudothesame?'Tattersail was shocked to

feel the surgeof anger risingup in her. 'Tayschrenn gaveyou leave, did he?' To herown ears her voice soundedbrutal, a harsh grating ofsarcasm. She saw Bellurdanflinchandseem towithdraw,and a part of her wanted towail, to throw her armsaround the giant and weep,but rage possessed her. 'Thatbastard killed Nightchill,Bellurdan! The Moon's lord

had neither the time nor theinclination to raise demons.Think about it! Tayschrennhadthetimetoprepare—''No!'TheThelomen'svoice

thundereddowntheaisle.Hesurged to his feet andTattersail stepped back. Thegiant looked ready to teardown the walls, a desperatefire in his eyes. His handsclosed into fists. Then hisglarefixedonher.Heseemed

to freeze. All at once hisshoulders slumped,hishandsopened,andhiseyesdimmed.'No,' he said again, this timein a tone filled with sorrow.'Tayschrenn is our protector.As he has always been,Tattersail. Remember theverybeginning?TheEmperorwas mad, but Tayschrennstood at his side. He shapedthe Empire's dream and soopposed the Emperor's

nightmare. Weunderestimated the Lord ofMoon'sSpawn,thatisall.'Tattersail stared up at

Bellurdan'sravagedface.Thememory of Hairlock's tornbody returned to her. Therewas an echo there, but shecouldn't quite catch it. 'Iremember thebeginning,' shesaid softly, doing somesearching of her own. Thememories remained sharp,

butwhateverthreadtherewasthat connected then to nowstill eluded her. She wanteddesperately to talk to QuickBen,butshehadseennothingoftheBridgeburnerssincetheday of the battle. They'd lefther with Hairlock, and thatpuppet scared her more andmorewitheverypassingday.Particularly now that he'dfoundagrudge toholdon to– the scenewith theDeckof

Dragons still smarted – andhe worked it by keeping herinthedark.'TheEmperorhada knack for gathering therightpeoplearoundhim,' shecontinued. 'But he wasn't afool. He knew the betrayalwouldcomefromthatgroup.What made us the rightpeople was our power. Iremember, Bellurdan.' Sheshook her head. 'TheEmperor's gone, but the

power'sstillhere.'Tattersail's breath caught.

'Andthat'sit,'shesaid,halftoherself. 'Tayschrenn's thethread.''The Emperor was insane,'

Bellurdan said. 'Else hewouldhaveprotectedhimselfbetter.'Tattersail frowned at that.

The Thelomen had a point.Like she'd just said, that old

man wasn't a fool. So whathadhappened?'I'msorry.Wemust talk later. The HighMage has summoned me.Bellurdan,willwetalklater?'The giant nodded. 'As you

wish. Soon I will depart toraiseNightchill's barrow. Farout on the Rhivi Plain, Ithink.'Tattersail glanced back up

the aisle. The marine stillstoodthere,shiftingfromone

foot to the other. 'Bellurdan,would you mind if I cast asealingspellonherremains?'His eyes clouded and he

lookeddownatthesack.'Theguardsareunhappy, it's true.'He thought for a moment,then said, 'Yes, Tattersail.Youmaydothat.''Itsmellsbadfromheretothethrone,' Kalam said, his

scarred face twisted withworry.Hesatcrouchedonhishaunches,absentlyscratchingthe lines of a web on thegroundwith his dagger, thenlookedupathissergeant.Whiskeyjack eyed Pale's

stainedwalls, themuscles ofhis jawbunchingbeneathhisbeard. 'The last time I stoodonthishill,'hesaid,hisgazenarrowing, 'it was crowdedwitharmour.Andamageand

a half.' He was silent for atime, thenhe sighed. 'Goon,Corporal.'Kalam nodded. 'I pulled

some old threads,' he said,squinting against the harshmorning light. 'Somebodyhighuphasusmarked.Couldbe the court itself, or maybethenobility–there'srumoursthey're back at it behind thescenes.' He grimaced. 'Andnow we've got some new

captain from Unta eager toget our throats cut. Fourcaptains in the last threeyears, not one worth hisweightinsalt.'Quick Ben stood ten feet

away, at the hill's crest, hisarmscrossed.Henowspoke.'You heard the plan. Comeon, Whiskeyjack. That manslidstraightoutof thepalaceandintoour lapsonastreamof—'

'Quiet,' Whiskeyjackmuttered.'I'mthinking.'Kalam and Quick Ben

exchangedglances.A long minute passed. On

the roadbelow troopwagonsrattledintherutsleadingintothecity.Remnantsof the5thand 6th Armies, alreadybattered, almost broken, byCaladan Brood and theCrimsonGuard.Whiskeyjackshook his head. The only

forceintactwastheMoranth,and they seemed determinedto field only the Blackregiments, using the Greenfor lifts and drops – andwhere the hell was the Goldhe'd been hearing so muchabout?Damn those unhumanbastards anyway. Pale'sguttersstillranredfromtheirhour of retribution.Once theburial shifts were through,there'd be a few more hills

outside the city's walls. Bigones.There would be nothing to

mark thirteen hundred deadBridgeburners, though. Theworms didn't need to travelfar to feast on those bodies.What chilled the sergeant tohis bones was the fact that,apart from the fewsurvivors,nobody had made a seriouseffort to save them. Somelow-ranking officer had

delivered Tayschrenn'scommiserations on those lostin the line of duty, then hadunloaded a wagonload oftripe about heroism andsacrifice. His audience ofthirty-nine stone-facedsoldiers had looked onwithout a word. The officerwas found dead in his roomtwo hours later, expertlygarotted. The mood was bad– nobody in the regiment

would have even thought ofsomething so ugly five yearsago. But now they didn'tblinkatthenews.Garotte–sounds likeClaw

work.Kalamhadsuggesteditwas a set-up, an elaborateframe to discredit what wasleft of the Bridgeburners.Whiskeyjackwassceptical.He tried to clear his

thoughts. If there was apattern it would be a simple

one,simpleenoughtopassbyunnoticed. But exhaustionseeped in like a thick hazebehind his eyes. He took adeep lungful of the morningair. 'The new recruit?' heasked.Kalam rose from his

haunches with a grunt. Afaraway and long-ago lookentered his eyes. 'Maybe,' hesaidfinally. 'PrettyyoungforaClaw,though.'

'I never believed in pureevilbeforeSorryshowedup,'Quick Ben said. 'But you'reright, she's awfully young.How long are they trainedbeforethey'resentout?'Kalam shrugged uneasily.

'Fifteen years minimum.Mind you, they get themyoung.Fiveorsix.''Couldbemageryinvolved,

makingherlookyoungerthanshe is,' Quick Ben said.

'High-level stuff, but withinTayschrenn'sabilities.''Seems too obvious,'

Whiskeyjack muttered. 'Callitbadupbringing.'Quick Ben snorted. 'Don't

tell me you believe that,Whiskeyjack.'The sergeant's face

tightened. 'The subject'sclosed on Sorry. And don'ttellmewhatIthink,Wizard.'

He faced Kalam. 'All right.You think the Empire's intokilling its own these days.You think Laseen's cleaningher house, maybe? Orsomeone close to her?Getting rid of certain people.Fine.Tellmewhy.''The old guard,' Kalam

replied immediately.'Everyone still loyal to theEmperor'smemory.''Doesn't wash,'

Whiskeyjack said. 'We're alldying off anyway. We don'tneed Laseen's help. ApartfromDujekthere'snotamanin this army here who evenknows the Emperor's name,andnobody'dgiveadamn inany case. He's dead. LonglivetheEmpress.''Sheain'tgotthepatienceto

waititout,'QuickBensaid.Kalam nodded agreement.

'She's losingmomentumas it

is.Thingsusedtobebetter–it's that memory she wantsdead.''Hairlock'sour snake in the

hole,' Quick Ben said with asharp nod. 'It'll work,Whiskeyjack. I know whatI'mdoingonthisone.''We do it the way the

Emperorwouldhave,'Kalamadded.'Weturnthegame.Wedoourownhouse-cleaning.'

Whiskeyjack raisedahand.'All right. Now be quiet.You're both sounding toodamn rehearsed.' He paused.'It's a theory. A complicatedone. Who's in the know andwho isn't?' He scowled atQuick Ben's expression.'Right, that's Hairlock's task.But what happens when youcomefacetofacewithsome-onebig,powerfulandmean?''Like Tayschrenn?' The

wizardgrinned.'Right. I'm sure you've got

an answer. Let's see if I canworkitoutmyself.Youlookfor someone even nastier.Youmakeadealandyousetthings up, and ifwe're quickenough we'll come outsmellingofroses.AmIclose,Wizard?'Kalam snorted his

amusement.

Quick Ben looked away.'Back in the Seven Cities,beforetheEmpireshowedup—''BackintheSevenCitiesis

back in the Seven Cities,'Whiskeyjacksaid. 'Hell,Iledthe company chasing youacross the desert, remember?Iknowhowyouwork,Quick.And I know you're damngoodat this.ButIalsorecallthatyouweretheonlyoneof

your cabal to come out alivebackthen.Andthistime?'Thewizard seemedhurtby

Whiskeyjack'swords.Hislipsthinnedtoastraightline.The sergeant sighed. 'All

right. We go with it. Startthings rolling. And pull thatsorceressallthewayin.We'llneed her if Hairlock breakshischains.''AndSorry?'Kalamasked.

Whiskeyjack hesitated. Heknewthequestionbehindthatquestion.QuickBenwas thesquad'sbrains,butKalamwastheir killer. Both made himuneasy with their single-minded devotion to theirrespective talents. 'Leave heralone,' he said at last. 'Fornow.'Kalam and Quick Ben

sighed, sharing a grin behindtheirsergeant'sback.

'Just don't get cocky,'Whiskeyjacksaiddrily.Thegrinsfaded.The sergeant's gaze

returned to the wagonsentering the city. Two ridersapproached. 'All right,' hesaid. 'Mount up.Here comesourreceptioncommittee.'Theriders were from his squad,FiddlerandSorry.'Youthinkthenewcaptain's

arrived?' Kalam asked, as heclimbed into his saddle. Hisroan mare turned her headand snapped at him. Hegrowled in return.Amomentlater the two long-timecompanionssettleddownintotheirmutualmistrust.Whiskeyjack looked on,

amused.'Probably.Let'sheaddown to them. Anybody uponthewallwatchingusmightbe getting antsy.' Then his

humour fell away.They had,indeed, just turned the game.And the timingcouldn'thavebeenworse.Heknewthefullextent of their next mission,and in that he knew morethan either Quick Ben orKalam.Therewasnopointincomplicating things evenfurther, though. They'll findoutsoonenough.Tattersail stood half a dozen

feet behind High MageTayschrenn. The Malazanbanners snapped in thewind,the spars creaking above thesmoke-stainedturret,butherein the shelter of thewall theairwascalm.Onthewesternhorizon across from her rosethe Moranth Mountains,reaching a mangled armnorthward to Genabaris. Asthe range swept southward itjoinedtheTahlyninajagged

line stretching a thousandleagues into the east. Off toher right lay the flat yellow-grassedRhiviPlain.Tayschrenn leaned on a

merlon looking down on thewagons rolling into the city.From below rose the groansofoxenandshoutingsoldiers.TheHighMagehadn'tmovedor said a word in someminutes.Offtohisleftwaiteda small wood table, its

surfacescarredandpittedandcrowdedwith runes cut deepinto the oak. Peculiar darkstainsblottedthesurfacehereandthere.Knots of tension throbbed

in Tattersail's shoulders.Meeting Bellurdan hadshakenher,andshedidn'tfeeluptowhatwastocome.'Bridgeburners,' the High

Magemuttered.

Startled, the sorceressfrowned, then stepped up tostand beside Tayschrenn.Descendingfromahilloff tothe right, a hill she knewintimately, rode a party ofsoldiers. Even from thisdistance she recognized fourof them: Quick Ben, Kalam,Whiskeyjackand that recruit,Sorry. The fifth rider was ashort, wiry man, who hadsapper written all over him.

'Oh?' she said, feigning lackofinterest.'Whiskeyjack's squad,'

Tayschrenn said. He turnedhisfullgazeonthesorceress.'The same squad you spokewith immediately followingtheMoon'sretreat.'TheHighMage smiled, then clappedTattersail'sshoulder.'Come.Irequire a Reading. Let'sbegin.' He walked over tostand before the table.

'Oponn's strands are twistingapeculiarmaze,theinfluencesnares me again and again.'Heturnedhisbacktothewalland sat down on a crenel,thenlookedup.'Tattersail,'hesaid soberly, 'in matters ofEmpire, I am the servant oftheEmpress.'Tattersail recalled their

argument at the debriefing.Nothing had been resolved.'Perhaps I should take my

complaintstoher,then.'Tayschrenn's brows rose. 'I

takethatassarcastic''Youdo?'TheHighMagesaid,stiffly,

'I do, and be thankful for it,woman.'Tattersail pulled out her

Deck and held it against herstomach, running her fingersover the top card. Cool, afeeling of great weight and

darkness.ShesettheDeckinthe table's centre, thenlowered her bulk slowly intoakneelingposition.Hergazelocked with Tayschrenn's.'Shallwebegin?''Tell me of the Spinning

Coin.'Tattersail's breath caught.

Shecouldnotmove.'First card,' Tayschrenn

commanded.

Withaneffort sheexpelledthe air from her lungs in ahissing sigh. Damn him, shethought.An echo of laughtersounded inherhead,andsherealized that someone,something, had opened theway. An Ascendant wasreaching through her, itspresence cool and amused,almost fickle. Her eyes shutof their own accord, and shereachedforthefirstcard.She

flipped it almost haphazardlytoherright.Eyesstillclosed,she felt herself smile. 'Anunaligned card: Orb.Judgement and true sight.'Thesecondcardshetossedtothe left side of the field.'Virgin, High House Death.Herescarredandblindfolded,withbloodonherhands.'Faintly, as if from a great

distance away, came thesound of horses, thundering

closer,nowbeneathher,asifthe earth had swallowedthem. Then the sound roseanew, behind her. She feltherselfnod.Therecruit. 'Thebloodonherhandsisnotherown, the crime not its own.The cloth against her eyes iswet.'She slapped the third card

immediately in front of her.Behind her lids an imageformed. It left her cold and

frightened. 'Assassin, HighHouse Shadow. The Rope, acount of knots unending, thePatronofAssassins is in thisgame.' For a moment shethought she heard thehowling ofHounds. She laidahandonthefourthcardandfelt a thrill of recognitionripple through her, followedby something like falsemodesty.'Oponn,Lady'sheadhigh,Lord's low.'Shepicked

itupandsetitdownoppositeTayschrenn.There's your block. She

smiled toherself.Chewon itawhile,HighMage.TheLadyregards you with disgust.Tattersail knew he must beburning with questions, buthe wouldn't speak them.There was too much powerbehind this opening. Had hesensed the Ascendant'spresence? Shewondered if it

scaredhim.'The Coin,' she heard

herself say, 'spins on, HighMage. Its face looks uponmany,ahandfulperhaps,andhereistheircard.'Shesetthefifth card to Oponn's right,edges touching. 'Anotherunaligned card: Crown.Wisdom and justice, as it isupright.Arounditafaircity'swalls, lit by flames of gas,blue and green.' She

pondered. 'Yes, Darujhistan,thelastFreeCity.'The way closed, the

Ascendant withdrawing as ifbored. Tattersail's eyesopened, an unexpectedwarmthcomfortingherwearybody. 'Into Oponn's maze,'she said, amused at the truthhidden in that statement. 'Ican take it no further, HighMage.'Tayschrenn's breath gusted

out and he leaned back.'You've gone far past whatI'vemanaged,Sorceress.'Hisfacewasdrawnashe lookedat her. 'I'm impressed withyour source, though notpleasedwith itsmessage.'Hefrowned, planting his elbowsonhiskneesandsteeplinghislong-fingered hands beforehisface.'ThisSpinningCoin,ever echoing. There's theJester's humour in this

shaping–evennowIfeelweare being misled. Death'sVirgin,alikelydeceit.'ItwasnowTattersail's turn

to be impressed. The HighMage was an Adept, then.Had he, too, heard thelaughter punctuating thelayingofthefield?Shehopednot. 'Youmightberight,'shesaid.'TheVirgin'sfaceiseverchanging – it could beanyone. Can't say the same

forOponn,ortheRope's.'Shenodded. 'A very possibledeception,' she said, pleasedto be conversing with anequal–a truth thatmadehergrimace inwardly. It'salwaysbetter when hatred andoutrage stay pure,uncompromised.'I would hear your

thoughts,'Tayschrennsaid.Tattersail started, shied

from theHighMage's steady

gaze. She began collectingthe cards. Would it hurt tooffer some explanation? Ifanything, it will leave himeven more rattled than healready is. 'Deception is thePatron Assassin's forte. Isensed nothing of hispresumed master,Shadowthrone himself.MakesmesuspecttheRopeison his own here.Beware theAssassin, High Mage, if

anything his games are evenmore subtle thanShadowthrone's. And whileOponn plays their ownversion, it remains the samegame,andthatgameisbeingplayed out in ourworld.TheTwins of Luck have nocontrol in Shadow's Realm,and Shadow is a Warrenknown for slipping itsboundaries. For breaking therules.'

'True enough,' Tayschrennsaid, rising to his feetwith agrunt. 'The birth of thatbastard realm has evertroubledme.''It's young yet,' Tattersail

said.ShepickedupherDeckand returned it to the pocketinside her cloak. 'Its finalshaping is still centuriesaway, and it may neverhappen. Recall other newHousesthatendedupdyinga

quickdeath.''Thisonestinksoftoomuch

power.' Tayschrenn returnedto his study of the MoranthMountains. 'Mygratitude,'hesaid,asTattersailwenttothesteps leading down into thecity, 'is worth something, Ihope. In any case, Sorceress,youhaveit.'Tattersail hesitated at the

landing, then began thedescent. He'd be less

magnanimousifhefoundoutthat she had justmisled him.She could guess the Virgin'sidentity. Her thoughtstravelledback to themomentof the Virgin's appearance.The horses she had heard,passing beneath, hadn't beenan illusion. Whiskeyjack'ssquad had just entered thecity, through the gate below.Andamong themrodeSorry.Coincidence?Maybe,butshe

didn't think so.TheSpinningCoin had faintly wobbled atthat instant, then its ringingreturned.Thoughshehearditinherminddayandnight, ithad become almost secondnature, and Tattersail foundshehadtoconcentratetofindit.Butshe'dcaughtthenudge,felt the pitch change andsensed a brief instant ofuncertainty.Death's Virgin, and the

Assassin of High HouseShadow. There was aconnection there, somehow,and it bothered Oponn.Obviously, everythingremained in a flux. 'Terrific,'shemuttered, as she reachedthebottomofthestaircase.She saw the young marine

who had approached herearlier. He stood in a line ofrecruits in the centre of thecompound. No commanding

officerwasinsight.Tattersailcalledtheboyover.'Yes, Sorceress?' he asked,

as he arrived to stand atattentioninfrontofher.'What are you all standing

aroundfor,soldier?''We're about to be issued

our weapons. The staffsergeant's gone to bring thewagonround.'Tattersail nodded. 'I have a

task foryou. I'll see thatyouget your weapons – but notthe tinny ones your friendsare about to receive. If asuperior officer questionsyour absence, refer him tome.''Yes,Sorceress.'A pang of regret hit

Tattersail upon meeting theboy's bright, eager gaze.Chances were, he'd be deadwithin a few months. The

Empire had many crimesstaining its banner, but thiswas the worst of them. Shesighed. 'Deliver, in person,this message to SergeantWhiskeyjack, Bridgeburners.The fat lady with the spellswants to talk. You have it,soldier?'Theboyblanched.'Let'shearit.'The marine repeated the

messageinadeadpantone.Tattersail smiled. 'Very

good. Now run along, anddon't forget to get an answerfrom him. I'll be in myquarters.'Captain Paran swung aroundfor a last look at the BlackMoranth. The squad had justreachedtheplateau'screst.Hewatched until they

disappeared from view, thenshifted his gaze back to thecityintheeast.Fromthisdistance,withthe

wide, flat plain in between,Paleseemedpeacefulenough,although the ground outsidethe walls was studded withblack basaltic rubble and thememory of smoke and fireclung to the air. Along thewall scaffolding rose inplaces, tiny figures crowding

the frameworks. Theyappeared to be rebuildinghuge gaps in the stonework.From the north gate asluggish stream of wagonswound out towards the hills,theairabovethemfilledwithcrows. Along the edge ofthose hills ran a line ofmounds too regular to benatural.He'd heard the rumours,

here and there. Five dead

mages, two of them HighMages. The 2nd's lossesenough to fire speculationthat itwouldbemergedwiththe5thand the6th to formanew regiment. And Moon'sSpawn had retreated south,across the TahlynMountainstoLakeAzur,trailingsmoke,drifting and leaning to oneside like a spent thunder-head. But one tale reachedinto the captain's thoughts

deeper than all the rest: theBridgeburners were gone.Some stories said killed to aman; others insisted that afewsquadshadmadeitoutofthe tunnels before thecollapse.Paran was frustrated. He'd

been among Moranth fordays. The uncanny warriorshardly ever spoke, andwhenthey did itwas to each otherin that incomprehensible

tongue of theirs. All of hisinformation was out of date,and that put him in anunfamiliar position. Mindyou, he thought, sinceGenabaris it had been oneunfamiliar situation afteranother.So here he was, on the

waiting end of things onceagain. He readjusted hisduffelbagandwaspreparingforalongwaitwhenhesawa

horsemantopthefarplateau'screst. The man had an extramountwithhim,andhe rodestraightforthecaptain.Hesighed.Dealingwiththe

Claw always grated. Theyweresodamnsmug.Withtheexception of that man inGenabaris, none seemed tolikehimmuch. Ithadbeenalong time since he'd knownsomeone he could call afriend. Over two years, in

fact.The rider arrived. Seeing

him up close, Paran took aninvoluntary step back. Halfthe man's face had beenburned away. A patchcovered therighteyeand theman held his head at an oddangle. The man flashed aghastly grin, thendismounted.'You're the one, huh?' he

askedinaraspingvoice.

'Is it true about theBridgeburners?' Parandemanded.'Wipedout?''More or less. Five squads

left, or thereabouts. Aboutforty in all.' His left eyesquintedandhereacheduptoadjust his battered helmet.'Didn't knowwhere you'd beheading before. Do now.You're Whiskeyjack's newcaptain,huh?''Sergeant Whiskeyjack is

known to you?' Paranscowled. This Claw wasn'tlike the others. Whateverthinking they did about himthey kept to themselves, andhepreferreditthatway.Themanclimbedback into

hissaddle.'Let'sride.Wecantalkontheway.'Paran went to the other

horse and tied his bag to thesaddle, which was of theSeven Cities style, high-

backed and with a hingedhorn that folded forward –he'd seen several like this onthis continent. Itwas adetailhe'd already filed away.NativesfromtheSevenCitieshad a predisposition formaking trouble, and thiswholeGenabackanCampaignhad been a foul-up from thevery start. No coincidence,that.Mostofthe2nd,5thand6th Armies had been

recruited from the SevenCitiessubcontinent.He mounted and they

settled into a steady canteracrosstheplateau.The Claw talked. 'Sergeant

Whiskeyjack's got a lot offollowers around here. Actslikehedon'tknowit.Yougottoremembersomethingthat'sbeen damn near forgottenbackinMalaz–Whiskeyjackonce commanded his own

company...'Paran's head snapped

around. That fact had beenthoroughly stripped from theannals. As far as Empirehistorywasconcerned, ithadneverhappened.'... back in the days when

Dassem Ultor ran themilitary,' the Claw continuedblithely. 'It wasWhiskeyjack's SeventhCompany that ran down the

SevenCities'mage cabal outin thePan'potsunWastes.Heendedthewarthenandthere.Ofcourse,everythingwenttohell after that, what withHoodtakingUltor'sdaughter.Andnotlongafterthat,whenUltor died, all his men werepulleddownfast.That'swhenthebureaucratsswalloweduptheArmy.Damnjackals.Andthey've been sniping at eachother ever since and to hell

with the campaigns.' TheClawsatforward,pushingthesaddlehorn down, and spatpasthishorse'sleftear.Paran shivered, seeing that

gesture.Intheolddaysithadannounced the beginning oftribal war among the SevenCities. Now, it had becomethe symbolof theMalaz2ndArmy. 'Are you suggesting,'he cut in, 'that the storyyou've just told me is

commonplace?''Not in detail,' the Claw

admitted. 'But some oldveteransintheSecondfoughtwithUltor, not just in SevenCities but as far back asFalar.'Paran thought for a time.

The man riding beside him,thoughaClaw,was also2ndArmy.Andhe'dbeenthrougha lot with them. It made foraninterestingperspective.He

glanced at the man and sawhim grinning. 'What's sofunny?'The man shrugged. 'The

Bridgeburnersarealittlehot,these days. They're gettingchaff for recruits and thatmakes it look like they'reabout to be disbanded. Youtalk with whoever it is youtalkwith back inMalaz, youtellthemthey'dendupwithamutiny on their hands, they

start messing with theBridgeburners. That's ineveryreportIsendbutnooneseems to listen to me.' Hisgrin broadened. 'Maybe theythink I've been turned orsomething,eh?'Paran shrugged. 'You were

called in tomeetme,weren'tyou?'TheClaw laughed. 'You've

really been out of touch,haven't you? They calledme

inbecauseI'mthelastActiveintheSecond.AndasfortheFifth and Sixth – forget it.Brood's Tiste Andii couldpick out a Claw from athousandpaces.Noneofthemleft, either. My own ClawMasterwasgarottedtwodaysback – that's something else,ain't it? You, I inherited,Captain.Oncewehitthecity,I sendyouonyourway, andthat's probably the last we'll

ever see of each other. Youdeliver your mission detailsas Captain of the NinthSquad, they either laugh inyourfaceortheystickaknifeinyoureye–it'sevenbettingwhat they'll do.Toobad,butthereitis.'Up ahead loomed thegates

ofPale.'Onemore thing,' the Claw

said, his eyeson themerlonsabove the gate, 'just a bone

I'llthrowyouincaseOponn'ssmiling on you. The HighMage Tayschrenn's runningthings here. Dujek's nothappy,especiallyconsideringwhat happened with Moon'sSpawn. It's a bad situationbetween them, but the HighMage is relying on his beingin close and constantcommunication with theEmpress, and that's what'skeeping him on top. A

warning, then. Dujek'ssoldiers will follow him ...anywhere. And that goes forthe Fifth and Sixth Armies,too. What's been gatheredhere is a storm waiting tobreak.'Paran stared at the man.

Topper had explained thesituation, but Paran haddismissed the man'sassessment – it had seemedtoo much like a scenario

devisedtojustifytheEmpressfilling the gallows. Not atangle Iwant to get involvedin. Leaveme to completemysingletask–1desirenomorethanthat.As they passed into the

gate's shadow, the Clawspoke again. 'By the by,Tayschrenn just watched usarrive.Anychanceheknowsyou,Captain?''No.' I hope not, he added

silently.Astheytrottedintothecity

proper and a wall of soundrose to meet them, Paran'seyesglazedslightly.Palewasamadhouse, buildings on allsides gutted by fire, thestreets, despite being cobble-heaved in places and dentedin others, were packed withpeople,carts,brayinganimalsandmarines.Hewondered ifheshouldstartmeasuringhis

life in minutes. Takingcommandofasquadthathadgonethroughfourcaptainsinthreeyears, thendelivering amission that no sane soldierwouldconsider,coupledwitha brewing firestorm of alarge-scale insurrectionpossibly headed by theEmpire's finest militarycommander, against a HighMage who looked to becarving his own rather big

nicheintheworld–allofthishad Paran feeling somewhatdismayed.He was jolted by a heavy

slap on his back. The Clawhad moved his horse closeandnowheleanedover.'Out of your depth,

Captain? Don't worry, everydamn person here's out oftheir depth. Some know it,somedon't. It's theoneswhodon'tyougot toworryabout.

Startwithwhat'srightinfrontofyouandforget therest fornow. It'll showup in itsowntime. Find any marine andask direction to theBridgeburners. That's theeasypart.'Parannodded.The Claw hesitated, then

leaned closer. 'I've beenthinking, Captain. It's ahunch,mind you, but I thinkyou'rehere todosomegood.

No, don't bother answering.Only, if youget into trouble,you get word to Toc theYounger,that'sme.I'mintheMessenger Corps, outriderclass,theSecond.Allright?'Parannoddedagain.'Thank

you,' he said, just as a loudcrash sounded behind them,followedbyachorusofangryvoices.Neitherriderturned.'What's that you said,

Captain?'

Paran smiled. 'Better headoff.Keepyourcover–incasesomethinghappenstome.I'llfind myself a guide, by thebook.''Sure thing, Captain.' Toc

the Younger waved, thenswung his mount down aside-street. Moments laterParan lost sight of him. Hedrewadeepbreath, thencasthis gaze about, searching foralikelysoldier.

Paran knew that his earlyyears in the noble courts ofhis homeland had preparedhim well for the kind ofdeception Adjunct Lorndemandedofhim.Inthepasttwo years, however, he hadbegun to recognize moreclearly what he wasbecoming.Thatbrash,honestyouth who had spoken withthe Empress's Adjunct that

dayon the ItkoKanesecoastnow gnawed at him. He'ddropped right into Lorn's laplikealumpofunshapedclay.Andshehadproceededtodowhatshedidbest.What frightened Paran

most, thesedays,was thathehad grown used to beingused.He'dbeensomeoneelsesomany times that he saw athousand faces, heard athousand voices, all at war

with his own. When hethought of himself, of thatyoung noble-born man withthe overblown faith inhonesty and integrity, thevision that came to him nowwas of something cold, hardanddark.Ithidinthedeepestshadows of his mind, and itwatched. No contemplation,no judgement, just icy,clinicalobservation.He didn't think that that

young man would see thelight of day again.Hewouldjust shrink further back,swallowed by darkness, thendisappear,leavingnotrace.And Paran wondered if he

evencaredanymore.He marched into the

barracksthathadoncehousedPale's Noble Guard. One oldveteran lounged on a nearbycot, her rag-wrapped feetjutting over the end. The

mattress had been strippedaway and tossed into acorner;thewomanlayontheflat boards, her handsbehindherhead.Paran's gaze held on her

briefly, then travelled downthe ward. With the loneexception of the veteranmarine, theplacewasempty.He returned his attention toher.'Corporal,isit?'The woman didn't move.

'Yeah,what?''Itakeit,'hesaiddrily,'that

the chain of command hasthoroughly disintegratedaroundhere.'Her eyes opened and

manageda lazysweepof theofficer standing before her.'Probably,' she said, thenclosed her eyes again. 'Youlooking for somebody orwhat?'

'I'm looking for the NinthSquad,Corporal.''Why? They in trouble

again?'Paran smiled to himself.

'Are you the averageBridgeburner,Corporal?''All the average ones are

dead,'shesaid.'Who's your commander?'

Paranasked.'Antsy,buthe'snothere.'

'I cansee that.'Thecaptainwaited, then sighed. 'Well,whereisthisAntsy?''Try Knobb's Inn, up the

street.The last I seenofhimhe was losing his shirt toHedge.Antsy'sacard-player,right, only not a good one.'She began picking at a toothatthebackofhermouth.Paran's brows rose. 'Your

commandergambleswithhismen?'

'Antsy's a sergeant,' thewoman explained. 'Ourcaptain's dead. Anyway,Hedgeisnotinoursquad.''Oh, and what squad is he

with?'The woman grinned,

swallowing whatever herfinger had dislodged. 'TheNinth.''What's your name,

Corporal?'

'Picker,what'syours?''CaptainParan.'Pickershotupintoasitting

position, her eyes wide. 'Oh,you're the new captainwho'syettopullasword,eh?'Parangrinned.'That'sright.''You got any idea of the

odds on you right now? Itdoesn'tlookgood.''Whatdoyoumean?'She smiled a broad smile.

'Theway I pick it,' she said,leaning back down andclosing her eyes again, 'thefirst blood you see on yourhands is gonna be your own,Captain Paran. Go back toQuonTaliwhereit'ssafe.Goon, the Empress needs herfeetlicked.''They're clean enough,'

Paran said. He was not surehow to deal with thissituation.Part of himwanted

to draw his sword and cutPicker in half. Anotherwantedtolaugh,andthatonehadanedgeofhysteriatoit.Behind him the outer door

banged open and heavyfootsteps sounded on thefloorboards. Paran turned. Ared-faced sergeant, his facedominated by an enormoushandlebar moustache,stormed into the room.Ignoring Paran, he strode up

beside Picker's cot andglowereddownather.'Dammit, Picker, you told

me Hedge was having a badrun,andnowthatbow-leggedturd'scleanedmeout!''Hedgeishavingabadrun,'

Picker said. 'But yours isworse. You never asked meabout that, did you? Antsy,meet Captain Paran, theNinth'snewofficer.'

Thesergeantswungaroundandstared.'Hood'sBreath,'hemuttered, then faced Pickeragain.'I'm looking for

Whiskeyjack, Sergeant,'Paransaidsoftly.Something in the captain's

tone brought Antsy around.He opened his mouth, thenshut it when his eyes caughtParan's steady gaze. 'Somekid delivered a message.

Whiskeyjack trooped out. Afew of his people are atKnobb's.''Thank you, Sergeant.'

Paranwalkedstifflyfromtheroom.Antsy let out a long breath

andglancedatPicker.'Twodays,'shepronounced,

'then somebody does him.OldRockfacehasalreadylaidtwentytothat.'

Antsy's expressiontightened. 'Something tellsme that'd be a damnedshame.'Paran entered Knobb's Innand stopped just inside thedoorway. The place waspacked with soldiers, theirvoicesajumbledroar.Onlyafewshowedontheiruniformsthe flame emblem of theBridgeburners.The restwere

2ndArmy.At a large table beneath an

overhanging walkway thatfronted rooms on the firstfloor half a dozenBridgeburners sat playingcards. A wide-shoulderedman whose black hair wasbraided into a pony-tail andknotted with charms andfetishes sat with his back tothe room, dealing out thecards with infinite patience.

Even through the high-tideroar, Paran could hear theman's monotone counting.The others at the tabledeluged the dealer withcurses,tolittleeffect.'Barghast,' Paran

murmured, his gaze on thedealer. 'Only one in theBridgeburners. That's theNinth, then.' He took a deepbreath, then plunged into thecrowd.

By the time he arrivedbehind the Barghast his finecloakwasdrenchedwithsouraleandbitterwine,andsweatcast a shine on his forehead.The Barghast, he saw, hadjustfinishedthedealandwassetting down the deck in thetable'scentre, revealingashedid so the endlessbluewoadtattooing on his bared arm,the spiral patterns marredhereandtherebywhitescars.

'Is this the Ninth?' Paranaskedloudly.The man opposite the

Barghast glanced up, hisweathered face the samecolourashisleathercap,thenreturned his attention to hiscards.'YouCaptainParan?''Iam.Andyou,soldier?''Hedge.' He nodded at the

heavymanseatedtohisright.'That's Mallet, the squad's

healer. And the Barghast'sname is Trotts, and it ain'tbecausehe likes jogging.'Hejerked his head to his left.'The rest don't matter –they're Second Army andlousyplayers toboot.Takeaseat, Captain. Whiskeyjackand the rest been called outforthetimebeing.Shouldbebacksoon.'Paranfoundanemptychair

and pulled it up between

MalletandTrotts.Hedge growled, 'Hey,

Trotts, you gonna call thisgameorwhat?'Releasing a long breath,

Paran turned to Mallet. 'Tellme, Healer, what's theaveragelifeexpectancyforanofficerintheBridgeburners?'A grunt escaped Hedge's

lips. 'Before or after Moon'sSpawn?'

Mallet's heavy brows roseslightly as he answered thecaptain. 'Maybe twocampaigns.Depends on a lotof things. Balls ain't enough,but it helps. And that meansforgetting everything youlearned and jumping intoyour sergeant's lap like ababe.You listen to him, youmightmakeit.'Hedge thumped the table.

'Wake up, Trotts! What are

weplayinghere?'TheBarghast scowled. 'I'm

thinking,'herumbled.Paran leaned back and

unhitchedhisbelt.Trotts decided on a game,

to the groans of Hedge,Mallet and the three 2ndArmy soldiers, since it wasthe game Trotts alwaysdecidedon.Mallet spoke. 'Captain,

you've been hearing thingsabout the Bridgebumers,right?'Paran nodded. 'Most

officers are terrified of theBridge-burners. Word is, themortality rate's so highbecausehalf thecaptainsendup with a dagger in theirback.'He paused, and was about

to continue when he noticedthesuddensilence.Thegame

hadstopped,andalleyeshadfixed on him. Sweat brokeout under Paran's clothing.'And from what I've seen sofar,'hepressedon,'I'mlikelyto believe that rumour. ButI'lltellyousomething–allofyou– if Idiewithaknife inmy back, it'd better bebecause I earned it.Otherwise, Iwill be severelydisappointed.' He hitched hisbelt and rose. 'Tell the

sergeant I'll be in thebarracks. I'd like to speakwith him before we'reofficiallymustered.'Hedge gave a slow nod.

'Will do, Captain.' The manhesitated. 'Uh, Captain?Caretositinonthegame?'Paran shook his head.

'Thanks, no.' A grin tuggedthecornerofhismouth. 'Badpractice,anofficer takinghisenlistedmen'smoney.'

'Now there's a challengeyou'd better back up sometime,' Hedge said, his eyesbrightening.'I'll think about it,' Paran

replied, as he left the table.Pushing through the crowd,he felt a growing sense ofsomething that caught himcompletely off-guard:insignificance. A lot ofarrogance had been drilledinto him, from his days as a

boy among the nobilitythrough to his time at theacademy.Thatarrogancenowcoweredinsomecornerofhisbrain, shocked silent andnumb.He had known that well

before he'd met the Adjunct:hispath into and through theofficer training corps of theMarineAcademyhadbeenaneasy procession marked bywinks and nods. But the

Empire's wars were foughthere, thousands of leaguesaway, and here, Paranrealized, nobody cared onewhit about court influencesand mutually favourabledeals. Those short-cutsswelledhischancesofdying,and dying fast. If not for theAdjunct, he'd have beentotally unprepared to takecommand.Paran grimaced as he

pushed open the tavern doorand stepped out into thestreet. It was no wonder theold Emperor's armies had soeasily devoured the feudalkingdoms in his path on theroad to Empire. He wassuddenly glad of the stainsmarring his uniform – he nolongerlookedoutofplace.He strode into the alley

leading to the barracks' sideentrance. The way lay in

shadow beneath high-walledbuildings and the fadedcanopies that hung oversaggingbalconies.Palewasadying city. He knew enoughofitshistorytorecognizethebleached tints of long-lostglory. True, it hadcommandedenoughpowertoforgeanalliancewithMoon'sSpawn, but the captainsuspected that that had hadmore to do with the Moon's

lord's sense of expediencethan to any kind of mutualrecognition of power. Thelocal gentry made much offinery and pomp, but theirprops looked tired andworn.He wondered how alike heandhis kindwerewith thesedroopycitizens—A sound behind him, the

faintestscuff,madehimturn.A shadow-wrapped figureclosed on him. Paran cried

out, snatching at his sword.Anicywindwashedoverhimas the figure moved in. Thecaptain backpedalled, seeingthe glint of blades in eachhand.He twisted tooneside,hisswordhalf-wayoutofthescabbard. His attacker's lefthand darted up. Paran jerkedhis head back, throwing hisshoulder forward to block ablade that never arrived.Instead, the long dagger slid

like fire into his chest. Asecond blade sank into hissideevenasbloodgushedupinside to fill his mouth.Coughing and groaning,Paran reeled, careened off awall,thensliddownwithonehand grasping futilely at thedamp stones, his fingernailsgouging tracks through themould.A blackness closed around

histhoughtswhichseemedto

involveonlyadeep,heartfeltregret. Faintly, a ringingsound came to his ears, as ifsomething small andmetallicwas skittering across a hardsurface.Thesoundremained,of something spinning, andthe darkness encroached nofurther.'Sloppy,' a man said in a

thin voice. 'I am surprised.'The accent was familiar,pulling him to a childhood

memory, his father dealingwithDalHonesetraders.The answer came from

directly above Paran.'Keeping an eye on me?'Another accent herecognized, Kanese, and thevoiceseemedtocomefromagirl,orachild,yetheknewitwasthevoiceofhiskiller.'Coincidence,' the other

replied, then giggled.'Someone – something, I

should say – has entered ourWarren. Uninvited. MyHoundshunt.''I don't believe in

coincidences.'Againcamethegiggle.'Nor

doI.Twoyearsagowebeganagameofourown.Asimplesettling of old scores. Itseemswehavestumbledintoawholly different game hereinPale.'

'Whose?''I shall have that answer

soonenough.''Don't get distracted,

Ammanas. Laseen remainsourtarget,andthecollapseofthe Empire she rules butneverearned.''Ihave, asalways, supreme

confidenceinyou,Cotillion.''Imustbegettingback,'the

girlsaid,movingaway.

'Of course. So this is themanLornsenttofindyou?''I believe so. This should

drawherintothefray,inanycase.''Andthisisdesirable?'The conversation faded as

the two speakers walkedaway leaving, as the onlysound in Paran's head, thatwhirring hum, as if a coinwas spinning, endlessly

spinning.

CHAPTERFOUR

They were of akind,thenthe histories writlargeintattooedtracerythetalesatrackingofoldwoundsbut somethingglowedhardintheireyes–thoseflame-gnawed

arches,thatvanishingspan,they are their ownpasteach in turndestinedtofallinlineon the quietwaysidebesidetherivertheyrefuse toname...TheBridgebumers(IV.i)

ToctheYounger(b.1141)

Tattersail glared atWhiskeyjack. 'Hairlock isinsane,'shepronounced.'Thatedgetohimwasalwaysthere,but he's chewed holes in hisownWarrensandhe's tastingChaos.Worseyet,it'smakinghim more powerful, moredangerous.'They had gathered in

Tattersail's quarters, whichconsistedofanouterroom—where they now sat – and abedroomwiththerareluxuryof a solid wood door. Thepast occupants had hastilystrippedtheplaceofanythingvaluableandportable,leavingbehind only the larger piecesof furniture. Tattersail sat atthe table, along withWhiskeyjack,QuickBenandKalam,andthesappernamed

Fiddler. The air in the roomhadgrownhot,stifling.'Of course he's insane,'

QuickBenreplied,lookingathis sergeant, whose faceremained impassive. Thewizard hastily added, 'Butthat's to be expected. Fener'stail,lady,he'sgotthebodyofa puppet! Of course that'stwistedhim.''How twisted?'

Whiskeyjack asked his

wizard. 'He's supposed to bewatchingourbacks,isn'the?'Kalam said, 'Quick's got

himunder control.Hairlock'sbacktracking, workingthrough themaze–he'll findoutwho in theEmpirewantsusdead.''The danger,' Quick Ben

added,roundingonTattersail,'is his being detected. Heneeds to slip through theWarrens the unconventional

way–theregularpathsarealltrip-wired.'Tattersail mulled over that

point, then nodded.'Tayschrenn would find him,or at least catch wind thatsomeone's sniffing around.But Hairlock's using thepower of Chaos, the pathsthatliebetweenWarrens,andthat'sunhealthy–not justforhim,butforallofus.''Why all of us?'

Whiskeyjackasked.Quick Ben answered, 'It

weakens the Warrens, fraysthe fabric, which in turnsallowsHairlock tobreak intothematwill... and out again.But we have no choice. Wehave to give Hairlock hisrope.Fornow.'The sorceress sighed,

massaging her brow.'Tayschrenn's the one you'relooking for. I've already told

you—''That's not good enough,'

QuickBencutin.'Howmanyagents is he using?What arethedetailsof theplan–whatthehellistheplan?Isallthison Laseen's orders, or is theHighMageeyeingthethronefor himself? We need toknow,dammit!''All right, all right,'

Tattersail said. 'So Hairlockunravels the whole thing for

you – then what? Do youintend to try to killTayschrennandeveryoneelseinvolved? Are you countingon my help in that?' Shelooked from one face to thenext. Each revealed nothing.Anger flared and she rose. 'Iknow,' she said stiffly, 'thatTayschrenn probablymurdered A'Karonys,Nightchill, andmycadre.Heprobably knew your tunnels

would collapse around you,and he might well havedecided that Dujek's Secondwas a threat that neededculling. But if you think I'mgoing to help you withoutknowing what you'replanning, you're mistaken.There's more to all this thanyou'rewillingto tellme.If itwas just your survival atstake, why don't you justdesert? I doubt Dujek would

chase you down. Unless, ofcourse, Tayschrenn'ssuspicionsaboutOnearmandthe Second are grounded intruth – you've plans for amutiny, proclaiming DujekEmperorandmarchingoff toGenabaris.' She paused,looking fromoneman to thenext. 'HasTayschrennsimplyanticipated you, therebyfouling up your plans?Am Ibeing pulled into a

conspiracy? If I am, then Ihave to know its eventualgoals. I have that right, don'tI?'Whiskeyjack grunted, then

reached for the jug of winestanding on the table. Herefilledeveryone'scup.Quick Ben let out a long

breath, then rubbed the backof his neck. 'Tattersail,' hesaid quietly, 'we're not goingto challenge Tayschrenn

directly. That would besuicide. No, we'll cut awayhis support, carefully, withprecision,thenwearrangehis... fall fromgrace. Assumingthe Empress is not involved.But we need to know more,weneedthoseanswersbeforewe can decide our options.You don't have to get anymore involved than youalready are. In fact, it's saferthatway.Hairlockwantsyou

to protect his back, failingevery other option. Chancesare, that won't be necessary.'He lookedupandgaveherastrained smile. 'LeaveTayschrenn to me andKalam.'Allverywell,butyoudidn't

answerme. Tattersail lookedat the other black-skinnedman, her eyes narrowing.'You were a Claw once,weren'tyou?'

Kalamshrugged.'I thought no one could

leave–alive.'Heshruggedagain.The sapper, Fiddler,

growled somethingincomprehensible and rosefrom his chair. He beganpacing, his bandied legscarryinghimfromonewalltothe next, like a fox in a pit.No one paid him any further

attention.Whiskeyjack handed a cup

toTattersail. 'Staywith us inthis, Sorceress. Quick Bendoesn't usually foul things ...too badly.' He made a sourface. 'I admit, I'm notcompletely convinced either,but I've learned to trust him.You can take that forwhateverit'sworth.'Tattersail took a deep

draught of wine. She wiped

her lips. 'Your squad'sheading to Darujhistantonight.Covert,whichmeansI won't be able tocommunicatewith you if thesituationturnsbad.''Tayschrenn would detect

the usual ways,' Quick Bensaid. 'Hairlock's our onlyunbreachablelink–youreachusthroughhim,Tattersail.'Whiskeyjack eyed the

sorceress. 'Back to Hairlock.

Youdon'ttrusthim.''No.'The sergeant fell silent, his

gaze fixed on the tabletop.His impassiveexpression fellaway, revealing a war ofemotions.He keeps his world bottled

up, but the pressure'sbuilding.Shewonderedwhatwould happen wheneverythingbroke loose inside

him.The two Seven Cities men

waited, eyes on theirsergeant. Only Fiddlercontinued his preoccupiedpacing. The sapper'smismatched uniform stillcarried the stains of thetunnels.Someoneelse'sbloodhad splashed thickly on thefront of his tunic – as if afriend had died in his arms.Poorlyhealedblistersshowed

under the uneven bristle ofhis cheeks and jaw, and hislank red hair hunghaphazardly beneath hisleatherhelmet.A longminutepassed, then

the sergeant nodded sharplytohimself.Hishardeyesstillfixedonthetabletop,hesaid,'All right, Sorceress. We'llgiveyouthis.QuickBen,tellheraboutSorry.'Tattersail's brows rose. She

crossed her arms and facedthewizard.QuickBenlookednonetoo

pleased. He shifted uneasilyand cast a hopeful glance atKalam, but the big manlookedaway.Whiskeyjack growled,

'Now,Wizard.'Quick Ben met Tattersail's

steady gaze with an almostchildlike expression – fear,

guilt and chagrin flittedacross his fine features. 'Yourememberher?'She barked a harsh laugh.

'Notaneasyonetoforget.Anodd ... sense ... about her.Dangerous.' She thoughtabout revealing what she'dlearnedduringherFatidwithTayschrenn.VirginofDeath.Butsomethingheldherback.No,shecorrectedherself,notjust something – I still don't

trustthem. 'Yoususpectshe'sin the service of someoneelse?'The wizard's face was

ashen. He cleared his throat.'She was recruited two yearsago in Itko Kan, one of theusual sweeps across theEmpire'sheartland.'Kalam's voice rumbled

beside her. 'Something uglyhappened there at around thesame time. It's been buried

pretty deep, but the Adjunctbecameinvolved,andaClawcame in her wake andsilenced damn near everyonein the city guard who mighthavetalked.Imadeuseofoldsources, scrounged up someodddetails.''Odd,'QuickBensaid, 'and

revealing, if you know whatyou'relookingfor.'Tattersail smiled to herself.

These twomenhadawayof

talking in tandem. Shereturned her attention to thewizard,whocontinued.'Seems a company of

cavalry hit some hard luck.No survivors. As for whatthey ran into, it hadsomethingtodowith—''Dogs,' Kalam finished

withoutmissingabeat.The sorceress frowned at

theassassin.

'Put it together,'QuickBensaid, drawing her attentiononce again. 'Adjunct Lorn isLaseen's personal mage-killer. Her arrival on thescene suggests sorcery wasinvolved in the massacre.High sorcery.' The wizard'sgaze narrowed on Tattersailandhewaited.She swallowed another

mouthful of wine. The Fatidshowed me. Dogs and

sorcery. Into her mindreturned the image of theRopeasshehadseenitinthereading.HighHouseShadow,ruled by Shadowthrone andtheRope,andintheirservice– 'The Seven Hounds ofShadow.' She looked toWhiskeyjack but thesergeant's eyes remaineddowncast, his expressionblankasstone.'Good,'QuickBensnapped,

somewhat impatiently. 'TheHounds hunted. That's ourguess,butit'sagoodone.TheNineteenth Regiment of theEighth Cavalry were allkilled, even their horses. Aleague's worth of coastlinesettlements neededrepopulating.''Fine.' Tattersail sighed.

'ButwhatdoesthishavetodowithSorry?'The wizard turned away

andKalam spoke. 'Hairlock'sgoing to follow more thanjust one trail, Sorceress.We're pretty sure Sorry issomehow involved withHouseShadow...''It certainly seems,'

Tattersail said, 'that since itsarrival in the Deck and theopening of its Warren,Shadow's path crosses theEmpire's far too often to beaccidental. Why should the

Warren between Light andDark display such ...obsession with the MalazanEmpire?'Kalam's gaze was veiled.

'Odd, isn't it? After all, theWarren only appearedfollowing the Emperor'sassassination at Laseen'shand. Shadowthrone and hiscompanion the Patron ofAssassins – Cotillion – wereunheard of before Kellanved

and Dancer's deaths. It alsoseems that whatever ...disagreementthereisbetweenHouse Shadow and EmpressLaseenis,uhm,personal...'Tattersail closed her eyes.

Dammit, it's that obvious,isn'tit?'QuickBen,'shesaid,'hasn't there always been anaccessible Warren ofShadow?Rashan,theWarrenofIllusions?''Rashan is a false Warren,

Sorceress.Ashadowofwhatitclaimstorepresent,ifyou'llexcuse my wording. It isitself an illusion. The godsalone know where it camefrom,orwhocreateditinthefirst place, or evenwhy.Butthe true Warren of Shadowhas been closed, inaccessibleformillennia,untilthe1154thyear of Burn's Sleep, nineyears ago. The earliestwritings of House Shadow

seemed to indicate that itsthrone was occupied by aTisteEdur—''Tiste Edur?' Tattersail

interrupted.'Whowerethey?'The wizard shrugged.

'CousinsoftheTisteAndii?Idon'tknow,Sorceress.'Youdon'tknow?Actually,it

seems you know a hell of alot.Quick Ben shrugged to

punctuatehislastwords,thenhe added, 'In any case, webelieve Sorry is connectedwithHouseShadow.'Whiskeyjack startled

everyone by surging to hisfeet. 'I'm not convinced,' hesaid, throwing Quick Ben aglarethattoldTattersailtherehadbeencountlessargumentsover this issue. 'Sorry likeskilling,andhavingheraroundis like having spiders down

your shirt. I know all that, Icanseeitandfeelitthesameasanyofyou.Itdoesn'tmeanshe's some kind of demon.'HeturnedtofaceKalam.'Shekills like you do, Kalam.You've both got ice in yourveins.Sowhat?IlookatyouandIseeamanbecausethat'swhatmen are capable of – Idon't hunt for excusesbecause I don't like to thinkthat that's how nasty we can

get.WelookatSorryandwesee reflections of ourselves.Hood take it, ifwedon't likewhatwesee.'He sat down just as

abruptly as he had risen, andreached for the wine jug.Whenhecontinuedhisvoicehaddroppedanotch. 'That ismy opinion, anyway. I'm noexpert on demons but I'veseen enoughmortalmen andwomen act like demons,

given the need. My squad'swizard is scaredwitless by afifteen-year-old girl. Myassassin slipsaknife intohispalm whenever she's withintwentypacesofhim.'HemetTattersail'seyes.'So,Hairlockhas two missions instead ofone, and if you think QuickBenandKalamarecorrectintheirsuspicionsyoucanwalkfrom all this – I know howthingsgowhengodsstepinto

thefray.'Thelinesaroundhiseyestightenedmomentarily,areplaying of memories. 'Iknow,'hewhispered.Tattersailslowlyletouther

breath, which she had beenholding since the sergeantfirst rose to his feet. Hisneedswere clear tohernow:he wanted Sorry to be justhuman, just a girl twistedhard by a hard world.Because that was something

he understood, something hecould deal with. 'Back inSeven Cities,' she saidquietly, 'the story goes thatthe Emperor's First Sword –his commander of his armies–DassemUltor,hadaccepteda god's offer. Hood madeDassemhisKnight ofDeath.Then something happened,something went ... wrong.And Dassem renounced thetitle, swore a vow of

vengeance against Hood –against the Lord of Deathhimself. All at once otherAscendants startedmeddling,manipulating events. It allculminated with Dassem'smurder, then the Emperor'sassassination, and blood inthe streets, temples at war,sorceries unleashed.' Shepaused, seeing the memoriesof those times reflected inWhiskeyjack's face. 'You

were there.' And you don'twantittohappenagain,hereandnow.Youthinkifyoucandeny that Sorry servesShadow your conviction willbe enough to shape reality.You need to believe that tosave your sanity, becausethere are some things in lifethatyoucango throughonlyonce. Oh, Whiskeyjack, Ican't ease your burden. Yousee, 1 think Quick Ben and

Kalam are right. 'If Shadowhas claimed the girl, the trailwill be evident – Hairlockwillfindit.''Do you walk away from

this?'thesergeantasked.Tattersail smiled. 'The only

deathIfearisdyingignorant.No, is my answer.' Bravewords, woman. These peoplehave a way of bringing outthebest–ormaybetheworst–inme.

Something glittered inWhiskeyjack's eyes, and henodded. 'So that's that,' hesaid gruffly.He leaned back.'What's on your mind,Fiddler?'heaskedthesapper,who was still pacing behindhim.'Gotabadfeeling,'theman

muttered. 'Something'swrong.Not here, though, butclose by. It's just—' Hestopped, cocking his head,

then he sighed, resuming hisuneasy walk. 'Not sure, notsure.'Tattersail's eyes followed

thewirylittleman.Anaturaltalent?Somethingworkingonpure instinct? Very rare. 'Ithink you should listen tohim,'shesaid.Whiskeyjack gave her a

painedlook.Kalam grinned, a network

of lines crinkling around hisdark eyes. 'Fiddler saved ourlives in the tunnel,' heexplained. 'One of his badfeelings.'Tattersailleanedbackinher

chair and crossed her arms.Sheasked,'SowhereisSorryrightnow?'Fiddler whirled, his eyes

widening on the sorceress.His mouth opened, thensnappedshutagain.

The other three surged totheir feet, chairs topplingbackwards.'We've got to get going,'

Fiddler grated. 'There's aknife out there, and it's gotbloodonit.'Whiskeyjack checked his

longsword. 'Kalam, out fronttwenty paces.' He facedTattersail as the assassinslipped out. 'We lost her acoupleofhoursago.Happens

a lot between missions.' Hisface looked drawn. 'Theremay be no connection withthisbloodiedknife.'A blossoming of power

filled theroomandTattersailspun to faceQuickBen.Thewizard had accessed hisWarren. The sorcery bled astrange, swirling flavour thatshe could not recognize, andit frightened her with itsintensity. She met the black

man's shining eyes. 'I shouldknow you,' she whispered.'There's not enough truemasters in this world for meto not know you. Who areyou,QuickBen?'Whiskeyjack interjected,

'Everyoneready?'Thewizard'sonlyanswerto

Tattersail was a shrug. ToWhiskeyjackhesaid,'Ready.'The sergeant strode to the

door.'Takecare,Sorceress.'A moment later they were

gone. Tattersail righted thechairs,thenrefilledhergobletwith wine. High HouseShadow, and a knife in thedark.Anewgame'sbegun,ortheoldone'sjustturned.Paran opened his eyes tobright, hot sunlight, but theskyabovehimwas...wrong.

He saw no sun; the yellowglare was sharp yetsourceless.Heatgusteddownon him with oppressiveweight.Amoaningsoundfilled the

air, not wind because therewas no wind. He tried tothink, tried to recall his lastmemories, but the past wasblank, torn away, and onlyfragments remained: a ship'scabin,thethunkofhisdagger

asheflungitagainandagainagainstawoodenpost;amanwith rings, hair of white,grinningsardonically.He rolled to one side,

seeking the source of themoaning sound. A dozenpaces away on the flat plainthat was neither grass norearth roseanarchedgatewayleadingto—Nothing. I've seen such

gatesbefore.Nonesolarge,1

think, as this one. Nonelooking quite like this ... thisthing. Twisted, upright yetfrom his position sideways,thegatewasnot,he realized,madeofstone.Bodies,nakedhuman figures. Carvedlikenesses?No...oh,no.Thefigures moved, groaned,slowlywrithedinplace.Fleshblackened, as if stained withpeat, eyesclosedandmouthsopen with faint, endless

moans.Paran climbed to his feet,

staggered as a wave ofdizziness ran through him,then fell once again to theground.'Something like indecision,'

avoicesaidcoolly.Blinking,Paranrolledonto

his back.Above him stood ayoung man and woman –twins. The man wore loose

silkclothing,whiteandgold;his thin face was pale,expressionless. His twin waswrapped in a shimmeringpurple cape, her blonde haircastingreddishglints.It was the man who'd

spoken. He smiled withouthumour down at Paran.'We've long admired your ...'Hiseyeswidened.'Sword,' the woman

finished,asmirkinhertone.

'Farmoresubtlethan,say,acoin, don't you think?' Theman's smile turned mocking.'Most,' he said, swinging hishead to study the ghastlyedifice of the gate, 'don'tpausehere.It'ssaidtherewasa cult, once, in the habit ofdrowningvictimsinbogs...Iimagine Hood finds themaestheticallypleasing.''Hardly surprising,' the

woman drawled, 'that Death

hasnotaste.'Parantriedtositup,buthis

limbs refused the command.He dropped his head back,feelingthestrangeloamyieldto its weight. 'What hashappened?'herasped.'You were murdered,' the

mansaidlightly.Paran closed his eyes.

'Why,then,haveInotpassedthroughHood'sGate,ifthatis

whatitis?''We're meddling,' the

womansaid.Oponn, the Twins of

Chance. And my sword, myuntested blade purchasedyears ago, with a name Ichose so capriciously—'WhatdoesOponnwantfromme?''Only this stumbling,

ignorant thing you call your

life, dear boy. The troublewith Ascendants is that theytry to rig every game. Ofcourse, we delight in ...uncertainty.'A distant howl stroked the

air.'Oops,'themansaid.'Come

tomake certain of things, I'dsay. We'd best leave, sister.Sorry, Captain, but it seemsyou'll pass through thatGateafterall.'

'Maybe,'thewomansaid.Herbrotherroundedonher.

'We agreed! Noconfrontation!Confrontation's messy.Unpleasant. I despisediscomfitingscenes!Besides,theoneswhocomedon'tplayfair.''Then neither do we,' the

sister snapped. She turned tothe gate, raised her voice,'Lord of Death! We would

speakwithyou!Hood!'Paran rolled his head,

watched as a bent, limpingfigure emerged from theGate. Wearing rags, thefigure slowly approached.Paran squinted – an oldwoman,achildwithdroolonits chin, a deformed younggirl,astunted,brokenTrell,adesiccatedTisteAndii—'Oh, make up your mind!'

thesistersaid.

The apparition cocked adeath's head, the grin of itsteeth stained muddy yellow.'You have chosen,' it said inquavering voice,'unimaginatively.''You are not Hood.' The

brotherscowled.Bones shifted under

creaking skin. 'The lord isbusy.''Busy? We do not take

kindly to insults,' the sistersaid.The apparition cackled,

then stopped abruptly. 'Howunfortunate. A mellifluous,deep-throatedlaughwouldbemore to my liking. Ah well,in answer: nor does my lordappreciate your interruptionof this natural passage of asoul.''Murdered at the hand of a

god,' the sister said. 'That

makeshimfairgame.'The creature grunted,

shuffledclosetolookdownatParan. The eye socketsglimmered faintly, as if oldpearls hid within theshadows. 'What, Oponn,' itasked,asitstudiedParan,'doyouwishofmylord?''Nothing from me,' the

brothersaid,turningaway.'Sister?'

'Even for the gods,' shereplied, 'death awaits, anuncertainty hiding deepwithin them.' She paused.'Makethemuncertain.'Thecreature cackledagain,

and again cut it short.'Reciprocity.''Of course,' the sister

responded. 'I'll look foranother, a death premature.Meaningless,even.'

The apparition was silent,then the head creaked in anod. 'In thismortal'sshadow,ofcourse.''Agreed.''My shadow?' Paran asked.

'What does that mean,precisely?''Much sorrow, alas,' the

apparition said. 'Someoneclose to you shall walkthrough Death's Gates ... in

yourplace.''No.Takemeinstead,Ibeg

ofyou.''Be quiet!' snapped the

apparition. 'Pathosmakesmeill.'The howl reverberated

again,muchcloserthistime.'We'd best leave,' the

brothersaid.The apparition opened its

jaws as if to laugh, then

clacked them shut. 'No,' itmuttered, 'not again.' Ithobbled back to the Gate,pausingoncetoturnbackandwave.Thesisterrolledhereyes.'Time to leave,' the brother

repeateduneasily.'Yes, yes,' his sister said,

eyeingParan.Thecaptainsighed,looking

away.'Nofinalriddles,ifyou

please.'WhenhelookedbackOponnwasgone.Onceagainhetriedtositup.Onceagainhefailed.A new presence arrived,

filling the airwith tension, asmellofthreat.Sighing, Paran craned his

headaround.HesawapairofHounds – massive hulkingcreatures, dark, tongueslolling as they sat, watchinghim. These are what killed

the company in Itko Kan.These are the cursed,horrifying beasts. BothHounds froze, headshunching towards him, as ifseeing thehatred inhis eyes.Paranfelthisheartgocoldattheir avid attention. He wasslow to realize he had baredhisteeth.Astainofshadowseparated

the two Hounds, the stainvaguely man-shaped and

translucent. The shadowspoke. 'The one Lorn sent. Iwouldhave thought someoneof ... ability.Though, itmustbesaid,youdiedwell.''Evidentlynot,'Paransaid.'Ah, yes,' the shadow said,

'and so it falls to me tocomplete the task. Busyhours,these.'Paran thought of Oponn's

conversation with Hood's

servant.Uncertainty.Ifagodfears anything ... 'The dayyou die, Shadowthrone,' hesaidquietly,'Iwillbewaitingfor you on the other side ofthatgate.Withasmile.Godscandie,can'tthey?'Something crackled in the

portalway of the gate.Shadowthrone and theHoundsflinched.Parancontinued,wondering

at his own courage, to bait

these Ascendants. Alwaysdespised authority, didn't I?'Half-way between life anddeath–thispromisecostsmenothing,yousee.''Liar, the onlyWarren that

cantouchyounowis—''Death,' Paran said. 'Of

course,' he added, 'someoneelse ... interceded, and wascertain to leave long beforeyou and your too-loudHoundsarrived.'

The King of High HouseShadow edged forward.'Who? What does it plan?Whoopposesus?''Find your own answers,

Shadowthrone. You dounderstand, don't you, that ifyousendmeonmywaynow,your ... opposition will seekother means? Knowingnothingofwhotheirnexttoolis, how will you sniff outtheir next move? You'll be

leftdartingatshadows.''Easier to follow you,' the

god conceded. 'I must speakwithmycompanion—''As you like,' Paran

interrupted. 'I wish I couldstand...'Thegodraspedlaughter. 'If

you stand, you walk. Oneway only. You have areprieve–andifHoodcomestogatheryoutoyourfeet,the

guidinghand ishis,notours.Excellent.Andifyoulive,soshallmyshadowfollowyou.'Paran grunted. 'My

shadow's a crowded place,thesedays.'Hiseyesfellonceagain on the Hounds. Thecreatures watched him still,theireyesfaintcoals.I'llhaveyou yet. As if fanned by hissilent promise, the red glowssharpened.Thegod resumed speaking,

but the world had darkenedaround Paran, fading,dwindling,untilthevoicewasgone, and with it allawareness but the faint,renewedspinningofacoin.An unknown span of timepassed in which Paranwandered through memorieshehadthoughtlonglost–hisdaysasachildclingingtohismother's dress and takinghis

first, tottering steps; thenightsofstormwhenheraceddownthechillhallway tohisparents' bedroom, tiny feetslapping on the cold stone;holding the hands of his twosisters as they stood waitingon the hard cobbles of thecourtyard – waiting, waitingfor someone. The imagesseemed to lurch sideways inhis head.Hismother's dress?No, an old woman in the

serviceofthehousehold.Nothis parents' bedroom, butthose of the servants; andthere, in the courtyard withhis sisters, they'd stood halfthe morning, awaiting thearrival of their mother andfather,twopeopletheybarelyknew.Inhismindscenesreplayed

themselves, moments ofmysterious import, hiddensignificance, pieces of a

puzzle he couldn't recognize,shapedbyhandsnothisownand with a purpose hecouldn't fathom.A tremor offeartravelledthelengthofhisthoughts as he sensed thatsomething – someone – wasbusyreorderingtheformativeevents of his life, turningthemonendandcastingthemintothepresentnewshadows.Somehow, the guiding hand...played.Withhim,withhis

life.It seemed an odd kind of

death—Voicesreachedhim.'Aw,hell.'Afacebentclose

to Paran's own, looked intohisopenblankeyes.ThefacewasPicker's. 'Hedidn't standachance,'shesaid.SergeantAntsy spoke from

a few feet away. 'Nobody intheNinthwould'vedonehim

like this,' he said. 'Not righthereinthecity.'Picker reached out and

touched thechestwound,herfingers surprisingly soft onhis torn flesh. 'This isn'tKalam'swork.''You all right here?' Antsy

asked. 'I'm going to getHedge and Mallet, andwhoeverelsehasshownup.''Go ahead,' Picker replied,

seeking and finding thesecond wound, eight inchesbelow the first. 'This onecame later, right-handed andweak.'A very odd death indeed,

Paranthought.Whatheldhimhere?Hadtherebeenanother... place? A place of heat,searing yellow light? Andvoices, figures faint,indistinct, there beneath thearchof...ofcrowdsstrangely

held in place, eyes closed,mouthsopen.Achorusofthedead ... Had he gonesomewhere only to return tothese real voices, these realhands on his flesh? Howcould he see through theempty glass of his eyes, orfeelthewoman'sgentletouchonhisbody?Andwhatofthepain, rising as from a greatdepthlikealeviathan?Picker withdrew her hands

and restedher elbowsonherthighsasshecrouchedbeforeParan. 'Now, how comeyou'restillbleeding,Captain?Those knife wounds are atleastanhourold.'The pain reached the

surface.Paranfelthisgummylips split. The hinges of hisjawcrackedandhedrewinasavagegasp.Thenscreamed.Picker bolted backwards,

her sword appearing in her

hand as if from nowhere asshe backed to the alley's farwall.'Shedenul'smercy!'Boots pounded on the

cobbles off to her right andher head whipped around.'Healer!Thebastard'salive!'The third bell after midnighttolled sonorously through thecity of Pale, echoing downstreetsemptiedbythecurfew.

A light rain had begun,casting the night sky with amurky gold hue. In front ofthe large, rambling estate,two blocks from the oldpalace, that had become partof the 2nd's quarters, twomarines wrapped in blackraincapesstoodguardoutsidethemaingate.'Damned miserable night,

ain'tit?'onesaid,shivering.Theothershiftedhispiketo

his left shoulder and hawkedamouthfulofphlegmintothegutter. 'You just guessing,mind,' he said, wagging hishead. 'Any other brilliantinsightsyoufeelreadytotossmy way, you just speak up,hear?''What did I do?' the first

mandemanded,hurt.The second soldier

stiffened. 'Hush, someonecomingupthestreet.'

The guards waited tensely,hands on their weapons. Afigure crossed from theoppositesideandsteppedintothetorchlight.'Halt,' the second guard

growled. 'Advance slowly,and you'd better havebusinesshere.'Themantookastepcloser.

'Kalam, Bridgeburners, theNinth,'hesaidquietly.

The marines remainedwary, but the Bridgeburnerkept his distance, his darkface glistening in the rain.'What's your business here?'thesecondguardasked.Kalamgruntedandglanced

back down the street. 'Wedidn't expect to be comingback. As for our business,well, it's better thatTayschrenndon'tknowaboutit.Youwithme,soldier?'

The marine grinned andspat a second time into thegutter. 'Kalam – you'd beWhiskeyjack's corporal.'There was a new tone ofrespect in his voice.'Whatever you want you'vegot.''Damned right,' the other

soldier growled. 'I was atNathilog, sir. You want usblinded by the rain for thenext hour or so, you just say

theword.''We're bringing in a body,'

Kalam said. 'But this neverhappenedonyourshift.''Hood's Gate, no,' the

secondmarinesaid. 'PeacefulastheSeventhDawn.'Fromdown the street came

the sounds of a number ofmen approaching. Kalamwaved them forward, thenslipped inside as the first

guard unlocked the gate.'What do you figure they'reupto?'heasked,afterKalamhaddisappeared.The other shrugged. 'Hope

it'll stick somethinghard andsharp up Tayschrenn, Hoodtake the treacherousmurderer. And, knowingthem Bridgeburners, that'sexactly what they'll do.' Hefell silent as the grouparrived. Two men carried a

thirdmanbetweenthem.Thesecondsoldier'seyeswidenedas he saw the rank of theunconscious man, and thebloodstainingthefrontofhisbaldric. 'Oponn's luck,' hehissed to the Bridgeburnernearesthim,amanwearingatarnished leather cap. 'Thepullnotthepush,'headded.The Bridgeburner threw

hima sharp look. 'You see awomancomeafterusyouget

outofherway,youhearme?'.'Awoman?Who?''She's in theNinth,andshe

might be thirsty for blood,'themanreplied,asheandhiscomrade dragged the captainthrough the gate. 'Forgetsecurity,' he said, over hisshoulder. 'Just stay alive ifyoucan.'The two marines stared at

each other after themen had

passed. After a moment thefirst soldier reached to closethe gate. The other manstoppedhim.'Leaveitopen,'hemuttered.

'Let's find some shadows,closebutnottooclose.''Hell of a night,' the first

marinesaid.'You got a thing about

stating the obvious, haven'tyou?' the other said, as he

movedawayfromthegate.The first man shrugged

helplessly, then hurried tofollow.Tattersail stared long andhard at the card centred onthe field she had laid down.She had chosen a spiralpattern, working her waythrough the entire Deck ofDragons and arriving with a

final card,which couldmarkeitheranapexoranepiphanydepending on how it placeditself.Thespiralhadbecomeapit,

atunneldownward,andatitsroot, seeming distant andshadow-hazed, waited theimage of a Hound. Shesensed an immediacy to thisreading.HighHouseShadowhad become involved, achallenge to Oponn's

command of the game. Hereyes were drawn to the firstcard she had placed, at thespiral's very beginning. TheMason ofHighHouseDeathheld aminor position amongtheoverall rankings,butnowthefigureetchedonthewoodseemed to have risen to aneminent placing. Brother tothe Soldier of the sameHouse, the Mason's imagewas that of a lean, greying

manclothedinfadedleathers.His massive, vein-ropedhandsheldstone-cuttingtoolsand aroundhim rose roughlydressed menhirs. Tattersailfound she could make outfaint glyphs on the stones, alanguage unfamiliar to herbut reminiscent of SevenCities'script.IntheHouseofDeath the Mason was thebuilderofbarrows,theplacerof stones, apromiseofdeath

not to one or a few but tomany. The language on themenhirs delivered a messagenot intended for her: theMason had carved thosewords for himself, and timehad worn the edges – eventhe man himself appearedstarkly weathered, his facelatticed with cracks, hissilvered beard thin andtangled. The role had beenassumed by a man who'd

onceworked instone,butnolonger.The sorceress was having

difficulty understanding thisfield. The patterns she sawstartled her: it was as if awhole new game had begun,with players stepping on tothe scene at every turn.Midway through the spiralwas High House Dark'sKnight, its placementcounterpoint to both the

beginning and the end. Aswith the last time the Deckhad unveiled this draconianfigure, something hovered inthe inky sky behind theKnight, as elusive as ever, attimes seeming like a darkstainonherowneyes.TheKnight'sswordreached

ablack,smokystreaktowardstheHoundatthespiral'sapex,andinthisinstancesheknewitsmeaning.Thefuturehelda

clashbetweentheKnightandHigh House Shadow. Thethought both frightenedTattersail and left her feelingrelieved – it would be aconfrontation. There wouldbe no alliance between theHouses.Itwasararethingtosee such a clear and directlinkbetweentwoHouses:thepotential for devastation lefther cold with worry. Bloodspilledonsuchahighlevelof

power cast aftershocks downthroughtheworld.Inevitably,people would be hurt. Andthis thought brought herround back to the Mason ofHigh House Death.Tattersail's heart thuddedheavy in her chest. Sheblinked sweat from her eyesand managed a few deepbreaths.'Blood,' she murmured,

'ever flows downward.' The

Mason's shaping a barrow –afterall,heisDeath'sservant— and he will touch medirectly. That barrow ... is itmine? Do 1 back out?Abandon the Bridgeburnersto their fate, flee fromTayschrenn, from theEmpire?Anancientmemoryflooded

her thoughts, which she hadrepressed for almost twocenturies. The image shook

her. Once again she walkedthe muddy streets of thevillage where she had beenborn, a child bearing theTalent, a childwhohad seenthe horsemen of warsweeping down into theirsheltered lives. A child whohad run away from theknowledge, telling no one,andthenightcame,anightofscreamsanddeath.Guilt rose within her, its

spectre visage hauntinglyfamiliar.Afterall theseyearsitsfacestillheldthepowertoshatter her world, makinghollow those things sheneeded solid, rattling herillusion of security with ashame almost two hundredyearsold.The imagesankonceagain

intoitsviscidpool,butit leftherchanged.Therewouldbeno running away this time.

Her eyes returned one lasttime to the Hound. Thebeast's eyes seemed to burnwith yellow fire, boring intoherasifseekingtobrandhersoul.Shestiffenedinherchairas

a cold presence washed overher from behind. Slowly,Tattersailturned.'Sorry for not giving you

warning,' Quick Ben said,emerging from the swirling

cloudofhisWarren.Itheldastrange, spicy scent.'Company's coming,' he said,seeming distracted. 'I'vecalledHairlock.HecomesbyWarren.'Tattersail shivered as a

waveofpremonitionbrushedherspine.ShefacedtheDeckagainandbegantocollectthecards.'Thesituation's justbecome

a lot more complicated,' the

wizardsaidbehindher.The sorceress paused,

giving herself a small, tightsmile. 'Really?' shemurmured.The wind flung rain againstWhiskeyjack's face. Faintlythrough the dark night thefourth bell clanged. Thesergeant pulled his raincapetighterandwearilyshiftedhis

stance. The view from therooftop of the palace's eastturretwasmostlyobscuredbysheets of rain. 'You've beenchewing on something fordays,' he said, to the manbeside him. 'Let's hear it,soldier.'Fiddlerwipedtherainfrom

hiseyesandsquintedintotheeast. 'Not much to tell you,Sarge,' he said gruffly. 'Justfeelings. That sorceress, for

one.''Tattersail?''Yeah.'Metalclinkedasthe

sapper unstrapped his swordbelt.'Hatethisdamnedthing,'hemuttered.Whiskeyjack watched as

the man tossed the belt andscabbarded shortsword to therooftop's pebbled surfacebehindthem.'Justdon'tforgetit like you did last time,' the

sergeantsaid,hidingagrin.Fiddler winced. 'Make one

mistake and nobody lets youforgetit.'Whiskeyjack made no

reply, though his shouldersshookwithlaughter.'Hood's Bones,' Fiddler

went on, 'I ain't no fighter.Not like that, anyway. Wasborn in an alley in MalazCity, learned the stone-

cutting trade breaking intobarrows up on the plainbehind Mock's Hold.' Heglanced up at his sergeant.'You used to be a stone-cutter,too.Justlikeme.OnlyI'm no fast learner insoldiering like you was. Itwastheranksortheminesforme – sometimes I think Iwent and made the wrongchoice.'Whiskeyjack's amusement

died as a pang followedFiddler'swords. Learnwhat?he wondered. How to killpeople?Howtosendthemoffto die in some foreign land?'What's your feeling onTattersail?'thesergeantaskedcurtly.'Scared,' the sapper

responded. 'She's got someolddemons ridingher, ismyguess,andthey'reclosingin.'Whiskeyjack grunted. 'It's

rareyou'llfindamagewithapleasant past,' he said. 'Storygoesshewasn'trecruited,shewas on the run. Then shemessed up with her firstposting.''It'sbadtiminghergoingall

softonusnow.''She's lost her cadre. She's

been betrayed. Without theEmpire, what's she got toholdon to?'Whathasanyofusgot?

'It's like she's ready to cry,right on the edge, everysingle minute. I'm thinkingshe's lost her backbone,Sarge.IfTayschrennputsherunder his thumb, she's liabletosqueal.''I think you've

underestimated the sorceress,Fiddler,' Whiskeyjack said.'She's a survivor– and loyal.It's not common news, butshe'sbeenoffered the titleof

High Mage more than onceand she won't accept. Itdoesn't show, but a head-to-head between her andTayschrennwouldbeaclosething. She's a Master of herWarren,andyoudon'tacquirethatwithaweakspine.'Fiddler whistled softly,

leaned his arms on theparapet.'Istandcorrected.''Anythingelse,Sapper?'

'Just one,' Fiddler replied,deadpan.Whiskeyjack stiffened. He

knewwhat that tone implied.'Goon.''Something's about to be

unleashed tonight, Sergeant.'Fiddlerswunground,hiseyesglitteringinthedarkness. 'It'sgoingtobemessy.'Both men turned at the

thumping of the roof's trap-

door. High Fist DujekOnearm emerged, the lightfrom the room below abroken beacon rising aroundhim. He cleared the ladder'slast rung and stepped on tothe roof. 'Give me a handwiththisdamndoorhere,'hecalledtothetwomen.They strode over, their

bootscrunchingonthegravelscatter.'AnywordonCaptainParan, High Fist?'

Whiskeyjack asked, asFiddler crouched over thetrap-door and, with a grunt,levereditbackintoplace.'None,' Dujek said. 'He's

disappeared. Then again sohas that killer of yours,Kalam.'Whiskeyjack shook his

head. 'I know where he is,andwherehe'sbeenallnight.Hedge and Mallet were thelasttoseethecaptain,leaving

Knob's Inn, and then he justseems to vanish. High Fist,we didn't kill this CaptainParan.''Don't quibble with words,'

Dujek muttered. 'Damn it,Fiddler, is that your swordlying over there? In apuddle?'Breath hissed between

Fiddler's teethandhehurriedovertotheweapon.

'The man's a hopelesslegend,'Dujeksaid.'Shedenulbless his hide.' He paused,seeming to reorder histhoughts. 'OK, perish thethought, then.Youdidn't killParan.Sowhereishe?''We're looking,'

Whiskeyjacksaidtonelessly.The High Fist sighed. 'All

right. Understood. You wantto know who else might bewantingParandead, and that

means explaining who senthim. Well, he's AdjunctLorn's man, has been forsome time. He's not Claw,though.He'sabloodynoble'ssonfromUnta.'Fiddler had donned his

weapon and now stoodtwenty paces away at theroof'sedge,handsonhiships.A good man. They're allgood, dammit. Whiskeyjackblinked the rain from his

eyes. 'From the capital?Could be someone in thosecircles.Nobody likes the oldnoble families, not even thenoblesthemselves.''It's possible,' Dujek

conceded, without muchconviction. 'In any case, he'sto commandyour squad, andnot for just thismission.Theassignment'spermanent.'Whiskeyjack asked, 'Is the

Darujhistan infiltration his

ownidea?'TheHigh Fist replied, 'No,

but whose it is is anybody'sguess. Maybe the Adjunct,maybe the Empress herself.So what all that means iswe'resendingyouinanyway.'He scowled briefly. 'I'm torelaythefinaldetails toyou.'He faced the sergeant.'Assuming Paran is gone forgood.''May I speak freely, High

Fist?'Dujekbarkedalaugh. 'You

think I don't know it,Whiskeyjack? The planstinks. A tactical nightmare—''Idon'tagree.''What?''I think it will do just as it

was intended to do,' thesergeant said dully, his gazeat first on the lightening

eastern horizon, then on thesoldier standing at the roof'sedge. Because it is intendedtogetusallkilled.The High Fist studied the

sergeant's face, then he said,'Come with me.' He ledWhiskeyjack over to whereFiddler stood. The sappergave them a nod.Amomentlater all three stood lookingdownonthecity.Pale'sill-litstreets wound between the

roughblocksofbuildingsthatseemedunwillingtoyieldthenight;behindcurtainsof raintheir squatting silhouettesappeared to shiverbefore thecomingdawn.After a while, Dujek said

quietly, 'Damned lonely outhere,isn'tit?'Fiddler grunted. 'That it is,

sir.'Whiskeyjack closed his

eyes. Whatever washappening thousands ofleagues away was beingplayed out here. Such wasEmpire, and it alwayswouldbe,nomattertheplaceorthepeople. They were allinstrumentsblindtothehandsshaping them. The sergeanthadfacedthattruthlongago.It had galled him then and itgalled him now. The onlyrelief, these days, seemed to

comewithexhaustion.'There's pressure,' the High

Fist continued slowly, 'todisband the Bridgeburners.I've already received theorder to merge the Secondwith the Fifth and Sixth.We'll stand as theFifth, nearfull complement. The tidesare bringing new waters toour shore, gentlemen, andthey smell bitter.' Hehesitated, then said, 'If you

and your squad come out ofDarujhistan alive, Sergeant,you havemy permission justtowalk.'Whiskeyjack's head

snapped around and Fiddlerstiffened.Dujek nodded. 'You heard

me.AndasfortherestoftheBridgeburners,well,resteasythat I'll take care of them.'The High Fist glancedeastward,baringhisteethina

humourless grin. 'They'repushing me. But there's noway in hell they're going toleave me with no room tomanoeuvre. I've got tenthousand soldiers I owea lotto—''Excuseme,sir,'Fiddlercut

in, 'there's ten thousandsoldiers saying they're theones owing. You say thewordand—''Quiet,'Dujekwarned.

'Yes,sir.'Whiskeyjack remained

silent,histhoughtsawhirlingmaelstrom. Desertion. Thatword rang in his head like adirge.AndFiddler'sassertionwas, he felt, a true one. IfHigh Fist Dujek decided itwastimetomakeamove,thelast place Whiskeyjackwanted to bewas on the runhundreds of leagues awayfrom thecentreof things.He

was too close to Dujek and,though they strove tohide it,thehistorybetweenthemeverchurned beneath the surface.There'd been a time whenDujek had called Turn 'sir',andthoughWhiskeyjackheldno grudges he knew thatDujek still had troubleaccepting the change offortunes. If the time came,Whiskeyjack intended to beatOnearm'sside.

'High Fist,' he said at last,awarethatbothmenhadbeenwaiting for him to speak,'there's still a fewBridgeburners left. Fewerhands on the sword. But thesword'sstillsharp.It'snotourstyle to make life easy forthose who oppose us –whoever they happen to be.To justquietlywalkaway ...'The sergeant sighed. 'Well,that'd suit them, wouldn't it?

While there's a hand on thesword, a single hand, theBridgeburners won't backdown. It settles on honour, Iguess.''I hear you,' Dujek said.

Then he grunted. 'Well, heretheycome.'Whiskeyjack looked up,

followed theHighFist'sgazeintotheeasternsky.

Quick Ben cocked his head,thenhissed throughhis teeth.'TheHoundshave caught histrail,'hesaid.Kalam cursed vehemently,

surgingtohisfeet.Sitting on the bed,

Tattersail frowned bleary-eyedatthebearishmanashepaced, his footsteps on thefloorboards barely raising acreak.Big as hewas,Kalamseemed to glide, giving the

scene an almost surreal feel,with the wizard cross-leggedandhoveringafewinchesoffthe wooden floor in theroom'scentre.Tattersail realized she was

exhausted. Too much washappening, and it washappening all at once. Sheshook herself mentally andreturned her attention toQuickBen.The wizard was linked to

Hairlock, and the marionettehad been on someone's –something's– trail,which leddown into the Warren ofShadow. Hairlock hadreached theverygatesof theShadow Realm, and then hehadgonebeyond.For a time Quick Ben had

lost contact with the puppet,and those long minutes ofsilence had left everyone'snerves in tatters. When

Hairlock's presence returnedto the wizard he no longermovedalone.'He's coming out,' Quick

Ben announced. 'ShiftingWarrens. With Oponn's luckhe'lllosetheHounds.'Tattersail winced at the

wizard's casual use of theFool's name. With so manycurrents swirling so closebeneath the surface it mightwellcallunwelcomeattention

tothem.Weariness hung heavy in

the room like bitter incense,redolent with sweat andtension. After his last wordsQuick Ben had bowed hishead. Tattersail knew hismind now travelled theWarrens, clinging toHairlock's shoulder with anunbreakablegrip.Kalam'spacingbroughthim

before the sorceress. He

stopped and facedher. 'Whatabout Tayschrenn?' he askedgruffly,hishandstwitching.'He knows something has

happened. He's hunting, butthe quarry eludes him.' Shesmiled up at the assassin. 'Ifeel him moving cautiously.Very cautiously. For all heknows,thequarrymightbearabbit,orawolf.'Kalam's expression

remainedgrim. 'OraHound,'

hemuttered,thenresumedhispacing.Tattersail stared at him.

Was this what Hairlock wasdoing? Drawing a Houndafter him? Were they allleading Tayschrenn into adeadly ambush? 'I trust not,'she said, her eyes hardeningon the assassin. 'That wouldbefoolish.'Kalam ignored her,

pointedlyavoidinghergaze.

Tattersailrose.'Notfoolish.Insane. Do you realize whatcould be unleashed here?SomebelievetheHoundsaremore ancient than theShadowRealm itself.But it'snot just them – power drawspower.IfoneAscendantpartsthe fabric here and now,others will come, smellingblood.Come the dawn everymortal in this city could bedead.'

'Easy, lady,' Kalam said.'Nobody wants a Houndloosed in the city. I spokefromfear.'Hestillwouldnotlookather.The assassin's admission

startled Tattersail. It wasshamethatkepthiseyesfromher.Fearwasanadmissionofweakness. 'For Hood's Sake,'she sighed, 'I've been sittingon a pillow for the past twohours.'

That caught him. Hestopped, faced her, thenlaughed.It was a deep, smooth

laugh, and it pleased herimmensely.The bedroom door opened

andMallet entered the room,his round face shiny andflushed. The healer glancedbriefly at Quick Ben, thenwalkedtoTattersail,wherehecrouched down in front of

her. 'By all rights,' he saidquietly,'CaptainParanshouldbe in an Officer's Hole withfivefeetofmudonhisprettyface.' He nodded to Kalam,who had joined them. 'Thefirst wound was fatal, upunder his heart. Aprofessionalthrust,'headded,withameaningfullookattheassassin. 'The second wouldhave done himmore slowly,butnolesscertain.'

Kalam grimaced. 'So heshould be dead. He isn't.Whichmeans?''Intervention,' Tattersail

answered, a queasy feelingsettling in her stomach. Herheavy-lidded gaze fixed onMallet. 'Your Denul skillsprovedsufficient?'Thehealerquirkedasmile.

'It was easy. I had help.' Heexplained, 'Thewoundswerealready closing, the damage

already mended. I quickeneditsome,butthat'sall.There'sbeen a deep trauma, bothbody andmind.By all rightsit should beweeks before herecoversphysically.And thatalonecouldbeaproblem.''What do you mean?'

Tattersailasked.Kalam strode to the table,

retrieved a jug of wine andthree clay cups. He rejoinedthem and began pouring as

Mallet said, 'Healing shouldnever be separated betweenthefleshandthesenseof theflesh.It'shardtoexplain.TheDenulWarrens involveeveryaspect of healing, sincedamage,whenitoccurs,doessoonall levels.Shock is thescar that bridges the gapbetween the body and themind.''All and well,' Kalam

growled,handingthehealera

cup.'WhataboutParan?'Mallet took a long draught

and wiped at his mouth.'Whatever force intercededcared fornothingbuthealingtheflesh.Hemaywellbeonhis feet in a day or two, buttheshockneedstimetoheal.''You couldn't do it?'

Tattersailasked.He shook his head. 'All

such things are intertwined.

Whatever interceded severedthoseconnections.Howmanyshocks, traumatic events, hasParan received in hislifetime?Which scar am I totrace? I may well do moredamageinmyignorance.'Tattersail thoughtabout the

youngman theyhaddraggedintoherroomanhourearlier.Afterhis scream in thealley,announcing to Picker that hestill lived, he had fallen into

unconsciousness.All thatsheknew of Paran was that hewas a noble's son; that he'dcome fromUnta, and that hewas the squad's new officeron their mission inDarujhistan.'In any case,' Mallet said,

draining his cup, 'Hedge iskeeping an eye on him. Hemaycometoanyminute,butthere's no telling what statehis mind will be in.' The

healer grinned at Kalam.'Hedge has taken a liking tothe brat.' His grin broadenedastheassassincursed.Tattersail raised an

eyebrow.Seeing her expression,

Malletexplained,'Hedgealsoadoptsstraydogs–andother,uh, needy creatures.' Heglanced at Kalam, who hadresumed pacing. 'And he cangetstubbornaboutit,too.'

The corporal growledwordlessly.Tattersailsmiled.Thesmile

faded as her thoughtsreturned to Captain Paran.'He's going to be used,' shepronounced, flatly. 'Like asword.'Mallet sobered with her

words. 'There's nothing ofmercy in the healing, onlycalculation.'

Quick Ben's voice startledthem all. 'The attempt on hislifecamefromShadow.'There was silence in the

room.Tattersail sighed.Before, it

hadbeenjustasuspicion.Shesaw Mallet and Kalamexchange glances, andguessed at what passedbetween them. WhereverSorrywas,whenshereturnedto the fold there would be

some hard questions. AndTattersail now knew – withcertainty – that the girlbelongedtoShadow.'And that means,' Quick

Ben resumed blithely, 'thatwhoever interceded onParan'sbehalfisnowindirectoppositionwith theRealmofShadow.' His head turned,dark eyes fixing on thesorceress. 'We'll need toknow what Paran knows,

whenever he comes around.Only—''We won't be here,' Kalam

finished.'As if Hairlock wasn't

enough,' Tattersail muttered,'now you want me nursingthiscaptainofyours.'Quick Ben rose, brushing

the dust from his leatherleggings. 'Hairlock will begone for some time. Those

Hounds are stubborn. It maybe a while before he canshake them. Or, if the worstcomes to the worst,' thewizard grinned darkly, 'he'llturn on them and give theShadow Lord something tothinkabout.'Kalam said to Mallet,

'Gather upHedge.We've gottomove.'Quick Ben's last comment

left Tattersail cold. She

grimacedattheashentasteinher mouth, and watched insilenceas thesquadpreparedto leave.They had amissionahead of them, one thatwouldtakethemrightintotheheartofDarujhistan.Thatcitywas thenexton theEmpire'slist, the last Free City, thecontinent's lone gem worthyenough to covet. The squadwould infiltrate, prepare theway. They'd be entirely on

their own. In a strange way,Tattersail almost envied theisolation they were about toenter. Almost, but not quite.Shefearedtheywouldalldie.The Mason's Barrow

returned toher thoughtsas ifraised by her own fears. Itwas,sherealized,bigenoughtoholdthemall.With dawn a blade-thin

crimsonstreakat theirbacks,theBlackMoranth,crouchingon the high saddles of theirQuorl mounts, glittered likediamonds slick with blood.Whiskeyjack,Fiddlerand theHigh Fist watched the dozenfliersapproach.Overheadtherainhadlessened,andaroundthe nearby rooftops smudgesof grey mist sank down toscuffstoneandtile.'Where's your squad,

Sergeant?'Dujekasked.Whiskeyjack nodded at

Fiddler, who turned andheadedback to the trap-door.'They'llbehere,' the sergeantanswered.The sparkling, skin-thin

wings of the Quorl, four toeach creature, seemed to flipfor the briefest of moments,and as one the twelveMoranth descended towardstheturret'srooftop.Thesharp

whirring sound of the wingswaspunctuatedbytheclickedcommands of the Moranthriders as they called out toeach other. They swept overtheheadsofthetwomenwitha bare five feet to spare, andwithout ceremony landedbehindthem.Fiddler had disappeared

into the room below. Dujek,hishandonhiship,glaredatthe Moranth for a moment

before grumbling somethinginaudibleandmakinghiswaytothetrap-door.Whiskeyjack walked up to

thenearestMoranth.Ablackchitin visor covered thesoldier's face, and it turnedtowards thesergeant insilentregard.'Therewasoneamongyou,'Whiskeyjack said, 'one-handed. He was five timesmarked for valour. Does hestilllive?'

TheBlackMoranthdidnotreply.The sergeant shrugged and

turned his attention to theQuorls.Thoughhehadriddentheir backs before, theycontinued to fascinate him.The winged creaturesbalanced on four thin legsemerging from beneath thesaddles. They waited on therooftop with wings splayedoutandquiveringfastenough

to create a haze of waterdroplets suspended aroundthem. Their long, oddlysegmentedtailsjuttedstraightout behind them, multi-huedand twenty feet in length.Whiskeyjack's nostrilstwitched as the now familiaracrid scent reached him.Thenearest Quorl's enormous,wedge-shaped head wasdominated by faceted eyesand articulating mandibles.

Twoadditionallimbs–arms,he supposed – were tuckedunderneath. As he stared theQuorl's head swivelled untilits left eye faced himsquarely.The sergeant continued

staring, wondering what theQuorlwas seeing,wonderingwhat it was thinking – if itthought at all. Curious, hegavetheQuorlanod.The head cocked, then

turned away. Whiskeyjack'seyeswidenedtoseethetipofthe Quorl's tail curl upbriefly. It was the first timehehadseensuchamotion.The alliance between the

Moranth and the Empire hadchanged the face of Imperialwar.TheMalazantacticshereon Genabackis had twistedinto a new shape, oneincreasingly dependent ontransport by air of both

soldiers and supplies. Suchdependency was dangerous,as far as Whiskeyjack wasconcerned.Weknow so littleabouttheseMoranth–noonehas ever seen their cities inthe forest. 1 can't even telltheir sex.Most scholars heldthat they were true humans,buttherewasnowaytotell–the Moranth collected theirown dead from thebattlefields. There would be

trouble in the Empire if theMoranth ever exercised athirst for power. From whathe had heard, however, thevarious colour factionsamongthemmarkedanever-changing hierarchy, and therivalry and competitionremainedatafanaticalpitch.High Fist Dujek marched

back to Whiskeyjack's side,his hard expression softenedslightlywith relief. From the

trap-door, voices rose inargument. 'They've arrived,'Dujeksaid. 'Givingyournewrecruit an earful aboutsomething–anddon'ttellmewhat because I don'twant toknow.'Whiskeyjack's momentary

relief was shattered by whatheonlynowrealizedwasthesecret hope that Sorry haddeserted. So his men hadfoundherafterall,orshehad

found them. Either way, hisveteransdidnotsoundhappytoseeher.Hecouldn'tblamethem. Had she tried to killParan?Thatseemedtobethesuspicion of Quick Ben andKalam.Kalam was doing most of

the bellowing, putting moreinto his role as corporal thanwas warranted, and Dujek'ssearching glance atWhiskeyjack was enough to

push him towards the trap-door. He came to the edgeand glared down into theroom below. Everyone wasthere,standinginamenacingcircle around Sorry, wholeanedagainsttheladderasifbored by the wholeproceedings.'Quiet!'Whiskeyjackroared

down. 'Check your suppliesand get up here, now!' Hewatched them scamper, then

gave a satisfied nod andreturned to where the HighFistwaited.Dujek was rubbing the

stump of his left arm,frowning distractedly. 'Damnthisweather,'hemuttered.'Mallet could ease that,'

Whiskeyjacksaid.'Not necessary,' Dujek

replied. 'I'm just getting old.'He scratched his jaw. 'All of

your heavy supplies havebeen delivered to the droppoint. Ready to fly,Sergeant?'Whiskeyjack eyed the

ridged second saddles on theQuorl where they rose up atthe back of the thorax likecowls,thennoddedsharply.Theywatched as the squad

members emerged from thesquare doorway, eachwearing a raincape and

burdenedwith a heavy pack.Fiddler and Hedge wereengaged in a whisperingargument, the latter casting aglare back at Trotts who'dtrodden on his heel. TheBarghast had attached hisentire collection of charms,trinkets and trophies tovarious parts of his burlybody,lookinglikeabedeckedleadwood tree during theKaneseFeteoftheScorpions.

Barghast were known fortheir odd sense of humour.Quick Ben and Kalamflanked Sorry, both mengloweringandonedge,whileSorry, ignoring everyone,slowly made her way to thewaiting Quorls. Her satchelwasnobigger thanabedroll,and the raincape she worewas more like a cloak – notstandard issue – reachingdown to her ankles. She'd

raised the hood. Despite thedawn's burgeoning light herface remained in shadow.This is all I have left.Whiskeyjacksighed.Dujek asked quietly, 'How

isshedoing,Sergeant?''Still breathing,'

Whiskeyjackrepliedstonily.TheHighFistslowlyshook

his head. 'So damn youngthesedays...'

A memory returned toWhiskeyjackasheconsideredDujek's words. On a briefattachment to the 5th, awayfrom thesiegeatPale, in themidst of theMottCampaign,Sorry had joined them fromthe new troops arriving atNathilog. He'd watched herput a knife to three localmercenaries they'd takenprisoner in Greydog –ostensibly to glean

information but, he recalledwith a shudder, it had beennothing like that. Not an actof expedience.Hehad staredaghast,horrified,asSorrysetto work on their loins. HerememberedmeetingKalam'sgaze, and the desperategesture that sent the blackman surging forward, knivesbared.KalamhadpushedpastSorry and with three quickmotions had laid open the

men'sthroats.Andthencamethe moment that still twistedWhiskeyjack's heart. In theirlast, frothing words, themercenaries had blessedKalam.Sorry had merely sheathed

her weapon, then walkedaway.Though the woman had

been with the squad for twoyears,stillhismencalledhera recruit, and they would

probably do so until the daythey died. There was ameaning there, andWhiskeyjack understood itwell. Recruits were notBridge-burners.Thestrippingaway of that label was anearned thing, a recognitionbrought by deeds. Sorry wasa recruit because the thoughtof having her inextricablyenfolded within theBridgeburners burned like a

hot knife in the throat ofeveryone in his squad. Andthat was something to whichthe sergeant himself was notimmune.As all of this flashed

through Whiskeyjack'sthoughts, his usuallyimpassive expression failedhim. In his head, he replied:Young? No, you can forgivethe young, you can answertheir simple needs, and you

can look in their eyes andfind enough there that isrecognizable. But her? No.Best to avoid those eyes, inwhich therewas nothing thatwasyoung–nothingatall.'Let's get you moving,'

Dujek growled. 'Mounteveryone up.' The High Fistturnedtosayafewlastwordsto the sergeant, but what hesaw in Whiskeyjack's facekilled those words in his

throat.Two muted thunderclapssoundedinthecityastheeastspread its crimson cloakskyward, the first reportfollowed scant minutes laterbythesecond.Thelastofthenight's tears churned downgunnels and swirled alongstreetgutters.Muddypuddlesfilled potholes, reflecting thethinning clouds overhead

with an opaque cast. Amongthe narrow crooked alleys ofPale'sKraelQuarter,thechilland damp of the night clungto the dark spaces withtenacity. Here, the mould-laden bricks and worncobbles had swallowed thesecond thunderclap, leavingno echo to challenge thepatterofwaterdroplets.Down one aisle, winding

south along the outer wall,

loped a dog the size of amule. Its massive head wasslunglowforwardinfrontofthe broad, bunched musclesof its shoulders. That it hadseenanightwithoutrainwasmarked by its dusty, dry,mottled grey and black fur.The animal's muzzle wasspeckled with grey, and itseyesglowedamber.The Hound, marked

Seventh among

Shadowthrone's servants andcalled Gear, hunted. Thequarry was elusive, cunning,and swift in its flight. YetGearfeltclose.Heknewthatitwasnohumanhetracked–no mortal man or womancould have escaped his jawsfor so long. Even moreastonishing, Gear had yet tocatchaglimpseofthequarry.But it had trespassed, withimpunity it had entered the

Shadow Realm, trailingShadowthrone himself andstrumming all the websGear's lord had spun. Theonly answer to such anaffrontwasdeath.Soon, the Hound knew, he

wouldbethehuntedone,andif those hunters came innumbersandinstrengthGearwould be hard pressed tocontinue his search. Therewere those within the city

who had felt the savagepartings of the fabric. Andless than a minute afterpassing through theWarren'sgate Gear's hackles hadstiffened, telling him ofnearby magic's burgeoning.Thus far the Hound hadeluded detection, but thatwouldnotlast.He moved silent and

cautiously through the mazeof shanties and lean-tos

crouching against the citywall, ignoring the occasionaldenizencomeout totaste thedawn's rain-cleansed air. Hestepped over the beggarssprawled in his path. Localdogsandrattersgavehimoneglance then slunk away, earsflattened and tail sweepingthemuddyground.AsGearroundedthecorner

of a sunken stone house themorning breeze brought his

head round. He paused, eyessearching down the streetopposite him. Mist driftedhere and there, and the firstcarts of the lesser merchantswere being pulled out byfigureswrappedwarmagainstthe chill – the Hound wasrunningoutoftime.Gear's eyes travelled down

the length of the street,focusing on a large, walledestate at the far end. Four

soldiers lounged before itsgate, watching passers-bywithlittleinterestandtalkingamong themselves. Gear'shead lifted, his study findinga shuttered window on theestate'ssecondfloor.Anticipation and pleasure

surged through the Hound.He had found the trail's end.Lowering his head again, hemoved, his gaze unwaveringonthefourguards.

The shift had ended. As thenewmarinesapproachedtheybothnoticedthatthegatewasunlocked,ajar.'What's this?' one asked,

eyeingthetwodrawnfacesofthesoldierswhostoodagainstthewall.'It'sbeenthatkindofnight,'

theelderresponded.'Thekindwhere you don't ask

questions.'The two new men

exchanged glances, then theonewhohadspokengavetheoldermananodandagrin.'Iknow the kind.Well, get on,then.Yourcotsarewaiting.'The older man shifted his

pike and seemed to sag. Hisgaze flicked to his partner,but the young man had hisattentiononsomethingupthestreet. 'I'd guess it's too late

now,' the older man said tothe newcomers, 'meaning itwon't happen and so it don'tmatter,butifawomanshowsup, a Bridgeburner, you lether through and keep youreyesonthewalls.''Look at that dog,' the

youngersoldiersaid.'Wehearyou,'saidthenew

man.'LifeintheSecond—''Look at that dog,' the

youngmarinerepeated.The others turned to look

up the street. The old guardstared, his eyes widening,then he hissed a curse andfumbled with his pike. Noneof the others managed eventhat much before the Houndwasuponthem.Sleepless, Tattersail lay flatonherbackonthebedinthe

outer room. Her exhaustionhad reached a point whereeven sleep eluded her so shestared at the ceiling, herthoughts wandering in adisordered reviewof thepastsevendays.Despiteherinitialanger at being embroiled inthe Bridgeburners' schemes,she had to acknowledge theexcitementshefelt.The desire to collect her

possessions and open a

Warren, away from theEmpire,awayfromHairlock'smadness and hunger, awayfrom the field of an endlesswar, now seemed an ancientone,bornofadesperationshenolongerfelt.But itwasmore than justa

renewed sense of humanitythat compelled her to stay tosee it through – theBridgeburners, after all, hadshown again and again that

they could take care of theirown affairs. No, she wantedto see Tayschrenn pulleddown. It was a truth thatfrightened her. Hunger forvengeancepoisoned the soul.And it was likely that shewould have to wait a longtime to seeTayschrenn's justdemise. She wondered if,havingfedon thatpoisonforsolong,shemightnotendupviewing the world with

Hairlock'sshiningbrightmadeyes.'Too much,' she muttered.

'Toomuchallatonce.'Asoundatthedoorstartled

her.Shesatup.'Oh,'shesaid,scowling,'you'vereturned.''Safe and sound,' Hairlock

said.'Sorrytodisappointyou,'Sail.' The marionette wavedonetiny,glovedhandandthedoor behind him closed, its

latchfallingintoplace.'Muchfeared, these Hounds ofShadow,' he said, saunteringinto the room's centre andpirouettingoncebeforesittingdown, legs splayed and armshanging limp. He sniggered.'But in the end nothingmorethan glorified mutts, stupidandslowandsniffingateverytree. Finding naught of slyHairlock.'Tattersail leaned back and

closed her eyes. 'Quick Benwas displeased by yoursloppiness.''Fool!' Hairlock spat. 'I

leave him to his watching, Ileave him convinced thatsuch knowledge has powerover me while I go where Ichoose.Heeagerlylaysclaimto commanding me, afoolishness I give him now,to make my vengeancesweeter.'

She had heard it all beforeandknewhewasworkingonher, seeking to weaken herresolve.Unfortunatelyhewassucceeding in part, for shefelt doubt. Maybe Hairlockwas telling the truth: maybeQuick Ben had already losthim,yetremainedignorantofthe fact. 'Keep yourvengeance for the man whostoleyour legsand thenyourbody,' Tattersail said drily.

'Tayschrennstillmocksyou.''He'll pay first!' Hairlock

shrieked. Then he huncheddown, gripping his sides.'One thing at a time,' hewhispered.Fromthecompoundbeyond

the window came the firstscreams.Tattersail bolted upright as

Hairlock shouted: 'Found! Imustn'tbeseen,woman!'

The marionette leaped tohis feet and scurried to hisbox against the far wall.'Destroy the Hound – you'veno choice!' Scrambling, heopened the box and climbedinside. The lid thudded intoplace and the nimbus of aprotectivespellsuffusedit.Tattersail stoodby thebed,

hesitating. Wood shatteredbelowandthebuildingshook.Men shrieked, weapons

clanged. The sorceresspushed herself upright, terrorseeping into her limbs likemoltenlead.DestroyaHoundof Shadow? Heavy thumpsrattled the window, as ofbodies being flung aside onthe floor below, then thethumps reached the foot ofthe stairs, and the screamingstopped.From thecompoundsheheardsoldiersshouting.TattersaildrewonherThyr

Warren.Powersweptintoherand pushed aside theparalysing fear. Shestraightened, all exhaustiongone,andswunghergazeonthedoor.Woodcreaked,thenthe timber panel explodedinwards, as if flung from acatapult, and was instantlybuffeted aside by Tattersail'smagical shield. The twinimpacts shattered it, flingingshards and splinters against

the ceiling and walls. Glassbroke behind her, thewindow's shutters springingopen.Anicywindroiledintotheroom.The Hound appeared, its

eyes yellow flames, themusclesof itshigh shoulderstaut, rippling under its skin.The creature's power sweptlike a wave over Tattersailand she drew a sharp breath.The Hound was old, older

than anything she had everencountered. It paused in thedoorway, sniffing the air,blooddrippingfromitsblacklips. Then its gaze fixed onthe iron-bound box againstthe wall to Tattersail's left.Thebeaststeppedforward.'No,'shesaid.The Hound froze. Its

massiveheadswungslowandmeasured to her, as if it wasnoticingherforthefirsttime.

Its lips peeled back to revealthe luminescent gleam ofcanines the lengthofaman'sthumb.Damnyou,Hairlock!Ineed

yourhelp!Please!Awhite strip flashedabove

the Hound's eyes as the lidssnappedback.Itcharged.Theattackwassoswiftthat

Tattersailwasunable to raiseher hands before the beast

was upon her, surgingthroughheroutermagicas ifit was no more than a briskwind.Herclosestdefences,alayering ofHighWards,metthe Hound's charge like astone wall. She felt cracksstreakoutwards,deepfissuresreaching through to her armsand chest with a snappingsound immediately replacedby spurting blood. This, andthe Hound's momentum,

flung her back through theair. The wards at her backcushionedtheblowasshehitthe wall beside the window.Mortar puffed into the airaroundher, and fragments ofcrushedbrickscatteredacrossthefloor.TheHoundhadfallentoits

knees. Shaking its head, itregaineditsfeet,snorted,thenattackedagain.Tattersail, her wits rocked

by the first charge, weaklyliftedoneblood-streakedarmbefore her face, unable to doanythingelse.As the Hound sprang into

the air, jaws open andreachingforherhead,awaveof grey light struck the beastin the side, throwing it intothe bed to Tattersail's right.Woodcrunched.Withagruntthe Hound was up again,wheeling this time to face

Hairlock, who stood perchedatop his box, glistening withsweat and arms raised. 'Oh,yes, Gear,' he shrilled. 'I'myourquarry!'Tattersail slumped, then

leaned to one side andvomited on the floor. AchaoticWarrenswirledintheroom,amiasma that churnedinto her like riotouspestilence. It radiated fromHairlock in visible pulses of

grainygreyshotthroughwithblack.The Hound eyed Hairlock,

itssidesheaving. Itwasas ifit was trying to dispel thewaves of power from itsbrain. A low growl rumbledin its chest – its first sound.Thewideheadsagged.Tattersail stared, then

understanding struck ahammer blow to her chest.'Hound!' she screamed. 'He's

reaching for your soul!Escape!Getoutofhere!'Thebeast'sgrowldeepened,

butitdidnotmove.None of the three noticed

thedoortotheinnerbedroomopeningoff to theleft,or thehaltingappearanceofCaptainParan, wrapped in thecolourless woollen blanketthatcoveredhimdowntohisankles. Pale and drawn, themanmoved forward, a blank

cast to his eyes, which werefixed on the Hound. As theinvisible battle of willscontinued between Gear andHairlock, Paran steppedcloser.The movement caught

Tattersail's eye. She openedhermouthtoshoutawarning,but Paran moved first. Theblanket parted to reveal alongsword, point flashingoutwardasheextendedintoa

full lunge. The sword sankintoGear'schest,evenas theman leaped back,withdrawing the lunge,twisting the weapon as hepulled it clear. A bellowthunderedfromGear's throat.The Hound staggered backinto the ruins of the bed,biting at the wound gushingbloodfromitsside.Hairlock screamed in rage

and jumped forward, closing

inonGear.Tattersail scythed one foot

into the puppet's path,flinging him against the farwall.Gear howled. A dark rift

opened around him with thesound of tearing burlap. Hewhirled and plunged into thedeepening shadow. The rentclosedandwasgone, leavingin itswakea ripplingofcoldair.

Astonished beyond herpain, Tattersail swung herattention to Captain Paranandthebloodiedswordinhishands. 'How?' she gasped.'Howcouldyouhavepiercedthe Hound's magic? Yoursword—'Thecaptainlookeddownat

it.'Justlucky,Isuppose.''Oponn!'Hairlockhissed,as

he regained his feet, andglared at Tattersail. 'Hood's

CurseontheFools!Andyou,woman, this I'll not forget.Youwillpay–Iswearit!'Tattersail looked away and

sighed. A smile touched herlips as words uttered earliernowreturnedwithnew,grimmeaning. 'You'll be too busystaying alive, Hairlock, tostart on me. You've givenShadowthrone something tothinkabout.Andyou'lllivetoregret his attention, puppet.

Denythatifyoudare.''I'm returning to my box,'

Hairlock said, scrambling.'Expect Tayschrenn here inminutes. You'll say nothing,Sorceress.' He clamberedinside. 'Nothing.' The lidslammedshut.Tattersail's smile

broadened, the taste of bloodinhermouth likeanomen,asilent, visible warning toHairlockof things to come–

a warning she knew hecouldn't see. That made thetastealmostsweet.She tried to move, but it

seemed thatachillhadcometoherlimbs.Withinhermindvisions floated, but walls ofdarkness closed in aroundthem before they couldregister. She felt herselffading.A man's voice spoke close

by, urgent. 'What do you

hear?'She frowned, trying to

concentrate.Thenshesmiled.'A spinning coin. I hear aspinningcoin.'

BOOKTWO

DARUJHISTAN

What windfall hasbrushedoursenses?This rockingthunderhead thatscrapedthe lake's placidwatersand spun a singleday'sshadowslike a wheel thatrolledusfromdawn to dusk,whilewe

tottered our tenderways...What windlasscrackles direwarnings?There in the gentleswellsthattosseda bobbing cork ourwaywith its finemagenta scentwaftinglike a panoply of

petalsthatmightbeashesintwilight'scrimsonsmear...

RumourBornFisher(b.?}

CHAPTERFIVE

Andifthismanseesyouinhisdreams,while you rock intheseason'sbroodingnight'neath a tree's stoutbranch,and your shadow ishoodedabove the knottedrope,

sowillthewindsofhispassingtwitch yourstiffenedlimbsinto somesemblance ofrunning...

RumourBornFisher(b.?)

907th Year in the ThirdMillennium

The Season of Fanderay intheyearoftheFiveTusksTwothousandyearssincethebirthofDarujhistan,thecityInhisdream the small roundman found himself leavingthe city of Darujhistanthrough Two Ox Gate as heheaded towards the settingsun. The tattered tails of hisfadedredwaistcoatflappedinhishaste.Hehadnoideahowfar he would have to walk.

Alreadyhisfeetached.There were miseries in the

world, and then there wasmisery. In times ofconscience he held theworld's concerns above hisown. Fortunately, hereflected, such times werefew,andthis,hetoldhimself,wasnotoneofthem.'Alas, thevery samedream

propels these many-toedimplements beneath these

wobbly knees.' He sighed.'Ever the same dream.' Andsoitwas.Hesawbeforehimthe sun riding the distanthilltop,acopperdiscthroughwoodsmoke haze. His feetcarriedhimdownthewindingdirt street of GadrobiShantytown, the shacks andhuts on either side crouchingin the gathering gloom. Oldmen wrapped in the dingyyellowragsofleperssquatted

overnearbycookfires,fallingsilent as hepassed.Similarlyclad women stood by themuddywell, pausing in theirendless dunking of cats – abemusing activity, itssymbolismlostonthemanashehurriedpast.He crossed Maiten River

bridge, passed through thedwindling Gadrobi Herdercamps, out on to the openroad flanked by vineyard

plantations.He lingeredhere,thinking of the wine thesesucculent grapes wouldproduce. But dreams carriedon with their ownmomentum, and the thoughtwas but fleeting in itspassage.He knew his mind was in

flight – fleeing the doomedcity at his back, fleeing thedark,broodingsmudgeintheskyabove it;butmostofall,

fleeing all that he knew andallthathewas.For some, the talent they

possessed found its channelthrough a toss ofknucklebones, the reading ofheat fractures in scapulae, orthe Fatid of the Deck ofDragons.ForKruppe,hehadno need of any suchaffectations. The power ofdivination was in his headand he could not deny it, no

matter how hard he tried.Within the walls of his skullrang the dirge of prophecy,and it echoed through hisbones.He muttered under his

breath. 'Of course this is adream, the flight of sleep.Perhaps, thinks Kruppe, hewill in truthescapethis time.None could call Kruppe afool, after all. Fat with slothand neglect, yes; inclined to

excesses, indeed, somewhatclumsywith a bowl of soup,mostcertainly.Butnotafool.Suchtimesareuponuswhenthewisemanmustchoose.Isit not wisdom to concludethat other lives are of lessimportance than one's own?Of course, very wise. Yes,Kruppeiswise.'He paused to catch his

breath. The hills and the sunbeforehimseemednocloser.

Such were dreams like thehastening of youth intoadulthood, a precipitouscourse one could never turnbackon–butwhomentionedyouth? Or one youth inparticular? 'Surely not wiseKruppe!Hismindwanders–Kruppe excuses the punmagnanimously – racked bythemiseryofhissoles,whichare tired, nay, half worn outfrom this reckless pace.

Blisters have alreadyappeared, no doubt. The footcries out for a warm, soapybalm. Its companion joins inthechorus.Ah!Suchalitany!Suchawailofdespair!Ceasecomplaining, dear wings offlight. How far is the sun,anyway? Just beyond thehills, Kruppe is certain. Nomore than that, surely. Yes,ascertainasanever-spinningcoin – but who spoke of

coins? Kruppe proclaims hisinnocence!'A breeze swept into his

dream, down from the northcarrying with it the smell ofrain.Kruppe began fasteninghis threadbare coat. He drewin his belly in an effort tosecure the last two buttons,but succeeded in claspingonly one. 'Even in sleep,' hegroaned, 'guilt makes itspoint.'

He blinked against thewind.'Rain?Buttheyearhasjustbegun!Doesitraininthespring? Kruppe has neverbefore concerned himselfwith such mundane matters.Perhapsthisscent isnomorethan the lake's own breath.Yes, indeed. The question issettled.' He squinted at thedark ridge of clouds aboveLakeAzur.'Must Kruppe run? Nay,

where is his pride? Hisdignity? Not once have theyshowntheirfacesinKruppe'sdreams.Istherenoshelteronyon road? Ah, Kruppe's feetare flailed,hissolesbloodiedshreds of throbbing flesh!What'sthis?'Upaheadwasacrossroads.

Abuildingsquattedona lowrise just beyond. Candlelightbled from its shutteredwindows.

Kruppe smiled. 'Of course,an inn. Far has the journeybeen, clear the need for aplace of rest and relaxationfor the weary traveller. Suchas Kruppe, wizenedadventurer with more than afew leagues under his belt,not to mention spanning it.'Hehurriedforward.A broad, bare-limbed tree

marked the crossroads. Fromone heavy branch something

long and wrapped in burlapswung creaking in the wind.Kruppe spared it but thebriefest glance. He came tothepathandbeganhisascent.'Ill judgement, pronounces

Kruppe. Inns for the dustyjourneyman should not sitatop hills. The curse ofclimbing is discovering howgreat the distance yet toclimb. A word to theproprietor shallbenecessary.

Once sweet ale has soothedthe throat, slabs of juicy redmeat and broiled yams easedthegullet,andclean,anointedbandages clothed the feet.Such repairs must takeprecedence over flaws inplanningsuchasKruppeseeshere.'His monologue fell away,

replaced by gasps as hestruggled up the path. WhenhearrivedatthedoorKruppe

wassowindedthathedidnoteven so much as look up,merely pushed against theweathered panel until itswung inward with a squealof rusty hinges. 'Alas!' hecried, pausing to brush thesleevesofhiscoat. 'A foamytankard for this ...' His voicediedashesurveyedthearrayofgrimyfacesturnedtohim.'Methinks the business ispoor,'hemumbled.Theplace

wasindeedaninn–orithadbeen,perhapsacenturypast.''Tis rain in the night air,' hesaid, to the half-dozenbeggars crouched around athicktallowcandlesetontheearthenfloor.Oneof the fellowsnodded.

'Wewill grant you audience,hapless one.' He waved at astraw mat. 'Be seated andentertainourpresence.'Kruppe raised an eyebrow.

'Kruppe is graced by yourinvitation,sire.'Hedippedhishead, then strode forward.'But,please,donotthinkheisbereftofcontributions to thishonoured gathering.' He satdown cross-legged, gruntingwith theeffort, and faced theone who had spoken. 'Hewould break bread with youall.' From a sleeve hewithdrew a small rye loaf.Abread knife appeared in his

otherhand.'KnowntofriendsandstrangersalikeisKruppe,the man now seated beforeyou. Inhabitant of yonglittering Darujhistan, themystic jewel of Genabackis,the juicy grape ripe forpicking.' He produced achunk of goat cheese andsmiled broadly at the facesbefore him. 'And this is hisdream.''So it is,' the beggars'

spokesman said, his linedface crinkling withamusement.'Iteverpleasesuswhenwetasteyourparticularflavour, Kruppe ofDarujhistan. And always arewe pleased at your travellingappetites.'Kruppe laid down the rye

loaf and cut slices. 'Kruppehas always considered youmere aspects of himself, ahalf-dozen Hungers among

many,as itwere.Yet, forallyour needs, you would urgewhatofyourmaster?Thatheturn back from his flight, ofcourse. That one's own skullis too worthy a chamber fordeception to reign – and yetKruppe assures you fromlongexperiencethatalldeceitisborn in themindand thereit is nurtured while virtuesstarve.'The spokesman accepted a

slice of bread and smiled.'Perhapswe are your virtues,then.'Kruppepaused tostudy the

cheeseinhishand.'AthoughtKruppe has not consideredbefore now, mingling withthe silent observation ofmould on this cheese. Butalas, the subject is in dangerofbeinglostwithinthemazeof such semantics. Nor canbeggars be choosers when it

comes to cheese. You havereturned once again, andKruppeknowswhy,ashehasalready explained withadmirableequanimity.''The Coin spins, Kruppe,

still spins.' The spokesman'sfacelostitshumour.Kruppe sighed. He handed

the chunk of goat cheese tothe man seated on his right.'Kruppehearsit,'heconcededwearily. 'He cannot help but

hear it. An endless ringingthatsingsinthehead.Andforall that Kruppe has seen, forall that he suspects to be, heis just Kruppe, a man whowould challenge the gods intheirowngame.''Perhaps we are your

Doubts,' the spokesman said,'which you have never beenafraid to face before, as youdonow.Yetevenweseektoturn you back, even we

demandthatyoustriveforthelifeofDarujhistan,forthelifeofyourmanyfriends,andforthelifeoftheyouthatwhosefeettheCoinshallfall.''It falls this very night,'

Kruppesaid.Thesixbeggarsnoddedatthis,thoughmostlythey remained intent on thebread and cheese. 'ShallKruppeacceptthischallenge,then?Whataregods,afterall,ifnottheperfectvictims?'He

smiled, raisinghis hands andfluttering his fingers. 'ForKruppe, whose sleight ofhand is matched only by hissleight of mind? Perfectvictimsofconfidence,claimsKruppe, ever blinded byarrogance, ever convinced ofinfallibility.Isitnotawonderthat they have survived thislong?'Thespokesmannoddedand

said, around a mouthful of

cheese, 'Perhapswe are yourGifts, then.Wastingaway,asitwere.''Possibly,' Kruppe said, his

eyesnarrowing.'Yetonlyoneofyouspeaks.'The beggar paused to

swallow,thenhelaughed,hiseyes dancing in thecandlelight. 'Perhaps theothers have yet to find theirvoice, Kruppe. They awaitonlytheirmaster'scommand.'

'My,' Kruppe sighed, as hepreparedtostand,'butKruppeisfullofsurprises.'The spokesman looked up.

'YoureturntoDarujhistan?''Ofcourse,'Kruppereplied,

gaining his feet with aheartfelt groan. 'He merelystepped out for a breath ofnight air, so much cleanerbeyond the city's crumblingwalls, don't you agree?Kruppe must needs exercise

to hone his alreadyprodigious skills. A walk inhissleep.Thisnight,'hesaid,hitching his thumbs in hisbelt, 'the Coin falls. Kruppemust take his place in thecentreofthings.Hereturnstohisbed,thenightstillyoung.'Hiseyes travelledamong thebeggars. All seemed to havegained weight, a healthyrobust colour to theirupturned faces. Kruppe

sighed with satisfaction. 'Ithas,pronouncesKruppe,beena pleasure, gentlemen. Nexttime,however,letussettleonaninnthatisnotonahilltop.Agreed?'Thespokesmansmiled.'Ah,

but, Kruppe, Gifts are noteasily attained, nor areVirtues,norareDoubtseasilyovercome, and Hungers areevertheimpetustoclimbing.'Kruppe's eyes narrowed on

theman.'Kruppeistoocleverbyfar,'hemuttered.He left their company and

shut the creaking door softlybehind him. Returning downthepathhecametothecross-roadsandstopped in frontofthe burlap-wrapped figureswinging from the branch.Kruppe planted his fists onhis hips and studied it. 'Iknow who you are,' he saidjovially. 'The final aspect of

Kruppe to complete thisdream's array of those facesfacing him which areKruppe's own. Or so youwould proclaim. You areHumility but, as everyoneknows,Humilityhasnoplacein Kruppe's life, rememberthat. So here you will stay.'With that hemovedhis gazeto the great city lighting theeastern sky blue and green.'Ah, thiswondrous fierygem

thatisDarujhistanishometoKruppe.And that,' he added,as he began towalk, 'is as itshouldbe.'From the wharf sprawledalong the shore of the lake,upward along the steppedtiersoftheGadrobiandDaruDistricts, among the templecomplexes and the HigherEstates, to the summit ofMajesty Hill where gathers

the city's Council, therooftops of Darujhistanpresented flat tops, archedgables,conedtowers,belfriesand platforms crowded insuch chaotic profusion as toleaveallbutthemajorstreetsforeverhiddenfromthesun.The torches marking the

more frequented alleywayswere hollow shafts thatgripped pumice stones withfingersofblackenediron.Fed

throughancientpittedcopperpipes, gas hissed balls offlame around the porousstones, an uneven fire thatcast a blue and green light.The gas was drawn fromgreatcavernsbeneaththecityand channelled by massivevalves.Attendingtheseworkswere the Greyfaces, silentmen andwomenwhomovedlike spectres beneath thecity'scobbledstreets.

For nine hundred years thebreathofgashad fedat leastone of the city's districts.Though pipes had beensundered by raging tenementfires and gouts of flamereachedhundredsof feet intothe sky, the Greyfaces hadheldon,twistingtheshacklesand driving their invisibledragontoitsknees.Beneaththerooftopswasan

underworld forever bathed in

a blue glow. Such lightmarked the major avenuesand the oft-frequented,narrow and crookedthoroughwaysofthemarkets.In the city, however, overtwenty thousand alleys,barelywideenoughforatwo-wheeled cart, remained inshadow broken only by theoccasional torch-bearingcitizenor theglobed lanternsoftheCityWatch.

By day the rooftops werebright and hot beneath thesun, crowded with thefluttering flags of domesticlife drying in the lake wind.Bynight, the stars andmoonilluminated a world webbedwith empty clothes-lines andthechaoticshadowstheycast.Onthisnightafigurewove

around the hemp ropes andthrough the faint shadows.Overhead, a sickle moon

sliced its way between thinclouds like a god's scimitar.The figure wore soot-stainedcloth wrapped snugly aboutits torso and limbs, and itsface was similarly hidden,leavingonlyspaceenoughforits eyes, which scanned thenearby rooftops. A blackleather harness criss-crossedthe figure's chest, bearingpockets and tight, stiff loopsholding tools of the trade:

coils of copper wire, ironfiles, three metal saws eachwrapped in oiled parchment,rootgumandasquaredlumpof tallow, a spool of fishingstring, a thin-bladed daggerand a throwing knife bothsheathed under the figure'sleft arm, pommels facingforward.The tips of the thief's

moccasinshadbeensoakedinpitch. As he crossed the flat

rooftophewascarefulnot tolower his full weight on histoes,leavingmostlyintactthehalf-inch strip of sticky tar.He came to the building'sedgeandlookeddown.Threeflights below crouched asmall garden, faintly lit byfour gas lamps set at eachcorner of a flagstoned patiothat encircled a fountain. Apurple glow clung to thefoliage encroaching on the

patio, and glimmered on thewater trickling down a seriesofstonetierstothefountain'sshallow pool. On a benchbeside the fountain sat aguard reclined in sleep, aspearacrosshisknees.The D'Arle estate was a

popular topic among thehighercirclesofDarujhistan'snobility, specifically for theeligibility of the family'syoungestdaughter.Manyhad

been the suitors, many thegiftsofgemsandbaublesthatnow resided in the youngmaiden'sbedroom.While such stories were

passedlikethesweetestbreadin the upper circles, few ofthe commonry paid attentionwhen the tales trickled downintotheircompany.Buttherewere those who listenedcarefully indeed, possessiveandmutewith their thoughts

yetoddlyeagerfordetails.His gaze on the dozing

house guard in the gardenbelow, the mind of CrokusYounghand picked its waycarefully throughspeculations of what was tocome.Thekey lay in findingout which room among theestate's score of chambersbelonged to the maiden.Crokus did not likeguesswork, but he'd found

that his thoughts, carriedalmost entirely on instinct,moved with their own logicwhen determining thesethings.Top floor most assuredly

for the youngest and fairestdaughter of theD'Arles.Andwith a balcony overlookingthegarden.Heturnedhisattentionfrom

the guard to the wallimmediately beneath him.

Three balconies, but onlyone,offtotheleft,wasonthethird floor. Crokus pulledback from the edge andslippedsilentlyalongtheroofuntil he judged he wasdirectly above the balcony,thenheapproachedagainandlookeddown.Ten feet, at the most. On

eithersideofthebalconyroseornately carved columns ofpainted wood. A half-moon

arch spanned them an arm'slength down, completing thefancy frame. With a finalglance at the house guard,who had not moved, andwhose spear did not seem indanger of clattering to theflagstones at any moment,Crokus slowly loweredhimselfdownthewall.His moccasins' pitch

gripped the eaves with snugassurance.Therewere plenty

of handholds, as the carverhad cut deep into thehardwood, and sun, rain andwindhadweatheredthepaint.He descended along one ofthe columns until his feettouched the balcony'shandrail where it abutted thewall. A moment later hecrouched on the glazed tilesin the shadow of a wrought-irontableandpillowedchair.Nolightleakedbetweenthe

shutters of the sliding door.Two soft steps brought himnext to it. A moment'sexamination identified thestyle of the latch's lock.Crokus withdrew a fine-toothed saw and set towork.Thesoundthetoolmadewasminimal, no more than theshivering of a locust's leg.Afine tool, rare and probablyexpensive. Crokus wasfortunate in having an uncle

who dabbled in alchemy andhad need of such magicallyhardened tools whenconstructing his bizarrecondensing and filteringmechanisms. Better yet, anabsent-mindedunclepronetomisplacingthings.Twenty minutes later the

saw's teeth snipped the lastrestraining bolt. He returnedthetooltohisharness,wipedthe sweat from his hands,

thennudgedthedooropen.Crokuspokedhishead into

theroom.Inthegreydimnesshesawalargefour-posterbeda few feet to his left, itsheadboard against the outerwall. Mosquito nettingdescended around it, endingin piled heaps on the floor.From within came the evenbreaths of someone deep insleep.Theroomwasredolentof expensive perfume,

somethingspicyandprobablyfromCallows.Immediately across from

himweretwodoors,oneajarand leading into a bathingchamber; the other aformidable barrier of bandedoak sporting an enormouslock. Against the wall to hisrightstoodaclothescupboardand a makeup stand overwhich stood three polishedsilver mirrors hinged

together.Thecentreone roseflush on the wall, the outertwoangledontothetabletopto provide an infinity ofadmiringvisages.Crokusturnedsidewaysand

edgedintotheroom.Heroseslowly and stretched,relieving his muscles of thetensionthathadheldthemforthepast half-hour.He swunghisgazetothemakeupstand,thentiptoedtowardsit.

The D'Arle estate was thirdfrom the summit of OldK'rul's Avenue, whichclimbed the first of the innercity's hills to a circular courttangled with weeds andirregular, half-burieddolmens. Opposite the courtroseK'rulTemple,itsancientstones latticed with cracksandentombedinmoss.The last monk of the

Eldering God had diedgenerations past. The squarebelfry that rose from thetemple's inner court borearchitectural stylings of apeople long dead. Four rosemarble posts marked thecorners of the high platform,still holding aloft a peakedroof with sides that werescaled in green-stainedbronzetiles.The belfry overlooked a

dozen flat roofs, of housesthat belonged to gentry. Onesuch structure crowded closetooneof the temple's rough-hewn walls, and across itsrooflaytheheavyshadowofthe tower. On this roofcrouched an assassin withbloodonhishands.Talo Krafar of Jurig

Denatte'sClandrewbreathinhissing gasps. Sweat trickledmuddystreaksdownhisbrow

and droplets fell from hisbroad,crookednose.Hisdarkeyes were wide as he stareddown at his hands, for theblood staining them was hisown.His mission this night had

been as a Roamer, patrollingthe city's rooftops which,except for the occasionalthief,were theassassins' soledomain, themeans bywhichthey travelled thecity for the

most part undetected. Therooftopsprovidedtheirrouteson missions of unsanctionedpolitical ... activities or thecontinuation of a feudbetween two Houses, or thepunishment for betrayal. TheCouncil ruled by day underpublic scrutiny; the Guildruled by night, unseen,leaving no witnesses. It hadalways been this way, sinceDarujhistan first rose on the

shoresofLakeAzur.Talo had been crossing an

innocuous rooftop when acrossbowquarrelhaddrivenahammer blow to his leftshoulder. He was flungforward by the concussion,andforanunknownlengthoftime stared dumbfounded atthe cloud-wreathed skyoverhead, wondering whathad happened. Finally, asnumbnessslowlygavewayto

agony, he twisted on to hisside. The quarrel had goneentirelythroughhim.Itlayonthe tarred tiles a few feetaway.He rolled until hewasbesidethebloodiedbolt.One glance had been

enough to confirm that thiswas no thief's quarrel. It hadcomefromaheavyweapon–anassassin'sweapon.As thisfact worked its way throughtheconfusedjumbleofTalo's

thoughts,hedrewhimselfupto his knees, and then to hisfeet.Anunsteadyjogbroughthimtothebuilding'sedge.Blood streamed from the

woundasheclimbeddowntothe unlit alley below. Hismoccasins resting finally onthe slick, rubbish-litteredcobblestones, he paused,forcing clarity into his head.An assassin war had begunthis night. But which Clan

Leader was fool enough tobelieveheorshecouldusurpVorcan's mastery of theGuild?Inanycase,hewouldreturn to his clan's nest, ifpossible. With this in mind,hebegantorun.He had dashed into the

shadows of his third alleywhen ice trickled down hisspine. Breath catching, Talofroze.Thesensationcreepingover him was unmistakable,

as certain as instinct: hewasbeing stalked. He glanceddown at the blood-soakedfrontofhisshirtandrealizedthat there was no hope ofoutrunning his hunter. Nodoubt his stalker had seenhim enter the alley and evennow had a crossbow trainedonitsmouthatthefarend.Atleast, that ishowTalowouldplayit.He'dhave to turn thegame

round,setatrap.Andforthathe'd need the rooftops. Taloturned back to the alley-mouthhehadjustenteredandstudied the nearby buildings.Two streets to his rightsquatted the K'rul Temple.His gaze fixed on the darkedifice that was the belfry.There.Theclimb lefthimclose to

unconsciousness,andhenowcrouched in the belfry's

shadow one building awayfrom the temple. Hisexertions had pumped bloodfrom his shoulder inhorrifying volume.He'd seenblood before, of course, butnever somuch of his own atone time. He wondered forthe first time seriously if hewould die. A numbnessspread in his arms and legs,and he knew if he remainedwhere he was any longer he

might never leave. With asoft grunt he pushed himselfupright. The jump down tothe temple roof was only amatterofafewyards,buttheimpact jarred him to hisknees.Gasping, Talo drove

thoughts of failure from hismind.Allthatwasleftwastoclimbdownthetemple'sinnerwalltothecourt,thenascendthe belfry's spiral staircase.

Twotasks.Twosimpletasks.And, oncewithin thebelfry'sshadows, he could commandeverynearbyrooftop.Andthestalker would come to him.Talopausedtocheckhisowncrossbow, which wasstrapped to his back, and thethreequarrelssheathedonhisleftthigh.Heglared into thedarkness

around him. 'Whoever youare, you bastard,' he

whispered,'Iwantyou.'He began to crawl across

thetempleroof.The lock on the jewel boxhad proved simple to pick.Tenminutesafterenteringtheroom Crokus had swept itclean.Asmallfortune'sworthof gold, gem- and pearl-studded jewellery nowresidedinasmallleatherbag

tiedtohisbelt.He squatted by the

dressing-tableandheldinhishandshisfinalprize.This,I'llkeep. The item was a sky-blue silk turban with gold-braided tassels, no doubtintended for the upcomingFête. He ended his longminute of admiration, tuckedtheturbanunderanarm,thenrose.Hisgazelingeredonthebed across from him, and he

movedcloser.The netting obscured the

formhalfburiedbeneathsoftblankets. Another stepbroughthimtothebedframe'sedge. From the waist up thegirl was naked. Anembarrassedflushrose in thethief's cheeks, but he did notlookaway.QueenofDreams,butshe'slovely!Atseventeenyearsofage,Crokushadseenenough whores and dancers

not to tremble agape at awoman's exposed virtues;even still his gaze lingered.Then, grimacing, he headedback to the balcony door. Amoment laterhewasoutside.Hedrewadeepbreathof thecool night air to clear hishead. In the blanket ofdarkness overhead a handfulof stars shone sufficientlybright to pierce the gauze ofclouds. Not clouds, but

smoke, drifting across thelakefromthenorth.Thewordof Pale's fall to the MalazanEmpire had been on thetongues of everyone for thepasttwodays.Andwe'renext.Hisunclehadtoldhimthat

the Council still franticallyproclaimed neutrality,desperate in their efforts toseparate the city from thenow destroyed Free Cities

alliance. But the Malazansdidn't seem to be listening.Andwhy should they? UncleMammot had asked.Darujhistan's army is acontemptiblehandfulofnoblesonswhodonothingbutstrutback and forth on WhoreStreet,grippingtheirjewelledswords...Crokus climbed to the

estate's roof and paddedsilently across its tiles.

Another house, of equalheight, was before him, itsflat top less than six feetaway.Thethiefpausedattheedgeand lookeddown to thealleythirtyfeetbelow,seeingonlyapoolofdarkness, thenhe jumped to land softly onthenextroof.Hebegantocrossit.Offto

his left rose the starksilhouette of K'rul's belfrytower,gnarledlikeabonyfist

thrust into the night sky.Crokus brought one handdown to the leather bag tiedto his belt, probing with hisfingers the knot and thecondition of the drawstrings.Satisfied that all was secure,hechecked the turban tuckedbeneathastrapofhisharness.All was well. He continuedhis soundless way across therooftop. A fine night indeed.Crokussmiledtohimself.

TaloKrafar opened his eyes.Dazedanduncomprehending,he stared about himself.Where was he? Why did hefeel so weak? Then memoryreturned, andagroan slippedfromhislips.Hehadblackedout, leaning here against thismarble pillar. But what hadawoken him? Stiffening, theassassinpushedhimselfuponthedustycolumnandscanned

the rooftopsbelow.There!Afigure moved across the flattop of a building less thatfiftyfeetaway.Now,youbastard.Now.He

raised his crossbow,anchoring one elbow againstthe pillar. He had alreadycockedhisweapon,thoughhehad no memory of havingdoneso.Atthisdistancetherewasnochanceofmissing.Inseconds his stalker would be

dead.Talobaredhisteethandtookcarefulaim.Crokus was half-way acrossthe rooftop, onehand tracingthe silk finery of the turbansnug over his heart, when acoin clattered loudly at hisfeet.Instinctivelyhepounceddown and trapped it beneathbothhands.Somethinghissedthrough the air immediatelyabovehishead,andhelooked

up, startled, then duckedagain as a ceramic tileshatteredtwentyfeetaway.He moaned with sudden

realization. As he clamberedto his feet one hand absentlycollected thecoinand tuckeditunderhisbelt.Talo cursed in disbelief. Helowered the crossbow andstared down at the figure,

dumbfounded, until hisinstinct for danger asserteditselfonelast time.Whirling,he caught a blurred glimpseof a cloaked figure standingbeforehim,armsraised.Thenthe arms flashed down andtwo long, grooved daggersslid intoTalo's chest.With afinal baffled grunt, theassassindied.A grating sound reached

Crokus's ears and he spun tofacethebelfry.Ablackshapetumbled from between thepillars and landed with athump fifteen feet away.Moments later a crossbowclanged down beside it.Crokus looked up to see asilhouetteframedbetweenthepillars, glittering long-bladedknives in its hands. Thefigure seemed to be studyinghim.

'Oh, Mowri,' the thiefprayed,thenturnedandran.IntheK'rulbelfrythekiller'soddly shaped eyes watchedthethiefscampertowardstherooftop's far side. With aslight lifting of its head thekiller sniffed the air, thenfrowned. A burst of powerhad just frayed the fabric ofnight, like a finger pokingthrough rotted cloth. And,

through the rent, somethinghadcome.The thief reached the far

edgeanddisappearedover it.The killer hissed a spell in alanguageolderthanthebelfryand the temple, a languagethathadnotbeenheardinthisland for millennia, thensprang from the tower.Enwreathed in magic, thekiller'sdescent to the rooftopbelow was slow, controlled.

The landing came as a lightbrushonthetiles.A second figure appeared,

its cloak spread like a blackwing, from the abovedarkness to join the first.Thenathird,alsodescendingin silence, landed on therooftop. They spoke briefly.The last to arrivemuttered acommand, then moved off.The remaining twoexchanged a few last words,

thensetoutonthethief'strail,the second one preparing itscrossbow.Ten minutes later Crokusleanedagainsttheslopedroofof a merchant's house toregain his breath. He'd seennoone,heardnothing.Eitherthekillerhadn'tpursuedorhehadmanaged to losehim.Orher. In hismind returned hissingle vision of the figure as

it stood in the belfry. No,unlikely that it could be awoman–tootall,perhapssixandahalffeet,andthin.A tremor ran through the

young thief. What had hestumbledon?Anassassinhadalmost skewered him, andthen had himself beenmurdered.AGuildwar?Ifso,it made the rooftops a riskyplacetobe.Warily, Crokus rose and

lookedabouthim.Atilefurtheralongtheroof

clattered down the slopedside. Crokus whirled to seethe killer dashing towardshim. One look at the twodaggersflashingintheairandthe thief darted to the roof'sedge and leaped out intodarkness.The building across from

him was too distant, butCrokushadchosenhisresting

placeonfamiliarterritory.Ashe fell into the shadows hereached out grasping hands.The guidewire caught hisarms near the elbows and hescrambled frantically for asecure grip, then hungdangling twenty feet abovethealley.While most of the clothes-

lines spanning the city'sstreets were just thin,unreliablehemp,amongthem

were wrapped wires. Placedby thieves generations pastthey were securely bolted tothe walls. By day MonkeyRoad,asthethievescalledit,looked no different from anyother line, festooned withundergarments and sheets.With the sun's setting,however, came its truepurpose.With hands burned raw

Crokus made his way along

thewiretowardsthefarwall.Hechancedtoglanceupthen,andfroze.On theroof'sedgebefore him stood a secondhunter, taking careful aimwith a heavy, antiquecrossbow.Crokusletgoofthewire.A

quarrel whizzed directlyabove his head as he fell.From behind and below awindow shattered. His dropwascutshortbythefirstofa

series of clothes-lines,tugging his limbs andtwitching him about beforesnapping.Afterwhat seemedaneternityofbone-wrenchingjerks and the whip of cordslicing through his clothesand flaying his skin, Crokusstruck the alley'scobblestones, straight-leggedand leaning far forward. Hisknees buckled. He dipped ashoulder enough to earn a

slightly cushioned roll,brought up short when hisheadstruckawall.Dazed and groaning,

Crokus pushed himselfupright. He looked up.Through vision blurred withpain he saw a figuredescending in seeming slow-motion immediatelyoverhead. The thief's eyeswidened.Sorcery!He turned and staggered

dizzily before managing alimping run down thealleyway. He reached thecorner and, briefly lit bygaslight, hurried across awide street then entered themouthofanotheralley.Oncein its shadow, Crokusstopped.Cautiously,hepokedhis head out from the wall'sedge for a look. A quarrelstruck the brick beside hisface.Hejumpedbackintothe

alley,spunandsprinted.Above him Crokus heard

the flapping of a cloak. Aburning spasm in his left hipmade him stumble. Anotherquarrel whipped past hisshoulder and skidded on thecobblestones. The spasmpassed as quickly as it hadcome and he staggered on.Ahead, at the alley-mouth,was the lit doorway of atenement.An oldwoman sat

on the stonestepspuffingona pipe. Her eyes glittered asshe watched the thiefapproach. As Crokusbounded past her and up thesteps she rapped the pipeagainst the sole of her shoe.Sparks rained on to thecobbles.Crokus pushed open the

door and plunged inside. Hepaused. A narrow, poorly lithallway was before him, a

staircase crowded withchildren at the far end. Hiseyes on the stairs, he joggedup the hall. From thecurtained doorways on eitherside came a cacophony ofnoise: voices raised inargument,wailingbabies, theclatterofcookware.'Don't you people ever

sleep?' Crokus shouted as heran.Thechildrenonthestairsscamperedoutofhiswayand

hetookthewarpedstepstwoatatime.Onthetopfloorhestopped at a door a third ofthe way down the hall, thisone solid oak. He pushed itopen and entered the roomwithin.Anoldmansittingbehinda

massive desk looked upbriefly from his work, thenresumedhisfranticscrawlonasheetofcrinkledparchment.'Evening, Crokus,' he said

distractedly.'Andtoyou,Uncle,'Crokus

gasped.On Uncle Mammot's

shoulder squatted a smallwinged monkey, whoseglittering, half-mad gazefollowed the young thief'sdart across the room to thewindow opposite the door.Flinging open the shuttersCrokus climbed up on to thesill. Below was a squalid,

overgrowngardenmostlylostin shadows. A lone, gnarledtreeroseupward.Heeyedthebranches across from him,then gripped the window-frame and leaned back. Hedrew a deep breath, thenpropelledhimselfforward.As he passed through the

intervening gap he heard asurprised grunt come fromdirectly above, then a wildscratching against stone. An

instant latersomeonecrasheddown into the garden below.Cats shrieked and a voicegroaned out a single painedcurse.Crokus clung to a bowing

branch. He timed eachbounce of the resilient woodthen extendedhis legs as thebranch pulled him up. Hismoccasins landed on awindow-sill and held.Grunting, he swung himself

on to it and let go of thebranch. He punched at thewoodenshutters.Theyspranginward and Crokus followedhead first, down on to thefloorandrollingtohisfeet.He heard movement from

another room in theapartment. Scrambling to hisfeet,heboltedforthehallwaydoor, flung it open andslipped out just as a hoarsevoice shouted a curse behind

him.Crokusrantothefarendofthepassage,wherealadderledtoahatchontheceiling.Soon he was on the roof.

He crouched in the darknessand tried to catch his breath.The burning sensationreturned to his hip. He musthave damaged something inhis fall from the guidewire.Hereacheddowntomassagethespotandfoundhisfingerspressing something hard,

round and hot. The coin!Crokusreachedforit.Justthenheheardasudden

whistlingsound,andchipsofstonespatteredhim.Ducking,he saw a quarrel, its shaftsplit by the impact, bounceonce on the rooftop thenplummet over the edge,spinningwildly.Asoftmoanescaped his lips and hescrambled across the roof tothefarside.Withoutpausehe

jumped. Ten feet down wasan awning, sagged andstretched out of shape, onwhich he landed. The ironspars framing the canvasdippedbutheld.Fromthereitwas a quick climb down tothestreet.Crokus jogged to the

corner,whereanoldbuildingsquatted with yellow lightbleeding through dirtywindows. A wooden sign

hungabove thedoor,bearingthe faded image of a birddead on its back, feet juttingupward.Thethiefboundedupthestepsandpushedopenthedoor.A rush of light and noise

washed over him like balm.He slammed the door behindhimandleanedagainstit.Heclosed his eyes, pulling thedisguisingclothfromhisfaceandhead,revealingshoulder-

length black hair – nowdripping with sweat – andregular features surroundinglightblueeyes.As he reached up to wipe

his brow a mug was pushedintohishand.CrokusopenedhiseyestoseeSultyhurryby,carrying on one hand a trayloaded with pewter tankards.She glanced at him over hershoulderandgrinned. 'Roughnight,Crokus?'

He stared at her, then said,'No, nothing special.' Heraisedthemugtohislipsanddrankdeep.Across the street from theramshackle Phoenix Inn, ahunterstoodattheroof'sedgeand studied the door throughwhich the thief had justpassed. The crossbow laycradledinitsarms.

The second hunter arrived,sheathing two long-knives asitcamealongsidethefirst.'Whathappenedtoyou?'the

first hunter asked quietly, initsnativetongue.'Had an argument with a

cat.'The two were silent for a

moment, then the firsthuntersighed worriedly. 'All in all,tooawrytobenatural.'

The other agreed. 'You feltthepartingtoo,then.''An Ascendant ... meddled.

Too cautious to show itselffully,however.''Unfortunate.It'sbeenyears

since I last killed anAscendant.'They began to check their

weapons. The first hunterloaded the crossbow andslipped four extra quarrels in

its belt. The second hunterremoved each long-knife andcleaned it carefully of sweatandgrime.They heard someone

approach from behind, andturned to see theircommander.'He's intheinn,' thesecond

huntersaid.'We'llleavenowitnessesto

this secret war with the

Guild,'thefirstadded.The commander glanced at

the door of the Phoenix Inn.Then,tothehunters,shesaid,'No.Thewaggingtongueofawitnessmightbeusefultoourefforts.''Therunthadhelp,'thefirst

huntersaidmeaningfully.The commander shook her

head.'Wereturntothefold.''Verywell.'

The two hunters put awaytheir weapons. The firstglanced back at the inn andasked, 'Who protected him,doyouthink?'The second hunter snarled.

'Someone with a sense ofhumour.'

CHAPTERSIX

There is a cabalbreathingdeeper than thebellowsdrawing up theemeraldfiresbeneath rain-glistenedcobbles,whileyoumayhearthegroaningfrom the caverns

below,the whisper ofsorceryis less than thedyingsighofa thiefstumblingunwillinginto Darujhistan'ssecretweb...

Cabal(fragment)Puddle(b.1122?)

The splayed tip of her rightwing brushed the scarred

black rock as Crone climbedthe whistling updraughts ofMoon's Spawn. From thepocked caves and starlitledges her restless brothersandsisterscalledouttoherasshepassed. 'Dowe fly?' theyasked. But Crone made noreply. Her glittering blackeyes were fixed on heaven'svault. Her enormous wingsbeat a thundering refrain oftaut, unrelenting power. She

had no time for the nervouscackling of the younglings;no time for answering theirsimplistic needs with thewisdomherthousandyearsoflifehadearnedher.This night, Crone flew for

herlord.As she rose above the

shatteredpeaksoftheMoon'screst a high wind swept herwings, rasping dry and coldalong her oily feathers.

Around her, thin wisps ofshredded smoke rode thecurrents of night air like lostspirits. Crone circled once,her sharp gaze catching theglimmerofthefewremainingfires among the crags below,then she dipped a wing andsailed out on the wind's tideasitrollednorthwardtoLakeAzur.The featureless expanse of

the Dwelling Plain was

beneath her, the grasssweeping in grey wavesunbroken by house or hill.Directly ahead lay theglittering jewelled cloak thatwasDarujhistan, casting intothe sky a sapphire glow. Asshe neared the city herunnaturally acute visiondetected, here and thereamong the estates crowdingtheuppertier,theaquamarineemanationofsorcery.

Cronecackledaloud.Magicwas ambrosia to GreatRavens. Theywere drawn toit by the scent of blood andpower, and within its auratheirlifespanslengthenedintocenturies. Itsmusk had othereffectsaswell.Cronecackledagain.Hergaze fixedononeparticular estate, aroundwhich glowed a profusion ofprotective sorcery. Her lordhad imparted to her a

thorough description of themagical signature she mustfind, and now she had foundit. Crooking her wings, shesank gracefully towards theestate.

InlandfromGadrobiDistrict'sharbour the land rose in fourtiers climbing eastward.Ramped cobblestone streets,worn to a polished mosaic,marked Gadrobi District's

Trade Streets, five in all,which were the only routesthrough Marsh District andinto the next tier, LakefrontDistrict. Beyond Lakefront'scrookedaislestwelvewoodengates opened on to DaruDistrict, and from Daruanother twelve gates – theseones manned by the CityWatch and barred by ironportcullis – connected theloweranduppercities.

On the fourth and highesttier brooded the estates ofDarujhistan's nobility aswellas its publicly knownsorcerers. At the intersectionofOldKing'sWalkandViewStreet rose a flat-topped hillon which sat Majesty Hall,where each day the Councilgathered. A narrow parkencircled the hill, with sand-strewn pathways windingamong centuries-old acacias.

At the park's entrance, nearHigh Gallows Hill, stood amassive rough-hewn stonegate, the last-survivingremnant of the castle thatonce commanded MajestyHill.Thedaysofkingshadlong

since ended in Darujhistan.The gate, known as Despot'sBarbican, stood stark andunadorned, its lattice ofcracks a fading script ofpast

tyranny.In the shadow of the

Barbican's single massivelintel stone stood two men.One, his shoulder against thepitted rock, wore a ringedhauberk and a boiled leathercap bearing the City Watchinsignia. Scabbarded to hisbelt was a plain shortsword,its grip of wrapped leatherworn smooth. A pike leanedagainstoneshoulder.Hewas

nearing the end of hismidnight guard duty andpatiently awaited the arrivalof the man who wouldofficially relieve him. Theguard's eyes flicked onoccasion to the second man,withwhomhehadsharedthisplace many another nightover the past year. Theglances he cast at the well-dressed gentleman weresurreptitious, empty of

expression.As with every other time

CouncilmanTurbanOrrcameto the gate at this dead hourof night, the nobleman hadscarcely deemed the guardworthy of notice; nor had heever given an indication thathe recognized the guard asbeing the same man eachtime.Turban Orr seemed a man

short on patience, forever

pacing and fretting, pausingeverynowand then toadjusthis jewelled burgundy cloak.The councilman's polishedboots clicked as he paced,throwing a soft echo underthe Barbican. From theshadow the guard's gazecaught Orr's gloved handwhere it rested on the silverpommel of a duelling sword,noting the index fingertapping in timewith theboot

clicks.At the early part of his

watch,longbeforethearrivalof the councilman, the guardwould walk slowly aroundtheBarbican,reachingoutonoccasiontotouchtheancient,grim stonework. Six years'worth of night watch at thisgate had bred a closerelationshipbetween themanand the rough-cut basalt: heknew every crack, every

chisel scar; he knew wherethe fittings had weakened,where time and the elementshad squeezed mortar frombetween the stones thengnawed it to dust. And healso knew that its apparentweaknesses were but adeception.TheBarbican, andall it stood for, patientlywaited still, a spectre of thepast, hungry to be born yetagain.

And that, the guard hadlong ago vowed, he wouldneverletitdo–ifsuchthingswere within his power.Despot's Barbican providedthemanwitheveryreasonheneeded to be what he was:CircleBreaker,aspy.Bothheandthecouncilman

awaited the arrival of theother; the one who neverfailed to appear. Turban Orrwould growl his usual

complaint, disgusted withtardiness; then he wouldgrasptheother'sarmandtheywould walk side by sidebeneath the Barbican'sbrooding lintel stone. And,witheyeslongaccustomedtodarkness, the guard wouldmarktheother'sface,burningit indelibly in the superbmemory hidden behindexpressionless, unmemorablefeatures.

BythetimethetwoCouncilmembers returned from theirwalk, the guard would havebeenrelievedandwellonhisway to delivering a messageaccording to his master'sinstructions. If CircleBreaker's luckheld,hemightsurvive the civil war intowhich Darujhistan, he felt,was about to plunge – andnever mind the Malazannemesis. One nightmare at a

time, he often told himself,particularly on nights likethese, when Despot'sBarbican seemed to breatheits promise of resurrectionwithmockingcertainty.'As this may be in yourinterest,' High AlchemistBaruk read aloud from theparchment note in his plumphands. Always the sameopening line, hinting of

disquieting knowledge. AnhourearlierhisservantRoaldhaddeliveredthenote,which,like all the others that hadcome to him over the pastyear, had been found tuckedinto one of the ornamentalmurder holes in the estate'srearposterngate.Recognizing the pattern,

Baruk had immediately readthe missive then dispatchedhis messengers out into the

city. Such news demandedaction,andhewasoneofthefew secret powers withinDarujhistan capable ofdealingwithit.Nowhesatinaplushchair

in his study, musing. Hisdeceptively sleepy gazeflicked down again to thewords on the parchment.'Councilman Turban Orrwalks in the garden withCouncilman Feder. I remain

known only as CircleBreaker,aservantof theEel,whose interests continue tocoincide with your own.'Once again Baruk felttemptation.Withhistalentsitwould be a small thing todiscover the writer's identity– though not the Eel's, ofcourse: that was an identitysought by many, all to noavail – but, as always,somethingheldhimback.

He shifted his bulk on thechair and sighed. 'Very well,Circle Breaker, I'll continuetohonouryou,thoughclearlyyouknowmoreofme than Iof you, and fortunate it isindeed that your master'sinterests coincide with myown. Still.' He frowned,thinking about theEel, aboutthe man's – or woman's –undisclosed interests. Heknew enough to recognize

that too many forces hadcome into play – a gatheringof Ascendant powers was afellthing.Tocontinuetostepunseen indefenceof the citywas becoming increasinglydifficult. So, the questioncameyetagain:Was thisEelusinghimaswell?Oddly enough, he did not

feel too concerned about thispossibility. So much vitalinformation had been passed

intohishandsalready.He folded the parchment

carefully and muttered asimple cantrip. The notevanishedwithasmallplopofdisplaced air, joining theothersinasafeplace.Baruk closed his eyes.

Behind him the broadwindow shutters rattled in agust of wind, then settledagain. A moment later therecame a sharp rap against the

smoky glass. Baruk satupright, his eyes startledopen. A second rap, louderthan the first, brought himround with a swift alacritysurprisingforoneofhisgirth.On his feet, he faced thewindow.Somethingcrouchedon the ledge, visible throughthe shutters only as a bulkyblackshape.Barukfrowned. Impossible.

Nothing could penetrate his

magic barriers undetected.The alchemist gestured withone hand, and the shutterssprangopen.Behindtheglasswaited a Great Raven. Itshead snapped to view Barukwith one eye, then the other.It pushed boldly against thethin glass with its massive,ridged chest. The panebulged,thenshattered.His Warren fully open,

Baruk raised both hands, a

savagespellonhislips.'Don't waste your breath!'

theRavenrasped,swellingitschest and ruffling its mangyfeathers to rid itself of glassshards. It cocked its head.'You'vecalledyourguards,'itobserved. 'No need,Wizard.'A single hop brought theenormousbirdontothefloor.'Ibringwordsyouwillvalue.Haveyouanythingtoeat?'Baruk studied the creature.

'I'm not in the habit ofinviting Great Ravens intomy home,' he said. 'You arenodisguiseddemon,either.''Of course not. I'm named

Crone.' Her head bobbedmockingly.'Atyourpleasure,Lord.'Baruk hesitated,

considering. After a momenthe sighed and said, 'Verywell. I've returnedmyguardsto their posts. My servant

Roald comes with theleavings of supper, if that'sagreeabletoyou.''Excellent!' Crone waddled

across the floor to settle onthe rug before the fireplace.'There,Lord.Now,acalmingcrystal of wine, don't youthink?''Whohas sentyou,Crone?'

Barukasked,walkingovertothe decanter on his desk.Normally he did not drink

after sunset, for night waswhen he worked, but he hadto acknowledge Crone'sperceptiveness. A calmingbalm was exactly what heneeded.The Great Raven hesitated

slightly before answering,'TheLordofMoon'sSpawn.'Baruk paused in the filling

of his glass. 'I see,' he saidquietly, struggling to controlhis surging heart. He set the

decanter down slowly and,with great concentration,raised the goblet to his lips.The liquid was cool on histongue,and itspassagedownhisthroatindeedcalmedhim.'Well, then,' he said, turning,'whatwouldyourlordhaveofapeacefulalchemist?'Crone's chipped beak

opened in what Barukrealized was silent laughter.The bird fixed a single

glittering eye on him. 'Youranswer rode the very breathof your words, Lord. Peace.Mylordwishestospeakwithyou.Hewishestocomehere,this very night. Within thehour.''And you're to await my

answer.''Onlyifyoudecidequickly,

Lord. I have things to do,after all. I'm more than asimplemessage-bearer.Those

whoknowwisdomwhentheyhear it hold me dear. I amCrone, eldest of the Moon'sGreat Ravens, whose eyeshave lookedupona thousandyears of human folly. Hencemy tattered coat and brokenbeak as evidence of yourindiscriminate destruction. Iam but a winged witness toyoureternalmadness.'In quiet mockery Baruk

said, 'More than just a

witness. It'swell knownhowyouandyourkindfeastedontheplainoutsidePale'swalls.''Yetwewerenotthefirstto

feast on flesh and blood,Lord,lestyouforget.'Baruk turned away. 'Far be

it for me to defend myspecies,'hemuttered,moretohimself thantoCrone,whosewords had stung him. Hiseyes fell on the shards ofglass littering the floor. He

voiced a mending spell andwatchedastheyreassembled.'I will speak with your lord,Crone.' He nodded as theglasspanerosefromthefloorand returned to the window-frame. 'Tell me, will he aseasily disdain my wards asyoudid?''My lord is possessed of

honour and courtesy,' Cronereplied ambiguously. 'I shallcallhim,then?'

'Doso,'Baruksaid,sippinghiswine. 'An avenuewill beprovidedforhispassage.'There came a knock at the

door.'Yes?'Roald stepped inside.

'Someone is at the gatewishing to speak with you,'thewhite-hairedservantsaid,setting down a plate heapedwithroastpork.

BarukglancedatCroneandraisedaneyebrow.The bird ruffled her

feathers. 'Your guest ismundane, a restlesspersonagewhosethoughtsarethick with greed andtreachery.Ademoncroucheson his shoulder, namedAmbition.''His name, Roald?' Baruk

asked.

The servant hesitated, hissoft eyes flicked uneasily atthebirdnowamblingtowardsthefood.Baruk laughed. 'My wise

guest's counsel indicates shewell knows the man's name.Speakon,Roald.''CouncilmanTurbanOrr.''I would remain for this,'

Crone said. 'If you wouldseekmycounsel.'

'Please do, and, yes, Iwould,'thealchemistreplied.'I am no more than a pet

dog,' the Great Ravencroonedslyly,anticipatinghisnext question. 'To thecouncilman'seyes,thatis.Mywords a beast's whimper tohisears.'Shespearedapieceof meat and swallowed itquickly.Baruk found himself

beginning to like thismangy

oldwitchofabird.'Bringthecouncilmantous,Roald.'Theservantdeparted.

Archaic torches litanestate'shigh-walled garden with aflickering light that threwwavering shadows across thepavestones. As a nightwindswept in from the lake,rustling leaves, the shadowsdanced like imps. On the

second floor of the buildingwas a balcony overlookingthe garden. Behind thecurtained window, twofiguresmoved.Rallick Nom lay prone on

thegardenwall in anicheofdarkness beneath the estate'sgabled cornice. He studiedthe feminine silhouette withthepatienceofasnake.Itwasthefifthnightinarowthathehad occupied his hidden

vantage-point. The LadySimtal's lovers numbered asmany, but he had identifiedtwo in particular worthy ofattention. Both were citycouncilmen.The glass door opened and

afigurewalkedouton to thebalcony.Rallicksmiledasherecognized Councilman Lim.The assassin shifted positionslightly, slipping one glovedhand under the stock of his

crossbow, reaching up withthe other to swing back theoiled crank. His eyes on theman leaning against thebalcony railing across fromhim, Rallick carefullyinserted a quarrel. A glancedown at the bolt's iron headreassured him. The poisonglittered wetly along therazor-sharp edges. Returninghisattentiontothebalconyhesaw that Lady Simtal had

joinedLim.No wonder there's no

shortage of lovers for thatone,Rallickthought,hiseyesnarrowinginstudy.Herblackhair, now unpinned, floweddown sleek and shiny to thesmallofherback.Sheworeagauze-thin nightdress and,with the lamps of the roombehind her, her body's roundcurveswereclearlyvisible.As they spoke their voices

carried to where Rallick layhidden.'Why the alchemist?' Lady

Simtal was asking, evidentlyresuming a conversationbegun inside. 'A fat oldmansmelling of sulphur andbrimstone. Hardly suggestiveofpoliticalpower.Notevenacouncilmember,ishe?'Lim laughed softly. 'Your

naivety is a charm, Lady, acharm.'

Simtalpulledbackfromtherailing and crossed her arms.'Educateme,then.'Herwordscamesharp,tightlybridled.Lim shrugged. 'We have

naught but suspicions, Lady.But it is the wise wolf thatfollows every spoor, nomatter how slight. Thealchemistwould have peoplethinkasyoudo.Adodderingoldfool.'Limpaused,asifinthought, perhaps weighing

how much he should reveal.'We have sources,' hecontinued cautiously, 'amongthe magery. They inform usofonecertainfactheavywithimplications.Agoodmanyofthe wizards in the city fearthealchemist, and theynamehim by a title – that alonesuggests a secret cabal ofsome sort. A gathering ofsorcerers, Lady, is a fellthing.'

LadySimtalhadreturnedtothe councilman's side. Bothnow leaned on the railingstudying the dark gardenbelow.Thewomanwassilentfor a time, then she said, 'HehasCouncilties?''If he has, the evidence is

buried deep.' Lim flashed agrin. 'And if he hasn't, thenthatmightchange–thisverynight.'Politics, Rallick snarled

silently. And power. Thebitch spreads her legs to theCouncil, offering a vice fewcan ignore. Rallick's handstwitched. He would kill thisnight. Not a contract: theGuildhadnopartinthis.Thevendetta was personal. Shewas gathering power aroundher, insulating herself, andRallickthoughtheunderstoodwhy. The ghosts of betrayalwouldnotleaveheralone.

Patience, he remindedhimself, as he took aim. Forthe last two years the life ofLadySimtalhadbeenoneofindolence, the riches she hadstolenhadservedtowhetherevery greed, and the prestigeas sole owner of the estatehad donemuch to grease thehinges of her bedroom door.The crime she'd committedhad not been against Rallickbut,unlikehervictim,Rallick

had no pride to haltvengeance.Patience, Rallick repeated,

hislipsmovingtothewordashe sighted down thecrossbow's length. A qualitydefined by its reward, andthatrewardwasbutmomentsaway.'A fine-looking hound,'CouncilmanTurbanOrrsaid,

ashehandedRoaldhiscloak.In the roomBarukwas the

only one capable ofdiscerningtheauraofillusionsurroundingtheblackhuntingdog lying curled on the rugbefore the fireplace. Thealchemistsmiledandgesturedto a chair. 'Please be seated,Councilman.''I apologize for disturbing

yousolateatnight,'Orrsaid,asheloweredhimselfintothe

plush chair. Baruk sat downoppositehim,Cronebetweenthem. 'It's said,' Orrcontinued, 'that alchemyflowers best in deepdarkness.''Henceyougambledonmy

being awake,' Baruk said. 'Awell-placed wager,Councilman. Now, whatwouldyouhaveofme?'Orr reached down to pat

Crone'shead.

Baruk lookedaway tokeephimselffromlaughing.'The Council votes in two

days,' Orr said. 'With aproclamation of neutralitysuchasweseek,warwiththeMalazan Empire will beaverted – so we believe, buttherearethoseintheCouncilwho do not. Pride has madethem belligerent,unreasonable.''As it does us all,'

murmuredBaruk.Orr leaned forward. 'The

support of Darujhistan'ssorcerers would do much tofavourourcause,'hesaid.'Careful,' Crone rumbled.

'This man now hunts inearnest.'Orr glanced down at the

dog.'Abadleg,'Baruksaid.'Pay

it no mind.' The alchemist

leaned back in his chair andplucked at a loose thread onhis robe. 'I admit to someconfusion, Councilman. Youappear to be assuming somethings I cannot countenance.'Baruk spread his hands andmetOrr's eyes. 'Darujhistan'ssorcerers, forone.YoucouldtraveltheTenWorldsandnotfind a more spiteful, rabidcollectionofhumanity.Oh, Idon'tsuggest that theyareall

like this – there are thosewhose only interest, indeed,obsession, lies in the pursuitof their craft. Their noseshavebeenburiedinbookssolong they could not even tellyouwhatcenturythis is.Theothers find bickering theironlytruepleasureinlife.'A smile had come to Orr's

thin lips as Baruk spoke.'But,' he said with a cunninggleaminhisdarkeyes, 'there

is one thing they allacknowledge.''Oh? What is that,

Councilman?''Power. We're all aware of

your eminence among thecity's mages, Baruk. Yourword alone would bringothers.''I'mflatteredthatyouwould

think so,' Baruk replied.'Unfortunately, therein lies

your second erroneousassumption. Even if I hadsuch influence as yousuggest,' Crone snorted andBaruk flicked a savage glareather,thencontinued, 'whichI do not, for what possiblereasonwouldIsupportsuchawilfully ignorant position asyours? A proclamation ofneutrality? Might as wellwhistle against the wind,Councilman. What purpose

woulditserve?'Orr's smile had tightened.

'Surely,Lord,'hepurred,'youhave no wish to share thesame fate as the wizards ofPale?'Baruk frowned. 'What do

youmean?''AssassinatedbyanEmpire

Claw. Moon's Spawn wasentirelyonitsownagainsttheEmpire.'

'Your informationcontradictsmine,' Baruk saidstiffly,thencursedhimself.'Lean not too heavily on

this one,'Crone said smugly.'Youarebothwrong.'Orr's eyebrowshad risenat

Baruk's words. 'Indeed?Perhaps it might profit usboth to share ourinformation?''Unlikely,' Baruk said.

'Throwing the threat of theEmpire at me implies what?That if the proclamation isvoted down, the city'ssorcerers will all die at theEmpire'shand.Butifitwins,you're free to justify openingthe gates to the Malazans inpeaceful co-existence, and insuch a scenario the city'smageryliveson.''Astute,Lord,'Cronesaid.Baruk studied the anger

now visible beneath Orr'sexpression. 'Neutrality? Howyou'vemanaged to twist thatword. Your proclamationserves the first step towardstotalannexation,Councilman.Fortunate for you that I castno weight, no vote, noinfluence.'Barukrose. 'Roaldwillseeyouout.'Turban Orr also rose.

'You've made a grave error,'he said. 'The proclamation's

wording is not yet complete.Itseemswewoulddowelltoremove any considerationregarding Darujhistan'smagery.''Toobold,'Croneobserved.

'Prodhimandseewhatmorecomesforth.'Baruk strode towards the

window. 'One may onlyhope,' he said drily over ashoulder, 'thatyourvote failstowintheday.'

Orr's reply was hot andrushed. 'By my count we'vereached a majority this verynight, Alchemist. You couldhave provided the honey onthecream.Alas,'hesneered,-we'll win by only one vote.Butthatwillsuffice.'BarukturnedtofaceOrras

Roald quietly entered theroom, bearing thecouncilman'scloak.Crone stretched out on the

rug. 'On this night of allnights,' she said, in mockdismay,'totemptmyriadfateswith such words.' The GreatRaven cocked her head.Faintly, as from a greatdistance, she thought shecould hear the spinning of acoin.There was a tremble of

power, coming fromsomewhere within the city,andCroneshivered.

RallickNomwaited.Nomoreindolence for the LadySimtal. The end of suchluxuriescame thisnight.Thetwofiguresmovedawayfromtherailingandfacedtheglassdoor. Rallick's fingertightenedonthetrigger.He froze. A whirring,

spinning sound filled hishead, whispering words thatleft him bathed in sudden

sweat.Allatonceeverythingshifted, turned over in hismind. His plan for quickvengeance tumbled intodisarray, and from the ruinsarose something far more ...elaborate.All this had come between

breaths. Rallick's gazecleared. Lady Simtal andCouncilmanLimstoodat thedoor.Thewomanreachedouttoslidethepaneltooneside.

Rallickswervedhiscrossbowan inch to the left, thensqueezed the trigger. Theblackenedironribofthebowbucked with the release oftension. The quarrel spedoutward, so fast as to beinvisibleuntilithithome.A figure on the balcony

spun with the quarrel'simpact,armsthrownoutasitstumbled. The glass doorshattered as the figure fell

throughit.Lady Simtal screamed in

horror.Rallick waited no longer.

Rolling on to his back hereached up and slid thecrossbow into the narrowledge between the corniceandtheroof.Thenheslippeddowntheoutsideof thewall,hungwithhishandsbrieflyasshouts of alarm filled theestate. A moment later he

dropped, spinning as he fell,and landed cat-like in thealley.The assassin straightened,

adjusted his cloak, thencalmly walked into the side-street, away from the estate.No more indolence for theLady Simtal. But no quickdemise, either. A verypowerful,verywell-respectedmember of the City Councilhad justbeenassassinatedon

her balcony. Lim's wife –nowwidow–wouldcertainlyhave something to say aboutthis. The first phase, Rallicktold himself as he strodethrough Osserc's Gate anddescended the wide rampleading down into the DaruDistrict, just the first phase,an opening gambit, a hint toLady Simtal that a hunt hasbegun, with the eminentmistressherselfasthequarry.

Itwon'tbeeasy:thewoman'sno slouch in the intriguegame.'There'llbemoreblood,'he

whisperedaloud,asheturneda corner and approached thepoorly lit entrance to thePhoenix Inn. 'But in the endshe'll fall, and with that fallanoldfriendwillrise.'Asheneared the inn a figurestepped from the shadows ofanadjacentalleyway.Rallick

stopped.The figure gestured,then stepped back into thedarkness.Rallick followed. In the

alleyhewaitedforhiseyestoadjust.The man in front of him

sighed. 'Your vendettaprobably saved your lifetonight,' he said, his tonebitter.Rallick leaned against a

wall and crossed his arms.'Oh?'ClanLeaderOcelotstepped

close, his narrow, pitted facetwisted into its habitualscowl. 'The night's been ashambles,Nom.You'veheardnothing?''No.'Ocelot'sthinlipscurledinto

a humourless smile. 'A warhas begun on the rooftops.

Someone is killing us. WelostfiveRoamersinlessthananhour,meaningthere'smorethanonekilleroutthere.''Undoubtedly,' Rallick

replied,fidgetingasthedampstones of the inn's wallreachedthroughhiscloakandtouched his flesh with chill.As always, Guild affairsboredhim.Ocelot continued, 'We lost

that bull of a man, Talo

Krafar, and a Clan Leader.'The man snapped a glanceover his shoulder as ifexpectingasuddendagger tocome flashing at his ownback.Despite his lack of interest

Rallick's eyebrows lifted atthis last bit of news. 'Theymustbegood.''Good? All of our eye-

witnesses are dead, goes thesour joke this night. They

don't make mistakes, thebastards.''Everyone makes mistakes,'

Rallick muttered. 'HasVorcangoneout?'Ocelotshookhishead. 'Not

yet. She's too busy recallingalltheClans.'Rallick frowned, curious in

spite of himself. 'Could thisbe a challenge to her Guildmastery? Perhaps an inside

thing,afaction—''You think we're all fools,

don't you, Nom? That wasVorcan's first suspicion. No,it's not internal. Whoever'skilling our people is fromoutsidetheGuild,outsidethecity.'To Rallick the answer

seemed obvious suddenly,andhe shrugged. 'AnEmpireClaw,then.'

Thoughhisexpressionborereluctance, Ocelotnevertheless acknowledgedagreement.'Likely,'hegrated.'They're supposed to be thebest,aren't they?Butwhygoafter the Guild? You'd thinkthey'd be taking out thenobles.''Areyouaskingmetoguess

the Empire's intentions,Ocelot?'The Clan Leader blinked,

then his scowl deepened. 'Icametowarnyou.Andthat'sa favour, Nom. With youwrapped up in this vendettathing, theGuild'snotobligedtospreaditswingoveryou.Afavour.'Rallick pushed himself

from the wall and turned tothe alley-mouth. 'A favour,Ocelot?'Helaughedsoftly.'We'resettingatrap,'Ocelot

said, moving to block

Rallick's way. He jerked hisscarred chin at the PhoenixInn. 'Make yourself visible,andleavenodoubtastowhatyoudoforaliving.'Rallick's gaze on Ocelot

heldsteady,impassive.'Bait.''Justdoit.'Without replying, Rallick

left the alley, climbed thestepsandenteredthePhoenixInn.

'There is a shaping in thenight,' Crone said, afterTurban On-had left. The airaroundhershimmeredassheassumedhertrueshape.Baruk strode to his map

table, hands clasped behindhisbacktostillthetremblingthat had seized them. 'Youfelt it too, then.' He paused,then sighed. 'All in all, theseseemthebusiesthours.'

'A convergence of powerever yields thus,'Crone said,as she rose to stretch herwings. 'The black windsgather, Alchemist. Bewaretheirflayingbreath.'Baruk grunted. 'While you

ride them, aharbingerofourtragicills.'Crone laughed. She

waddled to the window. 'Mymastercomes.I'veothertasksbeforeme.'

Baruk turned. 'Permit me,'he said, gesturing. Thewindowswungclear.Crone flapped up on to the

sill. She swivelled her headround and cocked an eye atBaruk. 'I see twelve shipsriding a deep harbour,' shesaid. 'Eleven stand tall inflames.'Barukstiffened.Hehadnot

anticipated a prophecy. Nowhe was afraid. 'And the

twelfth?' he asked, his voicebarelyawhisper.'Onthewindahailstormof

sparksfillthenightsky.Iseethem spinning, spinningabout the last vessel.' Cronepaused. 'Still spinning.' Thenshewasgone.Baruk's shoulders slumped.

Heturnedbacktothemaponthe table and studied theeleven once Free Cities thatnow bore the Empire flag.

Only Darujhistan remained,the twelfth and last markedby a flag that was notburgundy and grey. 'Thepassing of freedom,' hemurmured.Suddenly the walls around

him groaned, and Barukgasped as an enormousweightseemedtopressdownon him. The blood poundedinhishead, lancinghimwithpain.He gripped the edge of

the map table to steadyhimself. The incandescentglobes of light suspendedfrom the ceiling dimmed,then flickered out. In thedarkness the alchemist heardcracks sweeping down thewalls,asifagiant'shandhaddescended on the building.All at once the pressurevanished. Baruk raised ashaking hand to his sweat-slickedbrow.

A soft voice spoke behindhim. 'Greetings, HighAlchemist. I am the Lord ofMoon'sSpawn.'Stillfacingthetable,Baruk

closed his eyes and nodded.'The title isn't necessary,' hewhispered. 'Please call meBaruk.''I'm at home in darkness,'

theLordsaid.'Willthisproveaninconvenience,Baruk?'

The alchemist muttered aspell. Before him the detailsof themap on the table tookon distinction, emanating acoolblueglow.He faced theLord and was startled todiscoverthat thetall,cloakedfigure reflected as little heatas the room's inanimateobjects.Nevertheless,hewasable to distinguish quiteclearly the man's features.'You'reTisteAndii,'hesaid.

The Lord bowed slightly.His angled, multihued eyesscanned the room. 'Haveyouanywine,Baruk?''Of course, Lord.' The

alchemist walked over to hisdesk.'Myname,asbestas itcan

bepronouncedbyhumans, isAnomander Rake.' The Lordfollowed Baruk to the desk,his boots clicking on thepolishedmarblefloor.

Baruk poured wine, thenturned to study Rake withsomecuriosity.HehadheardthatTisteAndiiwarriorswerefighting theEmpireupnorth,commanded by a savagebeast of a man namedCaladan Brood. They hadallied with the CrimsonGuard and, together, the twoforces were decimating theMalazans. So, there wereTisteAndiiinMoon'sSpawn,

and the man standing beforehimwastheirlord.This moment marked the

firsttimeBarukhadeverseenaTisteAndiifacetoface.Hewas more than a littledisturbed. Such remarkableeyes, he thought. Onemomentadeephueofamber,cat-like and unnerving, thenext grey and banded like asnake's – a fell rainbow ofcolours to match any mood.

He wondered if they werecapableoflying.Inthealchemist'slibrarylay

copiesofthesurvivingtomesof Gothos' Folly, Jaghutwritings frommillennia past.In them Tiste Andii werementioned here and there inan aura of fear, Barukrecalled. Gothos himself, aJaghut wizard who haddescended the deepestwarrens of ElderMagic, had

praised the gods of the timethat the Tiste Andii were sofew in number. And ifanything, the mysteriousblack-skinned race haddwindledsincethen.AnomanderRake'sskinwas

jet-black, befitting Gothos'descriptions, but his maneflowedsilver.Hestoodclosetosevenfeettall.Hisfeatureswere sharp, as if cut fromonyx, a slight upward tilt to

the large vertical-pupilledeyes.A two-handed sword was

strapped to Rake's broadback, its silver dragonskullpommelandarchaic crosshiltjutting from a woodenscabbard fully six and a halffeet long. From the weaponbled power, staining the airlike black ink in a pool ofwater.AshisgazerestedonitBaruk almost reeled, seeing,

for a brief moment, a vastdarknessyawningbeforehim,coldas theheartofaglacier,from which came the stenchof antiquity and a faintgroaning sound. Barukwrenched his eyes from theweapon, looked up to findRakestudyinghimfromoveroneshoulder.The Tiste Andii quirked a

knowing smile, then handedBaruk one of the wine-filled

goblets.'WasCroneherusualmelodramaticself?'Baruk blinked, then could

nothelpbutgrin.Rakesippedhiswine.'She's

never been modest indisplaying her talents. Shallwesit?''Of course,' Baruk replied,

relaxing in spite of histrepidation.Fromhisyearsofstudythealchemistknewthat

great power shaped differentsouls differently. Had Rake'sbeen twisted Baruk wouldhaveknownimmediately.Butthe Lord's control seemedabsolute. That aloneengendered awe. The manshaped his power, not theother way around. Suchcontrol was, well, inhuman.He suspected that thiswouldnot be the first insight he'dhave regarding this warrior-

mage that would leave himastonishedandfrightened.'She threw everything she

had at me,' Rake saidsuddenly. The Tiste Andii'seyes shone green as glacialice.Startled by the vehemence

of that outburst, Barukfrowned. She? Oh, theEmpress,ofcourse.'And even then,' Rake

continued, 'shecouldn't bringmedown.'The alchemist stiffened in

his chair. 'Yet,' he saidcautiously, 'you were drivenback, battered and beaten. Ican feel your power,Anomander Rake,' he added,grimacing.'Itpulsesfromyoulike waves. So I must ask:howisityouweredefeated?Iknow something of theEmpire's High Mage

Tayschrenn. He has powerbutit'snomatchtoyours.SoagainIask,how?'His gaze on themap table,

Rake replied, 'I've committedmy sorcerers and warriors toBrood's north campaign.' Heturned a humourless grin onBaruk. 'Within my city arechildren, priests and threeelderly, exceedingly bookishwarlocks.'City? There was a city

withinMoon'sSpawn?A dun tone had entered

Rake's eyes. 'I cannot defendan entire Moon. I cannot beeverywhere at once. And asforTayschrenn,hedidn'tgivea damn about the peoplearound him. I thought todissuadehim,make thepricetoohigh...'Heshookhisheadas if perplexed, then helookedtoBaruk.'Tosavethehome of my people, I

retreated.''Leaving Pale to fall—'

Barukshuthismouth,cursinghislackoftact.ButRakemerely shrugged.

'Ididn'tanticipatethatI'dfacea full assault. My presencealone had been keeping theEmpireatbayforalmosttwoyears.''I've heard the Empress is

short of patience,' murmured

Baruk thoughtfully. His eyesnarrowed, thenhe lookedup.'Youhaveaskedtomeetwithme,AnomanderRake,andsohere we are. What is it youwishfromme?''An alliance,' the Moon's

lordanswered.'Withme?Personally?''No games, Baruk.' Rake's

voicewassuddenlycold. 'I'mnot fooledby thatCouncilof

idiots bickering at MajestyHall.Iknowthatit'syouandyour fellow mages who ruleDarujhistan.' He rose andglared down with eyes ofgrey.'I'lltellyouthis.FortheEmpressyourcityis thelonepearl on this continent ofmud. She wants it and whatshewantssheusuallygets.'Baruk reached down and

pluckedat thefrayededgeofhis robe. 'I see,' he said, in a

low voice. 'Pale had itswizards.'Rakefrowned.'Indeed.''Yet,' Baruk continued,

'whenthebattlewasbeguninearnest, your first thoughtwas not for the alliance youmadewiththecitybutforthewell-beingofyourMoon.''Who told you this?' Rake

demanded.Baruklookedupandraised

both hands. 'Some of thosewizardsmanagedtoescape.''They're in thecity?'Rake's

eyeshadgoneblack.Seeing them, Baruk felt

sweat break out beneath hisclothes.'Why?'heasked.'I want their heads,' Rake

replied casually. He refilledhisgobletandtookasip.An icy hand had slipped

aroundBaruk'sheartandwas

nowtightening.Hisheadachehad increased tenfold in thelast few seconds. 'Why?' heaskedagain,thewordcomingoutalmostasagasp.If the Tiste Andii knew of

the alchemist's suddendiscomfort he made no signof it. 'Why?' He seemed toroll the word in his mouthlike wine, a light smiletouching his lips. 'When theMoranth army came down

from the mountains, andTayschrenn rode at the headofhiswizardcadre,andwhenword spread that an EmpireClawhad infiltrated thecity,'Rake's smile twisted into asnarl, 'the wizards of Palefled.'Hepaused,asifrelivingmemories. 'I dispatched theClaw when they were but adozen steps inside thewalls.'He paused again, his facebetraying a flash of regret.

'Had the city's wizardsremained, the assault wouldhave been repelled.Tayschrenn, it seemed, waspreoccupied with ... otherimperatives. He'd saturatedhisposition–ahilltop–withdefensive wards. Then heunleasheddemonsnotagainstme but against some of hiscompanions.Thatbaffledmebut, rather than allow suchconjuringstowanderatwill,I

expended vital powerdestroying them.' He sighedand said, 'I pulled theMoonback mere minutes from itsdestruction. I left it to driftsouth and went after thosewizards.''Afterthem?''Itrackeddownallbuttwo.'

RakegazedatBaruk. 'Iwantthose two, preferably alive,buttheirheadswillsuffice.'

'You killed those youfound?How?''Withmysword,ofcourse.'Baruk recoiled as if struck.

'Oh,'hewhispered.'Oh.''The alliance,' Rake said,

beforedraininghisgoblet.'I'll speak to the Cabal on

thismatter,' Baruk answered,rising shakily to his feet.'Wordof thedecisionwillbesenttoyousoon.'Hestaredat

the sword strapped to theTisteAndii'sback.'Tellme,ifyou get those wizards alive,willyouusethatonthem?'Rakefrowned.'Ofcourse.'Turningaway,Barukclosed

his eyes. 'You'll have theirheads,then.'Behind him Rake laughed

harshly. 'There's too muchmercy in your heart,Alchemist.'

The pale light beyond thewindow signified the dawn.Within the Phoenix Inn onlyone table remainedoccupied.Around it sat four men, oneasleep in his chair with hishead lying in a pool of stalebeer. He snored loudly. Theothers were playing cards,twored-eyedwithexhaustionwhile the lastonestudiedhishandandtalked.Andtalked.

'And then there was thetime I saved Rallick Norn'slife, at the back of All Eve'sStreet. Four, no, fivenefarious hoodlums hadbacked theboy toawall.Hewas barely standing, wasRallick,gushingbloodfromahundred knifewounds. Cleartomewasthegrimfactthatitcouldn'tlastmuchlonger,thattussle.Icomeuponthemsixassassins from behind, old

Kruppe with fire dancing onhis fingertips – a magicalspell of frightful violence. Iutteredthecantripinasinglebreathandlo!Sixpilesofashat Rallick's feet. Six piles ofashaglitterwiththecoinfromtheirwallets–hah!Aworthyreward!'Murillio leaned his long,

elegantframeclosetoCrokusYounghand.'Isthispossible?'he whispered. 'For a turn to

lastaslongasKruppe's?'Crokus grinned wearily at

his friend. 'I don't mind,really. It's safe in here, andthat'swhatcountsforme.''Assassin's war, bosh!'

Kruppe said, leaning back tomop his brow with a wiltedsilk handkerchief. 'Krupperemainsentirelyunconvinced.Tell me, did you not seeRallick Nom in here earlier?Spoke long with Murillio

here, the laddid.As calmasever,washenot?'Murillio grimaced. 'Nom

gets like that every time he'sjust killed somebody. Laydown a card, dammit! I'veearly appointments to attendto.'Crokusasked,'Sowhatwas

Rallicktalkingtoyouabout?'Murillio's answer was a

mere shrug. He continued

glaringatKruppe.Thesmallman'spencil-thin

eyebrowsrose. 'IsitKruppe'sturn?'Closing his eyes, Crokus

slumped in his chair. Hegroaned. 'I saw threeassassins on the rooftops,Kruppe. And the two thatkilledthethirdwentafterme,even though it's obvious I'mnoassassin.'

'Well,'saidMurillio,eyeingthe young thief's tatteredclothing and the cuts andscrapesonhisfaceandhands,'I'minclinedtobelieveyou.''Fools! Kruppe sits at a

table of fools.' Kruppeglanced down at the snoringman. 'And Coll here is thebiggestofthemall.Butsadlygifted with self-knowledge.Hencehispresent state, fromwhich many profane truths

might be drawn.Appointments, Murillio?Kruppedidn't think the city'smultitude of mistressesawoke so early in the day.Afterall,whatmighttheyseein their mirrors? Kruppeshiversatthethought.'Crokusmassagedthebruise

hidden beneath his long,brown hair. He winced, thenleaned forward. 'Come on,Kruppe,' hemuttered. 'Play a

card.''Myturn?''Seems self-knowledge

doesn't extend to whose turnit is,' Murillio commenteddrily.Bootssoundedonthestairs.

The three turned to seeRallickNomdescendingfromthe first floor.The tall, dark-skinned man looked rested.Heworehisdaycloak,adeep

royal purple, clasped at theneck by a silver clamshellbrooch. His black hair wasfreshly braided, framing hisnarrow, clean-shaven face.Rallickwalkeduptothetableand reached down to graspCoil'sthinninghair.Heraisedtheman'sheadfromthepoolof beer and bent forward tostudy Coil's blotched face.Then he gently set down theman's head, and pulled up a

chair.'Is this the same game as

lastnight?''Ofcourse,'Kruppereplied.

'Kruppe has these two menbacked to the very wall, indanger of losing their veryshirts! It's good to see youagain,friendRallick.Theladhere,' Kruppe indicatedCrokus with a limp hand,fingers fluttering, 'speaksendlessly of murder above

our heads. A veritabledownpour of blood! Haveyou ever heard suchnonsense, Rallick Kruppe'sfriend?'Rallick shrugged. 'Another

rumour. This city was builtonrumours.'Crokus scowled to himself.

It seemed that no one waswilling to answer questionsthis morning. He wonderedyet again what the assassin

andMurilliohadbeentalkingabout earlier; hunched asthey'd been over a dimly littable in one corner of theroom, Crokus had suspectedsome sort of conspiracy.Notthatsuchathingwasunusualfor them, though most timesKruppewasatitscentre.Murillio swung his gaze to

thebar. 'Sulty!'hecalledout.'Youawake?'There was a mumbled

response from behind thewooden counter, then Sulty,her blonde hair dishevelledand plump face lookingplumper, stoodup. 'Yah,' shemumbled.'What?''Breakfast for my friends

here, if you please.' Murillioclimbedtohisfeetandcastacritical, obviouslydisapproving eye over hisclothing. The soft billowingshirt, dyed a bright green,

nowhungonhislankyframe,wilted and beer-stained. Hisfinetannedleatherpantaloonswere creased and patchy.Sighing, Murillio steppedaway from the table. 'I mustbatheandchange.As for thegame, I surrender consumedby hopelessness. Kruppe, Inow believe, will never playhis card, thus leaving ustrapped in theunlikelyworldof his recollections and

reminiscences,potentially forever.Goodnight,oneandall.'HeandRallick lockedgazes,then Murillio gave a faintnod.Crokus witnessed the

exchange and his scowldeepened. He watchedMurillio leave, then glancedat Rallick. The assassin satstaring down at Coll, hisexpression as unreadable asever.

Sulty wandered into thekitchen, and a moment laterthe clanking of pots echoedintotheroom.Crokustossedhiscardsinto

the table's centre and leanedback,closinghiseyes.'Does the lad surrender as

well?'Kruppeasked.Crokusnodded.'Hah, Kruppe remains

undefeated.' He set down his

cards and tucked in a napkinathisthick,jigglingneck.In the thief's mind

suspicions of intrigue ranwild.First theassassin'swar,nowRallickandMurilliohadsomething cooking. Hesighed mentally and openedhis eyes. His whole bodyached from the night'sadventures, but heknewhe'dbeen lucky. He stared downat Coll without seeing him.

Thevisionofthosetall,blackassassinsreturnedtohimandhe shivered. Yet, for all thedangershoundinghisbackupon the rooftops this pastnight, he had to admit howexciting it'd all been. Afterslamming that door behindhim and quaffing the beerSultyhadthrustintohishand,hiswholebodyhad trembledforanhourafterwards.His gaze focused on Coll.

Coll, Kruppe, Murillio andRallick.Whatastrangegroup– a drunkard, an obesemageof dubious abilities, adandifiedfopandakiller.Still, they were his best

friends. His parents hadsuccumbed to the WingedPlague when he'd been fouryears old. Since then hisuncle Mammot had raisedhim. The old scholar haddonethebesthecould,but it

hadn't been enough. Crokusfound the street's shadowsand moonless nights onrooftops far more excitingthan his uncle's mouldybooks.Now,however,hefeltvery

much alone. Kruppe's maskof blissful idiocy neverdropped, not even for aninstant–allthroughtheyearswhen Crokus had beenapprenticed to the fatman in

theartofthievery,he'dneverseen Kruppe act otherwise.Coil's life seemed to involvethe relentless avoidance ofsobriety, for reasonsunknowntoCrokus– thoughhe suspected that, once, Collhad been something more.And now Rallick andMurilliohadcountedhimoutofsomenewintrigue.Into his thoughts came an

image– themoonlit limbsof

a sleeping maiden – and heangrilyshookhishead.Sulty arrived with

breakfast, husks of breadfried in butter, a chunk ofgoat cheese, a stem of localgrapes and a pot of Callowsbitter coffee. She servedCrokus first and hemutteredhisthanks.Kruppe's impatience grew

while Sulty served Rallick.'Such impertinence,' the man

said, adjusting his coat'swide,stainedsleeves.'Kruppeis of a mind to cast athousand horrible spells onrudeSulty.''Kruppe had better not,'

Rallicksaid.'Oh, no, of course not,'

Kruppe amended, wiping hisbrow with his handkerchief.'Awizardofmyskillswouldnever belittle himself on amerescullion,afterall.'

Sulty turned to him.'Scullion?' She snatched abreadhuskfromtheplateandslapped it down on Kruppe'shead. 'Don'tworry,' she said,asshewalkedbacktothebar.'With hair like yoursnobody'dnotice.'Kruppe pulled the husk

fromhis head.Hewas aboutto toss it down on the floor,then changed his mind. Helicked his lips. 'Kruppe is

magnanimous this morning,'he said, breaking into awidesmile and setting the breaddownonhisplate.Heleanedforward and laced togetherhis pudgy fingers. 'Kruppewishestobeginhismealwithsomegrapes,please.'

CHAPTERSEVEN

Iseeamancrouchedinafirewholeavesmecoldandwonderingwhathe is doing here soboldlycrouched in mypyre...

GadrobiEpitaphAnonymous

This time, Kruppe's dreamtook him out through MarshGate,alongSouthRoad,thenleft on to Cutter Lake Road.Overhead the sky swirled amost unpleasant pattern ofsilver and pale green. 'All isin flux,' Kruppe gasped, hisfeet hurrying him along thedusty,barrenroad. 'TheCoinhas entered a child'spossession, though he knows

itnot.IsitforKruppetowalkthisMonkeyRoad?FortunatethatKruppe's perfectly roundbodyisanexampleofperfectsymmetry. One is not onlyborn skilled at said balance,one must learn it througharduous practice. Of course,Kruppe is unique in neverrequiring practice – atanything.'Off in the fields tohis left,

withinacircleofyoungtrees,

a small fire cast a hazy redglow up among the buddingbranches.Kruppe'ssharpeyescould make out a singlefigureseatedthere,seeminglyholding its hands in theflames. 'Too many stones toturnunderfoot,'hegasped,'onthis rocky, rutted road.Kruppe would try the ribbedearth, which is yet to greenwith the season's growth.Indeed,yonfirebeckons.'He

left the road and approachedthecircleoftrees.As he strode between two

slim boles and stepped intothe pool of light, the hoodedfigure turned slowly to studyhim, its face hidden inshadows despite the firebefore it. Though it held itshands in the flame, theywithstood the heat, the long,sinuousfingersspreadwide.'I would partake of this

warmth,'Kruppe said,with aslight bow. 'So rare withinKruppe'sdreamsoflate.''Strangers wander through

them,' the figure said, in athin, oddly accented voice.'Such as I. Have yousummoned me, then? It hasbeen a long time since Iwalkedonsoil.'Kruppe's brows rose.

'Summoned? Nay, notKruppe who is also a victim

of his dreams. Imagine, afterall, that Kruppe sleeps evennow beneath warm blanketssecure in his humble room.Yetseeme,stranger,forIamcold,nay,chilled.'The other laughed softly

and beckoned Kruppe to thefire. 'I seek sensation onceagain,' it said, 'butmy handsfeel nothing. To beworshipped is to share thesupplicant's pain. I fear my

followersarenomore.'Kruppe was silent. He did

not like the sombremood ofthisdream.Heheldhishandsbefore the fire yet felt littleheat.Achill achehadsettledinto his knees. Finally helookedovertheflamestothehooded figure opposite him.'Kruppe thinks you are anElder God. Have you aname?''IamknownasK'rul.'

Kruppestiffened.Hisguesshadbeencorrect.Thethoughtof an Elder God awakenedand wandering through hisdreams sent his thoughtsscampering like frightenedrabbits. 'Howhaveyoucometobehere,K'rul?'heasked,atremor in his voice. All atonce this place seemed toohot. He pulled hishandkerchief from his sleeveand mopped sweat from his

brow.K'rul considered before

answering,andKruppehearddoubtinhisvoice.'Bloodhasbeenspilledbehind thewallsof this glowing city,Kruppe,upon stone once holy in myname. This – this is new tome. Once I reigned in theminds of many mortals, andthey fed me well with bloodand split bones. Long beforethe first towers of stone rose

to mortal whims, I walkedamong hunters.' The hoodtiltedupwardandKruppefeltimmortal eyes fixing uponhim. 'Blood has been spilledagain, but that alone is notenough.IbelieveIamheretoawait one who will beawakened.OneIhaveknownbefore,longago.'Kruppe digested this like

sour bile. 'And what do youbringKruppe?'

The Elder God roseabruptly. 'Anancientfirethatwillgiveyouwarmthintimesof need,' he said. 'But I holdyoutonothing.SeektheT'lanImass who will lead thewoman. They are theAwakeners. I must preparefor battle, I think.One Iwilllose.'Kruppe'seyeswidenedwith

sudden comprehension. 'Youarebeingused,'hebreathed.

'Perhaps. If so, then theChild Gods have made agrave error. After all,' aghastlysmileseemedtocomeinto his tone, 'I will lose abattle. But I will not die.'K'rul turned away from thefire then. His voice driftedback to Kruppe. 'Play on,mortal. Every god falls at amortal's hands. Such is theonlyendtoimmortality.'TheElderGod'swistfulness

was not lost on Kruppe. Hesuspected that a great truthhadbeenrevealedtohimwiththose final words, a truth hewas now given leave to use.'And use it Kruppe shall,' hewhispered.TheElderGodhad left the

pool of light, heading north-eastacrossthefields.Kruppestaredatthefire.Itlickedthewood hungrily, but no ashwas born, and though unfed

since he'd arrived it did notdim.Heshivered.'In thehandsofachild,'he

muttered. 'Thisnight,Kruppeis truly alone in the world.Alone.'An hour before dawn CircleBreaker was relieved of hisvigil at Despot's Barbican.This night none had come torendezvous beneath the gate.

Lightning played among thejagged peaks of the TahlynMountainstothenorthasthemanwalkedinsolitudedownthewindingCharmsofAniseStreet in the Spice Quarter.AheadandbelowglitteredtheLakefront, the merchanttrader ships from distantCallows, Elingarth andKepler's Spite hunched darkand gloaming between gaslitstonepiers.

A cool lake breeze carriedto theman the smell of rain,though overhead the starsglistened with startlingclarity. He had removed histabard,foldingit intoasmallleather satchel now slung onone shoulder. Only the plainshortswordstrappedathishipmarkedhimasasoldier,yetasoldierwithoutprovenance.He had divested himself of

his official duties, and as he

walked down towards thewater, the years of serviceseemed to slough from hisspirit. Bright were thememoriesofhischildhoodatthesedocks, towhichhehadbeeneverdrawnbytheallureof the strange traders as theyswung into their berths likeweary and weathered heroesreturnedfromsomeelementalwar. In thosedays itwasnotuncommon to see thegalleys

of the Freemen Privateersease into the bay, sleek andriding low with booty. Theyhailed from such mysteriousports as Filman Orras, FortByaHalf,DeadMan'sStoryandExile;namesthatrangofadventurein theearsofa ladwhohadneverseenhishomecityfromoutsideitswalls.The man slowed as he

reached the foot of the stonepier. The years between him

andthat ladmarchedthroughhis mind, a possession ofmartial images growing evergrimmer. If he searched outthe many crossroads he hadcome to in the past, he sawtheir skies storm-warped, thelands ragged and wind-torn.The forces of age andexperience worked on themnow,andwhateverchoiceshehad made then seemed fatedandalmostdesperate.

Is it only the young whoknow desperation? hewondered,ashemovedtositon the pier's stone sea-wall.Before him rippled the bay'ssooty waters. Twenty feetbelow,therock-studdedshorelay sheathed in darkness, theglitter of broken glass andcrockery here and therewinkinglikestars.The man turned slightly to

face the right. His gaze

travelled the slope there as itclimbed to the summit, onwhich loomed the squat bulkofMajestyHall.Neverreachtoo far. A simple lesson oflife he had learned long agoon the burning deck of acorsair, its belly filling withthe sea as it drifted outsidethepinnaclefortificationsofacity named Broken Jaw.Hubris, the scholars wouldcall the fiery end of the

FreemenPrivateers.Never reach too far. The

man's eyes held on MajestyHall. The deadlock that hadcome with the assassinationofCouncilmanLimstillheldwithin those walls. TheCouncil raced aflurry incircles, more precious hoursspent on eager speculationand gossip than on thematters of state. Turban Orr,hisvictoryonthevotingfloor

snatched from his hands inthe last moment, now flunghis hounds down every trail,seeking the spies he wasconvinced had infiltrated hisnest.Thecouncilmanwasnofool.Overhead a flock of grey

gulls swept lakeward, cryinginto the night-chilled air. Hedrew a breath, hunched hisshouldersandpulledhisgazewith an effort from Majesty

Hill.Toolatetoconcernhimself

about reaching too far. Sincethe day the Eel's agent hadcometohim,theman'sfuturewassealed; to some itwouldbe called treason. Andperhaps, in the end, it wastreason.Whocould saywhatlay in the Eel's mind? Evenhis principal agent – theman's contact – professedignorance of his master's

plans.His thoughts returned to

TurbanOrr.He'd set himselfagainstacunningman,amanof power. His only defenceagainstOrrlayinanonymity.Itwouldn'tlast.Hesatonthepier,awaiting

theEel'sagent.Andhewoulddeliver into thatman's handsa message for the Eel. Howmuchwould changewith thedeliveryofthatmissive?Was

itwrongforhimtoseekhelp,to threaten his frailanonymity– thesolitude thatgave him so much innerstrength, that stiffened hisown resolve? Yet, to matchwitswithTurbanOrr–hedidnotthinkhecoulddoitalone.The man reached into his

jerkin and withdrew thescroll. A crossroads markedwhere he now stood, herecognized that much. In

answer to his ill-measuredfear,he'dwritten thepleaforhelponthisscroll.Itwouldbeaneasythingto

do, to surrender now. Hehefted the frail parchment inhis hands, feeling its slightweight, the vague oiliness ofthe coating, the roughweaveof its tie-string. An easy,desperatethingtodo.The man lifted his head.

The sky had begun to pale,

the lakewind picking up theday's momentum. Therewould be rain, coming fromthenorthasitoftendidatthistime of year. A cleansing ofthe city, a freshening of itsspice-laden breath. Heslipped the string from thescroll and unfurled theparchment.Soeasy.With slow, deliberate

movements, the man tore up

the scroll. He let the raggedpieces drift down, scatteringinto the gloom of the lake'sshadowed shore. The risingwavessweptthemoutwardtodot the turgid swells likeflecksofash.Comingfromsomewherein

the back of his mind, hethought he heard a coinspinning. It seemed a sadsound.A fewminutes later he left

the pier.TheEel's agent, outon his morning stroll, wouldin passing note his contact'sabsence and simply continueonhisway.Hemadehiswayalongthe

Lakefront Street with thesummit of Majesty Hilldwindlingbehindhim.Ashepassed, the first of the silkmerchants appeared, layingout their wares on the widepavedwalk.Among the silks

theman recognized the dyedlavender twists and bolts ofIllem, the pale yellows ofSettaandLest– twocities tothe south-east he knew hadbeenannexedbythePannionSeer in the lastmonth – andthe heavy bold twists ofSarrokalle. A dwindledsampling: all trade from thenorth had ended underMalazandominion.He turned from the lake at

the entry to the ScentedWood and headed into thecity. Four streets ahead hissingle room waited on thesecond floor of a decayingtenement,greyandsilentwiththe coming dawn, its thin,warped door latched andlocked. In that room heallowed no place formemories; nothing to markhim in a wizard's eye or tellthe sharp-witted spy-hunter

details of his life. In thatroom, he remainedanonymouseventohimself.The Lady Simtal paced.Theselastfewdaystoomuchof her hard-won gold hadbeen spent smoothing thewaters. That damn bitch ofLim's hadnot let grief get intheway of her greed.Barelytwo days shrouded in blackand then out on the courts

hangingonthatfopMurillio'sarm,smugasatartataball.Simtal's pencilled brows

knittedslightly.Murillio:thatyoung man had a way ofbeing seen. He might beworth cultivation, all thingsconsidered.She stopped pacing and

faced the man sprawled onher bed. 'So, you've learnednothing.' A hint of contempthadslipped intoher toneand

she wondered if he'd caughtit.CouncilmanTurbanOrr,his

heavily scarred forearmcovering his eyes, did notmoveashe replied, 'I've toldyou all this. There's noknowingwhere thatpoisonedquarrel came from, Simtal.Hell,poisoned!Whatassassinuses poison these days?Vorcan'sgotthemsostuddedwithmagiceverythingelseis

obsolete.''You'redigressing,'shesaid,

satisfied that he'dmissed thecareless unveiling of hersentiments.'It's like I said,' Orr

continued. 'Limwasinvolvedinmorethanone,uh,delicateventure. The assassination'sprobably unconnected withyou. It could have beenanyone's balcony, it justhappenedtobeyours.'

Lady Simtal crossed herarms. 'I don't believe incoincidence,Turban.Tellme,was it coincidence that hisdeath broke your majority –the night before the vote?'She saw the man's cheektwitch and knew she'd stunghim. She smiled and movedto thebed.She sat and ran ahand along his bared thigh.'In any case, have youcheckedonhimlately?'

'Him?'Simtal scowled,

withdrawing her hand andstanding. 'My beloveddispossessed,youidiot.'TurbanOrr'smouth curved

into a smug smile. 'I alwayskeepacheckonhimforyou,my dear. Nothing's changedinthatarea.Hehasn'tsoberedup since you threw him outon his arse.' Theman sat upand reached to the bedpost

where his clothes hung. Hebegandressing.Simtal whirled to him.

'What are you doing?' shedemanded,hervoicestrident.'What'sitlooklike?'Turban

pulled on his breeches. 'Thedebate rages on at MajestyHall. My influence isrequired.''To do what? Bend yet

another councilman to your

will?'Heslippedonhissilkshirt,

still smiling. 'That, and otherthings.'Simtal rolledhereyes. 'Oh,

of course – the spy. I'dforgottenabouthim.''Personally,'Orrresumed,'I

believe the proclamation ofneutrality to the Malazanswill go through – perhapstomorroworthenextday.'

She laughed harshly.'Neutrality! You're beginningto believe your ownpropaganda.What you want,Turban Orr, is power, thenaked absolute power thatcomes with being aMalazanHighFist.You think this thefirststep topavingyour roadinto the Empress's arms. Atthe city's expense, but youdon'tgiveadamnaboutthat!'Turban sneered up at

Simtal. 'Stay out of politics,woman. Darujhistan's fall tothe Empire is inevitable.Better a peaceful occupationthanaviolentone.''Peaceful?Areyoublind to

what happened to Pale'snobility? Oh, the ravensfeasted on delicate flesh fordays. This Empire devoursnobleblood.''WhathappenedatPaleisn't

as simple as you make it,'

Turban said. 'There was aMoranth reckoning involved,a clause in the alliance writ.Such culling will not occurhere – and what if it does?Wecoulduseit,asfarasI'mconcerned.'Hisgrinreturned.'So much for your heartbleeding to the city's woes.All that interests you is you.Save the righteous citizenoffal for your fawns,Simtal.'Headjustedhisleggings.

Simtal stepped to thebedpost, reaching down totouch the silver pommel ofOrr's duelling sword. 'Youshould kill him and be donewithit,'shesaid.'Back to him again?' The

councilman laughed as herose. 'Your brain works withallthesubtletyofamaliciouschild.'Hecollectedhisswordand strapped it on. 'It's awonderyouwrestedanything

from that idiot husband ofyours – you were so evenlymatched in matters ofcunning.''The easiest thing to break

isaman'sheart,'Simtal said,with a private smile. She laydown on the bed. Stretchingher arms and arching herback, she said, 'What aboutMoon's Spawn? It's still justhangingthere.'Gazing down at her, his

eyes travelling along herbody, the councilman replieddistractedly, 'We've yet towork out a way to get amessage up there. We've setup a tent in its shadow andstationedrepresentativesinit,but that mysterious lord justignoresus.''Maybe he's dead,' Simtal

said, relaxing with a sigh.'MaybetheMoon'sjustsittingthere because there's nobody

left alive inside. Have youthought of that, dearCouncilman?'Turban Orr turned to the

door. 'We have. I'll see youtonight?''I want him killed,' Simtal

said.Thecouncilmanreachedfor

thelatch.'Maybe.I'llseeyoutonight?'heaskedagain.'Maybe.'

TurbanOrr'shandrestedonthe latch, then he opened thedoorandlefttheroom.Lying on her bed, Lady

Simtal sighed. Her thoughtsshifted to a certain dandy,whoselosstoacertainwidowwould be a most deliciouscoup.Murillio sipped spiced wine.'The details are sketchy,' he

said, making a face as thefieryalcoholstunghislips.In the street below a

brilliantly painted carriageclatteredpast,drawnbythreewhitehorses inblackbridles.The man gripping the reinswas robed in black andhooded. The horses tossedtheir heads, ears pinnedbackand eyes rolling, but thedriver's broad, veined handsheldthemincheck.Oneither

side of the carriage walkedmiddle-aged women. Bronzecupssatontheirshavedheadsfrom which unfurledwavering streams of scentedsmoke.Murillio leaned against the

railingandlookeddownuponthe troupe. 'The bitchFander'sbeingcartedout,'hesaid. 'Bloody grim rituals, ifyou ask me.' He sat back intheplush chair and smiled at

his companion, raising thegoblet.'TheWolfGoddessofWinter dies her seasonaldeath, on a carpet of white,noless.Andinaweek'stimethe Gedderone Fête fills thestreets with flowers, soon toclog gutters and block drainsthroughoutthecity.'The young woman across

fromhimsmiled,hereyesonher own goblet of wine,whichsheheldinbothhands

like an offering. 'Whichdetailswereyoureferringto?'sheasked,glancingupathimbriefly.'Details?'She smiled faintly. 'The

sketchyones.''Oh.' Murillio waved one

gloved hand dismissively.'Lady Simtal's version heldthat Councilman Lim hadcome in person to

acknowledge her formalinvitation.''Invitation?Doyoumeanto

the festive she's throwing onGedderone'sEve?'Murillio blinked. 'Of

course.Surelyyourhousehasbeeninvited?''Oh,yes.Andyou?''Alas, no,' Murillio said,

smiling.The woman fell silent, her

eyelidsloweringinthought.Murillioglancedbacktothe

streetbelow.Hewaited.Suchthings, after all, moved oftheirownaccord,andevenhecould not guess the pace ortrack of awoman's thoughts,especially when it had to dowith sex. And this wasmostassuredlyaplayforfavours–Murillio's best game, and healways played it through.Never disappoint them, that

wasthekey.Theclosest-heldsecret is the one that neversourswithage.Few of the other tables on

the balcony were occupied,the establishment's noblepatronspreferringthescentedairs of the dining roomwithin. Murillio foundcomfortinthebuzzinglifeofthe streets, and he knew hisguestdidtoo–atleastinthisinstance. With all the noise

rising from below, theirchances of being overheardwereslight.As his gaze wandered

aimlessly along Morul'sStreet of Jewels, he stiffenedslightly, eyes widening asthey focused on a figurestanding in a doorwayopposite him. He shifted inhis seat, dropping his lefthand past the stone railing,out of the woman's sight.

Then he jerked it repeatedly,glaringdownatthefigure.Rallick Norn's smile

broadened. He stepped awayfrom the doorway andstrolledupthestreet,pausingto inspect an array of pearlslaidoutonanebony table infront of a store. Theproprietortookanervousstepforward then relaxed asRallickmovedon.Murillio sighed, leaning

backandtakingamouthfulofliquor. Idiot!Theman's face,hishands,hiswalk,hiseyes,allsaidonething:killer.Hell,evenhiswardrobehadallthewarmth and vitality of anexecutioner'suniform.When it came to subtlety

Rallick Nom was sorelylacking. Which made thiswhole thing rather odd, thatsuchacomplexschemecouldhave been born from the

assassin's rigidly geometricbrain. Still, whatever itsorigins,itwaspuregenius.'Do you dearly wish to

attend,Murillio?' the womanasked.Murilliosmiledhiswarmest

smile.Helookedaway.'It'salargeestate,isn'tit?''Lady Simtal's? Indeed,

fraught with rooms.' Thewoman dipped one dainty

finger into the pungent, fieryliquid, then raised it to herlips, inserting it into hermouth as if in afterthought.She continued studying thegoblet in her other hand. 'Iwouldexpectagoodmanyofthe servants' quarters, thoughlacking in the simplest needsof luxury,will remain emptyformuchofthenight.'No clearer invitation did

Murillio require. Rallick's

plan centred on this verymoment, and itsconsequences. Still, adulteryhad one drawback. Murilliohad no desire to meet thiswoman's husband on theduellingpiste.Hedrovesuchdisturbing thoughts awaywith another mouthful ofwine. 'Iwould love to attendthe Lady's festival, on onecondition.'He looked up andlockedgazeswiththewoman.

'Thatyouwill gracemewithyourcompanythatnight–foran hour or two, that is.' Hisbrow assumed a troubledfurrow. 'I would not wish toimpinge on your husband'sclaim on you, of course.'Which is exactly what hewould be doing, and theybothknewit.'Of course,' the woman

replied, suddenly coy. 'Thatwould be unseemly. How

many invitations do yourequire?''Two,' he said. 'Best that I

beseenwithacompanion.''Yes,it'sbest.'Murillio glanced down at

his now empty gobletwith arueful expression. Then hesighed.'Alas,Imustbetakingmyleave.''I admire your self-

discipline,'thewomansaid.

You won't on Gedderone'sEve, Murillio answeredsilently, as he rose from hischair. 'The Lady of Chancehas graced me with thismeeting of ours,' he said,bowing. 'Until the eve, LadyOrr.''Until then,' the

councilman's wife answered,seeming already to loseinterestinhim.'Goodbye.'Murillio bowed again, then

left the balcony. Among thecrowded tables more than afew noblewomen's heavy-lidded eyes watched himleave.Morul's Street of JewelsendedatSickleGate.Rallickfelt thewide eyesof the twoguards beside the rampfollowing him as he passedthrough the passage betweenthe massive stones of the

Third Tier Wall. Ocelot hadtoldhimtomakeitplain,andwhile Murillio was of theopinionthatonlyablindmancould ever mistake him foranything other than a killer,Rallick had taken pains toachievetheobvious.The guards did nothing, of

course. Giving theappearance of being amurderer wasn't the same asbeingone in truth.The city's

laws were strict in suchthings. He knew he mightfind himself being followedashestrodedowntheopulentstreets ofHigherEstates, buthe'd leave themto it,makingno effort to lose them.Darujhistan's nobles paidgoodmoneytoloosespiesonto the streets day after day.Might as well make themearntheirbread.Rallick had no sympathy

for them. He did not,however, share thecommoner's hatred for thenobility. Their constant airs,prickly honours and endlesssquabbles made for goodbusiness,afterall.When the Malazan Empire

came that would end, hesuspected. In the Empire,assassin guilds were illegal,and those of the trade whowere deemed worthy were

enlisted into the secret ranksoftheClaw.Asforthosewhoweren't considered worthy,theysimplydisappeared.Thenobles didn't fare muchbetter, if the rumours fromPale held any truth. ItwouldbeadifferentworldwhentheEmpire came, and Rallickwasn't sure he wanted to bepartofit.Still, there were things left

to achieve. He wondered if

Murillio had succeeded ingetting the invitations.Everything hinged on that.There'd been a long-drawn-out argument about it thenight before. Murilliopreferred widows. Adulteryhadneverbeenhis style.ButRallick had remainedinsistent, and finallyMurilliohadgivenin.Theassassin stillwondered

about his friend's reluctance.

His first thought was thatMurilliofearedthepossibilityof a duel with Turban Orr.But Murillio was no slouchwith a rapier. Rallick hadpractised with him insecludedplacesenoughtimesto suspect that he was anAdept – and to that evenTurban Orr could not makeclaim.No,itwasn'tfearthatmade

Murillioshyfromthispartof

theplan.ItdawnedonRallickthattherewasamoralissueatstake. A whole new side ofMurilliohadrevealeditselftoRallickthen.He was pondering the

implications when his gazefound a familiar face amongthestreet'scrowd.Hestoppedand studied the surroundingbuildings, and his eyeswidenedasherealizedwherehis wanderings had taken

him. His attention snappedback to the familiar figureappearingeveryfewmomentson the street's opposite side.The assassin's eyes narrowedthoughtfully.Beneath the mid-morning'sblue and silver hue, Crokuswalked along LakefrontStreet surrounded by thebedlam of merchants andshoppers. A dozen streets

ahead rose the city hillsbeyond the Third Tier Wall.Ontheeasternmosthillstoodthe K'rul belfry, its green-patched bronze scalesglimmeringinthesun'slight.To his mind the tower

challenged Majesty Hall'sbright mien, gazing over theestates and buildingscrouched on the lower hillswith its rheumed eyes andhistory-scarredface–ajaded

casttoitsmockinggleam.Crokussharedsomethingof

thetower'simaginedsardonicreserve for the pretence sorife in Majesty Hall, anemotion of his uncle's thathad seeped into the lad overtheyears.Addingfuel to thisfire was a healthy dose ofyouthful resentment towardsanything that smacked ofauthority. And though hegave it little thought, these

provided the primaryimpulses for his thievingactivities. Yet he'd neverbefore understood the mostsubtle and hurtful insult histhefts delivered — theinvasion and violation ofprivacy. Again and again, inhis dreamy wanderings bothday and night, the vision ofthe young woman asleep inherbedreturnedtohim.Eventually Crokus grasped

thatthevisionhadeverythingtodowith–everything.He'dcome into her room, a placewhere the noble bratsdroolingatherheelscouldn'tenter, a place where shemighttalktotheraggeddollsof her childhood, wheninnocence didn't just mean aflower not yet plucked. Hersanctuary.Andhe'ddespoiledit, he'd snatched from thisyoung woman her most

precious possession: herprivacy.Nomatter that shewas the

daughter of the D'Arles, thatshe was born to the pureblood–untaintedbytheLadyof Beggars' touch – that shewould flow through lifeprotected and shielded fromthe degradations of the realworld.Nomatteranyofthesethings.ForCrokus,hiscrimeagainstherwastantamountto

rape. To have so boldlyshatteredherworld...His thoughts a storm of

self-recrimination, the youngthiefturneduptheCharmsofAniseStreet,pushingthroughthecrowds.In his mind the once-

stalwart walls of righteousoutragewere crumbling. Thehatednobilityhadshownhima face that now haunted himwith its beauty, and tugged

him inahundredunexpecteddirections. The sweet scentsof the spice stores, waftinglikeperfumeon thewarmingbreeze, had unaccountablylodgedanamelessemotioninhisthroat.TheshoutsofDaruchildrenplaying in thealleysbrimmed his eyes withsentimentalmaundering.Crokus strode through

Clove Gate and enteredOsserc Narrow. Directly

ahead rose the ramp leadinginto Higher Estates. As heapproached he had to movequicklytoonesidetoavoidalarge carriage coming up onhim from behind. He didn'tneedtoseethecrestadorningthe carriage's side panel torecognize its house. Thehorses snapped and kicked,surging forward heedless ofanyone or anything in theirpath.Crokuspausedtowatch

the carriage clatter up theramp, people scattering toeither side. From what he'dheard of Councilman TurbanOrr, it seemed the duellist'shorses matched his contemptfor those he supposedlyserved.By the timehe reached the

Orr estate the carriage hadalready passed through theoutergate.Fourburlyprivateguards had resumed their

station to either side. Thewallat theirbacksroseafullfifteenfeet,toppedwithrustyironcuttingssetinsun-bakedclay.Pumicetorcheslinedthewall at ten-foot intervals.Crokus strolledpast thegate,ignoring the guards. At thebase the wall looked to beaboutfourfeetinbreadth,therough-hewnbricksastandardsquaredfoot.Hecontinuedonalong the street, then turned

right to check the wallfronting the alley. A singleservice door, tarred oakbanded in bronze,was set inthiswallatthenearestcorner.Andnoguard.Theshadows

of the opposite estate drapeda heavy cloak across thenarrow aisle. Crokus enteredthedamp,mustydarkness.Hehad travelled half the lengthof the alley when a handclosedaroundhismouthfrom

behind and a dagger's sharppointpressedagainsthisside.Crokusfroze,thengruntedasthe hand pulled his faceround. He found himselflookingintofamiliareyes.Rallick Nom withdrew his

dagger and stepped back, asevere frown marring hisbrow. Crokus gaped thenlicked his lips. 'Rallick,Bern'sHeart,youscaredme!''Good,'theassassinsaid.He

came close. 'Listen carefully,Crokus. You'll not try Orr'sestate. You'll not go near itagain.'The thief shrugged. 'It was

justathought,Nom.''Killit,'Rallicksaid.His lips thinning into a

straight line, Crokus nodded.'All right.' He turned andheaded towards the strip ofbright sunlight marking the

next street. He felt Rallick'seyes on himuntil he steppedout on toTraitor's Track.Hestopped. Off to his leftclimbed High Gallows Hill,itsimmaculatefloweredslopeaburstofcolourssurroundingthefifty-threeWindingSteps.The five nooses above theplatformswungslightlyinthebreeze, their shadows streaksof black reaching down theslope to the cobbles of the

street.Ithadbeenalongtimesince the last High Criminalwas hanged,while off in theGadrobi District the LowGallows' ropeswerereplacedweekly due to stretching.Anodd contrast to mark thesetensetimes.Abruptly, he shook his

head.Avoidingtheturmoilofquestionswastoomuchofaneffort. Had Nom followedhim? No, a lesser likelihood

than the assassin havingmarkedOrrorsomeoneintheestate for murder. A boldcontract. He wondered whohadhadthegutstoofferit–afellow noble, no doubt. Butthe courage of the contract'soffering paled whencompared to Rallick'sacceptingit.In any case, the weight of

the assassin's warning wasenough to crush any idea of

thievingOrr'sestate–atleastfor now. Crokus jammed hishandsintohispockets.Ashewalked,histhoughtslostinamaze of dead ends, hefrowned with the realizationthatoneofhishands,probingdeepinthepocket,hadclosedaroundacoin.Hewithdrewit.Yes,itwas

the coin he'd found on thenight of the assassinations.He recalled its inexplicable

appearance, clattering at hisfeet an instant before theassassin's crossbow quarrelwhizzed past. Beneath thebright morning light Crokusnowtookthetimetoexamineit. The first side he held upbefore him displayed theprofile of a youngman,withan amused expression,wearing some kind of floppyhat. Tiny rune-like letteringran around the edge – a

language the thief didn'trecognize as it was so verydifferent from the cursiveDaru script with which hewasfamiliar.Crokus turned the coin.

Howodd!Anotherhead, thisone a woman's facing theother way. The etched scripthere was of a style differentfromtheoppositeside,akindof left-slanting hatchwork.The woman looked young,

with features similar to theman's; her expression heldnothing of amusement,seeming to the thief's eyescoldandunyielding.Themetalwasold,streaked

here and there with rawcopper and pitted around thefaceswithroughtin.Thecoinfelt surprisingly heavy,though he concluded that itsonly worth lay in itsuniqueness. He'd seen the

coinage of Callows,Genabackis, Amat El and,once, the ridged bars of theSeguleh,butnonehadlookedlikethisone.Where had it fallen from?

Hadhisclothingpicked itupsomewhere,orhadhekickedit intomotionwhile crossingthe roof? Or had it beenamong the D'Arle maiden'streasure?Crokusshrugged.Inanycase, itsarrivalhadbeen

timely.By this time his walk had

taken him to the East Gate.Justoutside thecitywallandalong the road called Jatem'sWorry, crouched the handfulof sagging buildings namedWorrytown: the thief'sdestination. The gateremained open duringdaylight hours, and a slow-plodding line of vegetable-carts crowded the narrow

passage. Among them, hesaw as he pushed his wayalongoneedge,werethefirstwagonloads of refugees fromPale,thosewho'dmanagedtoslip through the siege linesduring the battle and hadcrossed thesouthRhiviPlainandthenthroughtheGadrobiHillsandfinallyontoJatem'sWorry. Scanning their faceshe saw a fiery desperationdulled by exhaustion: they

looked upon the city with ajadedeye towards itsmeagredefences,realizingthatthey'dbought only a short measureof time with their flight, yettootiredtocare.Disturbed by what he saw,

Crokus hurried through thegate and approachedWorrytown'slargeststructure,a rambling wooden tavern.Over the door hung a boardon which had been painted,

decades ago, a three-leggedram. To the thief'smind, thepainting had nothing to dowiththetavern'sname,whichwas the Boar's Tears. Thecoinstillinonehand,Crokusentered and paused justinside.A few desultory faces

turned to regard him briefly,then swung back to theircups.At a table in a gloomycorneropposite,Crokussawa

familiar figure, its handsraised above its head andgesticulating wildly. A grintuggedthethief'slips,andhestrodeforward.'... and then did Kruppe

sweepwithmotionsoswiftastobeunseenbyanytheking'scrown and sceptre from thesarcophagus lid. Too manypriests in this tomb, thinksKruppethen,oneless'twouldbearelieftoalllestthedead

king's musty breath shortenand so awaken his wraith.Many times afore this hadKruppefacedawraith'swrathin some deep pit of D'rek,droning its list of life-crimesand bemoaning its need todevour my soul – harrah!Kruppe was ever too elusivefor such sundry spirits andtheirknock-kneedchatter—'Crokus laid a hand on

Kruppe's damp shoulder, and

the shiny round face swungup to observe him. 'Ah!'Kruppe exclaimed, waving ahand towards his lonecompanion at the table andexplaining, 'An apprenticepast comes to fawn in duefashion!Crokus,beseatedbyall means possible. Wench!Some more of your finestwine,haste!'Crokuseyedthemanseated

oppositeKruppe. 'Seems you

twomightbebusyrightnow.'Hope flared in the man's

expression and he rosequickly. 'Oh, no,' heexclaimed. 'By all meansinterrupt.' His eyes darted toKruppe then back toCrokus.'I must be leaving in anyevent,Iassureyou!Gooddayto you, Kruppe. Until someother time, then.' The manbobbed his head thendeparted.

'Precipitous creature,'Kruppe muttered, reachingfor themugofwine themanhad left behind. 'Ah, look atthis,' he said, frowning up atCrokus, 'nigh two-thirds full.A potential waste!' Kruppedrank it down in one swiftgulp, then sighed. 'Saidpotentialaverted,Dessembraebepraised.'Crokus sat. 'Was that man

your trader contact?' he

asked.'Heavens, no.' Kruppe

waved a hand. 'A poorrefugeefromPale,wanderinglost. Fortunate for him wasKruppe, whose brilliantinsightshavesenthim—''Straight out the door,'

Crokusfinished,laughing.Kruppescowled.Theservingwomanarrived

with an earthen carafe of

sour-smelling wine. Krupperefilled the mugs. 'And now,wondersKruppe,whatwouldthis expertly trained lad seekfrom this one-timemaster ofall arts nefarious? Or haveyou triumphed yet again andcome with booty atucked,seeking proper dispensationandthelike?''Well,yes–Imean,no,not

quite.' Crokus glancedaround, then leaned forward.

'It's about last time,' hewhispered. 'I knew you'd beout here to sell the stuff Ibroughtyou.'Kruppe leaned forward to

meet the lad, their facesinches apart. 'The D'Arleacquisition?' he whisperedback,wagglinghiseyebrows.'Exactly! Have you sold it

offyet?'Kruppe pulled a

handkerchief from a sleeveandmopped his brow. 'Whatwith all this talk of war, thetraders' routes are all amiss.So, to answer your question,uhm, not quite yet, admitsKruppe—''Great!'Kruppe started at the lad's

shout, his eyes squeezingshut.Whentheyopenedagainthey were thin slits. 'Ah,Kruppe understands. The lad

wishes their return to hispossession so that he mightseek higher recompenseelsewhere?'Crokus blinked. 'No, of

course not. I mean, yes, Iwant it back. But I'm notplanning on fencing itanywhere. That is, I'm stilldealing with you oneverything else. Only thisone's special.' As he spokeCrokus felt heat rise to his

face,andwasthankfulforthegloom. 'A special case,Kruppe.'A broad smile broke on

Kruppe's round face. 'Why,most certainly, then, lad.Shall I deliver said items toyou this eve? Excellent,consider the matter closed.Pray, tell, what do you haveinyonhandthere?'Crokus stared in confusion,

then he glanced down at his

hand. 'Oh, just a coin,' heexplained, showing it toKruppe. 'I picked it up thesamenightIthievedD'Arle's.Two-headed,see?''Indeed? May Kruppe

examine the peculiar itemmoreclosely?'Crokus obliged, then

reached for themugofwine.He leaned back. 'I wasthinking ofOrr's estate next,'he said casually, his eyes

fixedonKruppe.'Mmm.' Kruppe turned the

coin in his hand again andagain. 'Poorest quality cast,'he muttered. 'Crookedstamping, too. Orr's estate,you say? Kruppe advisescaution. The house is wellprotected. The metallurgistwho foundried this shouldhave been hanged, indeed,probablywas,thinksKruppe.Blackcopper,no less.Cheap

tin, temperaturesall toocool.Favour me, Crokus? Perusethe scene in the street fromyondoor.Ifyouspyaredandgreen merchant's wagonwobbling into town, Kruppewould be much obliged forsuchinformation.'Crokusroseandcrossedthe

room to the door.Opening ithe stepped outside andglanced around. Seeing nowagon in sight, the youth

shrugged again and wentback inside. He returned tothe table. 'No merchantwagon.''Ah,well,'Kruppe said.He

set down the coin on thetable. 'Altogether worthless,judges wise Kruppe. Youmay part with it at yourleisure.'Crokus collected the coin

andslippeditintohispocket.'No, I'mkeeping it.Forgood

luck.'Kruppe lookedup,hiseyes

bright, but Crokus had hisattention on the mug in hishands. The fat man glancedaway, sighing. 'Kruppe mustneeds depart immediately, ifthiseve's rendezvous is tobepropitiousforallinvolved.'Crokus drained his wine.

'Wecanheadbacktogether.''Excellent.' Kruppe rose,

pausingtobrushcrumbsfromhis chest. 'Shall we be off,then?' He looked up to seeCrokusfrowningdownathishand. 'Hassomethingsmittenthelad?'heaskedquickly.Crokus started. He looked

away guiltily, the colourrising in his face. 'No,' hemumbled. He glanced againathishand. 'Imust'vepickedupsomewaxsomewhere,'heexplained. He rubbed his

hand on his leg and grinnedsheepishly.'Let'sgo.''It will be a fine day for a

walk, pronounces Kruppe,whoiswiseinallthings.'WhiteGold'sRoundencircledan abandoned tower with apanoply of brightly dyedawnings. The goldsmithmerchant shops, each withtheir own security guards

loiteringoutside,facedoutonthe round street, the aislesbetween them narrow cracksleading to the tower's ruinedcompound.Themanytalesofdeathand

madnesssurroundingHinter'sToweranditsenvironskeptitempty and, uppermost in theminds of the goldsmiths, anunlikely approach to theirpreciousstores.As the afternoon waned

towards dusk, the Round'scrowds thinned and theprivate guards grew morewary. Iron grilles rattled intoplace over storefronts hereandthere,andamongthefewthat remained open, torcheswereignited.Murillio entered theRound

from the Third Tier Road,pausing every now and thento examine a shopkeeper'swares. Wrapped in a

shimmering blue cloak fromthe Malle Waste, Murillioknewhisostentatiousdisplayof wealth would do much toallaysuspicion.He came to one shop in

particular, framed on eitherside by unlit stores. Thegoldsmith, narrow-faced andpebble-nosed, leanedhawkishlyonhiscounter,hisweathered hands before himbearing tiny grey scars that

looked like raven tracks onmud. One finger tapped arestless beat. Murillioapproached, meeting theman'sbeetleeyes.'IsthistheshopofKruteof

Talient?''I'm Krute,' the goldsmith

grated sourly, as ifdisgruntled with his lot inlife. 'Talient pearls, set inBloodgold from theminesofMoapandBelt,noneotherto

be found in all Darujhistan.'He leaned forward and spatpast Murillio, whoinvoluntarily stepped to oneside.'Nocustomers thisday?'he

asked,pullingahandkerchieffromhis sleeve and touchinghislips.Krute's gaze tightened.

'Onlyone,'hesaid.'Perusedacache of Goaliss gems, rareas dragon'smilk and suckled

fromrockasgrim.Ahundredslaves lost to each stoneprised from the angry veins.'Krute's shoulders jerked andhiseyesdarted.'OutthebackI keep them, lest temptationspatter the street with blood,andlike.'Murillio nodded. 'Sound

practice. Did he purchaseany?'Krute grinned, revealing

blackened stumps for teeth.

'One,butnot thebest.Come,I'llshowyou.'Hewenttotheside door and opened it.'Throughhere,then.'Murillio entered the shop.

Black curtains covered thewalls, and the airwasmustywitholdsweat.Kruteledhiminto the back room,which ifanything was more rank andstifling than the first. Thegoldsmithdroppedthecurtainbetween the two rooms and

facedMurillio.'Movequickly!I'velaidout

a horde of fool's gold andworthless stones on thecounter out front. If anysharp-eyed customer marksthem this hole will befinished.' He kicked at thebackwallandapanel swungfrom its hinges. 'Crawlthrough, dammit, and tellRallick that the Guild is notpleased with his generosity

regardingoursecrets.Go!'Murillio fell to his knees

and pushed his way throughthe portal, the earthen floordamp beneath his hands andstaining his knees. Hegroaned his distaste as thedoor swung down behindhim,thenclimbedtohisfeet.Before him rose Hinter'sTower, its mould-riddenstone walls glistening in thedying light. An overgrown

cobbledpathwayleduptothearched entrance bereft of adoor and heavy withshadows. Of the chamberwithin Murillio saw onlydarkness.Roots from the scraggy

scruboaksliningthepathhadpushed most of the cobblesupfromtheearth,makingtheway treacherous. After acautious minute Murillioarrived at the doorway. He

narrowedhisgazeandtriedtopiercethedarkness. 'Rallick?'hehissed.'Wherethehellareyou?'A voice spoke behind him.

'You'relate.'Murillio spun, a long, thin

duellingrapierinhislefthandrasping from its sheath andsweeping low into guardposition, a main-gaucheappearinginhisrighthandashe dropped into a defensive

crouch, then relaxed.'Dammit,Rallick!'The assassin grunted in

amusement, eyeing therapier'srazor-sharptip,whichhad but a moment earlierhoveredinchesfromhissolarplexis. 'Good to see yourreflexes have not dulled,friend. All that wine andthose pastries seem not tohavegirdledyou...much.'Murillio resheathed his

weapons. 'I expected to findyouinthetower.'Eyes widening, Rallick

said, 'Are you mad? Theplaceishaunted.''Youmean that's not just a

story you assassins made uptokeeppeopleaway?'Rallickturnedandmadehis

way to a lower terrace thathad once overlooked thegarden. White stone benches

squatted in the wiry yellowgrasslikethestainedbonesofsome gargantuan beast.Below the terrace, Murilliosawashejoinedtheassassin,sprawled a muddy, algae-filled pond. Frogs croakedandmosquitoesbuzzedinthetepid air. 'Some nights,'Rallick said as he brusheddead leaves from one of thebenches, 'wraiths crowd theentrance–youcanwalkright

up to them, listen to theirpleas and threats. They allwantout.'Hesatdown.Murillioremainedstanding,

his gaze on the tower. 'Whatof Hinter himself? Does hiswraithnumberamongthem?''No. The madman sleeps

within, or so it's said. Thewraiths are trapped in thesorcerer's nightmares – heholds on to them, and evenHoodcannotdrawthemtohis

cold bosom. Do youwish toknow where those wraithshave come from, Murillio?'Rallick grinned. 'Enter thetower, and you'll discover itfirsthand.'Murillio had been about to

go into the tower whenRallick had surprised him.'Thanks for the warning,' hesnapped sarcastically,gatheringhiscloakandsittingdown.

Rallick waved themosquitoes from his face.'Well?''Ihavethem,'Murilliosaid.

'Lady Orr's most trustedhand-servant delivered themthis afternoon.' He removedfrom inside his cloak abamboo tube tied in blueribbon. 'Two invitations toLady Simtal's Fete, aspromised.''Good.'Theassassinlooked

quickly at his friend. 'You'venot seen Kruppe's nosetwitch?''Not yet. Ran into him this

afternoon. Seems Crokus ismaking some bizarredemands.Ofcourse,'Murillioadded,scowling,'whocantellwhen Kruppe's caught windof something? In any case,I've seen nothing to suggestthe slippery little gnomesuspects we're up to

anything.''What was that you said

about Crokusmaking bizarredemands?''A peculiar thing, that,'

Murillio mused. 'When Idropped by the Phoenix Innthis afternoon Kruppe wasdelivering to the lad thepickings from his last job.Now, surely Crokus hasn'tabandoned Kruppe as hisfence – we all would've

caughtwindofthat.''That was from an estate,

wasn't it? Whose?' Rallickasked.'D'Arle's,' Murillio

answered, then his eyebrowsrose.'KissofGedderone!TheD'Arlemaiden!The ripe onewith thecheeks–she'sbeingshown at damn near everygathering, all the frilly ladsleaving a trail for the mop-boys. Oh, my! Our young

thief is perchance smitten,and now keeps her baublesfor himself. Of all thehopeless dreams a boy couldhave, he's reached for theworst.''Maybe,' Rallick said

quietly. 'Maybe not. A wordtohisuncle...'Murillio'spainedexpression

lifted. 'A nudge in the rightdirection? Yes, finally!Mammotwillbepleased—'

'Patience,' Rallickinterjected. 'Turning athieving child into a man ofstanding and learning willrequire more work than aswooningheartwillmanage.'Murillio frowned. 'Well,

forgive me for being soexcited at the prospect ofsavingthelad'slife.'Rallick's smile was soft.

'Never regret such pleasure,'hesaid.

Catchingtheassassin'stone,Murillio sighed, the sharpedges of his sarcasm sinkingaway. 'It's been many yearssincewehad somany thingsofhope to strive for,'he saidquietly.'The path to one will be

bloody,' Rallick said. 'Don'tforgetthat.But,yes,it'sbeena long time. I wonder ifKruppeevenrememberssuchdays.'

Murillio snorted. 'Kruppe'smemoryisrevisedhourly.Allthatholdshimtogetherisfearofbeingdiscovered.'Rallick's eyes darkened.

'Discovered?'Hisfriendseemedfaraway

but then he collected himselfand smiled. 'Oh, wornsuspicions, no more. He's aslipperyone,isKruppe.'Rallick chuckled at

Murillio's mocking syntax.He studied the pond beforethem.'Yes,'heagreed,afteratime, 'he's the slippery one,all right.' He stood. 'Krutewill be wanting to close up.TheRound'sasleepbynow.''Right.'The two men left the

terrace, methane mistsswirlingaroundtheirlegs.Asthey reached the pathMurillio turned for a look at

the tower's doorway,wonderingifhecouldseethegibbering wraiths, but all hesawbeneaththesaggingarchwas a wall of darkness. Insome strange way he foundthatmoredisturbingthananyhorde of lost souls he mightimagine.Bright morning sunlightflowed in from the broadwindows of Baruk's study,

andawarmwindslippedintothe room carrying the smellsand noises from the streetbelow. The alchemist, stilldressed in his nightclothes,satonahighstoolatthemaptable.Heheldabrush inonehand, dipping it now andagain into an ornate silverinkwell.The red ink had been

watered down. He paintedwash on the map, covering

the areas now held by theMalazan Empire. Fully onehalf of the map – the northhalf–wasred.Asmallclearstrip just south of BlackdogForest marked CaladanBrood's forces, flanked oneither side by two smallerpatches indicating theCrimsonGuard.Theredwashsurrounded these clear spotsandextendeddown toengulfPale, ending on the north

edge of the TahlynMountains.The street noises had

become quite loud, Baruknoted, as he leaned close tothemaptopainttheredtide'ssouthernborder.Constructionwork, he concluded, hearingthe squeal of winches and avoice bellowing at passers-by. The sounds died away,thentherecamealoudcrack!Baruk jumped, his right

forearm jerking out andknocking over the inkwell.Theredinkpouredacrosshismap.Cursing, Baruk sat back.

His eyes widened as hewatched the spreading staincover Darujhistan andcontinue south to Catlin. Hesteppeddown from the stool,reaching for a cloth to wipehis hands, more than a littleshaken by what could easily

be taken as an omen. Hewalkedacrossthechambertothewindow,bentforwardandlookeddown.A crew of workers was

busy tearing up the streetdirectly below. Two burlymenswungpickswhile threeothers formed a line passingthe shattered cobblestones toa growing pile on thepavement.Theforemanstoodnearby, his back to awagon,

studyingaparchmentscroll.Baruk frowned. 'Who's in

charge of roadmaintenance?'hewonderedaloud.A soft knock diverted his

attention.'Yes?'His servant, Roald, took a

single step into the room.'One of your agents hasarrived,Lord.'Baruk flicked a glance at

themaptable.'Havehimwait

amoment,Roald.''Yes, Lord.' The servant

stepped back and closed thedoor.The alchemist walked over

to the tableand rolledup theruinedmap.Fromthehallwaycame a loud voice followedby amurmur. Baruk slid themapon to a shelf and turnedintimetoseetheagententer,onhistrailascowlingRoald.

Waving at Roald to leave,Baruk gazed down at thegaudily dressed man. 'Goodday,Kruppe.'Roald stepped out and

softlyshutthedoor.'More than good, Baruk,

dear friend of Kruppe. Trulywonderful! Have youpartaken of the morn's freshair?'Baruk glanced at the

window. 'Unfortunately,' hesaid, 'the air outside mywindow has become ratherdusty.'Kruppe paused. His arms

returned to his sides, then hereached into a sleeve andwithdrew his handkerchief.Hepattedhisbrow. 'Ah,yes,the road workers. Kruppepassedthemonhiswayin.Arather belligerent lot, thinksKruppe. Indeed, rude, but

hardly exceptional for suchmeniallabourers.'Barukgesturedtoachair.With a beatific smile

Kruppe sat. 'Such a hot day,'he said, eyeing the carafe ofwineonthemantelpiece.Ignoring this, Baruk strode

tothewindowthenturnedhisback to it. He studied theman, wondering if he wouldever catch aglimpseofwhat

laybeyondKruppe'scherubicdemeanour. 'What have youheard?'heaskedsoftly.'What has Kruppe heard?

Whathasn'tKruppeheard!'Baruk raised an eyebrow.

'Howaboutbrevity?'Themanshiftedinthechair

and mopped his forehead.'Such heat!' Seeing Baruk'sexpression harden, hecontinued,'Now,asfornews.'

He leaned forward, his voicefalling to a whisper.' 'Tismuttered in corners in thebars, in dark doorways ofdank streets, in the nefariousshadows of nocturnal night,in—''Getonwithit!''Yes, of course. Well,

Kruppehascaughtwindofarumour.Anassassin'swar,noless. The Guild is takinglosses,'tissaid.'

Baruk turned back to thewindow,hiseyesonthestreetbelow. 'And where do thethievesstand?''The rooftops are getting

crowded. Throats are beingslit.Profitshaveplummeted.''Where'sRallick?'Kruppe blinked. 'He's

disappeared,'hesaid.'Kruppehasnotseenhimindays.''This assassin's war, it isn't

internal?''No.''Has this new force been

identified,then?''No.'Baruk's gaze intensified.

Below, the street workersseemed to spend more timearguing than working. Anassassin's war could betrouble. Vorcan's Guild wasstrong, but the Empire was

stronger, if indeed thesenewcomers were Claws. Butsomething felt decidedly oddabout thewhole thing. In thepast the Empress used suchlocal guilds, often recruitedfrom them. The alchemistcould discern no purposebehind such a war, and thatwas even more disturbing tohim than the war itself.Hearing a shuffling behindhim, he remembered his

agent.He turned and smiled.'Youcangonow.'Something flashed in

Kruppe's eyes that startledBaruk.The fatman rose inasingle fluid motion. 'Kruppehas more to tell, MasterBaruk.'Bemused, the alchemist

nodded for Kruppe tocontinue.'The tale is arduous and

confused, alas,' he said,striding to join Baruk at thewindow. His handkerchiefhaddisappeared. 'Kruppecanonlysurmiseasbestamanofinnumerable talents may. Inmoments of leisure, duringgamesofchanceandthelike.In the aura of the Twins anAdept may hear, see, smell,and touch things asinsubstantial as the wind. AtasteofLadyLuck, thebitter

warning of the Lord'sLaughter.' Kruppe's gazesnappedtothealchemist. 'Doyoufollow,Master?'His eyes riveted on the

man's round face,Baruk saidquietly, 'You speak ofOponn.'Kruppe looked back down

at the street. 'Perhaps.Perhapsagrimfeintmeanttomislead such as foolishKruppe—'

Foolish? Baruk smiledinwardly.Notthisman.'- who can say?' Kruppe

raisedahand,showinginhispalm a flat disc of wax. 'Anitem,' he said softly, his eyeson the disc, 'that passeswithout provenance, pursuedby many who thirst for itscold kiss, on which life andallthatlaywithinlifeisoftengambled. Alone, a beggar'scrown. In great numbers, a

king's folly. Weighted withruin,yetbloodwashesfromitbeneath the lightest rain, andtothenextnohintofitscost.It is as it is, says Kruppe,worthless but for those whoinsistotherwise.'Baruk was holding his

breath.His lungs burned, yetit was an effort to releasethem. Kruppe's words haddrawnhimintosomething–aplace,hintingofvaststoresof

knowledge and the sure,unfailing, precise hand thathadgathered it,marked it onparchment.A library,shelvesofblackwoodinsharprelief,tomesboundtoshinyleather,yellowed scrolls, a pitted,stained desk – Baruk felt hehadbutstolenasingleglanceinto this chamber. Kruppe'smind,thesecretplacewithitsdoor locked to all but one.'You speak,' Baruk said

slowly, fighting to pull backintorealitybyfocusingonthewaxdiscinKruppe'shand,'ofacoin.'Kruppe's hand snapped

shut. He turned and set thediscdownonthewindow-sill.'Examine this semblance,Master Baruk. It marks bothsides of a single coin.' Thehandkerchief reappeared andKruppe stepped back,dabbinghisbrow. 'My,but it

ishot,saysKruppe!''Help yourself to some

wine,' Baruk murmured. Asthe man left his side thealchemistopenedhisWarren.Hegesturedandthewaxdiscrose into the air, slowlymoving to hover before himat eye-level. He studied theimprint facing him. 'TheLady,' he muttered, nodding.The disc turned, revealing tohimtheLord.Thediscturned

again, and Baruk's eyeswidenedasitbeganspinning.A whirring sound filled theback of his head.He felt hisWarren resisting a pressurethat grew with the sound,thenhissourcecollapsed.Faintly, as if from a great

distance, he heard Kruppespeak. 'Even in thissemblance, Master Baruk,blows the Twins' breath. Nomage'sWarrencanwithstand

thatwind.'Thediscstillspunintheair

in front of Baruk, a silverblur. A fine mist expandedaround it. Hot dropletsspattered his face and hestepped back. Blue fireflickered from the meltingwax, the disc dwindlingrapidly. A moment later itvanished, and the spinningsound and its accompanyingpressurestoppedabruptly.

The sudden silence filledBaruk's head with pain. Helaid a trembling hand on thewindow-sill for support, thenclosed his eyes. 'Who carriestheCoin,Kruppe?'His voicerasped from his constrictedthroat.'Who?'Kruppeonceagainstoodat

his side. 'A lad,'heansweredcasually. 'Known to Kruppe,assuredly so, as well as toyour other agents, Murillio,

RallickandColl.'Baruk's eyes reopened.

'That can't be a coincidence,'he hissed, a desperate hoperising to struggle against theterror he felt. Oponn hadentered the gambit, and insuchreachesofpowerthelifeof a city and those within itmeant nothing. He glared atKruppe. 'Gather the group,then. All you've named.They've served my interests

foralongtime,andtheymustdo so now, above all otherconcerns.Do you understandme?''Kruppe will convey your

insistence. Rallick perchanceis bound to Guild duties,while Coll, given purpose inlife once again, might wellsteadyhisgazeandtreadandtake this mission to heart.Master Baruk? What is themission,bytheway?'

'Protect the Coinbearer.Watchhim,markwhosefacerestsonhimbenignorfoul.Imust know if the Lady hashim, or the Lord. And,Kruppe,forthis,findRallick.If the Lord claims theCoinbearer, the assassin'stalentswillberequired.'Kruppe blinked.

'Understood. Alas, maymercy smile upon youngCrokus.'

'Crokus?' Baruk frowned.'That'sanameIknow.'Kruppe's face remained

blank.'Never mind. Very well,

Kruppe.' He turned back tothewindowonceagain.'Keepmeinformed.''Asalways,Baruk,Kruppe's

friend.'Themanbowed.'Andthankyouforthewine,itwasmostdelicious.'

Baruk heard the door openthen close. He gazed downthe street. He'd managed toclamp a hold on his fear.Oponn had away ofmakingruins of the most finelywrought plans. Barukdespised that prospect ofchance operating in hisaffairs. He could no longerrely on his ability to predict,to prepare contingencies, towork out every possibility

and seek out the one bestsuited to his desires. As theCoinspun,thusthecity.Added to this the

mysterious ways of theEmpress. Baruk rubbed hisbrow. He'd have to instructRoald to bring him somehealingtea.Hisheadachewasreaching debilitatingproportions. As he broughthis hand down past his facehiseyescaughtaflashofred.

He raised both palms intoview. Red ink stained them.He leaned forward on thewindow-sill. Through asparkling cloud of dust,Darujhistan's rooftopssprawled, and the harbourbeyond. 'And you, Empress,'hewhispered. 'I know you'rehere, somewhere. Yourpawns move unseen as yet,but Iwill find them.Be sureof that, with or without

Oponn'sdamnedluck.'

BOOKTHREE

THE

MISSION

Marionettes danceafieldbeneath masterlyhands–I stumble amongthemcrossed by thestringsintangledtwo-stepand curse all thesefoolsin their madpirouette–

I shall not live astheydooh, no, leaveme inmycircleddance–theseunbiddentwitchingsyouseeI swear on Hood'sGraveisartistryinmotion

SayingsoftheFoolThenyBule(b?)

CHAPTEREIGHT

He stepped downthenamong women andmen,thesigilstrippedinherfoulcleansingthere on the blood-soakedsandspilledthelivesof Emperor andFirstSword–

so tragic thistreachery...He was of the OldGuard,commanding thehonededgeofEmpire'sfury,and so in steppingdownbutnotawayhe remained theremembrancebeforeher eyes, the

curseof conscience shewouldnotstand.A price was placedbeforehimthatheglancedoverinfirstpassingunknowing and sounpreparedin stepping downamongwomenand men, he foundwhat

he'd surrenderedanddamneditsreawakening...

TheBridgeburnersToctheYounger

A quarter-hour before dawntheskyheldthecolourofironshot through with streaks ofrust. Sergeant Whiskeyjacksquatted on a dome ofbedrock up from the pebblebeach, gazing out over themisty calm surface of Lake

Azur.Fartothesouth,onthelake'soppositeshore,rosethefaintglowofDarujhistan.The mountain crossing of

the night just past had beenhell,theQuorltossedaboutinthe midst of three warringthunder-heads. It was amiraclenoonehadbeenlost.The rain had since stopped,leaving the air cool andclammy.Heheardthesoundofboots

accompanied by a clickingnoise behind him.Whiskeyjack turned andstraightened. Kalam and aBlack Moranth approached,pickingtheirwaythroughthemossy tumbleof rocksat thebase of the slope. Behindthem rose the shadowedredwood forest, the patchedtrunks standing like beardedsentinels against themountainside. The sergeant

drew a deep breath of thechillmorningair.'Everything's fine,' Kalam

said. 'The Green Moranthdelivered as ordered, andmore. Fiddler andHedge aretwohappysappers.'Whiskeyjack raised an

eyebrow. He turned to theBlack Moranth. 'I thoughtyour munitions were gettingscarce.'

The creature's faceremained in shadow beneaththehingedhelmet.Thewordsthat came from it seemedborn from a cavern, hollowand faintly echoing.'Selectively,BirdThatSteals.You are well known to us,Bridgeburner. You tread theenemy's shadow. From theMoranth, assistance willneverbescarce.'Surprised, Whiskeyjack

looked away, the skintighteningaroundhiseyes.The Moranth continued.

'Youaskedof thefateofoneof our kind. A warrior withbut one arm, who fought atyour side in the streets ofNathilogmanyyearsago.Helivesstill.'The sergeant took a deep

breathofthesweetforestair.'Thankyou,'hesaid.

'Wewishthatthebloodyounext find on your hands isyour enemy's, Bird ThatSteals.'He frowned, then gave a

brusque nod and turned hisattentionbacktoKalam.'Whatelse?'The assassin's face became

expressionless. 'Quick Ben'sready,'hesaid.'Good. Gather the others.

I'llbelayingoutmyplan.''Yourplan,Sergeant?''Mine,' Whiskeyjack said

firmly. 'The one devised bythe Empress and hertacticiansisbeingrejected,asof now. We're doing it myway.Getgoing,Corporal.'Kalamsalutedthenleft.Whiskeyjack stepped down

from the rock, his bootssinking into the moss. 'Tell

me, Moranth, might asquadron of your Black bepatrollingthisareatwoweeksfromnow?'The Moranth's head

swivelledaudiblytowardsthelake. 'Such unscheduledpatrolsarecommon. I expectto command one myself intwoweeks'time.'Whiskeyjackgazedsteadily

attheblack-armouredwarriorstanding beside him. 'I'm not

quite sure how to take that,'hesaideventually.Thewarriorfacedhim.'We

arenotsounalike,'hesaid.'Inoureyesdeedshavemeasure.We judge. We act upon ourjudgements. As in Pale, wematchspiritwithspirit.'The sergeant frowned.

'Whatdoyoumean?''Eighteen thousand seven

hundredand thirty-nine souls

departedinthepurgeofPale.One for each Moranthconfirmed as a victim ofPale's history of enmitytowardsus.Spiritwith spirit,BirdThatSteals.'Whiskeyjack found he had

no response. The Moranth'snextwordsshookhimdeeply.'There are worms within

yourempire's flesh.But suchdegradation is natural in allbodies. Your people's

infection is not yet fatal. Itcan be scoured clean. TheMoranth are skilled at suchefforts.''Howexactly,'Whiskeyjack

paused, choosing his wordscarefully, 'do you intend thisscouring?' He recalled thewagons piled with corpseswinding out of Pale, andstruggled against the icetinglingalonghisspine.'Spirit with spirit,' the

Moranth answered, returninghisattentiontothecityonthesouth shore. 'We depart fornow.Youwillfindushereintwo weeks' time, Bird ThatSteals.'Whiskeyjack watched the

Black Moranth walk away,pushing through the thicketsurrounding the clearingwhere his riders waited. Amoment later he heard therapid thudofwings, then the

Quorl rose above the trees.The Moranth circled onceoverhead, then turned north,slipping between the beardedbolesandheadingupslope.The sergeant sat down on

thebedrockagain,hiseyesonthegroundasthemembersofhis squad arrived, hunkeringdown around him. Heremained silent, seemingunaware that he hadcompany, his brow furrowed

and jaw bunching as heground his molars with aslow,steadyprecision.'Sarge?' Fiddler said

quietly.Startled, Whiskeyjack

looked up. He drew a deepbreath. Everyone hadgathered with the exceptionof Quick Ben. He'd leaveKalam to fill in the wizardlater. 'All right. The originalplan's been scrapped, since it

was intended to get us allkilled. I didn't like that part,so we'll do it my way andhopefullygetoutalive.''Weain'tgoing tomine the

city gates?' Fiddler asked,glancingatHedge.'No,'thesergeantanswered.

'We'll put those Moranthmunitions to better use. Twoobjectives, two teams.Kalamwill lead one, and with himwillbeQuickBenand ...' he

hesitated '... and Sorry. I'lllead theother team.The firsttask is to get into the cityunnoticed. Out of uniform.'HelookedtoMallet.'ItakeittheGreendelivered?'The healer nodded. 'It's a

local make, all right.Eighteen-foot fisher, fouroars,shouldgetusacrossthelake easy enough. Even acoupleofnetsincluded.''So we'll do some fishing,'

Whiskeyjack said. 'Cominginto the harbour without acatch would look suspect.Anybodyhereeverfished?'There was silence, then

Sorry spoke up. 'I have, alongtimeago.'Whiskeyjack stared at her,

then said, 'Right. Pickwhoeveryouneedforthat.'Sorrysmiledmockingly.Whiskeyjack pulled his

gaze from hers with an oathunderhisbreath.Heeyedhistwo saboteurs. 'How muchmunitions?''Twocrates,'Hedgereplied,

adjusting his leather cap.'Cussers all thewaydown toSmokers.''We could cook a palace,'

Fiddler added, shifting aboutexcitedly.'Good enough,'

Whiskeyjack said. 'All right,everyone listen and payattention, or we won't comeoutofthisalive...'In a secluded glade in theforest, Quick Ben pouredwhitesandinacircleandsatdown in its centre. He tookfive sharpened sticks and setthem in a row before him,pushing them to variousdepths in the loam. The

centre stick, thehighest, roseabout three feet; the ones oneither side stood at two feetandtheouteronesatafoot.The wizard uncoiled a

yard's length of thin gutstring. He took one end andfashioned a scaled-downnoose, which he tightenedover thecentre sticknear thetop.Heranthelinetotheleft,looping it onceover thenextshaft,thencrossedovertothe

rightsideandloopeditagain.He brought the string acrosstothefarleftstick,mutteringafewwordsashedidso.Hewrappedit twiceandbroughtit over to the far right stick,where he tied a knot and cutthetrailingstring.QuickBenleanedbackand

foldedhishandsonhislap.Afrown creased his brow.'Hairlock!' An outer sticktwitched,turnedslightly,then

fellstill.'Hairlock!'hebarkedagain. All five shafts jerked.The centre one bent towardsthe wizard. The stringtautened and a low-pitchedhumemanatedfromit.A cold wind swept across

Quick Ben's face, strippingaway thebeadsof sweat thathad gathered in the lastminute. A rushing soundfilled his head, and he felthimself falling through dark

caverns, their unseen wallsringing in his ears as if ironhammers clanged against therock. Flashes of blindingsilverlightstunghiseyesandthe wind pulled at the skinandfleshofhisface.Insomeshieldedpartofhis

mind he retained a sense ofdistance, of control. Withinthis calm he could think,observe, analyse. 'Hairlock,'he whispered, 'you've gone

too far. Too deep. ThisWarren has swallowed youand will never spit you out.You're losing control,Hairlock.' But these thoughtswere forhimalone;heknewthepuppetwasstilldistant.He watched himself

continue, spinning, whirlingthrough the Caverns ofChaos. Hairlock wascompelledtomatchhim,onlyupward. Abruptly he found

himselfstanding.Beneathhisfeettheblackrockseemedtoswirl, cracked here and therein its slow convolutions bybright,glowingred.Looking around, he saw

that he stood on a spar ofrock, rising at an angle, itsjagged apex a dozen feet infront of him. Turning, hisgaze followed the spar as itsank down and out of sight,lost to billowing yellow

clouds.Amoment of vertigogripped Quick Ben. Hetottered, then, as he regainedhis balance he heard achuckle behind him. Heturned to see Hairlockperched atop the apex, hiswooden body smeared andscorched, the doll's clothingrippedandfrayed.Quick Ben asked, 'This is

theSparofAndii,isn'tit?'Hairlock's round head

bobbed. 'Half-way. Now youknow how far I have gone,wizard. To the very foot ofthe Warren, where powerfindsitsfirstshape,andallispossible.''Justnotvery likely,'Quick

Ben said, eyeing themarionette. 'Howdoesitfeel,standing in the middle of allthat creation but unable totouch it, to use it? It's tooalien, isn't it? It bums you

witheveryreach.''I'll master it,' Hairlock

hissed. 'You know nothing.Nothing.'Quick Ben smiled. 'I've

been here before, Hairlock.'Hescannedtheswirlinggasesaround them, scudding oncontrarywinds. 'You've beenlucky,' he said. 'Though theyare few in number, there arecreatureswho call this realmhome.'Hepaused and turned

hissmileonthepuppet.'Theydislike intruders – have youseen what they do to them?Whattheyleavebehind?'Thewizard's smile broadened atseeing Hairlock's involuntaryjerk. 'So you have,' he saidquietly.'You are my protector,'

Hairlock snapped. 'I'mboundto you, Wizard! Theresponsibility is yours, norwill I hide the fact if I am

taken.''Bound to me, indeed.'

QuickBenloweredhimselftohis haunches. 'Good to hearyour memory's come back.Tell me, how faresTattersail?'The puppet slumped,

looking away. 'Her recoveryisadifficultone.'Quick Ben frowned.

'Recovery?Fromwhat?'

'The Hound Gear trackedme.' Hairlock shifteduneasily. 'There was askirmish.'A scowl grew on the

wizard'sface.'And?'Thepuppetshrugged. 'Gear

fled, sorely wounded by amundane sword in the handsof that captain of yours.Tayschrenn then arrived, butTattersail had slipped intounconsciousness by then, so

his search for answers wasthwarted. But the fire ofsuspicion has been stokedbeneathhim.Hesendsouthisservants, and they stalk theWarrens.Theyhunt forsignsof who and what I am. Andwhy.Tayschrennknowsyoursquad is involved, he knowsyou're trying to save yourownskins.'Thepuppet'smadgazeflickered.'Hewantsyouall dead,Wizard. And as for

Tattersail, perhaps he hopesher fever will kill her so hewon't have to – but there ismuch he'd lose if she diedwithout his questioning herfirst. No doubt he'd seek outhersoul,he'dpursuewhatsheknows into Hood's ownrealm,butshe'dknowenoughtobeelusive.''Shut up for a minute,'

Quick Ben ordered. 'Back tothe beginning. You said

Captain Paran stabbed Gearwithhissword?'Hairlock scowled. 'I did.A

mortal weapon – it shouldn'thave been possible. He maywell have dealt the Hound afatal wound.' The puppetpaused,thengrowled,'You'venot told me everything,Wizard. There are godsinvolved in this. If you keepmeinsuchignoranceImightwell stumble into thepathof

one of them.' He spat. 'Aslave to you is bad enough.Do you think you couldchallenge a god for masteryof me? I'd be taken, turned,perhaps even ...' Hairlockunsheathed one of his smallknives '... used against you.'He advanced a step, a darkglitterinhiseyes.Quick Ben raised an

eyebrow. Inside, his heartlurched in his chest. Was it

possible?Would he not havedetected something? Aflavour, a hint of immortalpresence?'One last thing, Wizard,'

Hairlock murmured, takinganother step. 'Tattersail'sfever crested just this nightpast.Shescreamedsomethingaboutacoin.Acointhathadspun,butnowithasfallen,ithas bounced, it has enteredsomeone's hand. You must

tell me about this coin – Imust have your thoughts,Wizard.' The puppet stoppedsuddenlyandlookeddownatthe knife in his hand.Hairlock hesitated, seemingconfused, then sheathed theweaponandsquatted. 'What'ssoimportantaboutacoin?'hegrowled. 'Nothing. The bitchraved–shewasstrongerthanIhadthought.'Quick Ben froze. The

puppet seemed to haveforgotten that thewizardwaspresent.Thethoughtshenowheard were Hairlock's own.He realized he was lookingthroughtheshatteredwindowintothepuppet'sinsanemind.And it was there that all thedanger lay. The wizard heldhis breath as Hairlockcontinued, its eyes fixed onthecloudsbelow.'Gearshouldhavekilledher

–would have, if not for thatidiot captain.What irony, henowtendstoherandputshishandtohisswordwheneverIseektocomenear.HeknowsI would snuff her life in aninstant.Butthatsword.Whatgod plays with this foolnoble?'Thepuppetspokeon,but his words dwindled intoinaudiblemumbles.Quick Ben waited, hoping

for more, though what he'd

already heard was enough toset his heart pounding. Thismad creature wasunpredictable, and all thatheld him in check was atenuous control – the stringsof power he'd attached toHairlock'swooden body.Butwith this kind of madnesscame strength – enoughstrength to break thosestrings? The wizard was nolonger as sure of his control

ashehadbeen.Hairlock had fallen silent.

His painted eyes stillflickered with black flame –theleakingofChaoticpower.Quick Ben took a stepforward.'PursueTayschrenn'splans,'

he commanded, then hekicked hard. The toe of hisboot struck Hairlock's chestandsent thepuppetspinning.Hairlock flew out over the

edge,thenfelldownward.Hisoutragedsnarldwindledashedisappeared into the yellowclouds.Quick Ben drew a deep

breath of the thick, stale air.He hoped that his abruptdismissalhadbeenenoughtoskew Hairlock's recollectionsofthepastfewminutes.Still,hefeltthosestringsofcontrolgrowing evermore taut. Themore this Warren twisted

Hairlock, themore power hewouldcommand.Thewizardknewwhathe'd

have to do – Hairlock hadgiven it to him, in fact. Still,Quick Ben wasn't lookingforward to it. The taste ofsour bile rose into hismouthand he spat over the ledge.The air stankof sweat and itwas a moment before herealized it was his own. Hehissed a curse. 'Time to

leave,'hemuttered.Heraisedhisarms.The wind returned with a

roar, and he felt his bodyflung up, up into the cavernabove, then the next. As thecaverns blurred by, a singlewordclungtohis thoughts,aword that seemed to twistaround the problem ofHairlocklikeaweb.Quick Ben smiled, but it

was a smile responding to

terror. And the wordremained,Gear,andwiththatname the wizard's terrorfoundaface.Whiskeyjack rose amidsilence. The expressionsarrayed around him weresober,eyesdowncastorfixedelsewhere, closed into somepersonal,privateplacewhereswam the heaviest thoughts.The lone exception was

Sorry, who stared at thesergeant with bright,approving eyes.Whiskeyjackwonderedwhowasdoingtheapprovingwithinthoseeyes–thenheshookhishead,angrythat something ofQuickBenand Kalam's suspicions hadslippedintohisthoughts.He glanced away, to see

Quick Ben approaching. Thewizardlookedtired,anashentinttohisface.Whiskeyjack's

gazesnappedtoKalam.The assassin nodded.

'Everyone, look alive,' hesaid. 'Load up the boat andgetitready.'Mallet leading theway, the

others headed down to thebeach.Waiting for Quick Ben to

arrive, Kalam said, 'Thesquad looks beat, Sergeant.Fiddler, Trotts and Hedge

moved enough dirt in thosetunnels to bury the Empire'sdead.I'mworriedaboutthem.Mallet – he seems to beholding together, so far ...Still, whatever Sorry knowsaboutfishing,Idoubtanyoneofuscouldrowtheirwayoutofabathtub.Andwe'reaboutto try crossing a lake damnnearbigasasea?'Whiskeyjack's jaw

tightened, then he forced a

casual shrug into hisshoulders. 'You know damnwellthatanyWarrenopeninganywhere near the city willlikelybedetected.Nochoice,Corporal.Werow.Unlesswecanrigupasail.'Kalamgrunted.'Sincewhen

does the girl know aboutfishing?'The sergeant sighed. 'I

know.Cameoutofnowhere,didn'tit?'

'Bloodyconvenient.'Quick Ben reached the

dome of rock. Bothmen fellsilent at seeing hisexpression.'I'm about to propose

something you're going tohate,'thewizardsaid.'Let's hear it,' Whiskeyjack

replied, in a voice empty offeeling.Tenminutes later the three

men arrived on the slickpebbled beach, bothWhiskeyjack and Kalamlooking shaken. A dozenyards from the water's edgesatthefisherboat.Trottswasstrainingontheropeattachedto the prow hook, gaspingand moaning as he leanedforwardwithallhisweight.The restof the squadstood

in a clump off to one side,quietly discussing Trotts'

futileefforts.Fiddlerchancedto look up. SeeingWhiskeyjack marchingtowardsthem,heblanched.'Trotts!' the sergeant

bellowed.The Barghast's face, woad

tattoos stretched intoillegibility, turned toWhiskeyjackwithwideeyes.'Letgooftherope,soldier.'Kalam released an amused

snort behind Whiskeyjack,who glared at the others.'Now,' he said, his voiceharsh,'sinceoneofyouidiotsconvinced everyone else thatloadingalltheequipmentintothe boat when it's still onshore was a good idea, youcanallmantheropeanddragit into the lake – not you,Trotts. You get inside, getcomfortable, there at thestern.' Whiskeyjack paused.

He studied Sorry'sexpressionless face. 'FromFiddler and Hedge I expectthis,butIthoughtIputyouinchargeofsettingthingsup.'Sorryshrugged.Whiskeyjack sighed. 'Can

yourigusasail?''There'snowind.''Well,maybetherewillbe!'

Whiskeyjack said,exasperated.

'Yes,' Sorry answered. 'Wehavesomecanvas.We'llneedamast.''Take Fiddler and make

one.Now,therestofyou,getthisboatintothewater.'Trotts climbed inside and

sat down at the stern. Hestretched out his long legsand draped an arm over thesplashboard. He bared hisfiledteethinwhatmighthavebeenasmile.

Whiskeyjack turned to agrinning Kalam and QuickBen. 'Well?' he demanded.'What'reyouwaitingfor?'Thegrinsdied.

CHAPTERNINE

Have you seen theonewhostandsapartcursedinaritualsealinghiskindbeyond death thehostamassed andwhirlinglike a plague ofpollen–

hestandsaparttheFirstamongalleverveiledintimeyet outcast andalonea T'lan Imasswanderinglikeaseedunfallen

LayofOnosT'oolanToctheYounger

Toc the Younger leaned

forward in his saddle andspat. Itwas his third day outfromPale, and he longed forthe city's high walls aroundhim. The Rhivi Plainstretched out on all sides,cloaked in yellow grass thatrippledintheafternoonwind,butotherwisefeatureless.He scratched the edges of

thewound thathad takenhisleft eye, and muttered underhis breath. Something was

wrong. He should have mether two days past. Nothingwas going as planned thesedays. What with CaptainParan vanishing before evenmeetingWhiskeyjackandthestory making the roundsabout a Hound attacking the2nd'slast-survivingmageandleavingfourteendeadmarinesin its wake, he supposed heshouldn't be surprised thatthis rendezvous had gone

awryaswell.Chaosseemedasignofthe

times. Toc straightened androse in his saddle. Thoughtherewasnotrueroadassuchon the Plain, merchantcaravanshadmappedaroughtrack running north-southalongthewesternedge.Tradehad since died out, but thepassing of generations ofwagons and horse trains hadleft its mark. The centre of

the Plain was home to theRhivi, those small brown-skinned people who movedwith the herds in a seasonalcycle. Though not warlike,the Malazan Empire hadforced their hand, and nowthey fought and scoutedalongside Caladan Brood'sTiste Andii legions againsttheEmpire.Moranth reports placed the

Rhivi far to the north and

east, and Toc was thankfulfor that.Hewas feeling veryalone out in this wasteland,yet loneliness was a lesserevil,allthingsconsidered.Toc'ssingleeyewidened.It

seemed he wasn't so alone,after all. Perhaps a leagueahead ravens wheeled. Theman cursed and loosened thescimitar sheathed at his hip.He fought the urge to pushhis horse into a gallop and

settledforaquicktrot.As he neared he saw

trampledgrassofftoonesideof the trader's track. Thecackling laughter of theravenswas theonlysound tobreak the stillness. They hadalready begun feeding. Tocreined in his horse and satunmoving in his saddle,hunchedforward.Noneofthebodies he saw looked as iftheywereapttostartmoving,

and the ravens' preoccupiedsquabbling was goodevidence that any survivorshadlonggone.Still,hehadabad feeling about this.Something hung in the air,something between a smellandataste.He waited, for what he

wasn't certain, but areluctance to move grippedhim.Allatonceheidentifiedthestrangenesshefelt:magic.

Ithadbeenunleashedhere. 'Ihate this,' he muttered, thendismounted.Theravensgavehimroom,

but not much. Ignoring theiroutraged shrieks heapproached the bodies. Theynumberedtwelveinall.Eightwore the uniforms ofMalazanMarines – but theseweren't average soldiers. Hisgaze narrowed on the silversigils on their helmets.

'Jakatakan,' he said. Elites.They'dbeencuttopieces.He turned his attention to

theremainingbodiesandfelta tremor of fear run throughhim. No wonder theJakatakan had taken such abeating.Toc strode tooneofthe bodies and crouchedbesideit.Heknewsomethingof the clan markings amongthe Barghast, how eachhunter group was identified

through theirwoad tattooing.Thebreathhissedbetweenhisteeth and he reached out toturnthesavage'sfacetowardshim, then he nodded. Thesewere Ilgres Clan. Before theCrimson Guard had enlistedthem,theirhometerritoryhadbeen fifteen hundred leaguesto the east, among themountains just south of thePorule.SlowlyTocrose.TheIlgres numbered among the

strongest of those who hadjoined the Crimson Guard atBlackdogForest,butthatwasfour hundred leagues north.So what had brought themhere?Thestenchofspilledmagic

waftedacrosshisfaceandheturned, his eye fixing on abodyhehadn'tnoticedbefore.It lay beside scorched grass.'So,' he said, 'my question'sanswered.' This band had

been led by a Barghastshaman. Somehow, they'dstumbledontoatrailandthisshamanhad recognized it forwhat it was. Toc studied theshaman's body. Killed by asword wound in the throat.The unleashing of sorceryhadbeentheshaman's,butnomagichadopposedhim.Andthat was odd, particularlysince itwas the shamanwhohad died, rather than

whomeverhe'dattacked.Toc grunted. 'Well, she's

said tobehellonmages.'Hewalked a slow circle aroundthe kill site, and found thetrail with little difficulty.Some of the Jakatakan hadsurvived, and from thesmaller set of boot-prints, sohad their charge. Andoverlaying these tracks werehalfadozenmoccasinprints.The trail veered westerly

from the trader's track, yetstillledsouth.Returning tohishorse,Toc

mounted and swung theanimal around. He removedtheshortbowfromitssaddleholster and strung it, thennocked an arrow. There wasnohopeofcomingupon theBarghast undetected. Out onthis plain he'd be visible along time before enteringarrow-range – and that range

hadbecomemuchclosernowthat he'd lost an eye. Sothey'd be waiting for him,with those damn lances. Butheknewhehadnochoice;hehopedonly to takedownoneor two of them before theyskeweredhim.Toc spat again, then

wrapped the reins around hisleft forearm and adjusted hisgriponthebow.Hegavethewide red scar crossing his

face a vigorous, painfulscratch, realizing that themaddening itch would returnin moments anyway. 'Ohwell,' he said, then drove hisheelsintothehorse'sflanks.The lone hill that rose upbeforeAdjunctLornwas nota natural one. The tops ofmostly buried stonesencircled its base. Shewondered what might be

entombed within it, thendismissed her misgivings. Ifthosestandingstoneswereofthe size she'd seen risingaround the mysteriousbarrows outside Genabaris,this mound dated backmillennia. She turned to thetwo exhausted marinesstumblinginherwake. 'We'llmake our stand here. Youwiththecrossbow,Iwantyoulyinguptop.'

Themanduckedhisheadinanswer and staggered to themound'sgrassysummit.Bothhe and his comrade seemedalmost relieved that she'dcalled a halt, though theyknew their death was butminutesaway.Lorneyedtheothersoldier.

He'dtakenalancebarbinhisleft shoulder and the bloodstill flowed profusely downthe front of his breastplate.

Howhehadstayedonhisfeetin the last hour was beyondLorn's understanding. Helooked upon her with eyesdulled by resignation,showing nothing of the painhemustbefeeling.'I'll hold your left,' he said,

shiftinghisgriponthecurvedtulwarinhisrighthand.Lorn unsheathed her own

longsword and fixed herattention northwards. Only

fourof thesixBarghastwerevisible, approaching slowly.'We're being flanked,' shecalled out to hercrossbowman. 'Take the oneonyourleft.'The soldier beside her

grunted. 'Mylifeneednotbesheltered,' he said. 'We werechargedwithyourprotection,Adjunct—''Quiet,' Lorn commanded.

'The longer you stand the

better protected I'll be,' shesaid.Thesoldiergruntedagain.The four Barghast were

lingering now, just out ofbowshot range. Two stillcarried their lances; theothertwogrippedshort axes.ThenavoicecriedoutfartoLorn'srightandshewhirledtoseealance speeding towards her,and behind it a chargingBarghast.

Lorn brought her bladeacross her body and droppedintoacrouchassheraisedtheweapon over her head. Herswordcaughtthelance'sshaftandevenasitdidsoshewasturning, pulling her weaponto one side. The deflectedlance sped past and crackedinto the hillside off to herright.Behind her she heard the

crossbowman release a

quarrel. As she spun back tothe four charging Barghastthere came a scream of painfrom the other side of themound. The soldier besideher seemed tohave forgottenhiswound, as he gripped histulwar with both hands andplantedhisfeetwide.'Attend,Adjunct,'hesaid.The Barghast off to the

rightcriedoutandsheturnedto see him spinningwith the

impactofaquarrel.The four warriors before

them were no more thanthirty feet away. The twowith lances now launchedthem. Lorn made no move,realizing almost immediatelythat the one aimed at herwould fly wide. The soldierbeside her dropped away tohis left, but not enough toavoid the lance as it thuddedinto his right thigh. It struck

with such force as to driveright through his leg andembeditselfintheearth.Thesoldier was pinned, but hisonly response was a softgasp,andheraisedhisswordto parry an axe swinging athishead.In this time Lorn had

already closed with theBarghast rushing at her. Hisaxe was a shorter weapon,and she took advantage of

this with a thrust before hecame into his own range.Hebrought the copper-sheathedhaftuptoparry,butLornhadalready flicked her wrist,completing the feint anddipping under the axe. Herlunge buried the sword pointintheBarghast'schest,slicingthe leather armour as if itwerecloth.Her attack had committed

her,andherswordwasnearly

wrenched from her hand asthe savage toppledbackwards. Off-balance, shestaggered a step, expectingthe crushing blow of an axe.But it did not arrive.Regaining her balance shespun round, to find hercrossbowman, now wieldinghistulwar,engagingtheotherBarghast. Lorn snapped herattentiontoseehowherotherguardfared.

Somehow, he still lived,though he faced twoBarghast. He'd managed todrag the lance out of theearth, but the weapon's shaftremained in his leg. That hewasabletomoveatall,muchless defend himself, spokeeloquently of Jakatakandisciplineandtraining.Lorn rushed to engage the

Barghast on the man's right,nearest her. Even as she did

so, an axe slipped past thesoldier'sguardandstruckhimacross the chest. Scalesnapped as the heavyweapon'sedgerippedthrougharmour. The soldier groanedand fell to one knee, bloodsprayingontotheground.Lornwas in no position to

defend him and could onlywatch in horror as the axeswung again, this timestriking theman in the head.

The helmet collapsed inwardand his neck broke. Hetoppled sideways, landing atLorn's feet. Her forwardmomentum carried her rightoverhim.Acursebrokefromherlips

asshesprawled,crashingintothe Barghast in front of her.Shetriedtobringthepointofher swordupbehindhimbuthe twisted lithely toone sideandleapedaway.Lorntooka

wild swing at him, missing,even as she fell. She felt hershoulder dislocate as she hitthe hard ground, and thesword dropped from hernumbedhand.Now, she thought, theonly

thing left to do is die. Sherolledontoherback.With a growl the Barghast

was standing beside her, axeraisedhigh.

Lornwasinagoodpositionto see the skeletal handbursting from the earthbeneath the Barghast. Itgrasped an ankle. Bonessnapped and the warriorscreamed. Vaguely, as shewatched,shewonderedwherethe other two savages hadgone. All sounds of fightingseemed to have stopped, butthe ground rumbled with agrowing,urgentthunder.

The Barghast stared downatthehandcrushinghisshin.He screamed again as thewide, rippled blade of a flintsword shot up between hislegs. The axe left thewarrior's hands as hefrantically brought themdown in an effort to deflectthe sword, twisting to onesideandkickingoutwithhisfree leg. It all came too late.The sword impaled him,

jamming against his hipboneand lifting him from theground.Hisdyingshriekroseskyward.Lorn climbed to her feet

with difficulty, her right armhanging useless at her side.She identified the thunderingsound as the beat of hoofs,and turned in the directionfrom which they came. AMalazan.Asthatfactsankin,sheswungherattentionfrom

the rider and looked around.Both her guards were dead,and arrows jutted from twoBarghastbodies.Shetookashallowbreath–

all she couldmanage aspainspreadacrossherchest–andgazed upon the creature thathad risen from the earth. Itwas cloaked in rotting furs,anditstoodoverthewarrior'sbody,onelegstillclutchedinits hand. The other hand

grippedthesword,whichhadbeenpushedthelengthoftheBarghast's body, the pointemergingfromhisneck.'I was expecting you days

ago,'Lornsaid,glaringatthefigure.It turned to regard her, its

face hidden in shadowbeneath the yellowed boneshelf of its helmet. Thehelmet, she saw, was theskull-cap of some horned

beast, onehornbrokenoff atitsbase.The rider arrived behind

her. 'Adjunct!' he called out,dismounting.He came to herside,bowstillinhishandandarrow nocked. His lone eyeglanced across Lorn and,seeming satisfied that herwoundwas notmortal, fixedon the massive but squatcreature facing them. 'Hood'sBreath,aT'lanImass.'

Lorn continued glaring atthe T'lan Imass. 'I knew youwereabout.It'stheonlythingthat explains a Barghastshaman bringing himself andhis hand-picked hunters intothearea.HemusthaveusedaWarrentogethere.Sowherewereyou?'Toc the Younger stared at

the Adjunct, amazed at heroutburst. His gaze flickedback to the T'lan Imass. The

lasttimehe'dseenonewasinSevenCities,eightyearspast,and then it had been from adistance as the undeadlegions marched out into thewestern wastelands on somemission even the Empresscouldlearnnothingabout.Atthis close range, Toc eagerlystudied the T'lan Imass. Notmuchleftofit,heconcluded.Despite the sorcery, threehundred thousand years had

taken their toll.Theskin thatstretched across the squatman's robust bones was ashinynutbrownincolour,thetexture of leather. Whateverfleshithadoncecoveredhadcontracted to thin strips theconsistency of oak roots –suchmusclesshowedthroughtorn patches here and there.Thecreature'sface,whatToccould see of it, bore a heavychinless jawbone, high

cheeks and a pronouncedbrow ridge. The eye socketsweredarkholes.'I asked you a question,'

Lorn grated. 'Where wereyou?'The head creaked as the

Imasslookeddownatitsfeet.'Exploring,'itsaidquietlyinavoicebornofstonesanddust.Lorn demanded, 'Your

name,T'lan?'

'Onos T'oolan, once of theTarad Clan, of the LogrosT'lan. I was birthed in theautumnoftheBleakYear,theninthsontotheClanwhettedaswarriorintheSixthJaghutWar—''Enough,' Lorn said. She

sagged wearily and Tocmoved to her side. Glancingup at him she scowled, 'Youlook grim.' Then a smallsmile came to her lips. 'But

goodtome.'Toc grinned. 'First things

first,Adjunct.Aplaceforyoutorest.'Shedidnotprotestashe guided her to a grassyknoll near the barrow andgently pushed her to herknees.Heglancedbacktoseethe T'lan Imass still standingwhere it had first emergedfrom the ground. It hadturned, however, and seemedto be studying the barrow.

'We must make your armimmobile,' Toc said to theworn, weathered womankneeling before him. 'I amnamed Toc the Younger,' hesaid,squattingdown.She raised her gaze at this.

'Iknewyourfather,'shesaid.Her smile returned. 'Also agreatbowman.'He ducked his head in

reply.

'He was a fine commandertoo,'Lorncontinued,studyingthe ravaged youth who wasnowtending toherarm. 'TheEmpress has regretted hisdeath—''Not dead for sure,' Toc

interrupted,histonetightandhis single eye averted as hebegan removing the gauntletfromherhand.'Disappeared.''Yes,' Lorn said softly.

'Disappeared since the

Emperor'sdeath.'Shewincedashepulledawaythegauntletandtosseditaside.'I'll need some strips of

cloth,'hesaid,rising.Lornwatchedhim stride to

one of the Barghast bodies.She had not known who herClaw contactwould be, onlythathewas the last left aliveamong Dujek's forces. Shewonderedwhyhehadveeredso sharply from his father's

path. There was nothingpleasant,orproud, inbeingaClaw. Only efficiency andfear.He took a knife to the

body'stannedleatherarmour,slicing it back to reveal arough woollen shirt, intowhich he cut. Then hereturnedtoherside,ahandfulof long strips in one hand. 'Ididn'tknowyouhadanImassfor company,' he said, as he

crouchedbesideheragain.'They choose their own

modesof travel,'Lornsaid,ahint of anger in her voice.'Andcomewhentheyplease.But yes, he's an integralplayer in my mission.' Shefellsilent,grittingherteethinpain as Toc slipped the rudesling over her shoulder andunderherarm.'Ihavelittlegoodtoreport,'

Toc said, and he told her of

Paran'sdisappearance,andofWhiskeyjack and his squaddepartingwithout the captaininattendance.Bythetimehehad finished he had adjustedthe sling to his ownsatisfaction, and sat back onhishauncheswithasigh.'Damn,' Lorn hissed. 'Help

metomyfeet.'After he'd done so, she

wobbledabitandgrippedhisshoulder to steady herself.

Thenshenodded.'Getmemysword.'Tocstrodetothespotshe'd

indicated.Afterabriefsearchhefoundthelongswordinthegrass,andhiseyethinnedtoaslituponseeing theweapon'sdustyredblade.Hebroughtittoher, and said, 'AnOtataralsword, Adjunct, the ore thatkillsmagic''And mages,' Lorn said,

takingtheweaponawkwardly

inherlefthandandsheathingit.'I came upon the dead

shaman,'Tocsaid.'Well,' Lorn said, 'Otataral

is no mystery to you of theSeven Cities, but few hereknow it, and Iwould keep itthatway.''Understood.' Toc turned to

regardtheimmobileImass.Lorn seemed to read his

thought. 'Otataral cannotquench theirmagic – believeme, it's been tried. TheWarrens of the Imass aresimilar to thoseof theJaghutand the Forkrul Assail –Elder-,blood-andearthbound– that flint sword of hiswillnever break, and it cutsthrough the finest iron aseasily as it will flesh andbone.'Toc shivered and spat. 'I'll

not envy you your company,Adjunct.'Lorn smiled. 'You'll be

sharing it for the next fewdays, Toe the Younger.We'vealongwalktoPale.''Six, seven days,' Toe said.

'I expected you to bemounted.'Lorn's sigh was heartfelt.

'TheBarghastshamanworkedhistalentsonthem.Adisease

took them all, even mystallion,whichIbroughtwithme through theWarren.' Herlined face softenedmomentarily, and Toc couldfeelhergenuinesorrow.It surprised him. All that

he'dheardoftheAdjuncthadpaintedforhimapictureofacold-blooded monster, thegauntletedhandofdeath thatcoulddescendfromanywhereatanytime.Perhapsthisside

of her existed; he hoped hewouldnothavetoseeit.Thenagain, he corrected himself,she'dnotsparedhersoldiersasecond glance. Toc spoke,'You'll ride my mare,Adjunct. She's no warhorse,but she's quick and long onendurance.'Theywalked towhere he'd

left his horse, and Lornsmiled. 'That's a Wickanbreed, Toc theYounger,' she

said,asshelaidahandonthemare's neck, 'so cease themodesty, else I lose trust inyou.Afineanimal.'Toc helped her into the

saddle. 'Do we leave theImasswhereitis?'heasked.Lornnodded. 'He'llfindhis

ownway.Now,let'sgivethismaretheopportunitytoproveherself.Wickanblood is saidtosmellofiron.'Shereacheddown and offered her left

arm.'Mountup,'shesaid.Tocbarelymanagedtohide

his shock. Share the saddlewith the Adjunct of theEmpire? The notion was soabsurd that he came near tolaughing. 'I can walk,Adjunct,' he said gruffly.'With such little time towaste,youwouldbebettertorideon,and ridehard.You'llseePale'swallsinthreedays.I can manage a jog at ten-

hourstretches.''No, Toc the Younger.'

Lorn's tone brooked noargument.'IneedyouinPale,andIneedtohearallthereisabout the occupying legions,and Dujek, and Tayschrenn.Better to arrive a few dayslate than unprepared. Now,graspmyarmand let'sbeonwithit.'Toccomplied.

As he sank into the saddlebehindLorn,hismaresnortedand stepped quickly to oneside.BothheandtheAdjunctalmost fell. They turned tosee the T'lan Imass standingbesidethem.ItraiseditsheadtoLorn.'The barrow has yielded a

truth,Adjunct,'OnosT'oolansaid.Toc felt her stiffen. 'And

thatis?'

'Weareupontherightpath,'theT'lanImassreplied.SomethingtoldTocthatthe

path the creature referred tohad nothing to do with thetrader'strackleadingsouthtoPale.Hecastonefinalglanceback at the barrow as Lornsilently swung the horsearound, and then at OnosT'oolan. Neither seemedlikely to unveil their secrets,butLorn'sreactionhadraised

the hairs on the back of hisneck, and the itch aroundhislost eye roused itself. Tocmuttered a curse under hisbreathandbegantoscratch.'Something thematter, Toc

theYounger?'Lornasked,notturning.He thoughtabouthis reply.

He said, 'The price of beingblind, Adjunct. Nothingmore.'

Captain Paran paced in thenatrow room. This wasmadness! All he knew wasthathewasbeinghidden,butthe only answers to hisquestionswouldcomefromabed-ridden sorceress lockedin some strange fever, and anasty puppet whose paintedeyes seemed to fix on himwithintensehatred.Vague memories haunted

himaswell, thefeelofslick,cold stones scraping beneathhis fingernails at a momentwhen all his strength hadpoured from his body; andthen the hazy vision of amassivedog–aHound?–inthe room, a dog that seemedto breathe death. It had beenseeking to kill the woman,and he'd stopped it –somehow, he wasn't sure ofthedetails.

A suspicion nagged himthat thedogwasn'tdead, thatitwouldbeback.Thepuppetignoredmostofhisquestions,andwhenitdidspeaktohimit was to voice dire threats.Apparently, though theSorceress was ill, herpresence alone – hercontinuedexistence–wasallthat kept Hairlock fromfulfillingthosethreats.Where was Whiskeyjack?

Had the sergeant leftwithouthim?What would that do toAdjunctLorn'splan?He ceased pacing and

turned a glare on thesorceress lying in the bed.Hairlock had told Paran thatshe'd somehow hidden himwhenTayschrennarrived,theHighMagehavingsensedthedog's presence. Paran had nomemoryofanyofthat,buthewondered how the woman

couldhavemanagedanythingafter the beating she'd taken.Hairlockhad scoffed that thesorceress hadn't even beenawareofopeningherWarrenthat one last time; that she'ddone it all on instinct. Paranhad the feeling that themarionette had been scaredby that unveiling of power.Hairlock seemed most eagerfor the woman's death, butwas either unable to achieve

ithimselfortoofrightenedtotry. The creature hadmuttered something aboutwards she'd raised about herperson.YetParan foundnothing to

impede his ministrationswhenthefeverhadbeenatitsworst. It had broken theprevious night, and nowParan felt his impatiencereaching some kind ofthreshold.Thesorceressslept,

but ifshedidn'tawakensoonhe'dtakemattersintohisownhands – leave this hidingplace, perhaps seek out Tocthe Younger, provided hecould avoid Tayschrenn oranyofficersonhiswayoutofthebuilding.Paran's unseeing glare

remained fixed on thesorceress,histhoughtsracing.Slowly, a new awarenesstickledtheedgesofhismind,

and he abruptly blinked.Thewoman'seyeswereopen,andtheystudiedhim.Hetookahalf-stepforward

butwas stopped dead by herfirstwords.'I heard the Coin drop,

Captain.'The blood drained from

Paran'sface.Anechoflitteredthrough his memory. 'Acoin?' he asked, his voice

barelyawhisper. 'Aspinningcoin?'The voices of gods, ofdeadmenandwomen.HowlsofHounds—allpiecesofmymemory'storntapestry.'Spins no longer,' the

woman replied. She pushedherself intoasittingposition.'How much do youremember?''Scant,' the captain

admitted,surprisedathimselffor telling the truth. 'The

puppet will not even tell meyourname,'hesaid.'Tattersail. I've been, uh, in

the company ofWhiskeyjackand his squad.' A veil ofcaution seemed to slip overhersleepygaze.'Iwastotakecare of you until your healthreturned.''I believe you did,' Paran

said. 'And I returned thefavour, which evens thescales,Sorceress.'

'So it does. Well, nowwhat?'Paran's eyeswidened. 'You

don'tknow?'Tattersailshrugged.'But this is ridiculous,'

Paran exclaimed. 'I knownothing of what's happeninghere.Iawakentofindahalf-dead witch and a talkingpuppet for company, and ofmy new command not a

singlesign.HavetheyleftforDarujhistanalready?''Ican'tgiveyoumuchinthe

way of answers,' Tattersailmurmured. 'AllIcantellyouis the sergeant wanted youalive, because he needs toknowwhotriedtoassassinateyou.We'dallliketoknow,infact.' She fell silent,expectant.Paran studied her round,

ghostly pale face. There was

something about her thatseemed to disregard herphysical mundanity,overwhelmed it, in fact, sothatthecaptainfoundhimselfresponding in ways thatsurprisedhim.Itwas,hesaw,a friendly face, and hecouldn't recall the last timehe'dexperiencedsuchathing.It left him off-balance, withonlyTattersail tosteadyhim.And thatmadehim feel as if

he were descending a spiral,with the sorceress in thecentre. Descending? Perhapsit was an ascent. He wasn'tsure, and the uncertaintymadehimwary.'I recall nothing of it,' he

said.And thatwasn't entirelyalie,thoughitfeltlikeitwithher heavy-lidded eyes steadyuponhim.'I think,' Paran added,

despite his misgivings, 'there

were two of them. I recall aconversation, though I wasdead.Ithink.''But you heard a spinning

coin,'Tattersailsaid.'Yes,' he answered,

bewildered. And more ... Iwent to a place – yellow,infernal light, a chorus ofmoans,adeath'shead...Tattersailnodded toherself

as if confirming a suspicion.

'A god intervened, CaptainParan. Returned the life toyou. Youmight think it wasonyourbehalf,butI'mafraidthere wasn't any altruisminvolved. Are you followingme?''I'm being used,' Paran

statedflatly.She raised an eyebrow.

'Thatdoesn'tbotheryou?'Paran shrugged and turned

away. 'It's nothing new,' hemuttered.'I see,' she said quietly. 'So

Whiskeyjackwas right, then.You're not just some newcaptain, you're something alotmore.''That's my concern,' Paran

snapped, still avoiding hergaze. Then he faced her, hisexpression dark. 'And what'syourroleinallthis?Youtookcare of me. Why? Serving

yourgod,areyou?'Tattersail barked a laugh.

'Notlikely.NordidIdomuchfor you in any case. Oponntookcareofthat.'Paran stiffened. 'Oponn?'

The Twins, sister andbrother,theTwinsofChance.He who pushes, she whopulls. Have they been in mydreams? Voices, mention ofmy ... sword.Hewasstill fora moment, then he strode

over to thedresser.On it layhissheathedsword.Helaidahandonthegrip.'Ipurchasedthis sword three years ago,though its first use came justafewnightspast–againstthedog.''Yourecallthat?'Something in Tattersail's

voicebroughthimaround. Inhereyeshenowsawfear.Shemade no attempt to hide it.Henodded. 'Yet I named the

weaponthedayIboughtit.''Thename?'Paran's grin was ghastly.

'Chance.''The pattern has been long

in the weaving,' Tattersailsaid, closing her eyes andsighing. 'Though I suspecteven Oponn could not haveimagined your blade tastingits first bloodon aHoundofShadow.'

Paran closed his eyes, thenhe sighed. 'The dog was aHound.'She looked at him and

nodded. 'You've metHairlock?''Ihave.''Beware him,' Tattersail

said.'Itwashisunleashingofa Warren of Chaos that leftme fevered. If Warrens areindeed structured, then

Hairlock's is diametricallyopposed to mine. He's mad,Captain,andhevowedtokillyou.'Paran strapped on his

sword. 'What's his role in allofthis?''I'm not sure,' Tattersail

said.Thatsoundedlikea lie,but

Paran let it pass. 'He wascominginnightlytocheckon

yourprogress,'hesaid. 'ButIhaven'tseenhimthepasttwonights.''How many days have I

beenout?''Six, I think. I'm no more

certainoftime'spassagethanyouare,I'mafraid.'Hestrodeto the door. 'All I know is, Ican'tjusthidehereforever.''Wait!'Paran smiled. 'Very well.'

He faced her again. 'Tell mewhyshouldn'tIleave?'The sorceress hesitated,

then spoke. 'I still need youhere,'shesaid.'Why?''It's not me that Hairlock's

afraid of,' she answered,seeming to find the wordsdifficult. 'It's you – yoursword – that's keptme alive.Hesawwhatyoumanagedto

dototheHound.''Damn,' he hissed. Though

essentially still a stranger tohim,she'dreachedthroughtohim with her admission. Hetried to fight the compassionwelling up inside him. Hetold himself that his missionoverrode all other concerns,that he'd repaid his debt toher, if ever there was one,that she hadn't given him allthe reasons he suspected

existedforhisstayinghidden,meaningshedidn'ttrusthim–he told himself all thesethings, but none of it wasenough.'If you go,' she said,

'Hairlockwillkillme.''What of the wards about

you?' he demanded, almostdesperately. 'Hairlock saidyou'vewardsaboutyou.'Tattersail's smile was

drawn. 'You think he'd justcome right out and tell youhow dangerous you reallyare? Wards?' She laughed.'I'vebarely the strength to sitstraight. If I attempted toopenmyWarren in this statethe power would consumeme, burn me to ashes.Hairlock wants you kept inthe dark – about everything.Thepuppetlied.'Even this rang like a half-

truthinParan'sears.Buttherewas enough there that madesense, that gave reason toHairlock'shatredofhim,andthepuppet'sobviousfear.Thegreater deceit would comefromHairlock,notTattersail,or so he believed, thoughtherewaslittletosupportthatbelief – only ... at leastTattersail was human. Hesighed. 'Sooner or later,' hesaid, un-clipping his sword

belt and returning it to thedresser, 'you and I will havetocutpastallthismisleadinggame-playing. Oponn or no,we'veacommonenemy.'Tattersail sighed. 'Thank

you.CaptainParan?'Heeyedherwarily.'What?'She smiled. 'It is good to

meetyou.'He scowled. She was at it

again.

'This seems an unhappyarmy,' Lorn said, as theywaited outside Pale's northgate. One of the guards hadentered the city in search ofanother horse, while theremaining three stoodmuttering a short distanceaway.Toc the Younger had

dismounted.Hemoved closeto his horse and said, 'It is,

Adjunct. Very unhappy.AlongwiththedismantlingoftheSecondandSixthArmiescame a shuffling ofcommands. Nobody's wheretheywerebefore, right downtothegreenestrecruit.Squadssplitupeverywhere.Andnowthere's the rumour that theBridgeburnersaregoingtoberetired.' He glanced over atthe three marines, saw theirhard eyes on him and the

Adjunct. 'People around heredon't like that,' he saidquietly.Lorn leaned back in her

saddle. The pain in hershoulderhadbecomeasteadythrob, and she was glad thejourney was done – at leastfor the time being. They'dseen nothing of the T'lanImass since the barrow,though she often sensed hispresence, in the dusty wind,

beneath the plain's crackedpan.WhileinthecompanyofToctheYoungershe'dsensedthe restless anger churningamongtheMalazanforcesonthiscontinent.In Pale, ten thousand

soldiers crowded the edge ofrevolt, the spies among thembrutally removed, awaitingonlyHighFistDujek'sword.And the High MageTayschrennwasn't easing the

situation by openlycountermanding Dujek'sinstructions to his officers.Yet what troubled theAdjunct the most was thisvague tale of a Hound ofShadowdoingbattlewiththe2nd's last cadremage– therewas amystery there, and shesuspected it was vital. Therest could be dealt with,providedshetookcharge.The Adjunct was eager for

hermeetingwithTayschrennandthissorceressTattersail–the name was familiar,tugging at memories thatseemed born in herchildhood. And around suchevasive hints rustled a cloakof fear. But she wasdetermined to deal with thatwhenthetimecame.The gate swung open. She

looked up to see the marinewithawarhorse,andtheyhad

company. Toc the Youngersnapped a salute, the energybehind it making Lornwonder at his loyalty. TheAdjunct dismounted slowly,then nodded at High FistDujek.The man seemed to have

aged a dozen years sinceshe'd last seen him, thirteenmonths ago in Genabaris. Asmall smile came to Lorn'smouth as the scene emerged

in her mind: the High Fist aworn,wearyone-armedman,the Empress's Adjunct, herswordarminasling,andTocthe Younger, lastrepresentativeoftheClawonGenabackis, one-eyed andhalf his face scarred by fire.Here they were,representativesofthreeofthefour Empire powers on thecontinent,andtheyalllookedlikehell.

Misreading her smile,Dujek grinned. 'Good to seeyou, too, Adjunct. I wasoverseeingtheresupplywhenthis guard brought word ofyour arrival.' His gaze grewthoughtful as he studied her,thegrinfading.'I'llfindyouaDenulhealer,Adjunct.''Sorcery doesn't work on

me, High Fist. It hasn't in along time.Amundanehealeris sufficient.' Her gaze

narrowed on Dujek.'Assuming I'll have no needtounsheathmyswordwithinthewallsofPale.''I make no guarantees,

Adjunct,'Dujeksaidcasually.'Come,letuswalk.'Lorn turned to Toc the

Younger. 'Thank you for theescort,soldier.'Dujek laughed, his eyes

bright on Toc. 'Unnecessary,

Adjunct. I know who, andwhat,ToctheYoungeris–asdoes virtually everyone else.Ifhe'sasgoodaClawasheisa soldier, you'd do well tokeephimalive.''Meaning?'Dujek gestured that they

walk. 'Meaning that hisreputation as a soldier of theSecond is the only thingpreventing a knife across thethroat. Meaning get him out

ofPale.'The Adjunct eyed Toc. 'I

willseeyoulater,'shesaid.Joining Dujek, who had

passed beneath the gate'smassive arch, Lorn matchedhis pace as they entered thecity. Soldiers crowded thestreets, directing merchantwagons and the mobs ofcitizenry.Evidenceoftherainofdeathstillscarredmanyofthe buildings, but labourers

had been set to work underthedirectionofmarines.'Thenobilityareabouttobe

culled,'Dujeksaidatherside.'Tayschrenn wants it to bethorough,andpublic.''Empire policy,' Lorn

replied stiffly. 'You're wellawareofthat,HighFist.'Dujek glared at her. 'Nine

out of ten nobles to hang,Adjunct?Childrenincluded?'

Lorn stared at him. 'Thatseemsexcessive.'Dujekwassilentforatime,

leading her down the mainavenue then heading uphilltowards the Empireheadquarters. Many facesturned to regard themstonilyas they passed. It seemedDujek's identity was knownamong Pale's citizens. Lorntried to sense theatmospherehis presence created, but

couldn't be certain if it wasfearorrespect,orboth.'Mymission,' Lorn said, as

they approached a three-storey stone building, itsentrance blocked by a dozenwatchful marines, 'will takemeoutofthecitysoon—''I don't want any details,

Adjunct,' Dujek cut in. 'Youdo what you have to do andjuststayoutofmyway.'

Histonewasunthreatening,almostpleasant,butLornfelther muscles tense. This manwas being pushed, andTayschrenn was doing thepushing.What was the HighMage up to? The wholesituation stank ofincompetence.'As I was saying,' Lorn

continued, 'I won't be herelong. When I am here,however,' and her voice

hardened, 'I will make plainto the High Mage that hisinterference in the city'smanagement will not betolerated. If you needbacking,youhaveit,Dujek.'They stopped just outside

the building's entrance, andtheoldmangazedsteadilyather, as if weighing hersincerity.Butwhenhespoke,hiswordssurprisedher.'Icantake care of my own

problems, Adjunct. Do whatyou will, but I'm not askingforanything.''You'llpermit theexcessive

cullingofthenobility,then?'Dujek's expression set into

stubborn lines. 'Battle tacticscan be applied in anysituation, Adjunct. And theHigh Mage is no tactician.'He turnedand ledherup thesteps.Twoguardsopenedthedoors,whichlookednewand

were banded in bronze. TheHigh Fist and the Adjunctentered.They strode down a long,

wide hallway marked bydoors on either side everydozen feet or so. Marinesstood guard before each one,hands on their weapons. Itwas clear to Lorn that theincident with the Hound hadheightened wariness to analmostabsurddegree.Thena

thoughtstruckher.'HighFist,have there been attempts onyourlife?'Dujek's grunt was amused.

'Four in the last week,Adjunct. You get used to it.All these marines herevolunteered themselves –they don't even listen to meany more. The last assassinwas so badly chopped up Icouldn't even make out if itwasamanorawoman.'

'You've a lot of SevenCitiesnativesinyourlegions,HighFist?''Aye.Loyal toafaultwhen

theywanttobe.'Loyal to what, Lorn

wondered, and to whom?Seven Cities recruits werebeing sent elsewhere thesedays. The Empress did notwish Dujek's soldiers tobecome aware that theirhomelandwasonthebrinkof

open rebellion. Such newsmightwelltipthescaleshereon Genabackis, and that inturn would trigger SevenCities itself. Both Lorn andtheEmpresswerewellawarehow dangerous things hadbecome,andtheyhadtotreadcarefully indeed in theirefforts to repair the damage.And it was now becomingobvious that Tayschrennpresentedamajorproblem.

SherealizedthatsheneededDujek'ssupportmorethanheneededhers.They arrived at the hall's

end where stood massivedouble doors.The soldiers ateither side saluted the HighFist then opened them.Beyondwas a large chamberdominated by a hardwoodtable in its centre. Maps,scrolls, ink and paint jarscrowded its surface. Dujek

and Lorn entered and thedoorswereshutbehindthem.'Tayschrenn has been

informed of your arrival, butwill be delayed somewhat,'Dujek said, sitting on theedgeofthetable.'IfyouhavequestionsregardingtherecenteventsatPale,askthemnow.'Sheknewhewasgivingher

the opportunity to hearanswersthatdidn'tcomefromTayschrenn. Though as to

whoseversionofthetruthshewould accept was up to her.Lorn began to appreciateDujek'scommentaboutbattletactics.Shestrodetoanearbychair and settled slowly intoitscushions.'Verywell,HighFist.Smallmattersfirst.Haveyou encountered anydifficultywiththeMoranth?'Dujek scowled. 'Funnyyou

should ask. They're gettingpretty high-minded about

somethings.Ihadahellofatimegetting theGold legions–theirelitewarriors–tofightCaladan Brood. Seems theyconsider him too honourableto treat as an enemy. Thewhole alliance was on shakyground for awhile there, butin the end they marched.Soon I'll send the Black tojointhem.'Lorn nodded. 'Similar

problemswith theGreenand

the Blue in Genabaris,' shesaid, 'which explains why Icame overland. The Empresssuggestswemakethemostofthe alliance, since itmaynotlast.''We haven't much choice,'

Dujek growled. 'How manylegions will I have in thespringlanding?'Lorn hesitated, then said,

'Two. And a regiment ofWickanlancers.TheWickans

and theEleventhLegionwilldisembark at Nathilog. TheNinth will land in Nisst andjoinwith theconscript forces–theEmpresstruststhelatterreinforcements will besufficient to break theCrimson Guard at Fox Pass,thusopeningBrood'sflank.''ThentheEmpressisafool,'

Dujek said, his tone hard."The conscripts are next touseless, Adjunct, and by this

time next year the CrimsonGuard will have liberatedNisst, Treet, One Eye Cat,Porule,Garaltand—''I know the list.' Lorn rose

abruptly. 'You'll receive twomore legionsnextyear,HighFist.That'sit.'Dujek thought for a time,

his gaze on the map peggedto the table top.Lornwaited.She knew he was lost inreordering, reevaluating his

plans for next season'scampaign, thathe'denteredaworld of matériel anddivisions, in second-guessingCaladan Brood and thecommander of the CrimsonGuard, Prince K'azz. Finallyhe cleared his throat.'Adjunct, is it possible toreverse the landings? TheEleventh and the Wickanlancers disembarking on theeast coast, south of Apple.

TheNinth on thewest coast,toTulips.'Lornstrodetothetableand

studiedthemap.Tulips?Whythere?Thatmadenosenseatall. 'The Empress would becurious as to your revisedplans,HighFist.''Meaning "maybe".' Dujek

rubbedthestubbleonhisjaw,then gave a sharp nod. 'Allright, Adjunct. First, theconscripts will not hold Fox

Pass.TheCrimsonGuardwillbe into the northlands by thetime our reinforcementsarrive. Much of that area isfarmland, pasture. As weretreat, pulling the conscriptsback to Nisst, we raze thecountryside. No crops, nolivestock. Whatever suppliesK'azzwill need he'll have tobring with him. Now,Adjunct, any army on themove, any army pursuing a

routed army, is bound toleave its supply train behind,string it out in its haste tocatch its enemy and deliverthe killing blow. And that'swhere the Wickan lancerscomein.'The Wickan were born

raiders, Lorn knew. In suchcountrysidethey'dbeelusive,striking quickly and withdeadly consequences. 'Andthe Eleventh? Where will

theybeinallthis?''Athirdwillbestationedin

Nisst.Therestwillbeonthequickmarch–toFoxPass.''While Caladan Brood

remains south of BlackdogForest? That doesn't makesense,HighFist.''You suggested using the

Moranth for all it's worth,didn'tyou?Well,fromTulipsthe Moranth and their Quorl

willbestagingamassivelift.'Dujek's gaze narrowed as hestudied the map. 'I want theNinth south of BlackdogSwampbythetimeIbringupmy forces from here andplacethemsouthofBrood.AconcertedpushfromtheGoldand Black should push himright into our laps, while hisallies,theCrimsonGuard,arestuck on the wrong side ofFoxPass.'

'You intend to transport anentirelegionbyair?''DoestheEmpresswantthis

war won in her lifetime ornot?'Hepushedhimselfawayfrom the table and paced.'Mind you,' he said, as ifstruck by sudden doubts, 'itmay all be academic. If Iwere Brood I'd ...' His voicetrailedaway,andhefacedtheAdjunct. 'Will the transportordersbereversed?'

Lorn searched his face.Something told her that theHigh Fist had just made anintuitiveleap,andithadtodowithCaladanBrood,andthatas far as Dujek wasconcerned,itwasindeednowacademic. She also realizedthat this was something hewouldn't share with her. Shescannedthemapagain,tryingto see what Dujek had seen.But itwas hopeless, shewas

no tactician. Trying to guessDujek's thoughts was hardenough; but to try the samewith Caladan Brood wasimpossible. 'Your plan,although brash, is nowofficially accepted on behalfof theEmpress.Your requestwillbefulfilled.'Dujek nodded half-

heartedly.'One thing, High Fist,

before Tayschrenn arrives.

There was a Hound ofShadowhere?''Yes,'themansaid.'Iwasn't

hereatthetime,butIsawthemess thebeast left behind. Ifnot for Tattersail it would'vebeenfarworse.'Lorn saw a glint of horror

in Dujek's eyes and into hermindreturnedthescenefromthe coast road west of ItkoKan,twoyearsago.'I'veseenthe work of Hounds before,'

shesaid,meetinghiseyes.In that moment of locked

gazes they shared somethingprofound.ThenDujek pulledhis eyes away. 'ThisTattersail,' Lorn said, to hidea pang of regret, 'must be averycapablesorceress.''The only cadre mage to

have survived Tayschrenn'sassault on Moon's Spawn,'Dujekreplied.

'Indeed?' To Lorn, thatrevelation was even moreremarkable. She wondered ifDujek suspected anything,buthisnextwordsputher atease.'She called it luck, on both

counts, and she might beright.''Hasshebeenacadremage

foralongtime?'Lornasked.'Ever since I took

command.Perhapseight,nineyears.'The familiarity of

Tattersail's name returned toLorn then, like a mailed fistclenching her heart. Shefound herself sitting downagain,andDujekhadtakenastep towards her, genuineconcerninhiseyes.'Your injury needs

attending to,' he said gruffly.'Ishouldn'thavewaited.'

'No, no, it's all right.Weariness,that'sall.'He studied her quizzically.

'Would you like some wine,Adjunct?'Shenodded.Tattersail.Was

itpossible? Shewould knowwhen she saw the woman.She would know then. 'Nineyears,' she murmured, 'theMouse.''Ibegyourpardon?'

ShelookeduptofindDujekbefore her. He offered her agobletofwine. 'Nothing,'shesaid, as she accepted it.'Thankyou.'As thedoubledoors swung

open both turned. In strodeTayschrenn, his face darkwith fury as he confrontedDujek.'Damnyou,'theHighMage

grated. 'If you had a hand inthis I'll find it, and that is a

promise.'Dujek raised an eyebrow.

'Ahandinwhat,HighMage?'heaskedcoolly.'I'vejustbeentotheHallof

Records. A fire? The placelooks like the inside of anoven.'Lorn rose and stepped

between them. 'High MageTayschrenn,' she said, in alow,dangeroustone,'perhaps

you could tell me why thismatter of some fire in somebureaucrat's chamber shouldoverride all otherconsiderations?'Tayschrenn blinked. 'I beg

yourpardon,Adjunct,'hesaidtightly,'butwithintheHallofRecords were the city'scensus lists.' His dark eyesswung past her to fix onDujek.'Whereinallthenamesof Pale's nobility could be

found.''Unfortunate,' theHighFist

said. 'Have you begun aninvestigation? My staff'sservices are, of course,entirelyatyourdisposal.''Unnecessary, High Fist,'

the wizard drawledsardonically. 'Why make allyour other spies redundant?'Tayschrenn paused, thenstepped back and bowed toLorn. 'Greetings, Adjunct. I

apologizeforthisungracious-seemingreunion—''Save your apologies for

later,' Lorn said levelly. Shefaced Dujek. 'Thank you forthe wine and conversation,'she said, noting withsatisfaction Tayschrenn'sstiffening at that. 'I trustthere'llbeaformaldinnerthisevening?'Dujek nodded. 'Of course,

Adjunct.'

'WouldyoubesokindastorequestTattersail'sattendanceaswell?'She felt yet anotherflinch come from the HighMage, and saw in Dujek'sgaze a new respect as helooked upon her, as ifacknowledgingherownskillsinthisbrandoftactics.Tayschrenn interrupted.

'Adjunct, the sorceress hasbeen ill as a result of herencounterwith theHound of

Shadow,'heturnedasmileonDujek, 'which I'm sure hasbeendescribed toyouby theHighFist.'Not well enough, Lorn

thought ruefully, but letTayschrenn imagine theworst. 'I'm interested in awizard's evaluation of thatevent,HighMage,'shesaid.'Which you shall have

shortly.'

Dujek bowed. 'I willenquire as to Tattersail'shealth, Adjunct. If you willexcuseme, then, I canbeonmy way.' He turned toTayschrenn and gave a curtnod.Tayschrenn watched the

one-armedoldman leave theroom, then waited for thedoors to close once again.'Adjunct,thissituationis—''Absurd,' Lorn finished

hotly. 'Dammit, Tayschrenn,where's your sense? You'vetaken on the craftiest bastardthe Empire military has everhad the privilege ofpossessing and he's eatingyou alive.' She spun to thetable and refilled her goblet.'Andyoudeserveit.''Adjunct—'She facedhim. 'No.Listen,

Tayschrenn. I speak directlyfrom the Empress. She

reluctantly approved yourcommandeering the assaulton Moon's Spawn – but ifshe'd known you sothoroughly lacked subtlety,she would never havepermitted it. Do you takeeveryoneelseforfools?''Dujek is just one man,'

Tayschrennsaid.Lorn took a largemouthful

of wine, then set down thegoblet and rubbed her brow.

'Dujek's not the enemy,' shesaid wearily. 'Dujek's neverbeentheenemy.'Tayschrenn stepped

forward. 'He was theEmperor'sman,Adjunct.''Challenging that man's

loyalty to the Empire isinsulting, and it's that veryinsultthatmaywellturnhim.Dujek is not just one man.Right nowhe's ten thousand,and in a year's time he'll be

twenty-five thousand. Hedoesn't yieldwhenyoupush,does he? No, because hecan't. He's got ten thousandsoldiers behind him – and,believe me, when they getangry enough to push back,you'llnotbeabletowithstandthem.AsforDujek,he'll justend up being carried on thetide.''Thenheisatraitor.''No.He's amanwho cares

forthoseheisresponsibleforand to. He's the best of theEmpire.Ifhe'sforcedtoturn,Tayschrenn, then we're thetraitors. Am I gettingthrough?'The HighMage's face was

lined with a deep, disturbedfrown.'Yes,Adjunct,'hesaidquietly. 'You are.' He lookedup.'ThistasktheEmpresshascommandedofme, itweighsheavily, Adjunct. These are

notmystrengths.Itwoulddowellifyoudismissedme.'Lorn gave that serious

consideration. Mages bynature never commandedloyalty. Fear, yes, and therespect born of fear, but theone thing a mage founddifficult to understand orcope with was loyalty. Andyettherehadbeenonemage,long ago, who hadcommanded loyalty – and

that was the Emperor. Shesaid, 'HighMage, we are allagreedonone thing.Theoldguard must disappear. Allwho stood with the Emperorand still cling tohismemorywill ever work against us,whether consciously orunconsciously. Dujek is anexception, and there is ahandful of others like him.Those we must not lose. Asfor the others, they have to

die. The risk lies in alertingthemtothatfact.Ifwe'retooopenwemayendupwithaninsurrectionthesizeofwhichcoulddestroytheEmpire.''Apart from Dujek and

Tattersail,' Tayschrenn said,'we've cleaned out everyoneelse.AsforWhiskeyjackandhis squad, he's all yours,Adjunct.''With luck,'Lorn said, then

frowned as the High Mage

winced.'What'sthematter?'Herose. 'IperusemyDeck

of Dragons nightly,' he said.'And I'm certain that Oponnhas entered the world ofmortal affairs. Tattersail'sown reading did much toconfirmmysuspicions.'Lornlookedathimsharply.

'She'sanAdept?''Far more adept than I,'

Tayschrennadmitted.

Lorn thought. 'What canyou tell me of Oponn'sinvolvement?''Darujhistan,' Tayschrenn

replied.Lornclosedhereyes.'Iwas

afraid you'd say that. Weneed Darujhistan –desperately. Its wealth,comingintoourhands,wouldbreakthiscontinent'sback.''I know, Adjunct. But the

matterisevenworsethanyourealize. I also believe that,somehow, Whiskeyjack andTattersail are in league withoneanother.''Any word of what

happenedtoCaptainParan?''None. Someone is hiding

him,orhisbody.I'minclinedtobelievehe'sdead,Adjunct,but his soul has yet to passthroughHood'sGateandonlyamagecouldpreventthat.'

'Tattersail?'The High Mage shrugged.

'Possibly.Iwouldknowmoreof this captain's role in allthis.'Lorn hesitated, then said,

'He was engaged in a long,arduoussearch.'Tayschrenn growled,

'Perhaps he found whateverhewasseeking.'Lorn eyed him. 'Perhaps.

Tell me, how good isTattersail?''Goodenough tobeaHigh

Mage,' Tayschrenn said.'Good enough to survive aHound'sattackandtodriveitaway, though I would notthink such a thing possible.Even Iwould have difficultymanagingthat.''Maybe shehadhelp,'Lorn

murmured.

'Ihadn'tthoughtofthat.'"Think on it now,' Lorn

said. 'But before you do, theEmpress requests that youcontinue your efforts, thoughnot against Dujek. You'reneeded here as a conduit incasemymission goeswrongin Darujhistan. Do notinvolve yourself withmanaging the occupation ofPale. Further, you are toprovideDujekwithdetailson

Oponn'sappearance. If agodhasenteredthefray,hehasaright to know and to planaccordingly.''Howcanoneplananything

withOponninthegame?''Leave that to Dujek.' She

studiedhisface.'Doyouhavedifficulty with any of theseinstructions?'Tayschrenn smiled. 'In

truth, Adjunct, I'm greatly

relieved.'Lornnodded.'Good.Now,I

need a mundane healer andquarters.''Of course.' Tayschrenn

strode to the doors, thenpausedandturned.'Adjunct,Iamgladyou'rehere.''Thank you, High Mage.'

After he left, Lorn sank intoher chair and her mindtravelled back nine years, to

the sights and soundsexperienced by a child, to anight, one particular night inthe Mouse, when everynightmare a young girl'simagination could holdbecamereal.Sherememberedblood,bloodeverywhere,andthe empty faces of hermother, her father and olderbrother – faces numbed bythe realization that they'dbeen spared, that the blood

wasn't their own. As thememories stalked once againthrough her mind, a namerodethewinds,rustlingintheairasifclawingthroughdeadbranches. Lorn's lips parted,and she whispered,'Tattersail.'The sorceress had found thestrengthtoleaveherbed.Shenow stood at the window,leaningwithonehandagainst

the frame for support, andlooked down on a streetcrowded with militarywagons. The systematicplunder that quartermasterscalled 'resupply' was wellunder way. The eviction ofnobilityandgentryfromtheirfamilial estates for thestationingoftheofficercorps,of which she was one, hadended days ago, while therepairing of the outer walls,

the refitting of sunderedgates, and the clearing of'Moonrain'continuedapace.She was glad she'd missed

theriverofcorpsesthatmusthave filled the city streetsduring the initial phase ofclean-up – wagon afterwagon groaning beneath theweight of crushed bodies,whitefleshsearedbyfireandslashedbysword,rat-gnawedand raven-pecked – men,

women,andchildren.Itwasascene she had witnessedbefore, and she had no wishevertoseeitagain.Now, shock and terror had

seepeddownandoutofsight.Scenes of normalityreappeared as farmers andmerchants emerged fromhiding to meet the needs ofoccupiersandoccupiedalike.Malazan healers had sweptthe city, rooting out the

birthing of plague andtreating common ailmentsamongallthosetheytouched.No citizen would have beenturned from their path. Andsentiments began the long,perfectlyplannedswing.Soon, Tattersail knew,

there'd be the culling of thenobility,ascourgethatwouldraise to the gallows thegreediest, least-liked nobles.And theexecutionswouldbe

public. A tried and trueprocedure that swelledrecruitment on a tide of basevengeance–witheveryhandstainedbyarighteousglee.Asword in such handscompletedtheconspiracyandincluded all players in thehuntforthenextvictimtothecause–theEmpire'scause.She'd seen it run its course

in a hundred such cities. Nomatter how benign the

originalrulers,nomatterhowgenerous the nobility, thewordofEmpire,weightedbymight, twisted thepast intoatyranny of demons. A sadcomment on humanity, abitterlessonmadefoulbyherownroleinit.In her mind returned the

faces of theBridgeburners, astrange counterpoint to thecynicism with which sheviewed all around her.

Whiskeyjack, a man pushedto the edge, or, rather, theedge creeping on him on allsides, a crumbling of beliefs,a failing of faiths, leaving ashislastclaimtohumanityhissquad,ashrinkinghandfuloftheonlypeople thatmatteredanymore.Butheheldon,andhe pushed back – pushedbackhard.She liked to think–no,shewantedtobelieve–hewouldwinout in theend,

thathe'dlivetoseehisworldstrippedoftheEmpire.Quick Ben and Kalam,

seeking to take theresponsibility from theirsergeant's shoulders. It wastheironlymeansoflovingtheman, though they'dneverputitinsuchterms.Intheothers,barring Sorry, she saw thesame, yet with them therewas a desperation that shefound endearing, a child-like

yearning to relieveWhiskeyjack of everythingtheirgrimplacehadlaiduponhim.Sherespondedtothemina

way deeper than she'dthoughtpossible, fromacoreshe'd long been convincedwas burned out, the ashesscattered in silent lament – acore no mage could afford.Tattersail recognized thedanger, but thatonlymade it

allthemorealluring.Sorry was another matter,

and she found herselfavoiding even thinking aboutthatyoungwoman.AndthatleftParan.Whatto

doabout this captain?At themoment the man was in theroom, seated on the bedbehind her and oiling hissword, Chance. They'd notspoken much since she'dawakened four days ago.

There was still too muchdistrust.Perhapsitwasthatmystery,

that uncertainty, that madethem so attracted to oneanother. And the attractionwasobvious: evennow,withher back to the man, shesensed a taut thread betweenthem. Whatever energyburned between them, it feltdangerous. Which made itexciting.

Tattersail sighed. Hairlockhad appeared this verymorning, eager and agitatedabout something.The puppetwould not answer theirqueries, but the sorceresssuspected that Hairlock hadfoundatrail,anditseemeditmight take the puppet out ofPaleandontoDarujhistan.That was not a happy

thought.She stiffened as the ward

she'dplacedoutsideherdoorwas tripped. Tattersailwhirled to Paran. 'A visitor,'shesaid.He rose, Chance in his

hands.The sorceress waved her

hand over him. 'You're nolonger visible, Captain. Norcan anyone sense yourpresence. Make no sound,andwaithere.'Shestrodeintothe outer room just as a soft

knocksoundedonthedoor.She opened it to see a

youngmarinestanding in thehallway. 'What is it?' shedemanded.The marine bowed. 'High

Fist Dujek is enquiring as toyourhealth,Sorceress.''Much better,' she said.

'That's kind of him. Now, ifyou'll—'The marine interrupted

diffidently. 'If you answeredas you just have, I am toconveytheHighFist'srequestthat you attend a formalsupper this evening in themainbuilding.'Tattersail cursed silently.

She shouldn't have told thetruth.Now,itwastoolate.A'request'fromhercommanderwasnotsomethingthatcouldbe denied. 'Inform the HighFistthatIwillbehonouredto

share his company oversupper.'Athoughtstruckher.'May I ask who else will bepresent?''High Mage Tayschrenn, a

messenger named Toc theYounger,andAdjunctLorn.''AdjunctLornishere?''Arrived this morning,

Sorceress.'Oh,Hood'sBreath.'Convey

my reply,' Tattersail said,

struggling against a risingtide of fear. She shut thedoor, thenheard themarine'sboots hurrying down thehallway.'What's wrong?' Paran

asked, from the oppositedoorway.She faced him. 'Put that

sword away, Captain.' Shewalked over to the dresserand began rummagingthrough the drawers. 'I'm to

attendadinner,'shesaid.Paran approached. 'An

officialgathering.'Tattersail nodded

distractedly. 'With AdjunctLorn there as well, as ifTayschrennisn'tbadenough.'TheCaptainmurmured, 'So

she'sfinallyarrived.'Tattersail froze. She turned

to him slowly. 'You've beenexpectingher,haven'tyou?'

Paran started and looked atherwithfrightenedeyes.She realized his mumbling

hadn't been meant for herears. 'Dammit,' she hissed.'You'reworkingforher!'The captain's answer was

clear as he spun round. Shewatched him vanish into thebedroom, her thoughts astormof fury.The threadsofconspiracy now thrummed inher mind. So, Quick Ben's

suspicionshadbeenaccurate:a plan was afoot to kill thesquad.Didthatmakeher lifeat risk as well? She feltherself nearing a decision.What that decision was shewasn't sure, but there was adirectiontoherthoughtsnow,and it had the inevitablemomentumofanavalanche.The seventh bellwas ringingfrom some distant tower as

Toc theYounger passed intotheEmpireheadquarters.Heshowedhisinvitationto

yet another grim-faced,intense guard, and wasgrudgingly allowed tocontinue on down the mainhall to the dining chamber.Unease churned in Toc'sstomach. He knew theAdjunct was behind therequest, but she could be asunpredictable and as

manipulative as the rest.Beyond the doors he nowapproachedmight as well bea pit filled with vipers, allhungrilyawaitinghisarrival.Toc wondered if he'd be

able to keep anything down,andknowingtheconditionofhis facial wound, he thenwondered grimly if anyoneelse would be able to keepanything down. Among hisfellowsoldiershisscarswere

barely noticed: rare was thesoldier in Dujek's army whodid not carry a scar or three.Those few friends he hadseemed simply thankful thathestilllived.In the Seven Cities,

superstition held that loss ofan eye was also the birth ofinner sight. He'd beenreminded of that belief atleastadozentimesinthelastcouple of weeks. There had

been no secret gift grantedhim in exchange for his eye.Flashes of searing lightripped through his mindevery now and then, but hesuspected that was no morethan a memory of the lastthinghiseyehadseen:fire.And now he was about to

sit among the loftiestcompany in the Empire,barring the Empress herself.Suddenly the wound was a

thingofshame.He'dsitthereastestamenttothehorrorsofwar – Toc stiffened justoutsidethediningroomdoor.Was that why the Adjuncthad invited him? Hehesitated, then shrugged andentered.Dujek, Tayschrenn and the

Adjunct turned as one toregardhim.Toe theYoungerbowed.'Thank you for coming,'

AdjunctLornsaid.Shestoodwith the two men near thelargest of three fireplaces, inthe wall opposite theentrance. 'Please, join us.We're now awaiting but onemoreguest.'Toe strode to them,

thankfulforDujek'sgrin.TheHigh Fist set his crystalgoblet down on the mantelanddeliberatelyscratchedthestumpofhisleftarm.

'Bet it's driving you halfcrazed,' theoldmansaid,hisgrinbroadening.'I scratch with both hands,'

Tocsaid.Dujekbarkeda laugh. 'Join

usinadrink?''Thank you.' He noticed

Lorn's appraisal as heacceptedagobletfromDujek.Taking the decanter from anearby table, his glance

crossed the High Mage, butTayschrenn's attention wasfixed on the roaring firebehindLorn.'Hasyourhorserecovered?'

theAdjunctasked.Tocnoddedashe filledhis

goblet. 'Doinghandstandsthelast time I looked in on her,'hesaid.Lorn smiled tentatively, as

if unsure whether he was

mocking her. 'I've explainedyourvital role inkeepingmealive, Toc the Younger, howyouloosedfourarrowsonthefly, and brought down fourBarghast.'He lookedathersharply. 'I

didn'tknowIhadthelasttwoshots in me,' he said. Hesipped wine, resisting theurgetoscratchhiswound.Dujekgrunted. 'Yourfather

was also in the habit of

surprising people. There's amanImiss.''I,too,'Tocreplied,looking

down.The awkward silence that

followed this exchange wasmercifully broken by thearrival of the last guest. Tocturnedwith the others as thedoor swung open. He gazedat thewomanstanding in theentrance, then started. Wasthat Tattersail? He'd never

seenherwearinganythingbutbattle garb, and was nowstunned. My, he thoughtwonderingly,she'snotbad,ifyoulikethembig,thatis.Hehalfgrinned.Lorn's response to

Tattersail's appearance hadsounded much like a gasp,thenshespoke.'Wehavemetbefore, though I doubt you'dremember.'Tattersailblinked. 'I thinkI

wouldhaverecalledthat,'shesaidcautiously.'I think not. I was but

elevenyearsoldatthetime.''Then you must be

mistaken. I'm rarely in thecompanyofchildren.''They burned the Mouse

Quarter a week after youswept through it, Tattersail.'Lorn's voice made everyonestiffen with its barely

controlled rage. 'Thosesurvivors, the ones you leftbehind, were resettled inMock's Hole. And in thoseplague-ridden caverns mymother, my father and mybrotherdied.'The blood drained from

Tattersail'sroundface.Bewildered,Tocglancedat

theothers.Dujek'sexpressionwasmasked, but therewas astorm behind his eyes as he

studied Lorn. OnTayschrenn's face, as helooked upon the sorceress,theredawnedasuddenlight.'It was our first command,'

Tattersailsaidquietly.Toc saw Lorn trembling

andheldhisbreath.Butwhenshe spoke it was controlled,the words precise. 'Anexplanation is required.' Sheturned to High Fist Dujek.'They were recruits, a cadre

of mages. They were inMalaz City, awaiting theirnew commander, when theMasterof theClawissuedanedict against sorcery. Theyweresent into theOldCity–the Mouse – to cleanse it.Theywere–'hervoicecaught'- indiscriminate.' She swungher attention back toTattersail. 'This woman wasone of those mages.Sorceress, that nightwasmy

last with my family. I wasgiven to the Claw the verynext day. The news of myfamily's deathwaskept frommeforyears.Yet,'herwordsfell to a whisper, 'I wellremember that night – theblood,thescreams.'Tattersail seemedunable to

speak. The air in the roomhad grown thick, stifling.Finally the sorceress prisedher gaze from the Adjunct

andsaidtoDujek,'HighFist,itwasourfirstcommand.Welost control. I resigned fromtheofficercorpstheverynextday and was posted withanother Army.' She gatheredherself. 'If it is the Adjunct'swish to convene a court, Ioffer no defence and willacceptmyexecutionasajustpenalty.'Lorn replied, 'That is

acceptable.' She laid her left

hand upon her sword andpreparedtowithdrawit.'No,' High Fist Dujek said.

'Itisnotacceptable.'Lorn froze. She glared at

the old man. 'You seem toforgetmyrank.''No,Ihaven't.Adjunct,ifit

is yourwill that thosewithinthe Empire who havecommitted crimes in theEmperor's name must be

executed,' he steppedforward, 'then you mustincludeme. Indeed, IbelieveHigh Mage Tayschrenn alsohas his share of horrorcommitted on the Emperor'sbehalf. And, finally, there isthe Empress herself toconsider. Laseen, after all,commanded the Emperor'sClaw–shecreatedit,infact.More, the Edict was hers,thankfully short-lived as it

was.'He turned toTattersail.'Iwasthere,Tattersail.UnderWhiskeyjack's command Iwassentdowntoreinyouin,whichIdid.'She shook her head.

'Whiskeyjack commanded?'Her eyes narrowed. 'This hasthetasteofagod'sgame.'Dujek swung back to the

Adjunct. 'The Empire has itshistory,andweeachareinit.'

'Inthis,'Tayschrennrasped,'I must agree with the HighFist,Adjunct.''There'snoneedtohaveall

this official,' Tattersail said,her eyes on Lorn. 'I herebychallenge you to a duel. Onmy behalf I shall employ allmymagicalskillsinaneffortto destroy you. You maydefend with your sword,Adjunct.'Toctookastepforward.He

opened his mouth, thenclosed it again. He'd beenabout to tell Tattersail thatLorn carried an Otataralsword,thattheduelwouldbegrossly unfair, that she'd diewithin seconds, as the sworddevoured her every spell.Then he saw that thesorceressknewallthat.Dujek rounded on

Tattersail. 'Dammit, woman!Do you think everything

hinges on how it's worded?Execution. Duel. None of itmattersonewhit!AllthattheAdjunct does, all that shesays,isonbehalfofEmpressLaseen.' He spun to Lorn.'You are here as Laseen'svoice,asherwill,Adjunct.'Tayschrenn spoke softly,

'ThewomannamedLorn,thewomanwhooncewasachild,who once had a family,' helookedupontheAdjunctwith

anguish in his eyes, 'thatwoman does not exist. Sheceased to exist the day shebecametheAdjunct.'Lornstaredatthetwomen,

hereyeswide.Standing beside her, Toc

watched those wordsbattering her will, crushingtheanger,shatteringintodustevery last vestigeof identity.And from her eyes rose theicy, clinical repose of the

Adjunct to the Empress. Tocfelt his heart pounding hardagainst his chest. He'd justwitnessed an execution. ThewomannamedLornhadrisenfrom the turgid mists of thepast,risentorightawrong,tofindjusticeandinthatlastactreclaimits life–andshehadbeen denied. Not by thewords of Dujek orTayschrenn, but by the thingknownastheAdjunct.

'Of course,' she said,removing her hand from hersword. 'Please enter,SorceressTattersail,anddinewithus.'The flat tone of her voice

told Toc that her invitationhad not cost anything – andthishorrifiedhim,shookhimto his very core. A quickglance showed a similarresponse from Tayschrennand Dujek, though the latter

veiledit.Tattersail looked positively

ill,butshenoddedshakily inanswer to the Adjunct'sinvitation.Tocfound thedecanterand

a spare crystal goblet. Hewalkedup to thesorceress. 'IamToctheYounger,'hesaid,smiling, 'and you need adrink.' He poured the glassfull and handed it to her.'Often, when we camped on

themarch,I'dseeyouluggingthat travelling wardrobe ofyours around. Now I finallyseewhatwasinit.Sorceress,you'reasightforasoreeye.'A lookof gratitude entered

Tattersail's gaze. She raisedaneyebrow. 'Ihadn'trealizedmy travelling wardrobegarneredsuchattention.'Toc grinned. 'I'm afraid

you've provided a standingjoke in theSecond.Anything

surprising,beitanambushoran unplanned skirmish – theenemy invariably came fromyour travelling wardrobe,Sorceress.'Dujek guffawed behind

him. 'I've often wonderedwherethatphrasecamefrom,and damn, I heard it a lot –evenfrommyofficers.'Theatmosphereintheroom

relaxed somewhat; thoughundercurrents of tension still

swirled, they seemed to bebetween Tattersail and HighMage Tayschrenn. Thesorceress turned her gazeupon Lorn whenever theAdjunct's attention waselsewhere,andToccouldseethecompassionthere,andhisrespect for her roseconsiderably. In her shoes,anylookhegaveLornwouldhave been filled with fear.And whatever storm

threatened between TattersailandTayschrenn seemed bornof a difference in opinioncoupled with suspicion; itdidn'tlookpersonal.Then again, Toc

considered, Dujek's steadypresence may have beenproviding the levellinginfluence. His father hadspoken much of Dujek, of amanwhoneverlosthistouchwiththepowerlessortheless

powerful. Indealingwith theformer, he always made hisown failings an easyrecognition; and with thelatter he had an unerring eyethat cut away personalambitionwiththeprecisionofa surgeon removing septicflesh, leaving in its placesomeone who treated trustandhonestyasgivens.Studying Dujek's easy,

relaxed rapport with the

others in attendance,including himself, and thenwiththeservantswhofiledinbearing trays of food, itstruck Toc that the man hadnotchangedperceptiblyfromthe one Toc the Elder hadcalled friend. And thatimpressed Toc deeply,knowing as he did thepressures that burdened theHighFist.As soon as everyone was

seated and the first coursepresented, it was AdjunctLorn who took command,however. Dujek relinquisheditwithoutawordoragesture,evidently confident that theearlierincidentwasnowoveras far as the Adjunct wasconcerned.LornaddressedTattersailin

that uncanny, flat voice.'Sorceress, permit me tocomplimentyouonbestinga

Hound of Shadow, and onyour timelyrecovery. Iknowthat Tayschrenn hasquestionedyouregardingthisincident, but I would like tohear the tale from youdirectly.'Tattersail set down her

gobletandregardedherplatebriefly before meeting theAdjunct'ssteadygaze.'AstheHigh Mage may haveexplained, it's now clear that

the gods have entered thefray. Specifically, they'vebecome involved with theEmpire's plans forDarujhistan—'Tocrosequickly.'Ibelieve,'

he said, 'I should excusemyself now, as what will bediscussedhereexceeds—''Be seated, Toc the

Younger,' Lorn commanded.'You are the Clawrepresentative here, and as

such you are responsible forspeakingonitsbehalf.''Iam?''Youare.'Slowly,Tocsat.'Pleasecontinue,Sorceress.'Tattersailnodded.'Oponnis

central to this gambit. TheTwin Jesters' opening movehascreatedripples–I'msurethe High Mage would agreewith this–and thusattracted

theattentionofothergods.''Shadowthrone,' Lorn said.

ShelookedtoTayschrenn.The HighMage concurred.

'One could expect such athing. I, however, havesensed nothing ofShadowthrone's attentionupon us, even though Ipursued that possibilityvigorously after the Hound'sattack.'

Lorn exhaled slowly.'Sorceress,pleasegoon.''The Hound's presence was

triggered entirely byaccident,' Tattersail said,flicking a glance atTayschrenn. 'I was doing areading from my Deck ofDragons, and came upon thecard of the Hound. As withallAdepts,Ifoundtheimageanimate to a certain extent.When I gave it my full

concentration, it felt,' shecleared her throat, 'as if aportal opened, createdentirelyfromtheothersideofthat card– fromHighHouseShadowitself.'Sheraisedherhands and gazed steadily atthe High Mage. 'Is thispossible?TheShadowRealmisnewamongtheHouses,itsfull powernot yet expressed.Well,whateverhappened–aportal, a rent – the Hound

Gearappeared.''Then why,' Tayschrenn

asked, 'did it appear in thestreet? Why not in yourroom?'Tattersail smiled. 'I can

speculate.''Please do,' the Adjunct

said.'I have wards about my

room,' Tattersail said. 'Theinnermost of these are High

Thyr.'Tayschrenn started at that,

clearlysurprised.'Such wards,' Tattersail

continued, 'create a flux, atideofpower thatsurgesandebbslikeapulsingheart,onethat is beating very fast. Isuspectthatthesewardsweresufficient to bounce theHound away from myimmediate area, since in itstransitional state – half-way

between its realmandours–the Hound could not fullyexpress its powers. Once ithad arrived, however, itcould,anditdid.''How did you manage to

fendoffaHoundofShadow?'Tayschrennasked.'Luck,' Tattersail replied,

without hesitation. Heranswerhungintheair,anditseemed to Toc that everyonehadforgottentheirmeal.

'In other words,' Lorn saidslowly, 'you believe thatOponnintervened.''Ido.''Why?'Tattersailbarkedalaugh.'If

I could work that out,Adjunct, I'd be a happywoman.As it is,'herhumourfell away, 'it seems we'rebeingused.TheEmpireitselfhasbecomeapawn.'

'Is there away out?'Dujekasked,hiswordsagrowlthatstartledeveryone.Tattersailshrugged.'Ifthere

is,itliesinDarujhistan,sincethat's where Oponn's gambitseems centred. Mind you,High Fist, drawing us intoDarujhistan might well bewhatOponnseekstoachieve.'Toc sat back, absently

scratching his wound. Therewasmore to it,he suspected,

though he could find nodiscernible source for hissuspicion. He scratchedharder. Tattersail could beglib when she wanted to be;her story had astraightforwardness to it.Thebest lies were the simpleones. Still, nobody elseseemed unduly suspicious.The sorceress had shiftedattentionfromherstorytoitsimplicationsforfutureaction.

She had everyone thinkingpast her, and the faster theirthoughts raced, the furtherbehind they left their doubtsabouther.He watched her watching

the others, and was the onlyone to notice the flash oftriumphandreliefinhereyeswhenLornspoke.'Oponn is not the first god

seeking to manipulate theMalazanEmpire,'theAdjunct

said. 'Others have failed,come away bloodied. It'sunfortunate the lesson waslost on Oponn – and onShadowthrone, for thatmatter.' She sighed deeply.'Tattersail, whatever yourdifferences with the HighMage, it is necessary, no,vital, that you work togetherin seeking to discover thedetails of Oponn'sintervention.Inthemeantime,

HighFistDujekwillcontinuepreparinghislegiontomarch,aswellassolidifyingourholdonPale.Formyself,Iwillbeleaving the city shortly. Restassured,mymissionhasgoalsidentical to yours. Now, onelast thing,' she turned toToc,'I wish to hear the Claw'sevaluation of the words thathavebeenexchangedhere.'He stared in surprise. He'd

assumed the role she had

expectedofhimwithoutevenrealizing it. He sat straightandglancedatTattersail.Shenowlookednervous,drawingher hands beneath the table.He waited until their gazeslocked and held before heturnedtotheAdjunct.'In so far as she knows it,

thesorceressspeaksthetruth,'he said. 'Her speculationswere genuine, althoughconcerning the dynamics of

magic I'm at a loss. PerhapsHighMageTayschrenncouldcommentonthat.'Lorn seemed vaguely

disappointed with Toc'sevaluation, but she noddedanyway and said, 'Accepted,then.HighMage?'Tayschrennreleasedaslow

breath. 'Accurate,' he said.'Speculationissound.'Tocrefilledhisgoblet.The

first course was removedalmost untouched, but as thesecond course arrivedeveryone turned their fullattention to it andconversation ceased. Toc ateslowly, avoiding Tattersail'seyes, though he sensed themuponhimtimeandagain.Hewonderedathisownactions:deceiving the Adjunct to theEmpress, theHighMageandtheHigh Fist all in one shot

struck him as rash, if notsuicidal. And his reasons fordoing so were not entirelyrational,whichmadeitallthemoredistressing.The2ndhadalong,bloody

history.More times thanToccould count someone hadcome through for someoneelsewhatever the odds.And,more often than not, it hadbeen the mage cadre. He'dbeen there on the plain

outside Pale, and he'dwatched with a thousandothers the cadre being tornapart,hopelesslyoutmatched.That kind of waste didn't sitwell with the 2nd. And,though he was a Claw, thefacesthatsurroundedhim,thefacesthatlookeduponhiminhope, despair, and – at times– fatal resignation, thosefaceshadbeenmirrorsofhisown, and they defied the

Clawateveryturn.TheyearsintheClawwherefeelingandcaring had beensystematically assailed, thoseyears failed to withstand theday-in, day-out reality thatwasthe2ndArmy.This night, and with his

words, Toc had givensomething back to Tattersail,not just for her but for thecadre. It didn't matter if sheunderstood, andheknew she

must be feeling bewilderedby his actions; none of thatmattered. What he'd donehe'ddoneforhimself.He sat up. Now that's odd,

he thought, my wound'sstoppeditching.Feeling light-headed,Tattersailwobbledeverynowandthenasshewalkeddownthe hall towards the door to

herroom.Sheknewitwasn'tthewine.With her nerves asfrayedastheywere, thatfinevintagehad tasted likewater,andhadhadasmucheffect.AdjunctLorn had raised in

the sorceress memories she'dspent years burying. ForLorn, it had been a pivotalevent. But for Tattersail, ithad been just one nightmareamong many. Still, it hadpushed her where other

crimeshadnot,andasaresultshe'd found herself attachedto the2ndArmy– theArmyshe'dbeensenttoasarecruit,theclosingofacircle,but inthattimeshehadchanged.That attachment, those

twenty-odd years of service,had this night saved her life.She knew that Toc theYoungerhadliedforher,andthe look he had given herpriortostatinghisevaluation

had been a message she'dunderstood. Though he hadcometothe2ndasaClaw,asa spy, not even his years oftraining within that secretorganization could withstandthe newworld inwhich he'dfoundhimself.Tattersail understood this

all too clearly, for the samehad happened to her. Thesorceressinacadreofmageswho had entered the Mouse

Quartersolongagohadcarednaughtforanyonebutherself.Even her attempt to cutherselfawayfromthehorrorsofwhich she'd been part hadbeen born of a selfish desireto flee, to absolve her ownconscience – but the Empirehaddeniedherinthis.Anoldsoldier had come to her theday after the slaughter in theMouse Quarter. Old,nameless, a veteran sent to

convince the sorceress thatshewasstillneeded.Shewellremembered his words.'Should you ever outrun theguilt within your past,Sorceress, you will haveoutrun your soul. When itfinds you again it will killyou.' And then, rather thandeny her desperate needsabsolutely, he'd sent her intoaveteranarmy, the5th,untilthe time came for her to

return–tothe2nd,toaplaceunderthecommandofDujekOnearm. With that, she'dbeengivenasecondchance.Tattersail came to her door

and paused to sense thecondition of her wards. Allwas well. Sighing, sheenteredherroom,thenleanedagainst the door as it closedbehindher.Captain Paran stepped out

from the bedroom, his

expression wary andsomehow shy. 'Not underarrest?I'msurprised.''SoamI,'shereplied.'Hairlock was here,' Paran

said. 'He instructed me togiveyouamessage.'Tattersail studied theman's

face, seeking a hint of whathe was about to deliver. Heavoided her gaze andremained standing near the

doorway into the bedroom.'Well?'shedemanded.Paran cleared his throat.

'First,hewas,uh,excited.HeknewoftheAdjunct'sarrival,andsaidshewasn'talone.''Not alone? Did he explain

that?'Paran shrugged. 'Said the

dust walks around theAdjunct, the dirt shiftsbeneath her boots, and the

wind whispers of frost andfire.'He raisedhiseyebrows.'Does that explain anything?DamnedifIknow.'Tattersail strode to her

dresser.Shebegantoremovethe scant jewellery she'ddonnedforthedinner.'Ithinkitdoes,'shesaidslowly. 'Didhesayanythingelse?''He did. He said that the

Adjunct and her companionwere leaving Pale soon, and

that he intended to trackthem.Sorceress...'She saw that Paran was

strugglingwithsomething,asif fighting his every instinct.Tattersaillaidonearmonthedresser andwaited.When hemet her gaze, her breathcaught. 'You were about tosay something,' she said, hervoice low. Her heart waspoundingalltoofast,andshefeltherbodyrespondingasif

of its own accord. The lookshe'd seen in his eyes hadbeenclearinitsmeaning.'I know something of the

Adjunct'smission,'he said. 'Iwas to be her contact inDarujhistan.'Whateverhadbeenbuilding

betweenthemdisintegratedasTattersail's eyes went hardand anger darkened her face.'She'sgoingtoDarujhistan,isshe?Andyouandshewereto

oversee the long-awaiteddemise of theBridgeburners.Together, you thought you'dbe able to kill Whiskeyjack,to cut down his squad fromwithin.''No!' Paran took a step

forward, but when Tattersailshot out her hand, palmfacing him, he froze. 'Wait,'hewhispered. 'Beforeyoudoanything,justhearmeout.'Her Thyr Warren surged

into her hand, eager forrelease. 'Why? Damn Oponnforlettingyoulive!''Tattersail,please!'Shescowled.'Speak.'Paran stepped back and

turned to a nearby chair.Hands held out at his sides,hesatdownandlookedupather.'Keep those hands there,'

Tattersailcommanded.'Away

fromyoursword.''ThishasbeentheAdjunct's

personal mission, from thevery start. Three years ago Iwas stationed in Itko Kan,Officers Corps. One dayevery available soldier wasmusteredoutandmarched toa section of the coast road.'Paran's hands had begun toshake,andthemusclesofhisjaw stoodout. 'Whatwe sawthere, Tattersail, you would

notbelieve.'SherecalledQuickBenand

Kalam'sstory.'Amassacre.Acompanyofcavalry.'Astonishment showed on

Paran's face. 'How did youknow?''Goon,Captain,'shegrated.'Adjunct Lorn arrived from

the capital and took charge.Sheguessedthatthemassacrehadbeena...adiversion.We

beganuponatrail.Itwasnota clear one, not at first.Sorceress, may I lower myarms?''Slowly.On thechair arms,

Captain.'Hesighedgratefullyandset

down his trembling forearmsas she'd instructed. 'Anyway,theAdjunctdeterminedthatagirlhadbeentaken,possessedbyagod.'

'Whichgod?'Paran made a face. 'Come,

now, if you know of themassacre, is ithardtoguess?That company was killed byShadowHounds.Whichgod?Well,Shadowthronecomestomind,' he said sarcastically.'The Adjunct believesShadowthrone was involved,butthegodthatpossessedthegirlwastheRope–Iknowofno other name for him – the

Patron of Assassins,Shadowthrone'scompanion.'Tattersail dropped her arm.

She'd closed her Warren aminute earlier, since it hadbegun to push hard and shehadfearedshedidn'thavethestrength to resist it muchlonger. 'You've found thegirl,'shestateddully.Paransatforward.'Yes!''Hername'sSorry.'

'You'reawareofthis,'Paransaid, sinking back into thechair. 'Which means thatWhiskeyjack is also aware,since who else could havetold you?'He looked up intoher eyes with a cloudedexpression. 'I'm now veryconfused.''You'renotalone,'Tattersail

said. 'So all this – yourarrival,theAdjunct's–itwasall a hunt for the girl?' She

shook her head. 'That's notenough, it can't be enough,Captain.''It's all that I'm aware of,

Tattersail.'She studied him for a

moment. 'I believe you. Tellme,whatarethedetailsoftheAdjunct'smission?''I don't know,' Paran said,

tossing up his hands.'Somehow, I was the one

she'd be able to find, so mybeing with the squad wouldbringhertothegirl.''The Adjunct's talents are

many,' Tattersail mused.'Through the antithesis ofsorcery, she might wellpossess the ability to havelinkedwithyou,especially ifyou've been in her companyforthepasttwoyears.''Then why isn't she

breakingdownyourdoor?'

Tattersail'seyeswereonthejewellery scattered on thedresser. 'Oponn severed thelink,Captain.''I dislike the thought of

exchanging one set ofshackles for another,' Parangrumbled.'There's more to this,'

Tattersail insisted, more toherself than to the captain.'Lorn has a T'lan Imass withher.'

Paranjerkedupright.'Hairlock's snide hints,' she

explained. 'I believe themission was two-fold. KillSorry, yes, but also killWhiskeyjack and his squad.The T'lan would not beinvolved if her planconcerned just you. HerOtataralswordissufficienttodestroy Sorry, and possiblykill the Rope as well,assuming that's who's

possessingthegirl.''Iwouldnot like tobelieve

that,'Paransaid.'Theyaremycommand.My responsibility.TheAdjunctwouldnotbetraymeso—''Wouldn'tshe?Whynot?'The captain seemed at a

loss to answer her, but therewas a stubbornglower inhiseyes.Tattersail reached the

decision she had sensed wascoming, and it left her cold.'Hairlock left too early. Thepuppet was eager, too eagertopursuetheAdjunctandthatT'lan Imass. He must havediscovered something aboutthem, about what they're upto.''Who isHairlock'smaster?'

Paranasked.'Quick Ben, Whiskeyjack's

mage.' She looked to him.

'He's the best I've seen. Notthemostpowerful,mindyou,but smart. Still, if the T'lanImass comes on himunawares he won't stand achance, and neither will therest.' She paused, her eyesholdingonthecaptain.'Ihaveto leave Pale,' she saidabruptly.Paran shot to his feet. 'Not

alone.''Alone,' Tattersail insisted.

'I have to find Whiskeyjack,and if you're tagging alongthenLornwillfindhimtoo.''I refuse to believe the

Adjunct presents any risk tothesergeant,'Paransaid.'Tellme, can you succeed inkilling Sorry? Even withQuickBen'shelp?'Thesorceresshesitated.'I'm

not sure I want to,' she saidslowly.

'What?''It has to beWhiskeyjack's

decision,Captain.AndIdon'tthink I can give any goodreason for convincing you ofthat. I just feel it's right.'Shefeltherselfrelyingoninstinctin this matter, but vowed toholdtruetoit.'Evenso,'Paransaid,'Ican't

remain hiding here, can I?WhatdoIeat?Thebedding?'

'I can get you out into thecity,' Tattersail said. 'Nonewill recognize you. Take aroominaninnandstayoutofyouruniform.IfallgoeswellI'll be back in two weeks.You canwait that long, can'tyou,Captain?'Paran stared. 'And what

happens if I justwalk out ofhere and introducemyself toDujekOnearm?''The High Mage

Tayschrennwouldshredyourbrain with truth-seekingsorcery, Captain. You'veOponn's touch, and aftertonight Oponn is now anofficialenemyoftheEmpire.AndwhenTayschrenn'sdonehe'll leave you to die, whichis preferable to the madnessthatwouldgripyouifhekeptyou alive. He'll show thatmercy, at least.' Tattersailanticipated Paran's thoughts.

'Dujek might well seek toprotect you, but in thisTayschrenn outranks him.You've become a tool ofOponn, and for Dujek thesafety of his soldiers takesprecedence over his pleasureinfrustratingTayschrenn.So,in fact, he might not protectyouatall.I'msorry,Captain,but you're truly alone if youwalk.''I'll be alone when you

leave,too,Sorceress.''I know,but itwon'tbe for

ever.' She searched his eyesand felt compassion wellingbehind her own. 'Paran,' shesaid, 'it's not all bad.Despiteall the distrust between us,I'm feeling things for you Ihaven't felt for anyone in –well, in some time.' Shesmiled sadly. 'I don't knowwhat that's worth, Captain,butI'mgladIsaiditanyway.'

Paran gazed at her for alongminute, then said, 'Verywell,Tattersail, I'lldoasyouask. An inn? Do you havesomelocalcoin?''Easily acquired.' Her

shouldersslumped.'I'msorry,but I'm exhausted.' As sheturned to the bedroom hergaze fell on the dresser-topone last time. Amid a smallpileofunderclothingshesawher Deck of Dragons. It

would be foolish not to do areading, considering thedecisionshe'dmade.Paran spoke close behind

her. 'Tattersail,howthoroughisyourexhaustion?'She felt the heat in his

words triggering asmouldering fire beneath herstomach, and her gaze slidaway from the Deck as sheturned to face the captain.Though she voiced no reply

to his question, her answerwas clear.He took her hand,surprising her with such aninnocent gesture. So young,she thought, and now he'sleadingmeintothebedroom.She would have laughed iftheacthadn'tbeensosweet.Falsedawnplayedtheeasternhorizon as Adjunct Lornguided her mount andpackhorse out from Pale's

East Gate. True to Dujek'swords the guards werenowhereinsight,andthegatehadbeenleftopen.Shehopedthe few sleepy eyes that hadfollowed her through thestreets had only mildcuriositybehindthem.Inanycase, she was dressed insimple, unadorned leatherarmour; her face was mostlyhidden in theshadowcastbythe plain bronze helmet's

browguard. Even her horseswerealocalbreed,sturdyandplacid,muchsmallerthantheMalazan warhorses withwhichshewasmost familiar,but a comforting ride nonethe less. It seemed unlikelythatshewouldhaveattractedundue attention. More thanone unemployed mercenaryhad left Pale since theEmpire'sarrival.The south horizon was a

jagged line of snow-cappedmountains. The TahlynMountains would remain onher right for some time,before the Rhivi Plain sweptpast them and became theCatlinPlain.Fewfarmsbrokethe flatlands around her, andthose that did crowded thecity's own lands. The Rhivipeople were not tolerant ofsuch encroachments, andsince every trade route that

led to and fromPale crossedtheir traditional territory,those of the city wiselyrefrained from angering theRhivi.Ahead, as she walked her

horses, the dawn showed itsfacewithastreakofcrimson.The rain had passed a fewdays back, and the skyoverheadwas silver-blue andclear, a few stars dwindlingaslightcametotheworld.

Thedaypromisedtobehot.The Adjunct loosened theleather thongs between herbreasts, revealing the finemail hauberk beneath. Bymidday she would reach thefirst well-spring, where shewouldreplenishhersupplyofwater. She ran a hand acrossthe surface of one of thebladders strapped to hersaddle. It came away wetwith condensation. She

passed her hand across herlips.Thevoicethatspokebeside

her jolted her in the saddleandhermountsnortedinfearandsidestepped.'Iwillwalkwithyou,'Onos

T'oolansaid,'foratime.'Lorn glared at the T'lan

Imass. 'I would rather youannounced your arrival,' shesaidtightly,'fromadistance.'

'Asyouwish.'OnosT'oolansank into the ground like somuchdust.The Adjunct cursed. Then

she saw him waiting ahundred yards ahead of her,back-litbytherisingsun.Thecrimson sky seemed to havecast a red flame about thewarrior. The effect jangledher nerves, as if she lookeduponascenethattouchedherdeepest, oldest memories –

memories that went beyondherownlife.TheT'lanImassstood unmoving until shereached him, then fell intostepbesideher.Lorn tightened her knees

about the horse's shouldersandclosed the reinsuntil themare settled down. 'Do youhave to be so literal-minded,Tool?'sheasked.The desiccated warrior

seemed to consider, then

nodded. 'I accept that name.All of my history is dead.Existence begins anew, andwithitshallbeanewname.Itissuitable.''Why were you selected to

accompanyme?' the Adjunctasked.'Inthelandswestandnorth

of Seven Cities, I aloneamong my clan survived theTwenty-eighthJaghutWar.'

Lorn's eyes widened. 'Ithought thosewarsnumberedtwenty-seven,' she saidquietly. 'When your legionsleftusafterconqueringSevenCities, and youmarched intothewastelands—''Our Bone Casters sensed

an enclave of survivingJaghut,' Tool said. 'Ourcommander Logros T'landetermined that weexterminate them. Thus we

did.''Which explains your

decimated numbers uponreturning,' Lorn said. 'Youcould have explained yourdecisiontotheEmpress.Asitwas,shewasleftwithouthermost powerful army, and noknowledge of when it mightreturn.''Returnwasnotguaranteed,

Adjunct,'Toolsaid.

Lorn stared at the tatteredcreature.'Isee.''The cessation ofmy clan's

chieftain, Kig Aven, wasaccompanied by all my kin.Thus alone, I amunbound toLogro. Kig Aven's BoneCaster was Kilava Onass,whohasbeen lost since longbefore the Emperorreawakenedus.'Lorn's mind raced. Among

theMalazanEmpire,theT'lan

ImasswerealsoknownastheSilent Host. She'd neverknown an Imass asloquacious as this Tool.Perhaps it had something todo with this 'unbounding'.Within the Imass, onlyCommander Logros everspoketohumansonaregularbasis. As for the BoneCasters – Imass shamans –they stayed out of sight. Theonly one that had ever

appearedwasonenamedOlarEthil, who stood alongsidethe clan chieftain EitholosIlm during the battle ofKartool, which had seen anexchange of sorcery thatmade Moon's Spawn looklikeachild'scantrip.In any case, she'd already

learned more of the Imassfrom this brief conversationwithToolthanwaspresentinthe Empire Annals. The

Emperor had known more,much more, but makingrecords of such knowledgehadneverbeenhisstyle.ThathehadreawakenedtheImasshad been a theory arguedamong scholars for years.And now she knew it to betrue.HowmanyothersecretswouldthisT'lanImassrevealincasualconversation?'Tool,' she said, 'had you

ever met the Emperor

personally?''I awakened before Galad

Ketan and after OnakShendok and, as with all theT'lanImass,IkneltbeforetheEmperor as he sat upon theFirstThrone.''The Emperor was alone?'

Lornasked.'No. He was accompanied

bytheonenamedDancer.''Damn,' she hissed. Dancer

haddiedbeside theEmperor.'Where is this First Throne,Tool?'Thewarriorwassilentfora

time, then it said, 'Upon theEmperor's death the LogrosT'lanImassgatheredminds–ararethingthatwaslastdonebefore the Diaspora – and abindingresulted.Adjunct,theanswer to your question iswithin this binding. I cannotsatisfyyou.Thisholdsforall

LogrosT'lanImassandforallKronT'lanImass.''WhoaretheKron?''They are coming,' Tool

replied.Suddensweatsprangouton

the Adjunct's brow. Logros'legions, when they firstarrived on the scene,numbered around nineteenthousand.Theywerebelievednow to number fourteen

thousand,andthemajorityofthoselosseshadcomebeyondthe Empire's borders, in thislast Jaghut War. Wereanother nineteen thousandImass about to arrive? WhathadtheEmperorunleashed?'Tool,' she asked slowly,

almost regretting her need topersist in questioning him,'what is the significance oftheseKroncoming?''The Year of the Three

Hundredth Millenniumapproaches,' the warriorreplied.'Whathappensthen?''Adjunct, the Diaspora

ends.'The Great Raven calledCrone rode the high windsabove Rhivi Plain. Thenorthern horizon was now agreen-tinged curve, growing

more substantial with everyhour of flight. Wearinessweigheddownherwings,butthe heaven's breath was astrong one. And more,nothing could assail hercertainty that changes werecomingtothisworld,andshedrew again and again uponher vast reserves of magicalpower.If ever there was a dire

convergence of great forces,

itwasnow,andinthisplace.Thegodsweredescending tothe mortal soil to do battle,shapings were being forgedof flesh and bone, and theblood of sorcery now boiledwith a madness born ofinevitable momentum. Cronehadneverfeltmorealive.With these unveiling of

powers, heads had turned.And to one Crone flew inanswertoasummonsshewas

powerless to ignore. LordAnomanderRakewasnotheronlymaster, and for her thisonly made things moreinteresting. As for her ownambitions, she would keepthem to herself. For now,knowledgewasherpower.Andiftherewasonesecret

more alluring than any othershe might covet, it was themystery surrounding the halfhumanwarriorcalledCaladan

Brood. Anticipation liftedCrone's wings with renewedstrength.Steadily, Blackdog Forest

spread its verdant cloak overthenorth.

CHAPTERTEN

Kallor said: 'I walkedthislandwhentheT'lanImasswerebutchildren.Ihavecommandedarmies a hundredthousand strong. I havespreadthe fire of my wrathacross entire continents,andsat alone upon tall

thrones. Do you graspthemeaningofthis?''Yes,' said Caladan

Brood,'youneverlearn.'ConversationsofWar(SecondinCommandKallorspeakingwith

WarlordCaladanBrood),recordedbyOutriderHurlochel,6thArmy

Vimkaros Inn stood justbeyondEltrosanSquareintheopal Quarter of Pale. Thatmuch Toc knew from hiswanderings through the city.But for the life of him hecould not think of anyonestayingtherewhomheknew.Yet the instructions for thismysteriousmeeting had beenclear.He now approached the

ostentatious structure warily.

He saw nothing suspicious.Thesquarewascrowdedwiththeusualgentryandmerchantshops; of Malazan guardsthere were few. The cullingofthenobilityhaddonemuchto cloak Pale's atmospherewith a shocked stillness thathung about people likeinvisibleyokes.Thepast fewdaysTochad

kept much to himself,carousing with his fellow

soldierswhen themood tookhim, though those timesseemedrarerthesedays.Withthe Adjunct gone, andTattersail reported missing,Dujek and Tayschrenn wereinvolved in mutuallyexclusive responsibilities.The High Fist was busyrestructuring Pale, and hisnewly formed 5th Army;while the HighMage soughtTattersail, evidently without

muchsuccess.Toc suspected that the

peace between the two menwould not last. Since thedinner, he had stayed awayfrom anything official,choosing to eat with hiscomrades rather than dinewith the officers aswas nowhisprivilegeasrankingClaw.The less noticed he madehimselfthebetter,asfarashewasconcerned.

He entered Vimkaros Innandpaused.Beforehimwasaroofless courtyardwith pathswindingamongarichgarden.Clearly, the innhad survivedthe siege unscathed. A widecentral path led directly to abroad counter behind whichstood a corpulent old maneating grapes. A few guestswalked the side paths,movingamongtheplantsandconversinginlowtones.

The message had insistedhe come dressed in localgarb. Thus, Toc drew littleattention as he strode to thecounter.The oldman paused in his

snackingandbowedwithhishead.'Atyourservice,sir,'hesaid,wipinghishands.'I believe a table has been

reserved in my name,' Tocsaid.'IamRenderKan.'

Theoldmanstudiedawaxtabletbeforehim,thenlookedup with a smile. 'Of course.Followme.'Aminute laterToc sat at a

table on a balconyoverlookingthegardencourt.His only company was adecanter of chilled Saltoanwine,which arrivedwhenhedid, and he now sipped froma goblet, his lone eyesurveying the people in the

gardenbelow.A servant arrived and

bowedbeforehim. 'Kind sir,'themansaid, 'Iamtodeliverthe following message. Agentlemanwillsoon joinyouwhohasbeenoutofhisdepthyet not aware of it. He is,now.'Toc frowned. 'That's the

message?''Itis.'

'Hisownwords?''Andyours,sir.'Theservant

bowedagainanddeparted.Toe's frowndeepened, then

he sat forward, his everymuscle tensing.He turned tothebalcony'sentranceintimeto see Captain Paran stridethrough. He was dressed inthe manner of the localgentry,unarmed,and lookingquitefit.Tocrose,grinning.

'Not unduly shocked, Ihope,' Paran said, as hearrived. They sat down andthe captain poured himselfsomewine. 'Did themessageprepareyou?''Barely,' Toc replied. 'I'm

not sure how to receive you,Captain. Is this according totheAdjunct'sinstructions?''She believes me dead,'

Paran said, his browwrinkling. 'And I was, for a

time. Tell me, Toc theYounger, am I speaking to aClaw, or to a soldier of theSecond?'Toe's eye narrowed. 'That's

atoughquestion.''Isit?'Paranasked,hisgaze

intenseandunwavering.Toc hesitated, then grinned

again. 'Hood's Breath, no, itdamn well isn't! All right,Captain, welcome to the

defunctSecond,then.'Paran laughed, clearly

relieved.'Now what's all this about

youbeingdeadbutnotdead,Captain?'Paran's humour vanished.

He took a mouthful of wineand swallowed, lookingaway. 'An attemptedassassination,' he explained,grimacing. 'I should have

died, if not for Mallet andTattersail.''What? Whiskeyjack's

healerandthesorceress?'Paran nodded. 'I've been

recovering until recently inTattersail's quarters.Whiskeyjack's instructionswere to keep my existencesecret for the time being.Toc,'heleanedforward,'whatdoyouknowoftheAdjunct'splans?'

Toc examined the gardenbelow. Tattersail had known– she'd managed to keep itfrom everyone at the dinner.Remarkable. 'Now,' he saidquietly, 'youaskquestionsofaClaw.''Ido.''Where's Tattersail?' Toc

swunghisgazetothecaptainandheldtheman'seyes.Thecaptainjerkedhishead.

'Very well. She travelsoverland – to Darujhistan.She knows a T'lan ImassaccompaniestheAdjunct,andshe believes Lorn's planincludes killing Whiskeyjackandhissquad.Idonotagree.Myroleinthemissionwastokeep an eye on one memberof the sergeant's squad, andthatpersonwastobetheonlyone to die. She gave me thecommandafter threeyearsof

service toher– it'sa reward,andIcan'tbelieveshewouldtakeitfromme.There,thatiswhat I know. Can you helpme,Toc?''The Adjunct's mission,'

Toc said, after releasing along breath, 'as far as I'mawareofit,involvesfarmorethan just killing Sorry. TheT'lan Imass is with her forsomething else. Captain,'Toe's expression was grim,

'thedaysoftheBridgeburnersare numbered.Whiskeyjack'sname is damn near sacredamong Dujek's men. This issomethingofwhichIcouldn'tconvincetheAdjunct–infactshe seems to think theopposite–but if thesergeantand the Bridgeburners areeliminated,thisarmywon'tbepulled back in line, it willmutiny. And the MalazanEmpire will be up against

High Fist Dujek with not asingle commander who canmatch him. The GenabackanCampaign will disintegrate,andcivilwarmaywellsweepintotheheartoftheEmpire.'Thebloodhaddrainedfrom

Paran's face. 'I believe you,'he said. 'Very well, you'vetakenmydoubtsandmadeofthem convictions. And theyleave me with but onechoice.'

'Andthatis?'Paran turned the empty

goblet in his hands.'Darujhistan,' he said. 'Withluck I'll catch Tattersail, andtogether we'll attempt tocontact Whiskeyjack beforetheAdjunctdoes.'HeglancedatToc.'EvidentlytheAdjunctcan no longer sense mywhereabouts. Tattersailforbade me to accompanyher, arguing that Lornwould

beable todetectme,but shealso let slip that my "death"had severed the bondsbetweenmeand theAdjunct.I should have made theconnectionsooner,butshe ...distractedme.'IntoToc'smindreturnedthe

memoryofhowshe'd lookedthat evening, and he noddedknowingly.'I'msureshedid.'Paransighed. 'Yes,well. In

anycase,Ineedatleastthree

horses, and supplies. TheAdjunct is proceeding onsome kind of timetable. Iknowthatmuch.Soshe'snottravellingwithmuch haste. Ishould catch up withTattersail in a day or two,then together we can drivehardtotheedgeoftheTahlynMountains, skirt them andslippasttheAdjunct.'Tochadleanedbackduring

Paran's elaboration of his

plan,ahalf-smileonhis lips.'You'll need Wickan horses,Captain, since what you'vedescribed requires mountssuperior to those theAdjunct's riding. Now, howdo you plan to get past thecity gates dressed as a localbutleadingEmpirehorses?'Paranblinked.Toc grinned. 'I've got your

answer, Captain.' He spreadhis hands. 'I'll go with you.

Leavethehorsesandsuppliesto me, and I guarantee we'llgetoutofthecityunnoticed.''But—''Those are my conditions,

Captain.'Paran coughed. 'Very well.

And now that I think on it,the company would bewelcome.''Good,' Toc grunted. He

reached for the decanter.

'Let's drink on the damnthing,then.'Thewaywasbecomingmoreand more difficult, andTattersail felther first tremorof fear. She travelled aWarrenofHighThyrandnoteven Tayschrenn possessedthe ability to assail it, yetunder attack it was. Notdirectly. The power thatopposed her was pervasive,

anditdeadenedhersorcery.The Warren had become

narrow, choked withobstacles. At times itshuddered around her, thedark walls to either sidewrithing as if undertremendous pressure. Andwithin the tunnel shestruggled to shape, the airstank of something she haddifficulty identifying. Therewasatingeofsourbrimstone

and a mustiness thatreminded her of unearthedtombs.Itseemedtodrainthepower from her with everybreathshetook.She realized that she could

notcontinue.Shewouldhaveto enter the physical worldandfindrest.Onceagainshecursed her own carelessness.ShehadforgottenherDeckofDragons. With them shewould have known what to

expect. She entertained onceagain the suspicion that anoutside force had acted uponher, severing her from theDeck. The first distractionhad come from CaptainParan, andwhile it had beenpleasant, she remindedherselfthatParanbelongedtoOponn. After that, she'dexperiencedanunaccountableurgencytobeonherway,somuch so that she'd left

everythingbehind.Bereft of her Warren, she

would find herself alone ontheRhiviPlain,withoutfood,without even a bedroll. Themindlessneedforhasteshe'dexperienced ran contrary toher every instinct. She wasgrowing certain that it hadbeen imposed upon her, thatsomehow she'd let herdefences down, left herselfexposed to such

manipulations. And thatreturned her thoughts toCaptain Paran, to the servantofOponn'swill.Finally, she could go no

further. She began towithdrawher strainedpower,collapsing the Warren layerby layer about her. Theground beneath her bootsbecamesolid,cloakedinsparyellow grass, and the airaround her shifted into the

dulllavenderofdusk.Awindbrushed her face smelling ofsoil. The horizon steadieditselfonall sides– faroff toher right the sun still bathedthe Talhyn Mountains, thepeaks glittering like gold –and immediately ahead rosean enormous silhouettedfigure,turningtofaceherandvoicingasurprisedgrunt.Tattersail stepped back in

alarm, and the voice that

emerged from the figurepushedtheairfromherlungsin a whooshing breath ofrelief,thenterror.'Tattersail,' Bellurdan said

sadly, 'Tayschrenn did notexpectyou'dmanagetocomethis far. Thus, I wasanticipating detecting youfrom a distance.' TheThelomen giant lifted hisarms in an expansive, child-like shrug. At his feet was a

familiar burlap sack, thoughthe body within had shrunksinceshe'dlastseenit.'How has the High Mage

managed to deny myWarren?' she asked. On theheels of her terror had comeweariness,almostresignation.'He could not do that,'

Bellurdan answered. 'Hesimply anticipated that youwould attempt to travel toDarujhistan,andasyourThyr

Warren cannot function overwater, he concluded youwouldtakethispath.''ThenwhathappenedwithmyWarren?'Bellurdan grunted

distastefully.'TheT'lanImasswhoaccompaniestheAdjuncthas created around them adead space. Our sorcery isdevoured by the warrior's

Elderingpowers.Theeffectiscumulative. If you were toopen your Warren entirely,you would be consumedutterly, Tattersail.' TheThelomen stepped forward.'The High Mage hasinstructed me to arrest youandreturnyoutohim.''AndifIresist?'Bellurdan answered, in a

tonefilledwithsorrow,'ThenIamtokillyou.'

'Isee.'Tattersailthoughtfora time.Herworld seemed tohaveclosedinnow,hereverymemory irrelevant anddiscarded.Herheartpoundedlikeathunderingdruminherchest. All that remained ofher past, and her only truesenseofherlife,wasregret–an unspecified, yetoverwhelming regret. Shelooked up at the Thelomen,compassion brimming in her

eyes. 'SowherearethisT'lanandtheAdjunct,then?''Perhaps eight hours to the

east. The Imass is not evenaware of us. The time forconversation is ended,Tattersail. Will youaccompanyme?'Hermouth dry, she said, 'I

did not think you one tobetrayalong-standingfriend.'Bellurdan spread his hands

wider and said, in a painedvoice, 'I will never betrayyou, Tattersail. The HighMage commands both of us.Howcantherebebetrayal?''Not that,' Tattersail replied

quickly. 'I once asked if Icould speak with you atlength.Remember?You saidyes, Bellurdan. Yet now youtellmeconversationisended.Ihadnotimaginedyourwordtobesoworthless.'

In the dying light it wasimpossible to see theThelomen's face, but theanguishinhistonewasplain.'I am sorry, Tattersail. Youare correct. I gave you myword that we would speakagain. Can we not do thiswhilewereturntoPale?''No,' Tattersail snapped. 'I

wishitnow.'Bellurdan bowed his head.

'Verywell.'

Tattersailforcedthetensionfromher shouldersandneck.'I have some questions,' shesaid. 'First, Tayschrenn sentyou to Genabaris for a time,didn't he? You weresearching through somescrollsforhim?''Yes.''MayIaskwhatwerethose

scrolls?''Is it of vital significance

now,Tattersail?''Itis.Thetruthwillhelpme

in deciding whether to gowithyou,ordiehere.'Bellurdan hesitated only a

moment. 'Very well. Amongthe archives collected fromthe city's mages – all ofwhomwere executed, as youknow – were found somecopied fragments of Gothos'Folly,anancientJaghuttome—'

'I know of it,' Tattersailinterjected.'Goon.''As a Thelomen, I possess

Jaghut blood, though ofcourseGothoswoulddenyit.TheHighMageentrustedtheexaminationofthesewritingsto me. I was to seek outinformation concerning theburial of a Jaghut Tyrant, aburial that was in fact aprison.''Wait,' Tattersail said,

shakingherhead.'TheJaghuthadnogovernment.WhatdoyoumeanbyaTyrant?''One whose blood was

poisoned by the ambition torule over others. This JaghutTyrant enslaved the landaroundit–alllivingthings–for close to three thousandyears. The Imass of the timesought to destroy it, andfailed. It was left to otherJaghut to attend to the

sunderingandimprisoningofthe Tyrant – for such acreaturewasasabominabletothemasitwastoImass.'Tattersail's heart now

hammered in her chest.'Bellurdan.' She had to fightto push the words from her.'Where was this Tyrantburied?''Iconcludedthatthebarrow

lies south of here, in theGadrobiHillsdirectlyeastof

Darujhistan.''Oh, Queen of Dreams.

Bellurdan,doyouknowwhatyou'vedone?''I have done as I was

commanded by our HighMage.''And that's why the T'lan

ImassiswiththeAdjunct.''Idon'tunderstandwhatyou

aresaying,Tattersail.''Dammit,youbrainlessox!'

sherasped.'Theyplantofreethe Tyrant! Lorn's sword –herOtataralsword—''No,' Bellurdan rumbled.

'They would not do such athing. Rather, they seek toprevent someone elsereleasingit.Yes,thatismorelikely.Itisthetruthofthings.Now, Tattersail, ourconversationisdone.''I can't go back,' the

sorceress said. 'Imustgoon.

Please,don'tstopme.''We are to return to Pale,'

Bellurdan said stubbornly.'Your concern has beensatisfied. Permit me to takeyou back so that I maycontinue seeking the properburialplaceforNightchill.'Therewasnochoiceleft in

Tattersail's mind, but therehad to be a way out. Theconversation had bought hertime,timetorecoverfromthe

ordeal of travelling byWarren. Bellurdan's wordsreturned to her: if sheaccessed her Thyr Warrennowshewouldbeconsumed.Incinerated by the reactiveinfluence of the T'lan Imass.Her eyes fell on the burlapsackbesidetheThelomenandsaw from it a faint gleam ofsorcery. A spell. My ownspell. She recalled now: agestureofcompassion,aspell

of... preservation. Is this mywayout?Hood'sBreath,isitevenpossible?ShethoughtofHairlock, the journey fromthedyingbodytoalifeless...vessel.Shedenul, havemercyonus...The sorceress stepped back

andopenedherWarren.HighThyr magic blazed aroundher. She saw Bellurdanstagger back then steadyhimself. He screamed

something, but she could nothearhim.Thenhechargedather.She regretted the

Thelomen's fatal courage asthe fire blackened the worldaround her, even as sheopened her arms andembracedhim.Lorn strode to Tool's side.The T'lan Imass faced west,

and a tension swirled abouthimthatshecouldalmostsee.'What is it?' she asked, her

eyesonthewhitefountainoffire rising above thehorizon.'I'venever seenanything likethat.''Nor I,' Tool replied. 'It is

within thebarrier I have castaroundus.''But that's impossible,' the

Adjunctsnapped.

'Yes, impossible to last thislong. Its source should havebeen consumed almostinstantly. Yet...' The T'lanImassfellsilent.TherewasnoneedforTool

to finish his sentence. Thepillaroffirestill ragedin thenightskyasithadforthepasthour. The stars swam in theinky darkness around it,magicswirling ina frenzyasiffromabottomlesswell.On

thewindwasasmellthatleftLorn slightly nauseous. 'Doyou recognize the Warren,Tool?''Warrens,Adjunct.Tellann,

Thyr, Denul, D'riss, Tennes,Thelomen Toblakai, StarvaldDemelain...''StarvaldDemelain,whatin

Hood'sNameisthat?''Elder.''I thought there were but

three Elder Warrens, andthat'snotoneofthem.''Three? No, there were

many, Adjunct, all born ofone.StarvaldDemelain.'Lorn wrapped her cloak

tighter about herself, eyes onthe column of fire. 'Whocould manage such aconjuring?''Therewasone ... once.Of

worshippers there are none

left, sohe isnomore. Ihaveno answer to your question,Adjunct.' The Imassstaggered as the pillarbloomed outwards, thenwinked out. A distantthundering rumble reachedthem.'Gone,'Lornwhispered.'Destroyed,' Tool said. The

warrior cocked his head.'Strange, the source is indeeddestroyed.Butsomethinghas

also been born. I sense it, anewpresence.'Lorn checked her sword.

'Whatisit?'shedemanded.Tool shrugged. 'New. It

flees.'Was this cause for worry?

Lorn scowled and turned tothe T'lan Imass, but he hadalreadyleftherside,andwasnow striding back to theircampfire. The Adjunct

glanced once more at thewesternhorizon.Therewasacloud,blottingoutthestars.Itlookedhuge.Sheshivered.It was time to sleep. The

Imass would stand guard, soshe need not worry aboutsurprisevisitors.Thedayhadbeen long, and she'd over-rationed her water; she feltweak, an unfamiliarsensation. Her scowldeepenedasshewalkedtothe

camp. Tool, standingimmobile beside the flames,reminded her of his arrivaltwo days ago. The fieryglimmer that jumped alonghis withered flesh-and-bonehelm once again triggeredsome-thing primordial in hermind, and with it came adeep, unreasoning fear ofdarkness. She stepped closetotheImass. 'Fireislife,'shewhispered, the phrase

seeming to rise from thedepthsofinstinct.Tool nodded. 'Life is fire,'

hesaid.'Withsuchwordswasborn the First Empire. TheEmpire of Imass, theEmpireof Humanity.' The warriorturnedtotheAdjunct.'You'vedonewell,mychild.'Thegreypallof smokehungunmoving over Blackdog

Forest a dozen leagues northof her as Crone dipped hersplayed tail and sankwearilytowards the army encampedontheRhiviPlain.The tentsmarched outward

like spokes from a centralfortified hub where stood alarge canopy, rippling in themorningbreeze.Towardsthiscentre the Great Ravendescended. Her sharp gazemarked Rhivi plainsmen

movingamongtheaisles.Offon the eastern rim flutteredthe banners of the CatlinHorse, green and silver tomark the mercenarycontingent of CaladanBrood's main army. By farthe greatest proportion ofsoldiers,however,wereTisteAndii – Anomander Rake'speople, dwellers of the citywithinMoon'sSpawn– theirtall, dark-clad forms moving

like shadows between thetents.Wheeledtrackslednorthto

the forest fringes: supplyroutes to entrenchments onceheld by the Malazans andnow marking Brood's frontlines. Rhivi-driven cartsmoved forward an endlessstream of supplies, whileotherwagons, ladenwith thedead and the wounded,entered the camp in a grim

flow.Crone cackled. Magic bled

from the main tent andstained the dusty air with aheavy, turgid magenta, thecolour of the D'riss Warren,earth magic. Her wings nowfelt light and held a youthfulspring as she beat the air.'Ahhh,'Crone sighed, 'magic'Sweeping through the wardsand traps, the Great Ravenglided over the tent and

thrummed rapidly as shedroppedoutsidetheentrance.No guard barred the

doorway,whichhadbeenleftpulled back and tied to asupport pole. Crone hoppedinside.With the exception of a

small hanging at the far end,behind which squatted anarmy cot, no other divisionshad been made within thetent. In the centre stood a

massive table, its surfaceetched with the contours ofthe surrounding land. Onemanstoodalone,leaningoverit, his back to the doorway.An enormous iron hammerwas slung across his broadback; despite its size andevident weight, it lookedalmost toy-like against thatspan of muscle and bone.Power rolled from him inmuskywaves.

'Delays, delays,' Cronemuttered,assheflappeduptolandonthetabletop.Caladan Brood grunted

distractedly.'You sensed the storm of

sorcerylastnight?'sheasked.'Sensed? We could see it.

The Rhivi shamans seemsomewhatdisturbed,but theyhave no answers. We'lldiscussthatlater,Crone.Now

Imustthink.'Crone cocked her head at

themap.'Thewestflankfallsback in total disarray. Whocommands that Barghastmob?'Brood asked, 'When did

youflywithinsightofthem?''Twodayspast.Isawbuta

thirdoftheoriginalforceleftalive.'Brood shook his head.

'Jorrick Sharplance, underhim five thousand Barghastand seven Blades of theCrimsonGuard.''Sharplance?' Crone hissed

laughter. 'Full of himself, ishe?''He is, but the Barghast so

namedhim.AsIwassaying,fivelegionsofGoldMoranthdropped into his lap threedays ago. Jorrick retreatedundercoverofnight,andbled

off two-thirds of his armyeast andwest – his Barghasthaveaknackofdisappearingwhere no cover seemspossible. Yesterday hispanicked mob did an about-face and met the Gold. HisBarghastmovedinaspincers.Two Moranth legions wipedout, theother three retreatingto the forest with half theirsupplies scattered on theplain.'

Crone cocked her headagain.'Jorrick'splan?'Brood inclined his head.

'He's CrimsonGuard, thoughthe Barghast call him theirown.Young,thusfearless.'The ravenstudied themap.

'Andtheeast?HowholdsFoxPass?''Well,' Brood said. 'Mostly

Stannis conscripts on theotherside–theMalazansare

finding thema reluctant ally.We'll see the CrimsonGuard's mettle in twelvemonths' time, when the nextwave of Malazan marinesdisembarkatNisst.''Why not drive northward?'

Crone asked. 'Prince K'azzcould liberate the FreeCitiesoverthewinter.''The Prince and I agree on

this,' Brood said. 'He stayswhereheis.'

'Why?'Cronedemanded.Brood grunted. 'Our tactics

areourbusiness.''Suspicious bastard,' Crone

muttered. She hopped alongthe south edge of the map.'Your underbelly remains forfinal grim scrutiny. NaughtbutRhivi plainsmen betweenyouandPale.Andnowforceswalk the plain that even theRhivi know nothing of – yetyou show little concern,

warrior. Why is that, Cronewonders?''I have been in

communication with PrinceK'azz and his mages, andwith the Barghast and Rhivishamans. What was born ontheplainlastnightbelongstono one. It is alone, andfrightened. Even now theRhivi have begun the searchforit.Concerned?No,notbythat. Still, there'smuchmore

goingoninthesouth.'Broodstraightened.'Anomander is in themidst

of it,' Crone purred. 'Plottingand counter-plotting,scattering broken glass ineveryone's path. I've neverseenhiminabettermood.''Enough gossip. You have

newsforme?''Of course, Master.' Crone

stretched her wings and

sighed. She jabbed her beakatanitch,crunchedafleaandgulped it down. 'I knowwhoholdstheSpinningCoin.''Who?''A youth whose bliss is

ignorance. The Coin spinsandturnsafacetoallthoseinhis company. They've theirown game, but it willconvergewith greater things,and so Oponn's thin threadsreverberate in spheres

otherwise immune to theJesters'influence.''WhatdoesRakeknow?''Ofthis,little.Butyouwell

know his dislike of Oponn.He would cut those threadsgiventheopportunity.''Idiot,' Brood muttered. He

thoughtforatime,unmoving,like a shaping of stone andiron, while Crone ambledback and forth across the

Rhivi Plain, her long, blacktalons scattering the woodenregiment and divisionmarkerslikedominoes.'Without Oponn, Rake's

power is presentlyunmatched,' Brood said. 'HehangsoverDarujhistanlikeabeacon and the Empress issure to send somethingagainst him. Such a battlewould—''Level Darujhistan,' Crone

chirped brightly. 'In flamesnumbering twelve, so fly theFree Cities, so much ash inthewind.''Rake's disdain for

everything beneath him hasleft us stumbling and flat onourfacesonetimetoomany,'Brood said. He glanced atCrone and raised a hairlesseyebrow. 'You're scatteringmyarmies.Stopit.'Crone stopped pacing and

squatted. 'Once again,' shesighed, 'Caladan Brood theGreat Warrior seeks thebloodlessway.Rakegetsthatcoin and he'll pull OponnrightinandspittheLordandLadyon that lovelyswordofhis. Imagine the chaos thatwould ensue – a wonderfulripple that could topple godsanddelugerealms.'Sheheardher own excitement andrevelledinitsblatancy. 'Such

fun.''Quiet, bird,' Brood said.

'The Coin Bearer needsprotection, now that Rake'srecalledhismages.''But who is there to match

theTisteAndii?'Croneasked.'Surely you don't intend toleaveyourcampaignhere?'Brood bared his filed teeth

in a nasty grin. 'Ha, caughtyou out, I think. Good. You

need taking down a notch ortwo, Crone. You don't knoweverything.Howdoesitfeel?''I'llpermitsuchtorturefrom

you, Brood,' Cronesquawked, 'only because Irespect your temper. Justdon't push me too far. Tellme, who around here canmatchRake'smages?This issomething Imustknow.Youand your secrets. How can Ibe a true servant to my

master's wishes when hewithholdsvitalinformation?''What do you know of the

Crimson Guard?' Broodasked.'Scant,' Crone replied. 'A

companyofmercenariesheldin high regard among suchkind,whatofthem?''AskRake'sTisteAndii for

theirassessment,crow.'Crone's feathers arched

indignantly. 'Crow? I'll nottakesuchinsults!I'mleaving.Returning to theMoon, thereto devise such a list of foulnames for Caladan Brood astostaintherealms!''Begone with you, then,'

Brood said, smiling. 'You'vedonewell.''If only Rake wasn't even

more stingy thanyou,'Cronesaid, as she hopped towardsthe doorway, 'my spying

skills would be used on youinsteadofonhim.'Brood spoke. 'One last

thing,Crone.'Shestoppedat theentrance

andcockedherhead.The warrior's attention had

returned to the map. 'Whenyou find yourself over theRhivi Plain far to the south,mark whatever powers yousense active there. But be

careful, Crone. Something'sbrewing,anditstinks.'Crone'scacklewasheronly

reply,andthenshewasgone.Brood stood over his map,

thinking hard. He remainedun-moving for close totwenty minutes, then hestraightened.Steppingoutsidehe searched the sky. Cronewas nowhere in sight. Hegrunted and turned to surveythe nearest tents. 'Kallor!

Whereareyou?'A tall grey man stepped

around a tent and walkedslowly up to Brood. 'TheGold have bogged down intheforest,Warlord,'hesaidina gravelly voice, his ancient,lifelesseyesmeetingBrood's.'A storm comes down fromthe Laederon Heights. TheMoranth's Quorls will begroundedforsometime.'Brood nodded. 'I'm leaving

you in charge. Heading toFoxPass.'Kallorraisedaneyebrow.Brood stared at him, then

said, 'Let's not get tooexcited. People will startthinking you're not as boredwithall thisasyoumakeouttobe.I'mmeetingwithPrinceK'azz.'A faint smile quirked

Kallor's thin lips. 'What

madness has JorrickSharplanceperpetratednow?''None, so faras I'maware,'

Brood answered. 'Easeuponthe lad,Kallor.Hepulledoffthe last one. Remember, youwereyoungonce,too.'The old warrior shrugged.

'Jorrick's lastsuccessbelongsto the Lady of Luck ifanything. It surely was nottheproductofgenius.'

'I'llnotargueyouthatone,'Broodsaid.'May I ask, what is the

reason for speaking withK'azzinperson?'Brood looked around.

'Where's that damn horse ofmine,anyway?''Probably cowering,' Kallor

said drily. 'Word is, his legshave become shorter andstubbier beneath your

prodigious self. I remainunconvincedthatsuchathingispossible,butwhocanarguewithahorse?''IneedsomeofthePrince's

men,'Broodsaid,headingoffdown an aisle. 'To be moreprecise,' he said, over hisshoulder, 'IneedtheCrimsonGuard'sSixthBlade.'Watching Caladan Brood

stride away, Kallor sighed.'Rake again, is it, Warlord?

You'ddobetter to followmyadvice and destroy him.Youwill rue dismissing myadvice,Brood.'His dull eyesfollowed Brood until heturned a corner anddisappeared from sight.'Consider that my lastwarning.'The charred earth crunchedundertheirhorses'hoofs.Theglance that Toc the Younger

threw back over his shoulderwasreceivedwithagrimnodfrom Captain Paran. Theywere nearing the source oflastnight'scolumnoffire.As Toc had promised,

leaving thecityhadprovedasimplematter; none accostedthem,and thegateshadbeenleft ajar. Their horses wereindeedWickan-bred,leanandlong-limbed;andthoughtheirears flattenedandeyesrolled

they held to the discipline oftheirreins.The still midday air was

heavy with the stench ofsulphur, and already a finecoat of ash covered the tworiders and their horses.Overhead the sun was abright copper orb. Tocstoppedhismountandwaitedforthecaptaintoarrive.Paran wiped grimy sweat

from his brow and adjusted

his helmet. The camail feltheavyon his shoulders as hesquinted ahead. They wereheading towards the placewhere the pillar of fire hadcome from. The night justpast had been one of deepfear forParan:neitherhenorToc had everwitnessed sucha conflagration of sorcery.Though they had campedleaguesawaytheyhadfelttheheatpouringfromit.Now,as

they approached, all Parancouldfeelwasdread.Neither he nor Toc spoke.

Perhaps a hundred yardseastward rose something thatlooked like a misshapen treestump, one gnarled,blackened branch reachingskyward. In a perfect circlearound it the grassy swardwas untouched for perhapsfiveyards.Adarksmudgelayinthisunburnedarea,slightly

offtooneside.Paran nudged his mount

forward and Toc followedafterunslingingandstringinghis bow. As Toc caught upwith the captain, Paran sawthat his companion hadnockedanarrow.Thecloser theyapproached

thelesslikeatreethecharredthing looked. The limb thatreached out from it hadfamiliar lines. Paran's gaze

narrowedsomemore,thenhecursedandspurredhishorse.He closed the distancequickly, leaving behind astartledToc.Arriving, he dismounted

andstrodeuptowhathenowsaw were two bodies, onegigantic. Both had beenburned beyond recognition,butParanheldnoillusionsastowhotheotherwas.Allthatcome close to me, all that 1

care for ... 'Tattersail,' hewhispered, then fell to hisknees.Toc joined him, but

remained in the saddle,standing in the stirrups andscanning the horizon. Aminute later he dismountedand walked a slow circlearoundtheembracingbodies,stopping at the dark smudgethey'd seen from a distance.Hecrouchedtostudyit.

Paran raised his head andstruggled tokeephiseyesonthe figures. The limbbelonged to the giant. Thefire that had consumed themboth had blackened the armformostof its length,but itshand was only slightlyscorched. Paran stared at thegrasping fingers andwondered what salvation thegiant had reached for in itsmoment of death. The

freedom that is death, afreedomdeniedme.Damnthegods, damn them all.Numbed, he was slow torealizethatToccalledtohim.Itwasanefforttorisetohis

feet. He staggered to whereToc still crouched. On thegroundbefore themanwasatornburlapsack.'Tracks leadfromthis,'Toc

said shakily, a strangeexpression on his face. He

scratched vigorously at hisscar, then rose. 'Headingnorth-east.'Paran looked at his

companion withoutcomprehension.'Tracks?''Small, like a child's. Only

...''Onlywhat?'The man hugged himself.

'Those feet were mostlybones.' He met the captain's

blank stare. 'As if the soleswere gone, rotted or burnedaway – I don't know ...Something horrible hashappened here, Captain. I'mglad it's heading away,whateveritis.'Paran turned back to the

two entwined figures. Heflinched. One hand reachedup to touch his face. 'That'sTattersail,' he said, in a flatvoice.

'I know. I'm sorry. Theother one is the ThelomenHighMage Bellurdan. It hastobe.'Toclookeddownattheburlapsack.'Hetookleavetocome out here and buryNightchill.'Headdedquietly,'Idon'tthinkNightchillneedsburyinganymore.''Tayschrenndid this,'Paran

said.Something in the captain's

voicebroughtTocround.

'Tayschrenn. And theAdjunct.Tattersailwas right.They would not have killedherotherwise.Onlyshedidn'tdieeasily,shenevertooktheeasy path in anything. Lorn'staken her from me, just likeshe'stakeneverythingelse.''Captain...'Paran's hand unconsciously

gripped the pommel of hissword. 'That heartless bitchhasalotcomingtoher,andI

meantodeliverit.''Fine,' Toc growled. 'Just

let'sbesmartaboutit.'Paran glared at him. 'Let's

getgoing,ToctheYounger.'Toc glanced one last time

into the north-east. Thiswasn't over, he told himself,shivering. He winced as asavage, painful itch rosebeneath his scar. Though hetried, he found he could not

reach through to it. And aformless fire burned behindhis empty eye-socket –something he had beenexperiencing often lately.Muttering, he strode to hishorse and climbed into thesaddle.The captain had already

swunghisownmountandthetrailinghorsesouthward.Theset of the man's back spokevolumes toToc theYounger,

andhewondered ifhehadn'tmade a mistake inaccompanying him. Then heshrugged. 'Well,' he said, tothetwocharredbodies,asherodepast,'it'sdone,ain'tit?'Theplainbelowlaysheathedin darkness. Looking to thewest,Cronecouldstillseethesetting sun. She rode thehighestwinds, the air aroundher bitter cold. The Great

Raven had left CaladanBrood's company two daysago. Since then, she'ddetectednosignoflifeinthewastes below. Even themassive herds of Bhederin,which the Rhivi were in thehabit of following, haddisappeared.At night, Crone's senses

werelimited,thoughitwasinsuch darkness that she couldbest detect sorcery. As she

winged ever southward shescanned the land far belowwith a hungry eye. Othersamong her brethren fromMoon's Spawn regularlypatrolledtheplainsinserviceto Anomander Rake. She'dyettoseeone,butitwasonlya matter of time. When shedid, she would ask them ifthey'ddetectedanysourceofmagicrecently.Brood was not one to

overreact. If something washappening down here thatsoured his palate, it could bemomentous, and she wantedto know of it before anyoneelse.Fire flashed in the sky

ahead of her, perhaps aleague distant. It flaredbriefly,tingedgreenandblue,then disappeared. Cronetensed. That had beensorcery, but of a kind she'd

never known. As she sweptinto the area the air washedover her hot andwet,with acharnel stench that remindedherof– shecockedherhead–burntfeathers.Acrysoundedahead,angry

andfrightened.Croneopenedherbeaktoreply,thenshutitagain. It had come from oneof her kin, she was certain,but for some reason she feltthe need to hold her tongue.

Then another ball of fireflashed, this time closeenoughtoCronethatshesawwhat it engulfed: a GreatRaven.Her breath hissed from her

beak. In that brief instant oflight she'd seen half a dozenmore of her brethrenwheeling in the sky aheadofher and to the west. Shethrummed her wings andangledtowardsthem.

When she could hear theirpanicked flapping about heronallsides,Cronecalledout,'Children! Attend to Crone!TheGreatMotherhascome!'The ravens voiced relieved

cries and closed in aroundher.Theyallshriekedatoncein an effort to tell her whatwas happening, but Crone'sangry hiss silenced them atonce. 'I heard among youHurtle's voice,' Crone said,

'didInot?'One male swept near her.

'You did,' he replied. 'I amHurtle.''I've just come from the

north, Hurtle. Explain to mewhathasoccurred.''Confusion,' Hurtle drawled

sarcastically.Cronecackled.She loveda

good jokemore thananyone.'Indeed!Goon,lad!'

'Before dusk Kin Clipdetected a flare of sorcerybelowherontheplain.Itwasodd, its feel, but clearly aWarren had just opened andsomething had issued on tothe plain. Kin Clip spoke tome of this, then investigated.I shadowed her from aboveduring the descent, and sosaw what she saw. Crone, ithas come to my mind thatonce again the art of soul-

shiftinghasbeenexercised.''Eh?''Travelling on the ground

andhaving just come from aWarren was a small puppet,'Hurtle explained, 'animateand possessing great power.When this puppet detectedClip he gestured at her andshe burst into flames. Sincethen, the creature hasdisappeared into its Warren,reappearing only to kill

anotherofus.''Why do you remain?'

Cronedemanded.Hurtlechuckled.'Wewould

determine its course, Crone.Thus far, it seems to travelsouthward.''Very well. Now that that's

been confirmed, leave andtake the others with you.Return toMoon'sSpawnandreporttoourlord.'

'As you command, Crone.'Hurtledippedawingandslidoff into darkness. His voicecalled out and was answeredbyachorus.Crone waited. She wanted

tobecertainthattheyhadalldeparted the area beforedoing some investigating onherown.Wasthispuppetthething birthed in the pillar offire? It didn't seem likely.Andwhatkindofsorcerydid

itemploythatnoGreatRavencould absorb? There was anEldering taste about this.Soul-shifting was no simplecantrip,andithadneverbeencommon among the wizardseven when its techniqueswereknown.Toomany talesof madness born within theshifting.Perhaps this puppet had

survived from these times.Crone thought about that.

Unlikely.Magicbloomedontheplain

below, then faded. A smallmagical force scamperedfrom the spot, weaving as itran. There, thought Crone,there lie the answers to myquestions. Destroy myyounglings,will you?WouldyousoeasilydisdainCrone?She crookedherwings and

dropped. The air whistledaround her. She raised a

penumbraofprotectivemagicthat encapsulated her just asthe small figure ceased itsmarchandlookedup.Faintly,Crone heard a manic laughrise up tomeet her, then thepuppetgestured.The power that engulfed

Crone was immense, farbeyond anything sheanticipated. Her defencesheld but she found herselfbuffeted, as if fists punched

herfromeverydirection.Shecriedout inpain, spinningasshe fell. It took all herstrengthandwilltothrustouther battered wings and catcha rising current of air. Shevoiced an outraged, alarmedshriek as she climbed higherinto the night sky. A glancedownrevealedthatthepuppethadreturnedonceagaintoitsWarren, for nothing magicalwasvisible.

'Aye.' She sighed. 'What aprice to pay for knowledge!Elder Warren indeed, theeldestofthemall.Whoplayswith Chaos? Crone knowsnaught. All things aregathering, gathering here.'She found another stream ofwind and angled south. Thiswas something AnomanderRake must know of, nevermind Catadan Brood'sinstructions that the Tiste

Andiilordbekeptignorantofalmost everything. Rake wasgood for more than Broodcreditedhim.'Destruction,forone.' Crone laughed. 'Anddeath.Goodatdeath!'Shepickedupspeed,sodid

not notice the dead smudgeonthelandbelowher,northewoman camped in its centre.Therewas nomagic there tospeakof,inanycase.

AdjunctLornsquattedbyherbedroll,hereyesscanningthenight sky. 'Tool,was all thatconnected to what wewitnessedtwonightsago?'The T'lan Imass shook his

head. 'I thinknot,Adjunct.Ifanything, this concerns memore. It is sorcery, and itignores the barrier I have setaroundus.''How?'sheaskedquietly.

'There is only onepossibility, Adjunct. It isEldering, a lost Warren ofages past, returned to us.Whoever its wielder mightbe,wemust assume it tracksus,withpurpose.'Lorn straightened wearily,

then stretched her back,feeling her vertebrae pop. 'IsitsflavourShadowthrone's?''No.'

'Then Iwill not assume it'stracking us, Tool.' She eyedherbedroll.Tool faced the woman and

watched in silence as sheprepared to sleep. 'Adjunct,'he said, 'this hunter appearsable to penetrate mydefences, and thus it mayopen its Warren's portaldirectly behind us, once wearefound.''I'venofearofmagic,'Lorn

muttered.'Letmesleep.'The T'lan Imass fell silent,

but he continued staringdown at the woman as thehours of night crawled on.Toolmovedslightlyasdawnlightened the east, then wasstillagain.Groaning,Lornrolledonto

her back as the sunlightreachedher face.Sheopenedher eyes andblinked rapidly,then froze.She slowly raised

her head to find the T'lanImassstandingdirectlyaboveher. And, hovering inchesfromherthroat,wasthetipofthewarrior'sflintsword.'Success,' Tool said,

'demandsdiscipline,Adjunct.Last night we witnessed anexpression of Elder magic,choosing as its target ravens.Ravens,Adjunct,donotflyatnight. You might think thecombination of my abilities

withyoursensuresoursafety.That is no guarantee,Adjunct.' The T'lan Imasswithdrew his weapon andsteppedtooneside.Lorn drew a shaky breath.

A flaw,' she said, pausing toclear her throat beforecontinuing, 'whichIadmitto,Tool. Thank you for alertingme to my growingcomplacency.' She sat up.'Tellme,doesn't it strikeyou

as odd that this supposedlyempty Rhivi Plain shoulddisplaysomuchactivity?''Convergence,' Tool said.

'Power ever draws otherpower.Itisnotacomplicatedthought,yetitescapedus,theImass.' The ancient warriorswung his head to theAdjunct. 'As it escapes theirchildren. The Jaghut wellunderstood the danger. Thusthey avoided one another,

abandoned each other tosolitude, and left acivilization to crumble intodust. The Forkrul Assailunderstood as well, thoughthey chose another path.What is odd,Adjunct, is thatof these three foundingpeoples,itistheImasswhoselegacy of ignorance survivedtheages.'Lorn stared at Tool. 'Was

that an attempt at humour?'

sheasked.The T'lan Imass adjusted

his helmet. 'That depends onyourmood,Adjunct.'Sheclimbedtoherfeetand

strode to check her horses.'You'regettingstrangereveryday, Tool,' she said quietly,more to herself than to theImass.Intohermindreturnedthe first thing she had seenwhenshe'dopenedhereyes–that damned creature and his

sword. How long had hestoodlikethat?Allnight?TheAdjunct paused to test

her shoulder tentatively. Itwas healing quickly. Perhapsthe injury had not been assevereasshe'dfirstthought.As she saddled her horse

she chanced to glance atTool. The warrior stoodstaring at her. What kind ofthoughts would occupysomeonewho'dlivedthrough

three hundred thousandyears?OrdidtheImasslive?BeforemeetingTool shehadgenerally thought of them asundead,hencewithoutasoul,the flesh alone animated bysomeexternalforce.Butnowshewasn'tsosure.'Tell me, Tool, what

dominatesyourthoughts?'The Imass shrugged before

replying. 'I think of futility,Adjunct.'

'Do all Imass think aboutfutility?''No.Fewthinkatall.''Whyisthat?'The Imass leaned his head

toonesideand regardedher.'Because,Adjunct,itisfutile.''Let'sgetgoing,Tool.We're

wastingtime.''Yes,Adjunct.'Sheclimbedintothesaddle,

wonderinghowtheImasshad

meantthat.

BOOKFOUR

ASSASSINS

Idreamedacoinwithshiftingface–so many youthfulvisagesso many costlydreams,and it rolled andrang'round the gildedrimof a chalice madeforgems

LifeofDreams

IlbarestheHag

CHAPTERELEVEN

ThenightheldcloseasIwanderedmyspiritunfootedto either earth orstoneunravelledfromtreeundriven by ironnailbut like the night

itselfathingofairstrippedoflightso I came uponthem,those masons whocutandcarvedstoneinthenightsighting by starsandbatteredhand.'What of the sun?'askedIofthem.'Is not its cloak of

revelationthe warmth ofreasoninyourshaping?'And one amongthemanswered,'No soul canwithstandthe sun's bones oflightandreasondimswhen darkness falls–

so we shapebarrowsinthenightfor you and yourkin.''Forgive myinterruption, then,'saidI.'The dead neverinterrupt,' said themason,'theybutarrive.'

Pauper'sStoneDarujhistan

'Yet another night, yetanother dream,' Kruppemoaned, 'with naught but ascant fire to keep thiswanderer company.' He heldhishandsover the flickering,undyinghearth thathadbeenstoked by an Elder God. Itseemed an odd gift, but hesensed a significance to it.'Kruppe would understandthis meaning, for rare and

unwelcomeisthisfrustration.'The landscape around him

was barren; even theploughed earth was gone,with no sign of habitation insight.Hesquattedbythelonefire in a tundra wasteland,and the air had the breath ofrotting ice. To the north andto the east the horizongleamed green, almostluminescent though nomoonhad risen to challenge the

stars. Kruppe had neverbefore seen such a thing, yetit was an image fashionedwithin his mind. 'Disturbing,indeed, proclaims Kruppe.Are these visions of instinct,then, unfurled in this dreamforapurpose?Kruppeknowsnot, and would return to hiswarm bed this instant, werethechoicehis.'He stared about at the

lichen- and moss-covered

ground, frowning at thestrange bright colours bornthere. He'd heard tales ofRedspire Plain, that land farto the north, beyond theLaederonPlateau.Isthiswhattundra looked like? He'dalways pictured a bleak,colourlessworld. 'Yet perusethese stars overhead. Theyglisten with a youthfulenergy, nay, sparkle as ifamused by the one who

contemplatesthem.Whiletheearth itself hints of vastblushes of red, orange andlavender.'Krupperoseaslowthunder

reachedhimfromthewest.Inthedistancemovedamassiveherd of brown-furred beasts.The steam of their breathgustedsilver in theairaboveandbehind themas they ran,turning as one this way andthatbuteveratadistance.He

watched themfor some time.When they came closest tohim he saw the reddishstreaks in their fur, and theirhorns, sweeping down thenup and out. The land shookwiththeirpassage.'Such is the life in this

world, Kruppe wonders. Hashetravelledback,then,totheverybeginningofthings?''You have,' said a deep

voicebehindhim.

Kruppe turned. 'Ah, cometo share my fire, of course.'He saw before him a squatfigure, covered in the tannedhides of deer or some suchsimilar animal. Antlersstretched out from a flatskull-cap on the man's head,grey and covered in fuzzyskin.Kruppebowed.'Youseebefore you Kruppe, ofDarujhistan.''IamPranCholeofCannig

Tol's Clan among the KronTlan.'Pran steppedcloseandcrouchedbeforethefire.'Iamalso theWhite Fox, Kruppe,wise in the ways of ice.' Heglanced at Kruppe andsmiled.Pran's face was wide, the

bones pronounced beneathsmooth," gold skin.His eyeswere barely visible betweentight lids, but what Kruppesaw of them was a startling

amberincolour.Pranreachedout long, supple hands overthefire.'Fireislife,andlifeisfire. The age of ice passes,Kruppe. Long have we livedhere,hunting thegreatherds,gathering to war with theJaghut in the southlands,birthing and dying with theebb and flow of the frozenrivers.''Kruppe has travelled far,

then.'

'Tothebeginningandtotheend. My kind give way toyour kind, Kruppe, thoughthe wars do not cease.Whatwe shall give to you isfreedomfromsuchwars.TheJaghut dwindle, ever retreatinto forbidding places. TheForkrulAssailhavevanished,though we never found needto fight them. And theK'chain Che'Malle are nomore–theicespoketo them

with words of death.' Pran'sgaze swung back to the fire.'Our hunting has broughtdeath to the great herds,Kruppe.Wearedrivensouth,and thismustnotbe.Wearethe Tlan, but soon theGatheringcomes,andsoshallbe voiced the Rite of ImassandtheChoosingoftheBoneCasters, and then shall comethesunderingofflesh,oftimeitself. With the Gathering

shallbeborntheT'lanImass,andtheFirstEmpire.''Why, Kruppe wonders, is

hehere?'Pran Chole shrugged. 'I

have come for I have beencalled.Bywhom,Iknownot.Perhaps it is the same withyou.''But Kruppe is dreaming.

ThisisKruppe'sdream.''Then I amhonoured.' Pran

straightened. 'One of yourtimecomes.Perhaps thisonepossesses the answers weseek.'Kruppe followed Pran's

gaze to the south. He raisedaneyebrow. 'Ifnotmistaken,then Kruppe recognizes herasaRhivi.'The woman who

approached was perhapsmiddle-aged, heavy withchild. Her dark, round face

bore features similar to PranChole's, though lesspronounced. Fear shone inhereyes,yettherewasagrimdetermination about her aswell.Shereachedthefireandeyed the two men, most ofherattentiondrawing toPranChole. 'Tlan,' she said, 'theTellannWarren of the Imassofourtimehasbirthedachildin a confluence of sorceries.Itssoulwanderslost.Itsflesh

is anabomination.Ashiftingmust take place.' She turnedtoKruppeandsweptbackthethick woven robe she wore,revealing her swelledstomach. The bare, stretchedskinhadbeenrecently tracedin a tattoo. The image wasthat of a white-haired fox.'The Elder God walks again,risen from blood spilled onconsecratedstone.K'rulcamein answer to the child's need

andnowaidsusinourquest.He apologizes to you,Kruppe, for using the worldwithin your dream, but noyounger god can influencethis place. Somehow youhavemadeyoursoulimmunetothem.''The rewards of cynicism,'

Kruppesaid,bowing.Thewomansmiled.'I understand,' Pran Chole

said.'Youwouldmakeofthischild,bornofImasspowers,aSoletaken.''Yes. It is the best we can

manage,Tlan.A shapeshifter– which we too know asSoletaken – must befashioned.'Kruppe cleared his throat.

'Excuse Kruppe, please. Butare we not missing someonevitaltotheseplans?'

'Shestridestwoworlds,'theRhivi said. 'K'rul guides hernow into yours. She isfrightenedstill.Itfallstoyou,Kruppe,towelcomeher.'Kruppeadjustedthesleeves

of his faded, threadbarecloak. 'This shouldnot provedifficult for one of Kruppe'scharms.''Perhaps,' the Rhivi said,

frowning. 'Her flesh is anabomination. You have been

warned.'Kruppe nodded affably,

thenlookedaround.'Willanydirectiondo?'PranCholelaughed.'I suggest south,' the Rhivi

said.He shrugged and, with a

bow to the two companions,heheaded south.After a fewminutesheglancedback,butthefirewasnowhereinsight.

He was alone in the chillnight.A full moon appeared on

the eastern horizon, bathingthe land in silver light.Ahead,thetundrarolledonasfar as Kruppe could see, flatand featureless. Then hesquinted. Something had justappeared, still distant,walking with seeming greatdifficulty. He watched it fallonce, then climb back to its

feet. Despite theluminescence, the figurelookedblack.Kruppe moved forward. It

had yet to see him, and hestopped when he was butthirty feet away. The Rhivihad been right. Kruppeproduced his silkhandkerchief and wiped thesweat that had sprung acrosshisbrow.Thefigurehadbeenawomanonce,tall,withlong

black hair. But that womanhadbeenlongdead.Herfleshhadwitheredandassumedthehue of dark wood. Perhapsthemosthorrificaspectofherwas her limbs, which hadbeenroughlysewnbackontoher body. 'Aye,' Kruppewhispered. This woman hadbeentornapartonce.Thewoman's head flew up

andsightlesseyesfixeduponKruppe. She stopped, her

mouth opening but nowordscomingforth.Surreptitiously,Kruppecast

a spell upon himself, thenlooked at her yet again. Hefrowned. A spell had beenwovenaboutthewoman,oneof preservation. Butsomething had happened tothat spell, something hadreshaped it. 'Lass!' Kruppebarked. 'Iknowyoucanhearme.' He didn't know, but

decided to insist in any case.'Yoursoulistrappedwithinabody that isnotyourown. Itdoes not become you. I amnamed Kruppe, and I willlead you to succour. Come!'He spun round and began towalk. A moment later heheardashufflingbehindhim,and smiled. 'Ah,' hewhispered, 'Kruppe hascharms indeed. Butmore, hecanbeharshwhennecessary.'

The fire had returned, abeacon before them, andKruppe saw the two figuresawaiting them. The vestigesof the spellhehadcastuponhimself made the Tlan andtheRhiviblindingtohiseyes,suchwastheirpower.Kruppeandthewomanarrived.Pran Chole stepped

forward.'Thankyou,Kruppe.'He studied the woman andnoddedslowly.'Yes,Iseethe

effectsoftheImassuponher.Butthereismore.'HelookedtotheRhivi.'Shewasamageonce?'The Rhivi moved close to

the woman. 'Hear me, lostone.Yourname isTattersail,your sorcery is Thyr. TheWarren flows within younow,itanimatesyou,protectsyou.' She opened her robeoncemore.'Itistimetobringyoubackintotheworld.'

Tattersail stepped back inalarm.'Within you is the past,'

Pran said. 'My world. Youknow the present, and theRhivioffersyoutothefuture.In this place all is merged.The fleshyouwearhasuponitaspellofpreservation,andinyourdyingactyouopenedyour Warren within theinfluence of Tellann. Andnow you wander within a

mortal'sdream.Kruppeisthevesselofchange.Permitustoaidyou.'With a wordless cry

Tattersail staggered intoPran's arms. The Rhiviquicklyjoinedthem.'My,' Kruppe breathed, 'but

Kruppe'sdreamshavetakenastrange turn. While his ownconcerns are ever present, ahauntingvoice,onceagainhemustsetthemaside.'

SuddenlyK'rulstoodbesidehim.'Notso.Itisnotmywayto use you without justrecompense.'Kruppe looked up at the

Elder God. 'Kruppe asks fornothing. There is a gift inthis,andIamgladtobepartofitsmaking.'K'rulnodded.'Nevertheless.

Speaktomeofyourefforts.''Rallick and Murillio seek

to right an old wrong,'Kruppe said, with a sigh.'They think me ignorant oftheirschemes,butIshallturnsuchschemestomypurposes.Guilt rides this decision, buttheyareneeded.''Understood. And the Coin

Bearer?''Protection has been set in

motion, though its finalshaping is yet to come. Iknow that the Malazan

Empire is present inDarujhistan, covertly for themoment.Whattheyseek—''Is anything but clear,

Kruppe. Even to them. Usethis to your advantage whenyou find them. Allies mightcome from surprisingquarters. I will tell you this:two now approach the city,oneisaT'lanImass,theothera bane to magic. Theirpurposes are destructive, but

already forces are in playattending to them. Seekknowledge of them, but donot openly oppose them.They are dangerous. Powerattractspower,Kruppe.Leavethem to the consequences oftheiractions.'Kruppe nodded. 'Kruppe is

no fool, K'rul. He openlyopposesnoone,andhefindspower a thing to be avoidedatallcosts.'

As they spoke the Rhiviwoman had taken Tattersailin her arms. Pran Cholesquatted nearby, his eyesclosed and his lips formingsilent words. The Rhiviwomanrocked thedesiccatedbody in rhythmic motion,chantingsoftly.WaterstainedtheRhivi'sthighs.'Aye,' Kruppe whispered.

'Sheprepares togivebirth intruth.'

Abruptly the Rhivi tossedawaythebody.Itcrumpledinalifelessheap.The Moon now hung

immediately overhead, sobright that Kruppe found hecouldnotlookatitdirectly.The Rhivi had assumed a

squatting position, movingwiththerhythmoflabour,herface sheathed in sweat. PranChole remained immobile,though his body was racked

inshiveringboutsthattwistedhis face with pain. His eyesopened wide, glowing brightamber, and fixed on theMoon.'Elder God,' Kruppe said

quietly, 'how much will thisTattersail remember of herformerlife?''Unknown,' K'rul replied.

'Soul-shifting is a delicatething. The woman wasconsumed in a conflagration.

Her soul's first flight wascarried onwings of pain andviolence. More, she enteredanother ravaged body,bearing itsown traumas.Thechild that isbornwillbe likenoothereverseen.Itslifeisamystery,Kruppe.'Kruppe grunted.

'Considering her parents, shewillindeedbeexceptional.'Athought came to him and hefrowned. 'K'rul, what of the

firstchildwithintheRhivi?''There was none, Kruppe.

The Rhivi woman wasprepared in a mannerunknown to any man.' Hechuckled. 'Including myself.'He raised his head. 'Thissorcerybelongs to theMoon,Kruppe.'They continued watching

the labours of birth. ToKruppeitseemedtheywaitedmore hours in the darkness

than any normal night couldhold. The Moon remainedoverhead, as if it found itsposition to its liking–or, hereconsidered, as if it stoodguardoverthem.Then a small cry rose into

the still air, and the Rhivilifted in her arms a childfurredinsilver.Even as Kruppe watched,

the fur sloughed away. TheRhivi turned the child and

placed her mouth against itsbelly. Her jaws bunched andthe remaining length ofumbilicalcordfellaway.Pran Chole strode to stand

beside Kruppe and the ElderGod. The T'lan lookedexhausted. 'The child drewfrom me power beyond mycontrol,'hesaidsoftly.AstheRhivisquattedagain

inafterbirth,holdingthechildagainst her chest, Kruppe's

eyes widened. The mother'sbelly was smooth, the whitefoxtattoowasgone.'I am saddened,' Pran said,

'that I may not return intwenty years to see thewoman this child shallbecome.''You shall,' K'rul said in a

low tone, 'but not as a T'lan.As a T'lan Imass BoneCaster.'

The breath hissed betweenPran's teeth. 'How long?' heasked.'Three hundred thousand

years, Pran Chole of CannigTol'sClan.'Kruppe laid a hand on

Pran's arm. 'You'vesomethingtolookforwardto,'hesaid.The T'lan stared at Kruppe

amoment,thenhethrewback

his head and roared withlaughter.The hours before Kruppe'sdream had proved eventful,beginning with his meetingwithBarukthatpermittedtherevelationof theCoinBearerpunctuated with the clever ifslightly dramatic suspensionof the coin's wax impression– a cantrip that had gonestrangelyawry.

But soonafter themeeting,droplets of now-hardenedwax pebbling the breast andarms of his coat, Kruppepaused just outside thealchemist's door. Roald wasnowheretobeseen.'Oh,my,'Kruppebreathedashewipedsweat from his forehead.'Why should Master Barukfind Crokus's name familiar?Ah, stupid Kruppe! UncleMammot,ofcourse.Ohdear,

thatwasclose–allcouldwellhavebeenlost!'Hecontinuedondownthehalltothestairs.For a time there, Oponn's

power had waxedconsiderably. Kruppe smiledat his pun, but it was adistractedsmile.Hewoulddowell to avoid such contacts.Power had a habit oftriggering his own talents;alreadyhe felt theurgingsofthe Deck of Dragons within

hishead.He hurried down the stairs

and crossed the main hall tothe doors. Roald was justentering, burdened beneathmundane supplies. Kruppenoted the dust covering theold man's clothing. 'DearRoald, you look as if you'vejust weathered a sandstorm!Do you require Kruppe'sassistance?''No,'Roaldgrunted. 'Thank

you, Kruppe. I can manage.Will you be so kind as toclose the doors on your wayout?''Of course, kind Roald!'

Kruppe patted theman's armand strode out into thecourtyard. The gates leadingto the street had been leftopen, and beyond was aswirling cloud of dust. 'Ah,yes, theroadrepairs,'Kruppemuttered.

A headache had burgeonedbehind his eyes, and thebright sun overhead wasn'thelping matters any. He washalf-waytothegateswhenhestopped. 'The doors! Kruppehas forgotten to close thedoors!' He spun round andreturned to the estateentrance,sighingasthedoorsclosedwithasatisfyingclick.As he turned away a secondtime someone shouted in the

streetbeyond.Therefolloweda loud crash, but this lattersoundwaslostonKruppe.With that bellowed curse a

sorcerous storm roared intohishead.Hefelltohisknees,then his head snapped up,eyes widening. 'That,' hewhispered, 'was indeed aMalazan curse. Then whydoes House Shadow's imageburn like fire in Kruppe'sskull? Who now walks the

streets of Darujhistan?' Acount of knots unending ...'Mysteries solved, moremysteriescreated.'The pain had passed.

Kruppe climbed to his feetandbrushedthedustfromhisclothing. 'Good that saidafflictionoccurredbeyondtheeyes of suspicious beings,Kruppe noteswith relief.Allupon a promise made tofriendRoald.Wiseoldfriend

Roald.Oponn's breath is thistime welcome, thoughbegrudginglyso.'He strode to the gates and

peered into the street. A cartfilled with shattered cobbleshadtoppled.Twomenarguedincessantly as to whose faultitwaswhile they righted thecartandproceededtorefillit.Kruppe studied them. Theyspoke well the Daru tongue,but to one who listened

carefullytherewasthehintofanaccent–anaccentthatdidnotbelong. 'Oh,my,'Kruppesaid, stepping back. Headjustedhiscoat,tookadeepbreath, then opened the gateandwalkedintothestreet.The fat little man with thefloppingsleeveswalkedfromthe house's gate and turnedleft.Heseemedinahurry.

Sergeant Whiskeyjackwiped the sweat from hisbrowwith a scarred forearm,his eyes slits against thebrightsunlight.'That is the one, Sergeant,'

Sorrysaid,besidehim.'Areyousure?''Yes,I'msure.'Whiskeyjack watched the

man winding through thecrowd. 'What's so important

abouthim?'heasked.'I admit,' Sorry replied, 'to

some uncertainty as to hissignificance. But he is vital,Sergeant.'Whiskeyjack chewed his

lip, then turned to thewagonbed where a city map hadbeen laid flat, its cornersanchoreddownby chunksofrock. 'Who lives in thatestate?'

'A man named Baruk,'Sorry answered. 'Analchemist.'He scowled. How did she

know that? 'Are you sayingthat fat little man is thisBaruk?''No. He works for the

alchemist. Not a servant. Aspy, perhaps. His skillsinvolve thievery, and hepossesses...talent.'

Whiskeyjack looked up. 'ASeer?'For some reason Sorry

winced. The sergeantwatched,bemused,asSorry'sface paled. Damn, hewondered, what on earth isgoingonwiththisgirl?'I believe so,' she said, her

voicetrembling.Whiskeyjack straightened.

'Allright.Followhim.'

She nodded shakily, thenslippedintothecrowd.Thesergeantrestedhisback

againstthewagon'sside-wall.His expression soured as hestudiedhis squad.Trottswasswinging his pick as if on abattlefield. Stones fleweverywhere. Passers-byducked, and cursed whenducking failed. Hedge andFiddler crouched behind awheelbarrow, flinching each

time the Barghast's pickstruckthestreet.Malletstooda short distance away,directing pedestrians to theotherpavement.Henolongerbellowed at the people,having lost his voice arguingwith an old man with adonkey wobbling under anenormousbasketoffirewood.The bundles now layscattered across the street –the old man and the donkey

nowhere to be seen –providinganeffectivebarriertowheeledvehicles.All in all, Whiskeyjack

concluded, everyone withhim had assumed the role ofheat-crazed street workerwithafacilityhefoundoddlydisturbing.Hedge and Fiddler had

acquired the wagon, loadeddownwith cobbles, less thanan hour after their midnight

landing at a public dock onthe Lakefront. Exactly howthis had been accomplished,Whiskeyjack was afraid toask. But it suited their plansperfectly. Something naggedat the back ofWhiskeyjack'smindbut he dismissed it.Hewas a soldier and a soldierfollowed orders. When thetime came, there would bechaos at every majorintersection of streets in the

city.'Planting mines ain't gonna

be easy,' Fiddler had pointedout,'sowedoitrightinfrontof everyone's nose. Roadrepair.'Whiskeyjack shook his

head. True to Fiddler'sprediction, no one had yetquestioned them. Theycontinued ripping up streetsandreplacingtheoldcobbleswith Moranth munitions

encasedinfire-hardenedclay.Was everything going to besoeasy?His thoughts returned to

Sorry.Not likely. Quick Benand Kalam had at lastconvinced him that their halfof themissionwas better offwithout her. She'd taggedalong with his crew, eyesnever still, but otherwiseoffering little in the way ofassistance. He admitted to

feeling some relief that he'dsentheroffon that fatman'strail.But what had pulled a

seventeen-year-old girl intotheworldofwar?Hecouldn'tunderstandit–hecouldn'tgetpast her youthfulness,couldn't see beyond to thecold,murderouskillerbehindthose dead eyes.Asmuch ashetoldhissquadthatshewasashumanasanyofthem,the

doubts grew with everyquestion about her that hecould not answer. He knewalmostnothingabouther.Therevelation that she couldmanage a fishing boat hadcome from seeminglynowhere. And here inDarujhistanshe'dhardlyactedlike a girl raised in a fishingvillage. There was a naturalpoiseabouther,ameasureofassurance more common to

the higher, educated classes.Nomatterwhereshewas,shecarried herself as if shebelongedthere.Did that sound like a

seventeen-year-old girl? No,butitseemedtomatchQuickBen's assertions, and thatgalled him. How else tomatch her with that icy-coldwoman torturing prisonersoutside Nathilog? He couldlook at her and part of him

would say: 'Young, notdispleasing to the eye, aconfidence that makes hermagnetic'While another partof his mind snapped shut.Young? He'd hear his ownharsh, pained laugh. Oh, no,not this lass. She's old. Shewalked under a blood-redmooninthedawnoftime,didthisone.Her face is the faceof all that cannot befathomed, and she's looking

you in the eye, Whiskeyjack,and you'll never know whatshe'sthinking.He could feel sweat drain

down his face and neck.Nonsense. That part of hismind lost itself to its ownterror. It took the unknownand fashioned, in blinddesperation, avisage it couldrecognize. Despair, he toldhimself, always demands adirection, a focus. Find the

directionandthedespairgoesaway.Of course, it wasn't that

easy.The despair he felt hadno shape. It was not justSorry, not just this endlesswar, not even the treacheryfrom within the Empire. Hehad nowhere to look foranswers, and hewas tired ofaskingquestions.When he had looked upon

Sorry atGreydog, the source

of his horror lay in theunveiling of what he wasbecoming:akillerstrippedofremorse,armouredinthecoldiron of inhumanity, freedfrom the necessity to askquestions,toseekanswers,tofashion a reasonable life likeanislandinaseaofslaughter.In the empty eyes of this

child,he'dseen thewitheringof his own soul. Thereflection had been

unblemished, with noimperfectionstochallengethetruthofwhathesaw.Thesweatrunningdownhis

back beneath the jerkin felthot against the chill thatgripped him. Whiskeyjacklifteda tremblinghand tohisforehead. In the days andnights ahead, people woulddie by his command. He'dbeen thinking of that as thefruitionofhiscareful,precise

planning – success measuredby the ratio of the enemy'sdead to his own losses. Thecity – its busy, jostlingmultitudes unceasing in theirlives small and large,cowardly and brave – nomore thanagame-board,andthegameplayedsolelyforthebenefit of others. He'd madehis plans as if nothing ofhimselfwasatstake.Andyethis friendsmightdie– there,

he'd finally called themwhattheywere–andthefriendsofothers might die, and sons,daughters, parents. The roll-callofshatteredlivesseemedunending.Whiskeyjack pressed his

back against the side-wall inanefforttosteadyhisreelingmind. Desperately, he liftedhis gaze from the street. Hesawamanatawindowonthesecond floor of the estate.

Themanwaswatchingthem,andhishandswerebrightred.Shaken,thesergeantlooked

away.He bit into the side ofhismouthuntilhefeltasharpstab of pain, then tastedblood. Concentrate, he toldhimself. Step back from thatchasm.Concentrate, or you'lldie.Andnotjustyou,butalsoyoursquad.Theytrustyoutoget them out of this. You'vegottokeepearningthattrust.

He drew a deep breaththrough his nostrils, thenturned toone sideand spat amouthful of blood.He stareddown at the red-slickedcobble.'There,'hehissed.'It'seasytolookatit,isn'tit?'He heard footsteps and

looked up to see Hedge andFiddler arrive. Both menworetroubledexpressions.'You all right, Sarge?'

Fiddleraskedquietly.Behind

the two saboteurs, Malletapproached, his gazecalculating and fixed onWhiskeyjack's white, sweat-soakedface.The sergeant grimaced.

'We're behind schedule.Howmuchlonger?'Their faces smeared with

whitedustandsweat,thetwomen looked at each other,thenHedge answered, 'Threehours.'

'We decided on sevenmines,' Fiddler said. 'FourSparkers, two Flamers andoneCusser.''Will thatbringdownsome

of these buildings?'Whiskeyjack asked, avoidingMallet'seyes.'Sure. No better way to

blockanintersection.'Fiddlergrinnedathiscompanion.'You got one in particular

you want dropped?' Hedgeenquired.'Theestatebehindyouisan

alchemist's.''Right,' Hedge said. 'That

shouldlighttheskyallright.''You've got two and a half

hours,' Whiskeyjack said.'Then it's on to the MajestyHillcrossroads.'Mallet stepped close.

'Anotherheadache?'heasked

softly.Whiskeyjack closed his

eyes,thengaveasharpnod.The healer raised a hand

and passed it over thesergeant'sbrow.'Justeasingitalittle,'hesaid.The sergeant grinned

ruefully. 'This is getting old,Mallet.You'reevenusingthesame words.' A coolnumbnessflowedthroughhis

thoughts.Mallet'sfacewasdrawn.He

lowered his hand. 'When wehavetimeI'llfindthesource,Whiskeyjack.''Right.' The sergeant

smiled.'Whenwehavetime.''Hope Kal and Quick are

doing OK,' Mallet said,turning to watch the streettraffic.'YousentSorryoff?''Yes. We're on our own.

Theyknowwhere to findus,allthreeofthem.'Heglancedupat the estatewindow.Theman with the red hands wasstillthere,thoughnowhewasstudying the distant rooftops.Acloudofdustrosebetweenthem, and Whiskeyjackreturned his attention to thecitymap,where everymajorintersection, thebarracksandMajestyHillhadbeencircledinred.'Mallet?'

'Sarge?''Bit the inside of mycheekagain.'Thehealersteppedclose,once more raising hishand.

Crokus Younghand strodesouth on Trallit's Walk. Thefirst signs of the upcomingGedderone Fête hadappeared.Dyedbannershungfrom clothes-lines over the

street, painted flowers andstrips of bark frameddoorways, and bushels ofdriedweeds had been tackedtowallsateverycrossing.Outlanders already filled

the streets, Gadrobi herders,Rhivi traders,Catlinweavers–amobof sweaty, shouting,excited people. Animalsmells mixed with human,makingthenarroweralleyssoredolent as to be almost

impassable, which in turncrowded the mainthoroughfaresevenmore.In past years Crokus had

revelled in the celebration,pushingthroughthemidnightcrowds and filling his ownpockets by emptying thosearoundhim.During theFête,worries of the MalazanEmpire's exploits in the farnorth disappeared for a time.His uncle always smiled at

that, saying the turn of theseason gave the efforts ofhumanity their properperspective. 'The mewling,petty acts,' he'd say, 'of ashort-lived and shortsightedspecies, Crokus, can donothing to mar the GreatCyclesofLife.'As he walked home

Mammot's words returned tohim now. He had alwayslooked upon his uncle as a

wise, if slightly ineffectual,old man. Increasingly,however, he found himselftroubled by Mammot'sobservations.Celebrating Gedderone's

RiteofSpringshouldn'tbeanexcuse toavoid thepressuresof reality. It wasn't just aharmless escape: it was ameans of delaying theprobable and making itinevitable.Wecoulddancein

the streets all year long, hescowled to himself, to athousand Great Cycles, andwith the same certaintyreserved for the coming andgoingofseasonstheMalazanEmpirewouldmarch throughour gates. They'd end thedance with the edge of asword, being industrious,disciplined people, impatientwith useless expenditures ofenergy – grimly short-

sighted.Hecametoatenementand,

nodding at the pipe-smokingold woman sitting on thesteps, went inside. Thehallwaywasempty,theusualcrowd of children no doubtoutsideplaying in thestreets,and a calming domesticmurmur drifted out frombehind closed doors. Heclimbedthecreakingstaircasetothefirstfloor.

OutsideMammot'sdoorthescholar's pet wingedmonkeyhovered, scratching andpulling desperately at thelatch. It ignoredCrokusuntilhe arrived to push it aside,then it squealed and flew incirclesaroundhishead.'Being a pain again, eh?'

Crokus said to the creature,waving a hand as it flew toocloseandendedupsnarledinhis hair. Tiny human-like

hands gripped his scalp. 'Allright, Moby,' he said,relenting, and opened thedoor.Inside, Mammot was

preparingherbal tea.Withoutturning he asked, 'Tea,Crokus?Andasfor that littlemonster who's probablyridingyourhead,tellhimI'vehadjustaboutenoughofhimtoday.'Moby sniffed indignantly

and flapped over to thescholar's desk, where helanded with a belly-flop,scatteringpapers to thefloor.Hechirped.Sighing, Mammot turned

withthetrayinhishands.Hiswateryeyes fixedonCrokus.'Youlooktired,lad.'Crokus slumped into the

less ragged of the two chairsoccupying the room. 'Yes.Tired,andinadarkmood.'

'My tea will do its usualwonders,' Mammot said,smiling.Crokusgrunted,notlooking

up.'Maybe.Maybenot.'Mammot stepped forward

and laid the tray on a smalltable between the chairs. Hesat down with a soft groan.'As you know, I possess fewmoral qualms about yourchosen profession, Crokus,sinceIquestionrightsofany

kind, including ownership.Even privileges demandresponsibility, as I've alwayssaid, and the privilege ofownership demands that theowner be responsible forprotecting his or her claim.My only concern, of course,isforrisksyoumustperforcetake.' Mammot leanedforwardandpouredtea. 'Lad,a thief must be sure of onething – his concentration.

Distractionsaredangerous.'Crokus glanced up at his

uncle. 'What have you beenwriting all these years?' heasked suddenly, gesturing atthedesk.Surprised, Mammot picked

up his cup and sat back.'Well! A genuine interest ineducation, then? Finally? AsI've said before,Crokus, youpossess the intelligence togoso far. And while I'm but a

humble man of letters, mywordwill open to youmanydoorsinthecity.Indeed,eventhe City Council is notbeyond your reach, if youwould choose such adirection.Discipline, lad, theverysamerequirementyou'vemasteredasathief.'A crafty expression

glitteredinCrokus'sgazeasitheld onMammot. 'How longwould it take,' he asked

quietly, 'to becomeknown insuchcircles?''Well,' said Mammot, 'it is

the learning that matters, ofcourse.''Of course.' In Crokus's

mind,however,thererosetheimageofasleepingmaiden.Mammotblewonhisdrink.

'With full-time studies, andyour youthful eagerness, Iwouldhazardayear,perhaps

more,perhaps less. Is thereaneedforhaste?''Just youthful eagerness, I

suppose. In any case, youhaven't answered me yet.Whatareyouwriting,Uncle?''Ah.' Mammot glanced at

his desk, raising an eyebrowatMoby,whohadopenedaninkwell and was drinkingfrom it. 'The history ofDarujhistan,' he said. 'I amjust beginning the fifth

volume,whichopenswiththereign of Ektalm, second tolastoftheTyrantKings.'Crokusblinked.'Who?'Smiling, Mammot sipped

his tea. 'Usurper of Letastteand succeeded by hisdaughter, Sandenay, whobrought on the Rising Timeandwithittheendoftheageoftyrants.''Oh,right.'

'Crokus, if you're seriousabout all this, Darujhistan'shistoryiswherewe'llbegininthe lessons, but that doesn'tmeanstartingatvolumefive.It means starting at the verybeginning.'Crokus nodded. 'Born on a

rumour,'hesaid.At the desk Moby

squawked, then coughed.Mammot shot him a glance,thenswunghisattentionback

to Crokus, expression veiledas he replied, 'Yes, lad.Darujhistan was born on arumour.' He hesitated.'You've heard that sayingelsewhere?Recently?''Someone mentioned it,'

Crokus said casually. 'Can'trecallwho,though.'Hecould,infact.Ithadbeenspokenbytheassassin,RallickNom.'Do you know what it

means?'

Crokusshookhishead.Mammot leaned back.

'Drinkyour tea,my lad.'Theold man paused, then began,'In the Early Cycles in thisRealm, three great peoplesstruggled for dominion, noneof them human as wewouldknow human. Bowing outearlyinthestruggleweretheForkrul Assail, or theKrussail as they are nowknown. Not through

weakness, but ... well,disinterest. The remainingtwopeopleswarredendlessly.Eventually one fell, for theywere a race of individuals,battling as much amongthemselves as against theirracial enemies. They werecalled the Jaghut, though theterm has degenerated thesedaystoJhag,orShurl.Whilelosersinthewar,theydidnotdisappear entirely – it's said

some Jaghut survive to thisday, though, thankfully, notonGenabackis.'So,' Mammot cupped his

hands around his tea-cup,'Darujhistan was born on arumour. Among theindigenousGadrobihilltribessurvived the legend that aJaghut's barrow laysomewhereinthehills.Now,theJaghutwerepossessorsofgreatmagic,creatorsofsecret

Warrens and itemsof power.OvertimetheGadrobilegendmade its way beyond thehills, into the GenabackannorthandtheCatlinsouth,tokingdoms since crumbled todust in the east and west. Inany case, searchers came tothehills,atfirstatricklethenhordes – entire tribes led bypower-hungry shamans andwarlocks. Every hillside waslacedwithtrenchesandbore-

holes. From the camps andshanty-towns, from thethousands of treasure-seekersarriving each spring, a citywasborn.''Darujhistan,'Crokussaid.'Yes.Thebarrowwasnever

found, and the rumour haslongsincedwindled–fewareeven aware of it these days,and those who are knowbetter than to resume thesearch.'

'Why?'Mammot frowned. 'Rarely

does a Jaghut constructionappear in the hands of ahuman, but it has happened,and the consequences haveinevitably been catastrophic'The old man's frowndeepened.'Thelessonisclearfor those who would choosetorecognizeit.'Crokus thought for a time.

'SotheKrussailvanished,the

Jhag were defeated. Whathappened to the thirdpeople,then? The ones who won?Why aren't they here insteadofus?'Mammotopenedhismouth

to reply, then stopped,reconsidering.Crokus'seyesnarrowed.He

wonderedwhatMammothadbeenabouttoreveal,andwhyhe'dchosennottorevealit.

Mammot setdownhiscup.'No one is certain whathappenedtothem,Crokus,orhow they became what theyaretoday.Theyexist,sortof,and are known, to all whohave faced the MalazanEmpire,astheT'lanImass.'Sorry pushed through thecrowd,struggling tokeep thefat man within sight. It wasnot that he was difficult to

follow, but the girl wasstruggling against a stormwithin her head, which hadbeen triggered by a singleword uttered by SergeantWhiskeyjack.Seer.It had felt as if a dark,

compacted thing in her brainhad burst open with thatword,andnowwarredagainstallthatsurroundedit.Thoughithadinitiallycomeuponher

with a force that seemedalmost overwhelming, shecould now sense its waning.Whatever it fought waswinning the battle. Yet,faintly,shethoughtshecouldheartheweepingofachild.'I am Cotillion,' she heard

herself murmur, 'Patron ofAssassins,knowntoallastheRope of Shadow' Theweeping grew fainter. 'TheSeerisdead.'

Apartofhermindcriedoutat that, while another asked,WhatSeer?'I am within, yet apart. I

standatShadowthrone'sside,and he is named Ammanasand he is the Lord ofShadows. I am here as thehand of death.' Sorry smiledand nodded to herself, onceagain in control. Whateverhad challenged thatwas nowgone, oncemoreburieddeep

inside. The luxury ofweeping,ofanger,offeardidnot belong to her, had neverbelongedtoher.Shedrewadeepbreath,and

her senses narrowed to thetask at hand. The fat littlemanwasdangerous.Thehowand why of this remained tobeanswered,buteverypowerhissedinalarmeachtimeshecaughtaglimpseofhimamidthe crowds. And all that is

dangerous, she told herself,mustdie.BeneaththeSecondTierWallin the Lakefront, the marketalong Salt Walk was at itsusualfrenziedpeak.Thesourheat, building all day in thecluttered avenues and alleys,was at its height. Sweating,exhausted merchantsscreamed curses atcompetitorsovertheheadsof

customers. Fights broke outevery few minutes in one oranotherarea, the turgid jostleof the crowds pulling thecontestants apart long beforethe arrival of ill-temperedguards.Squatting on their grass

mats, local Rhivi plainsmencalled out in their nasalsingsong endless descriptionsof fine horseflesh. Atintersections,Gadrobiherders

stood at tethering polessurrounded by braying goatsand sheep, while otherspushed wooden cartsburdened with cheeses andclay jugs filled withfermented milk. Darufishermenwalkedwithspearsof smoked fish bobbingabove their heads streamingwith buzzing flies. Catlinweaverssatbehindwaist-highfortresses comprised of bolts

of brightly dyed cloth.Gredfalan farmers stood intheir wagons selling theseason's bitter fruits andsweet tubers. Woodsellersforcedtheirox-drawnwagonsthrough the crowds, theirchildren clinging to thestackedbundlesofwood likemonkeys. Dark-robed menand women from Callowssang out the clashing claimsof their Thousand Sects of

D'rek,eachholdingalofttheirsect'sparticularicon.Kruppe strode down the

market street with a jauntystep, his arms waving aboutseemingly of their ownaccord. Such movement,however, was no mereaffectation: it disguised thegesturingrequiredforcastingspells.Asa thief, itappearedthat Kruppe's tastes did notdemandmuch.He stole food

– fruit and sweets, mostly –and itwas to such desires ofthe palate that he had honedhisskillsofmagic.As he walked, the chaotic

dance of his armswas timedto catch apples flying frombaskets,pastriesleapingfromtrays, chocolate-coveredcherries plucked from pans,allmovingsoswiftlyastobeno more than blurs dodgingbodies in their path. Inside

thewide, flopping sleeves ofhis coat, pockets had beensewn, some large, some tiny.All that entered Kruppe'shands disappeared up hissleeves, tucked intoappropriately sized pockets.He strode on, a connoisseurof edible delicacies of ahundred cultures, anexpression of satedcontentment on his roundface.

Eventually, after a long,circuitous route, KruppearrivedatthePhoenixInn.Hepaused on the steps andchatted with a lone thugstanding there, removingfrom a sleeve a glazedhoneyball.Then,takingabitefrom the sweetmeat, hepushed open the door anddisappearedinside.Halfablockdown the street,

Sorryproppedherselfagainstthe pittedwall of a tenementandcrossedherarms.Thefatlittle man was a wonder.She'd seen enough of hisexquisite ballet to recognizehimasanAdept.Yetshefeltconfused,forthemindbehindthe man's façade hinted atcapacities far greater thanthose he'd shown.Confirmationthathereindeedwasadangerouscreature.

From where she stood shestudied the inn. The man onthe steps seemed to bescreening everyone entering,but she couldn't detect anygesture that might indicate athieves' cant. Theconversations were brief,usuallyofmutualrecognition.Nevertheless she intended toenter the inn. Itwas thekindof place Whiskeyjack hadsentKalamandQuickBento

find – a haunt of thieves,strong-arms and assassins.Why the sergeant wanted tofindsuchaplacewasadetailthat hadn't been shared withher. The wizard and Kalamhadsuspicionsabouther,andshe sensed that theirarguments were swayingWhiskeyjack. If they could,they'd keep her out ofeverything, but she didn'tintendthattohappen.

Pushing herself from thewall, Sorry crossed the streetand approached the PhoenixInn. Overhead, the afternoonhadwanedintoathick,heavydusk, the smellof rain in theair. As she neared the frontsteps, the thug's attentionfocused on her. The mangrinned. 'Following Kruppearound, eh?' He wagged hishead. 'Girls shouldn't carryswords anyway. Hope you're

not planning to go inside.With a sword? Uh, uh. Notunescorted,anyway.'Sorry stepped back. She

glanced up and down thestreet.The nearest pedestrianwas over a street away,heading in the oppositedirection. She closed herhandsaroundtheedgesofherhalf-cloakanddrewitaroundher waist. 'Let me pass,' shesaidquietly.Howhadthatfat

manspottedher?The man leaned on the

railing. 'All this is justbegging for some kind ofconversation, friendly-like,'he said. 'So how about youandme go back to the alley.You lay down your swordand I'll be gentle.Otherwise,things could get rough, andwhatwouldbethefunof—?'Sorry'slefthanddartedout.

A dagger flashed between

them. The blade entered theman's right eye and then hisbrain. He jerked back overtherailandfell, landingwithaheavythudbesidethesteps.Sorry walked up to him andretrieved her dagger. Shepaused,adjustingthebeltthatcarried her duelling sword,then checked the street.Seeing no one close enoughto have noticed anythingawryinthedeepeninggloom,

she climbed the steps andenteredtheinn.She was stopped before

she'd taken her second step,coming face-to-face with amoaning boy hanging upsidedown. Two rough-lookingwomen were taking turns toswing him back and forth.Every time he tried to reachuptotheropetiedtohisfeethe earned a knock on thehead. One of the women

grinnedatSorry.'Hey, now!' the woman

said, grasping Sorry's arm asshewalkedby.Sorry turned a cold eye on

thewoman.'What?'The woman leaned close,

her breath a mist of beer asshe whispered, 'You get introuble,youjustcallforIriltaandMeese.That'sus,right?''Thankyou.'

Sorry resumed her walk.She'd already seen the fatlittleman–whathadthethugcalled him? Kruppe. He'dseatedhimselfata tablenearthe far wall, beneath thegallery.ThroughthecrowdedroomSorrysawaspaceopenat the bar, where she mighttake position and observe.Shepushedforward.Since Kruppe evidently

knew of her, she decided to

make no effort in hiding herattention. Often, that wasexactly the kind of pressurethatcrackedaman'swill.Inawarofpatience,Sorrysmiledinwardly,themortaliseveratadisadvantage.Crokus turned thecornerandapproached the Phoenix Inn.The courseMammot had setforhimwas intimidating, theeducation extending far

beyondbooks,totheetiquetteof court manners, thefunctionsofvariousofficials,blood-lines and particularquirks among certaindignitaries – but he'd vowedto himself he'd follow itthrough. His goal was oneday to stand before thatD'Arle maiden, awaiting aformalintroduction.Something in him mocked

the image. There stands

Crokus, the scholar, thesophisticated young promise,the thief. It was all tooabsurd. Yet it dogged him,steeledhisresolve.He'dcometoitonedaysoon.Untilthen,however, there were othermatters to attend to, thingsthatneededredressing.As he came up to the inn's

steps he saw a huddledshadow beneath the railing.Cautiously Crokus moved

closer.AsSorry reached the bar thedoor slammed open on theother side of the room. Sheturned with everyone else tosee a young, black-hairedmanstandingthere.'Someone's murdered

Chert!'themanshouted.'He'sbeenknifed!'Halfadozenpatronssurged

to the door, pushing past theyoung man and disappearingoutside.Sorry faced the bar again.

Catching the barman's eyeshe said, 'Gredfalan ale,please,inapewtertankard.'ThewomanIriltahadcalled

Meese appeared beside her,thumpingtwobroadforearmson the bar as she leanedforward. 'Attend the lady,Scurve,'Meesegrowled. 'She

gottaste.'Meese dipped her head

close to Sorry's. 'Good tasteallround.Chertwasapig.'Sorry stiffened. Her hands

slipped down beneath hercloak.'Easy,girl,'Meesesaid,ina

low tone. 'We ain't waggingtongues.Aroundhere,y' takecareofyourselvesfirst,andIdon't want no knife in my

eye. We said we'd take careofyou,didn'twe?'Thealearrived,asordered.

Sorry raised a hand andclosed it on the tankard'shandle. 'You don't want totake care ofme,Meese,' shesaidquietly.Another person arrived on

Meese's other side. Glancingathim,Sorrysaw that itwasthe black-haired youth, hisface pale. 'Dammit, Meese,'

hehissed,'I'mhavingareallybadday.'Meesechuckledanddraped

an arm over his shoulders.'Scurve,serveusupacoupleof them Gredfalan ales.Crokus here's earnedDarujhistan's best.' Meeseturned her head and bentclose to Sorry again. 'Nexttime,' she whispered, 'youdon'twant to show that kindofbreeding.Notaroundhere,

anyway.'Sorry frowned down at her

drink. She'd been careless,ordering the city's best.Thenshe took a mouthful. 'That'sfine,'shesaid.'Fineindeed.'Meese grinned, nudging

Crokus.'Theladylikesitjustfine.'Crokus leaned forward,

offering Sorry a weary butwarm smile. From outside

came the klaxon of theGuard.Scurve served up the two

ales.Sorry watched Crokus's

gaze move down her body,then stop. The youth's smiletightened, his face whiteningevenmorethanbefore.Asthetankard was set before him,Crokus averted his eyes andreachedforit.

'Pay up before you drinkthat, Crokus,' Scurvemuttered. 'You're getting tobejustasbadasKruppe.'Crokus reached into his

pocket and pulled out ahandful of coins.As he triedto count them some slippedbetween his fingers andbounced on the bar. Of thethree that fell, two clatteredbriefly then stopped. Thethird coin spun, and

continued spinning. Sorry'seyes swung to it, as didScurve'sandMeese's.Crokusreached for it, thenhesitated.The coin was still spinning,itsmomentumunchanged.Sorry stared at the coin,

feelingechoesofpowerslaminto her skull like oceanwaves. From within, all atonce, came an answeringsurge. Scurve shouted as thecoin skidded across the bar,

bounced once high into theair, then clattered to a stopdirectlyinfrontofCrokus.Noonespoke.Beyondtheir

small ring no one else hadwitnessedtheevent.Crokus thrust his hand

forward and collected thecoin.'Notthisone,'hegrated.'Fine,' Scurve answered, in

a similar, hoarse voice. Hereached shaking hands to

gather in the other coinsCrokushadlaidonthebar.Beneath the counter, Sorry

brushed her hand against herdagger's hilt and scabbard. Itcame away wet. So, Crokushad seen the blood. Shewouldhavetokillhim.Only,her frown deepened, sheknewshewouldn't.'Crokus, my boy!' came a

shoutfromunderthegallery.

Meese sneered in thatdirection. 'The flopping fishhimself,' she muttered.'Kruppecalls,lad.'Crokus snorted, having

returned the coin to hispocket. He picked up histankard.'Later,Meese.'So, she'd found Oponn's

man – as easily as that. Andhewas connected toKruppe,somehow. This was almosttoo simple. It made her

suspicious.'A likely lad,' Meese said.

'MeandIrilta,welookoutforhim,right?'Sorry leaned against the

bar,hereyesonthetankardinher hand. She'd have to playthisverycarefully.Thatburstof Shadow sorcery,responding to the Coin'sinfluence, had been entirelyinstinctive. 'Right, Meese,'she said. 'Noworries on that

count.OK?'Meese sighed. 'OK. Let's

try for the cheap stuff now.Scurve? Daru beer, if youplease. Earthenware, if youhaveit.'Crouched against the SecondTier Wall on the Lakefrontside was Quip's Bar, acommon haunt of shipmenand fisher-hands. The bar's

wallswerecutsandstone,andover time the whole edificehad developed a backwardlean, as if withdrawing fromthe front street. Quip's nowsagged against the SecondTier Wall, as did theadjoining squatter shacksconstructed mostly ofdriftwood and hull plankswashed ashore from theoccasional wreck out onMole'sReef.

DuskbroughtalightraintoDarujhistan, the mistscrawling in from the waterand on to the shore. Far outover the lake lightningflashed, but too distant forthundertobeheard.Kalam emerged from

Quip's Bar just as a localGreyfacebroughthisburningpitch-stick to a nearby gas-light,havingmomentsearlieropened the copper valves.

Thelampignitedinaflashofblue flame that quicklyevened out. Kalam pausedoutside the bar to watch theodd,grey-robedmancontinueon down the street. Hesquinted skyward, thenmovedupthestreet.Hecametothelastsquattershack,thisoneabuttingapeculiar jaginthetierwall,andentered.QuickBen looked up from

his cross-legged position in

the centre of the dirt floor.'Anyluck?''No,' Kalam said. 'The

Guild's gone to ground –why,I'venoidea.'Hewenttothe farwall and sat downonhis bedroll. He leaned backagainst the ancient, pittedstone and eyed his comrade.'You think maybe the CityCouncil's moved to take outthelocalassassins?'Quick Ben's gaze glittered

in the gloom. 'You mean,anticipatingwe'd try tomakecontact?'Kalam looked away. 'I

doubt they're idiots. Theymust know it's the Malazanway. Offer the Guild acontract it can't refuse, thensit back andwatch the rulersdrop like headless flies.Whiskeyjack suggested theplan. Dujek OK'd it. Thosetwo were talking the old

Emperor's language there,Quick. The oldmanmust belaughinginhellrightnow.'The wizard shivered. 'An

unpleasantimage.'Shrugging, Kalam

continued, 'It's all academic,anyway, if we can't find alocalassassin.Wherevertheyare, it's not in LakefrontDistrict,I'dsweartothat.Theonly name I picked up that'sgot mystery around it is

someone named theEel.Notan assassin, though.Somethingelse.''Where next, then?' Quick

Benasked.'GadrobiDistrict?''No.Justabunchoffarmers

and herders there. Hell, thesmellalonecomingfromthatplaceisenoughtocrossitoffthe list. We'll try Daru,starting tomorrow.' Kalamhesitated. 'What about yoursideofthings?'

QuickBenbowedhishead.When he answered it was afaintwhisper.'Almostready.''Whiskeyjacknearlychoked

whenheheardyourproposal.So did I. You'll be walkinginto the viper's den, Quick.Yousureit'snecessary?''No.'QuickBen lookedup.

'Personally, I'd ratherwe justdroppedeverythingandran–away from it all, from theEmpire, from Darujhistan,

fromwar.But tryconvincingthe sergeant to do that. He'sloyaltoanidea,andthat'sthehardestkindtoturn.'Kalam nodded. 'Honour,

integrity, all that expensivecrap.''Right.Sowedoitthisway

because it's theonlyway leftto us.Hairlock's insanity hasbecomealiability,butwecanuse him still, one last time.Powerdrawspower,andwith

luck Hairlock's demise willdo just that. The moreAscendants we can lure intothefraythebetter.''I always thought that was

somethingtoavoid,Quick.'The wizard's smile was

strained. 'Tell me about it.But right now the moreconfusion and chaos thebetter.''And if Tayschrenn catches

wind?'Quick Ben's smile

broadened. 'Then we're deadall that much sooner. So itgoes.'Kalam barked a short,

humourless laugh. 'So itgoes.'The wizard cocked his

head. 'The sun's past thehorizon.Timetostart.''Youwantmeoutofhere?'

Kalamasked.QuickBen shook his head.

'No, I want you right whereyouareforthisone.IfIdon'tcomeback,takemybodyandburn it down to ash. Scattertheashtothefourwinds,andcursemynamewith all yourheart.'Kalam was silent. Then he

asked, in agrowl, 'How longdoIwait?'

'Dawn,' Quick Ben replied.'YouunderstandIwouldonlyaskthisofmyclosestfriend.''I understand. Now, get on

withit,dammit.'QuickBengestured.Aring

of fire sprang from theearth,surrounding the wizard. Heclosedhiseyes.To Kalam, his friend

seemed to deflate slightly, asif something essential to life

haddisappeared.QuickBen'sneckcreakedashischinsankdown to his chest, hisshoulders slumped, and along breath escaped with aslow hiss. The ring of fireflared, then dimmed to alappingglimmerontheearth.Kalam shifted position,

stretching out his legs andcrossing his arms. In thegatheringsilence,hewaited.

A pale Murillio returned tothe table and sat down.'Someone's disposing of thebody,'hesaid,thenshookhishead. 'Whoever killed Chertwasaprofessionalwitharealnasty streak. Right throughtheeye—''Enough!'Kruppecriedout,

raising his hands. 'Kruppehappens to be eating, dearMurillio, and Kruppe alsohappens to have a delicate

stomach.''Chertwas a fool,'Murillio

continued, ignoring Kruppe,'buthardly the type to attractsuchviciousness.'Crokus said nothing. He'd

seen the blood on that dark-hairedwoman'sdagger.'Who can say?' Kruppe

waggled his eyebrows.'Perhaps he was witness tosomehorrifichorror.Perhaps

hewasstampedoutasamancrushes a cute mouseunderfoot.'Crokusglancedaround.His

eyes returned to the womanstanding with Meese at thebar. Dressed in leatherarmour with a plain duellingswordstrappedtoherhip,sheremindedhimofthetimehe'dwatched, as a young boy, atroop of mercenaries ridethrough the city. They had

been the Crimson Guard, herecalled: five hundred menand women without a shinybuckleamongthem.His gaze remained on the

woman. Like a mercenary, akiller for whom killing hadlong since lost its horror.WhathadChertdone toearnaknifeintheeye?Crokus looked away, in

timetoseeRallickNomenterthe bar. The assassin

approached the table,seeminglyunconsciousofthelocalsmovingfromhispath.Coll interceptedhimbefore

he reached the table. Theburly man slapped Rallick'sback and leaned drunkenlyagainst him. 'Nom, you oldbastard!'Rallick threw an arm

aroundCoil'sroundshouldersandtogethertheycametothetable.

Kruppe lookedup. 'Ho,mydear comrades! Kruppeinvites you to join ourfamiliar gathering.' Wavinghis arms at the two emptychairs, he rocked back in hisseat. 'Tobringyouuptodateon our dramatic doings, thelad Crokus has been staringdreamily into space whileMurillio and Kruppe havediscussedthelatestnatteringsofthestreetrats.'

Coll remained standing,weaving unsteadily, a frownknittinghisbrows.Rallicksatdown and reached for thepitcher of beer. 'Whatnatterings are those?' theassassinaskedcasually.'Therumourthatwe'renow

allied with Moon's Spawn,'Murilliosaid.'Nonsense, of course,'

Kruppe said. 'Have you seenanything to suggest such a

thing?'Murillio grinned. 'The

Moonhasn'tmovedaway,hasit?Not only that, there's thatCounciltentstationeddirectlyunderit.'Crokus spoke up. 'I heard

fromUncleMammotthat thecouncilmen haven't had anyluck getting a message towho-ever'sinMoon'sSpawn.''Typical,' Murillio

commented, his eyesnarrowingbrieflyonRallick.'Wholivesinthere?'Crokus

asked.Colltotteredandthrewboth

hands down on the table tosteady himself. He thrust hisred face at Crokus andbellowed, 'Five blackdragons!'Within theWarrenofChaos,

Quick Ben knew of theinnumerable shiftingpathways that led to doors.Thoughhecalled themdoorsthey were in fact barrierscreated where Warrenstouched, a calcretion ofenergy as solid as basalt.Chaos touched on all realmswith gnarled fingertipsbleeding power, the doorshardenedwoundsinthefleshof other worlds, other

avenuesofmagic.Thewizardhadfocusedhis

talents on such doors.Whilewithin theWarren of Chaos,he had learned the ways ofshaping their energy. He'dfound means of altering thebarriers, of sensing what laybeyondthem.EachWarrenofmagicpossessedasmell,eachrealm a texture, and thoughthe pathways he took werenever the same as those he'd

takenbefore,hehadmasteredthemeansoffindingthosehesought.Hetravellednowdownone

of those paths, a track ofnothingness enclosed by theWarren's own accretions,twisting and fraught withcontradictions. On one trailhe'dwill himself forwardyetfind himself moving back;he'd come to a sharp rightturn, followed by another,

thenanother,thenyetanother–allinthesamedirection.He knew it was the power

of his mind that opened thepathways, but they had theirown laws – or perhaps theywere his, yet unknown tohim.Whatever the source ofthe shaping, it was madnessdefined.Hecameat last to thedoor

he sought. The barriershowedasnothingmorethan

a dull, slate-grey stone.Hovering before it, QuickBen whispered a command,andhisspirittooktheformofhis own body. He stood amoment, mastering thedisconnected tremble of hisghost-body, then steppedforwardandlaidhandsonthedoor.Its edges were hard and

warm. Towards the centre itgrew hot and soft to the

touch.Thesurfaceslowlylostits opaqueness beneath thewizard's hands, becomingglassy like obsidian. QuickBenclosedhiseyes.He'dneverbeforesoughtto

passthroughsuchadoor.Hewas not even certain that itwas possible. And if hesurvivedintothebeyond,wasthereanywaytoreturn?Pastthe mechanics of the onething loomed his final, most

difficultworry:hewasaboutto attempt entry into a realmwherehewasn'twelcome.QuickBenopenedhiseyes.

'I am direction,' he saidquietly.Heleanedagainstthebarrier. 'I am the power ofwill in a place that respectsthis,andonlythis.'Heleanedharder. 'I am the Warren'stouch. To chaos nothing isimmune,nowhereisimmune.'He felt the door begin to

yield.Helashedoutonehandbehind him, fending off agrowing pressure. 'Only Ishall pass!' he hissed.Abruptly, with a strangethumping sound, he slippedthrough, energy flaringaroundhisbody.The wizard staggered over

rough, parched earth. Heregained his balance andlookedaround.Hestoodonabarren plain, the horizon off

to his left humped with lowhills.Overheadspannedaskythe colour of quicksilver, ascatteroflong,stringycloudsmoving in unison and blackasinkdirectlyabove.Quick Ben sat down,

folding his legs and claspinghis hands in his lap.'Shadowthrone,'hesaid,'Lordof Shadows, I am come toyour realm.Will you receivemy presence as befits a

peacefulvisitor?'From the hills came an

answer: the howling ofHounds.

CHAPTERTWELVE

WalkwithmeonThieves'Roadhearitssongunderfoothowclearitstoneinmisstepasitsingsyouintwo

Apsalar'sCant

Drisbin(b.1135)

Kneading his brow, Kruppesat reading in Mammot'sstudy....andintheCallingDowntoearth the God was Crippled,and so Chained in its place.In the Calling Down manylands were sundered by theGod's Fists, and things wereborn and things were

released. Chained andCrippledwasthisGodKruppe glanced up from theancient tome and rolled hiseyes. 'Brevity, Kruppe praysfor brevity!' He returned tothefadedhandwrittenscript.anditbredcautionintheunveiling of its powers.The Crippled God bredcaution but not wellenough, for the powersoftheearthcametoitin

theend.ChainedwastheCrippled God, and soChained was itdestroyed.Anduponthisbarren plain thatimprisoned the CrippledGod many gathered tothe deed. Hood, greywanderer of Death, wasamong the gathering, aswas Dessembrae, thenHood'sWarrior–thoughit was here and in this

time that Dessembraeshattered the bondsHood held upon him.Also among thegatheringwereKruppegroanedandflipped

pages. The list seemedinterminable, absurdly long.From this account he halfexpected to see hisgrandmother's name amongthose listed. Finally, afterthree pages, he found the

nameshesought.and among those thatcame from the vaultedheavens of silver, theTiste Andii, dwellers ofDarkness in the Placebefore Light, BlackDragonsnumberingfive,and in their leaguesailed red-wingedSilanah, said to dwellamongtheTisteAndiiintheir Fang of Darkness

descending from thevaultedheavensofsilverKruppe nodded, muttering

to himself. A descendingFang of Darkness – Moon'sSpawn? Home to five BlackDragons and one RedDragon? He shivered. Howhad Coll come upon this?True, the man hadn't alwaysbeenadrunkenlout,butevenhis past station, lofty as itwas,hadn'tbeenthescholarly

kind.Who, then, had spoken

through the old man's wine-stainedmouth?'That,' Kruppe sighed to

himself,'shallhavetowaititsanswer. The significance,however, of Coil's bellowedclaimliesinitsevidenttruth,and as to how it pertains tothe present situation.' Heclosed the book and rose tohisfeet.Behindhimheheard

footsteps.'I'vebroughtyouherbaltea,'

the old man said, as heenteredthecloset-sizedroom.'Has Alladart's RealmCompendiumbeenbeneficial,Kruppe?''Beneficial indeed,' Kruppe

said, gratefully accepting theearthenware mug. 'Kruppehas learned the value ofmodern language.Such long-lipped dribbles common to

those ancient scholars are acurse Kruppe is thankful tofindextinctinourtime.''Ah, ha,' the old man said,

coughingslightlyandlookingaway.'Well,doyoumindifIaskwhatyouwereseeking?'Kruppe glanced up, the

corners of his eyes crinklingslightly.'Notatall,Mammot.I thought to find mention ofmygrandmother'sname.'

Mammot frowned, thennodded. 'I see. Well, I'll notenquireastoyourluck,then.''Please, do not,' Kruppe

said, eyeswidening. 'Luck issuch a dreadful companionthese days, with all awry asall happens to be. But thankyou for understandingKruppe's need forcircumspection.''Not at all,' Mammot said,

waving one hand. 'I didn't

mean to – well, yes, I did.Curiosity, you understand.Theintellectualkind.'Kruppe smiled beatifically

andsippedtea.'Well,'Mammot said, 'shall

we return to the commonroom, then, and find respitebeforethehearth?'They strode into the other

chamber. Once seated,Kruppestretchedouthis legs

and leaned back. 'How hasyour writing been comingalong?'heasked.'Slow,' Mammot answered,

'as one would expect, ofcourse.'It seemed Mammot was

workinguptosomething,andso Kruppe waited, idlywiggling his toes. A minutepassed, then the old mancleared his throat and spoke.'Kruppe,haveyouseenmuch

ofmydearnephewlately?'Kruppe raised his

eyebrows.'Longago,'hesaid,'Kruppemadeapromise to aman, the man being aconcerned uncle to a youngboywho found the streetsanexcitingplayground.Aye,thelad dreamed of sword-fightsand dark deeds committed inalleysonbehalfofprincessesin disguise, or some suchthing—'

Mammot was nodding, hiseyesclosed.'– and to such promises

Kruppehasavailedofhimselfthoroughly,forhe, too, lovedthe boy. And as with anyendeavour, survival ismeasured in ability, and sodidKruppetaketheladunderhis silken wing, with somesuccess,yes?'Mammot smiled, still

nodding.

'And so, to answer theuncle's question. IndeedKruppehasseenthelad.'Mammot leaned forward

and fixed Kruppe with anintense gaze. 'Have you seenanythingoddinhisactions?Imean, has he asked you anystrange questions, made anyrequests?'Kruppe'seyesnarrowed.He

pausedtodrink.'Bluntly,yes.Forone,he sought the return

ofafinecacheofjewelleryheacquired recently, forpersonalreasons–ashesaid.Personal reasons. Kruppewondered then and wondersnow, but the lad's seemingsincerity, nay, focusedintensity, struck Kruppe aslaudable.''Agreed!Wouldyoubelieve

Crokushasnowexpressedaninterestinformaleducation?Ican'tunderstand it.Theboy's

positively obsessed aboutsomething.''Perhaps, then, Kruppe

shouldpiecethistogether.''Thank you,'Mammot said,

relieved. 'I would knowwhereallthisiscomingfrom.Somuchambitionallatonce,I fear itmay soonburn itselfout. If we can nourish it,however...''Byallmeans,'Kruppesaid.

'There is more to life thanpettythievery,afterall.'Mammot grinned. 'Why,

Kruppe,I'msurprisedtohearthatcomingfromyou.''Such comments are better

leftbetweenyouandKruppe.Inanycase,IbelieveMurillioknows something of all this.He intimated as much thiseveningwhilewedinedatthePhoenixInn.'

Mammotasked,'IsMurilliowell?'Kruppe smiled. 'The net

about the lad remains intact,'he said. 'For one, RallickNom has taken theresponsibility seriouslyindeed. Mayhap he seessomething of his own lostyouth in Crokus. In truth,Rallick is a man whose truenature escapes Kruppe.Fiercelyloyalforcertain,and

one who, as you well know,honours his debts with suchvigour as to humble thosearound him. ExceptingKruppe, naturally. Yet is itblood that travels his veins?Onemustwonder,attimes.'A distant look had entered

Mammot'sface.Kruppe tensed. The air

smelled ofmagic. He leanedforward and studied the oldman seated across from him.

Someonewascommunicatingwith Mammot, and theWarrenthatnowpulsedintheroomwasfamiliartoKruppe.Hesatbackandwaited.Eventually, Mammot got

swiftly to his feet. 'I havesome research todo,' he saiddistractedly. 'As for you,Kruppe,MasterBarukwishesto speak with youimmediately.'

'I thought I sensed thealchemist's presence,'Kruppesaid, risingwith a soft grunt.'Ah,therigoursofthesefatednights ever urge us on.Untillater,then,Mammot.''Goodbye,' the scholar said,

a frown on his face as hecrossed theroom.Heenteredthe small chamber whereKruppe had spent the pasthour.Kruppeadjustedthesleeves

of his cloak. Whatever hadhappened,ithadbeenenoughto jar Mammot's etiquette,and that alone hinted at direevents. 'Well,' he murmured,'bestnotkeepBarukwaiting,then. At least,' he amended,asheheadedforthedoor,'notfor too long. Decorumdemands that Kruppe retainhis senseofdignity.Heshallwalk fast, yes. But walk heshall, for Kruppe needs time

to think, to plan, to scheme,to anticipate, to backtrackwith some thoughts, to leapahead with others, to do allthethingsnecessary.Firstandforemost, Kruppe mustdiscern the nature of thewoman who followed him,and who killed Chert, andwho noted that Crokus sawthebloodonherweapon,andwhomarked Rallick Nom asan assassin with his very

arrival. She might wellprovidethekeytoeverything,and more, for the Coin didindeedturnitsfaceuponher,if only for a moment. Andthat, thinks Kruppe, shallreturn to us all, for good orill.' He stopped and lookedaround, blinking rapidly. 'Atthe very least,' he muttered,'Kruppe should leaveMammot's room.'HeglancedbackatthechamberMammot

had entered. From withincame the sounds of brittlepages being rapidly turned.Kruppe sighed in relief, thenleft.Crone ruffled her singedfeathers and hopped about inagitation. Where was thatalchemist? She had athousand things to attend tobefore the night was done,though in truth she couldn't

think of any of them.Nevertheless, she dislikedbeingkeptwaiting.The door to the study

opened and Baruk strodethrough, gathering a robeabout his considerable bulk.'My apologies, Crone, I wasotherwiseindisposed.'Crone grunted. Sorcery

trailedfromthemaninthick,pungentstreams. 'Mymaster,Lord Anomander Rake,' she

said, without preamble, 'hascommanded that I tell youwhat I told him of myadventures on the RhiviPlain.'Barukcameuptowherethe

Great Raven paced on themap table. The alchemistfrowned. 'You've beeninjured.''Pride, no more. Hearken

thentomystory.'

Baruk raised an eyebrow.The old witch's mood wasdark. He fell silent and shebegan.'A small wooden puppet

approaches from the north, acreation of soul-shifting andsourced from a Warren ofChaos.Itspowerisimmense,twisted,maligneventoGreatRavens.Itkilledmanyofmykinasitslippedinandoutofits Warren. It evidently took

pleasure in such acts.' Cronesnapped her beak in anger,then continued, 'It pursues apower I could not approach,and whatever this power, itstrikes directly for theGadrobiHills–mylordandIareagreedinthis.Thepowerseeks somethingwithin thosehills,yetwearenotnativetothisland.Hencewebringthisnewstoyou,Alchemist.Twoforces are converging on the

Gadrobi Hills. My lord asksyouwhy.'Baruk's facehad lostall its

colour.He turned slowlyandwalked to a chair. Sittingdown, he steepled his handsbeforehisfaceandclosedhiseyes. 'The Malazan Empireseeks something it cannothope to control, somethingburied within the GadrobiHills. Whether or not eitherforce is capable of freeing

that thing is another matter.Seeking is not the same asfinding,andfindingisnotthesameassucceeding.'Crone hissed impatiently.

'Who is buried there,Alchemist?''A Jaghut Tyrant,

imprisoned by the Jaghutthemselves. Generations ofscholars and sorcerers havesought to find this barrow.None managed to discover

even so much as a clue.'Baruk looked up, hisexpression lined with worry.'I know of one man, here inDarujhistan, who hasgathered all the availableknowledge concerning thisburial place. I must conferwithhim.Icangiveyourlordthis, however. There lies astandingstoneintheGadrobiHills – I know its locationprecisely. It is almost

invisible, only its weatheredtop breaks the ground,perhaps a hand's span inheight.Theremainingtwentyfeet are beneath the earth.Youwill see the remnantsofmany pits and trenches thathave been excavated aroundit–allfruitless.Forwhilethestone marks the beginningpoint,itisnottheentrancetothebarrow.''Where, then, is this

entrance?''That I will not tell you.

Once I speak with mycolleague,perhaps I cangiveyou more details. Perhapsnot.But themeans bywhichthe barrow is entered mustremainasecret.''Thisavailsusnothing!My

lord—''Is extremely powerful,'

Baruk cut in. 'His intentions

areanythingbutclear,Crone,no matter that we are allied.What lies within that barrowcandestroyacity– thiscity.That IwillnotallowtoenterRake'shands.Youshallhavethe location of the standingstone, for it is there that thehunters must first go. I haveone question to ask, Crone.Thispuppet,areyoucertainitpursuesthisotherpower?'Crone bobbed her head. 'It

tracks. It hides whennecessary. You assume bothpowersareMalazan.Why?'Baruk grunted. 'First, they

want Darujhistan. They'll doanything to win it. They'vehad access to vast librariesamong the lands they'veconquered. The Jaghutbarrow isno secret in andofitself. Second, you said bothpowers came down from thenorth. They can only be

Malazan. Why one hidesfrom theother isbeyondme,though I wouldn't doubt thatthere are competing factionswithin the Empire – anypoliticalentityaslargeasthatone is bound to be rife withdiscord. In any case, theypose a direct threat toDarujhistan and, byextension, to your lord'sdesires to prevent theMalazan Empire from

conqueringus.Assumingthatthe powers are Malazanseemswarranted.'Crone's displeasure was

obvious. 'You will be keptinformed of the activities ontheRhiviPlain.Mylordmustdecide whether to interceptthese powers before theyreach theGadrobiHills.' Sheturned an angry eye onBaruk. 'Hehas received littleassistance from his allies. I

trustwhenwenextspeakthatsituationwillberemedied.'The alchemist shrugged.

'My first meeting withAnomander Rake has provedmy only meeting with him.Assistance demandscommunication.' His tonehardened. 'Inform your lordthatthepresentdissatisfactionexists with us as much as itdoeswithhim.''Mylordhasbeenbusywith

his side of things,' Cronemuttered, flapping to thewindow-sill.Baruk stared at the bird as

shepreparedtoleave.'Busy?'he asked darkly. 'In whatway?''In due time, Alchemist,'

Cronepurred.Amomentlatershewasgone.Baruk cursed, and with an

angry gesture returned the

window to its place andslammed the shutters. Doingthisthroughmagicandfromadistancewasnotassatisfyingasitwouldhavebeenhadhedone it physically.Grumbling, he rose andwalkedtothemantelpiece.Ashepouredhimselfsomewine,he paused. Less than half anhour ago he'd conjured ademon. It was not anambitious conjuring: he'd

needed a spy, not a killer.Something told him he'd becalling upon far deadliercreatures in the near future.He scowled, then took amouthfulofwine. 'Mammot,'he whispered, as he openedhisWarren,'Ineedyou.'He smiled as a scene

appeared in his head, of asmall room and a stonehearth. Seated in the chairopposite his point of view

was Kruppe. 'Good. I needyouboth.'The Hound that approachedQuick Ben was wide andheavy, its fur a pasty white.Asittrotteduptothewizard,hesawthatitseyeswerealsowhite.Thecreaturepossessedno pupils. It stopped a shortdistanceawayandsat.QuickBenbowed.'Youare

the Hound called Blind,' hesaid, 'mate to Baran andmother of Gear. I comeseeking no harm. I wouldspeakwithyourmaster.'He heard a growl beside

him and froze. Slowly, heturned his head and lookeddown. Less than a foot fromhis right leg lay anotherHound, mottled brown andtan,leanandscarred.Itseyeswere fixed onBlind. 'Baran.'

He nodded. Another growlanswered Baran's, this onebehind thewizard.He turnedfurthertosee,tenfeetaway,athird Hound, this one long,black and sleek. Its eyes,fixed on him, glowed red.'And Shan,' he said quietly.He faced Blind again. 'Haveyoufoundyourquarry,orareyoumyescort?'Baran rose silently beside

him, its shoulders level with

his chest. Blind stood, thentrotted off to the left. Shestopped and looked back.Twin growls spurred QuickBenafterthem.The land around them

changed slowly, detailsslipping into sourcelessshadows and re-emergingsubtly altered. On what thewizardthoughtofasthenorthhorizon,agreyforestclimbeda slope to what might have

beenawall.Thiswallwasinplace of sky –maybe itwassky – but to Quick Ben itlooked strangely close, eventhoughtheforestwasleaguesaway.Glancingoverheaddidnot help him confirm orrefute his feeling that thisrealm was bordered by amagical wall, for it, too,seemed close, almost withinreach. Yet black clouds rodewindsabovehim,skewinghis

perceptions and making himdizzy.Another Hound had joined

their company. This one, amale, was dark grey, one ofits eyes blue, the otheryellow.Thoughitdidn'tcomeclose,QuickBen judged thatit was the largest of thosearound him, and itsmovement hinted at deadlyspeed. He knew it as Doan,firstborntothepack'sleader,

Rood, and its first mate,Pallick.Doan trotted alongside

Blind for a time, then, whenthey came to the crest of alow rise, he bolted forward.Reaching the crest, QuickBensawtheirdestination.Hesighed. Just as the imagecarved upon the altar withinthe temples dedicated toShadowthrone, Shadowkeeprose from the plain like an

enormous lump of blackglass, fractured with curvingplanes,rippledinplaces,withsomecornersglisteningwhiteas if crushed. The largestsurface facing them–awall,he supposed – was mottledanddull,asifitwasacortex,the weathered surface ofobsidian.Therewere nowindows as

such, but many of the slicksurfaces looked semi-

translucent and seemed toglowwith an inner light. Asfar as Quick Ben could see,therewasnodoor,nogate,nodrawbridge.They arrived, and the

wizard exclaimed in surpriseasBlindstrodeintothestoneand disappeared. Hehesitated, andBorancameasclose to nudging him asQuick Ben allowed. Hewalked up to the mottled

stone and held out his handsas he stepped into it. He feltnothing, passing througheffortlessly to findhimself ina hallway that could havebeen found in any mundaneestate.Barren of trappings, the

corridor led straight forwardfor, perhaps, thirty feet andended at double doors.BlindandDoansattoeithersideofthese doors, which now

openedoftheirownaccord.QuickBenenteredtheroom

beyond. The chamber wasdomed.Oppositehimstoodasimple obsidian throne on aslightly raiseddais.Thedull,cobbled floor bore no rugs,and the walls were bareexcept for torches spacedevery ten feet. Quick Bencounted forty, but the lightwas fitful, seeming tostruggle against encroaching

shadows.At first he thought the

throne unoccupied, but as heapproachedhesawthefigureseated there. It seemedcomposed of almosttranslucent shadows, vaguelyhuman in form, but hooded,preventing even the glint ofeyes. Still, Quick Ben couldfeel the god's attention fixedsolely on him, and he barelyrepressedashiver.

Shadowthrone spoke, hisvoice calm and clear. 'ShantellsmeyouknowthenamesofmyHounds.'Quick Ben stopped before

the dais. He bowed. 'I wasonce an acolyte within yourtemple,Lord.'The god was silent for a

time, thenhe said, 'Is itwiseto admit such a thing,Wizard? Do I look kindlyupon those who once served

me but then abandoned myways?Tellme. Iwould hearfrom you what my prieststeach.''To begin upon the Path of

ShadowandthentoleaveitisrewardedbytheRope.''Meaning?''I am marked for

assassination by all whofollowyourways,Lord.''Yet here you stand,

Wizard.'Quick Ben bowed again. 'I

wouldstrikeadeal,Lord.'The god giggled, then

raisedahand.'No,dearShan.Strikenaught.'Quick Ben stiffened. The

black Hound stepped aroundhim, and ascended the dais.She laydownbeforehergodandeyedthewizardblankly.'Do you know why I just

savedyourlife,Wizard?''Ido,Lord.'Shadowthrone leaned

forward. 'Shan wants you totellme.'QuickBenmettheHound's

red stare. 'Shadowthronelovesdeals.'The god sighed and sank

back. 'Acolyte, indeed.Well,then,Wizard,speakon,whileyoucan.'

'I must begin with aquestion,Lord.''Askit.''DoesGearstilllive?'Shan's eyes flared and she

half rose before the god'shandtouchedherhead.'Now that,' Shadowthrone

said, 'is quite a question.You've managed somethingfew, alas, have been able todo. Wizard, my curiosity is

piqued.So,Iansweryou:yes,Gear survives. By allmeans,continue.''Lord, I would deliver into

your hands the one whooffendedyourHound.''How? He belongs to

Oponn.''Nothim,Lord.Buttheone

who led Gear to thatchamber.TheonewhosoughttotakeGear'ssoul,andwould

have succeeded if not forOponn'smortaltool.''Inexchangeforwhat?'QuickBencursedinwardly.

He could read nothing fromthegod's tone,andthatmadethings even trickier thanhe'dexpected. 'My life, Lord. Iwish theRope's reward liftedfromme.''Anythingelse?''Yes.' He hesitated, then

continued, 'I wish to choosethe time and place, Lord.Otherwise, this oneofwhomI speak will escape yourHoundsthroughitsWarrenofChaos. Only I can preventthat.Thus, itmust bepart ofthedeal.AllthatyouneeddoishaveyourHoundsready. Iwill call upon you at theproper moment, providingyou with the creature'sprecise location. The rest is

uptoyourHounds.''You've planned this well,

Wizard,' Shadowthrone said.'As of yet, I can think of noway to kill both the creatureand you. I commend you.How then, do you intend tocall upon me? Surely, you'llnot once again enter myrealm.''Lord, you will be

contacted. I guarantee this,but I can say nomore about

it.''And if I were to lay my

powers upon you now,Wizard? If I were to wringwhatever lies hidden in thatfrail brain of yours, howwouldyoupreventme?''To answer that, Lord, you

must answer my proposalfirst.'Shangrowledand this time

the god made no motion to

stillher.QuickBenwentonhastily,

'Given that you will seek tobetray me at everyopportunity, given that you'llhunt for the weaknesses inmy plan, given all this, Iwould have your word thatyou will complete your partof the deal if all else failsyou,Lord.Giveme that, andI will answer your lastquestion.'

Shadowthrone was silentfor a longminute. 'Ah well,'hemuttered.'Yourcunningisadmirable, Wizard. I amastonishedand,Imustadmit,delighted by this duel. Myonly regret is that youdepartedthePathsofShadow– you would have risen far.Very well. You have myword. The Hounds will beready. Now, why shouldn't Ishred your brain here and

now,Wizard?''Your answer, Lord, is in

your verywords.'QuickBenraisedhis arms. 'I did indeedrise far, Shadowthrone, inservicetoyou.'HeopenedhisWarren. 'You'll not haveme,Lord, because you can't.'Quick Ben whispered hiswordofrecall,awordbornofChaos. Power burst aroundhim, andhe felt as if a gianthand had closed around him.

AsitpulledhimbackintohisWarren, he heardShadowthrone's scream ofrecognition.'It is you! Delat! You

shape-shiftingbastard!'Quick Ben smiled. He'd

done it.Hewasoutof reach.He'ddoneit–again.Kruppe was ushered intoBaruk's study with none of

the delayshewas so fondofconfounding. Slightlydisappointed,hetookhisseatand wiped his forehead withhishandkerchief.Baruk entered. 'You took

your time getting here,' hegrowled. 'Well, never mind.Haveyouanynews?'Kruppe laid his

handkerchief on his lap andbegancarefullytofoldit.'Wecontinue to protect the Coin

Bearer, as instructed. As forthe presence of Malazaninfiltrators, no luck.' Itwas amajorlie,butnecessary.'Iamtoconveyamessage toyou,'he continued, 'most unusualin its source. Indeed, strangein fact was its delivery toKruppe.''Getonwithit.'Kruppewinced. Barukwas

inaterriblemood.Hesighed.'Amessagetoyoupersonally,

Master.' He completedfolding his handkerchief andlookedup.'FromtheEel.'Baruk stiffened, then a

scowl darkened his features.'Why not?' hemuttered. 'Theman even knows who myagents are.' His gaze clearedand he watchedKruppe. 'I'mwaiting,'hegrowled.'Of course!' Kruppe shook

loose his handkerchief andmopped his brow. '"Look to

the streets to find those youseek." That, and no more.Delivered to Kruppe by thesmallest child he'd ever seen—'Hestoppedandshookhishead. No, such exaggerationwould never do, not withBaruk's mood as foul as itappeared to be. 'A smallchild,inanycase.'Baruk stood glowering at

the dying embers in thefireplace, his hands clasped

behind his back, fingerstwisting a large silver ring.'Tell me, Kruppe,' he askedslowly,'whatdoyouknowofthisEel?''Little,Kruppeadmits.Man,

woman? Unknown. Origins?A mystery. Designs?Perpetuating a status quodefined by aversion totyranny. Or so it's said.Influence?Far-reaching,evenif one discounts nine out of

ten rumours associated withtheEel,hisorheragentsmustnumber in the hundreds. Alldevoted to protectingDarujhistan. 'Tis said thatCouncilman Turban Orr iseven now hunting themdown, convinced they'veruined all his schemes.Mayhap they have, and forthatwecanallberelieved.'Baruk seemedanythingbut

relieved. Kruppe thought he

could almost hear the man'steeth grinding. However, heturnedtoKruppeandnodded.'Ihaveanassignment.For it,you will need to round upMurillio, Rallick and Coll.And take the Coin Bearerwith you, just to keep himsafe.'Kruppe raised an eyebrow.

'Outofthecity?''Yes.ParamountistheCoin

Bearer – keep him beyond

anyone's reach. As for yourmission, you will observe.Nothing more. Do youunderstand me, Kruppe?Observe.Todoanythingelsewill be to risk the CoinBearer falling into thewronghands. While he is Oponn'stool, he also is themeans bywhichanotherAscendantcanreach Oponn. The last thingwe need is gods battling onthemortalplain.'

Kruppe cleared his throat.'What are we to observe,Master?''I'm not sure, possibly a

foreign work party, digginghereandthere.'Kruppe started. 'As in ...

roadrepairs?'The alchemist frowned. 'I

will be sending you to theGadrobi Hills. Remain thereuntileithersomeonecomesor

I contact you with furtherinstructions. If someonecomes, Kruppe, you're toremain hidden. Avoiddetection at all costs – useyourWarren,ifneedbe.''NoneshallfindKruppeand

his worthy, loyal comrades,'Kruppe said, smiling andwagglinghisfingers.'Good. That will be all,

then.'

Surprised, Kruppe climbedto his feet. 'When are we toleave,Master?''Soon. I'll let you know at

leastadaybeforehand.Isthatsufficienttime?''Yes, friend Baruk. Kruppe

deemsthatmorethanenoughtime. Rallick appearstemporarily indisposed, butwith luck he shall beavailable.'

'Get him if you can. If theCoinBearer's influence turnsagainst us, the assassin ischargedwith killing the boy.Doesheunderstandthis?''We'vediscussedit,'Kruppe

said.Barukinclinedhisheadand

fellsilent.Kruppe waited a moment,

thenquietlyleft.

LessthananhourafterQuickBen's soul had left the bodyseated on the hut's floor andjourneyed into the ShadowRealm, it creaked back intolife. Red-eyed with anexhaustion born ofunrelenting tension, Kalampushedhimselftohisfeetandwaitedforhis friend tocomeround.The assassin laid his hands

onhis long-knives, just tobe

onthesafeside.IfQuickBenhad been taken, whatevercontrolled him might wellannounce its arrival byattacking anyone withinrange.Kalamheldhisbreath.The wizard's eyes opened,

the glaze slipping away asawareness returned. He sawKalam,andsmiled.The assassin released his

breath.'Done?Success?'

'Yes, on both counts. Hardtobelieve,isn'tit?'Kalam found he was

grinning uncontrollably. Hestepped forward and helpedQuick Ben to stand. Thewizardleanedheavilyagainsthim,alsogrinning.'HerealizedwhoIwas just

as I left.' Quick Ben's grinbroadened. 'You should haveheardhimscream.'

'Well, are you surprised?HowmanyHighPriestsburntherobesoftheirvestment?''Notenough,ifyouaskme.

Without temples and prieststhe gods' bloody meddlingcouldn't touch the mortalrealm. Now, that would beparadise,right,friend?''Perhaps,'saidavoiceatthe

doorway.BothmenturnedtoseeSorrystandingwithin theentrance, her half-cloak

drawn about her slim body.She was wet with rain, andonly now did Kalam noticethe water dripping throughcracks all around them. Theassassin stepped away fromQuickBen to free his hands.'Whatareyoudoinghere?'hedemanded.'You dream of paradise,

Wizard? Iwish I'd heard theentireconversation.''How did you find us?'

QuickBenasked.Sorry stepped inside and

pushed back her hood. 'I'vefound an assassin,' she said.'I've marked him. He is in aplace called thePhoenix Inn,in theDaruDistrict.Areyouinterested?' she asked, dullyeyeingbothmen.'I want answers,' Kalam

said,inalowvoice.QuickBenbackedtothefar

wall, to give the assassinroomandtopreparehisspellsifneedbe–thoughhewasinno real shape to manage hisWarren at the moment. Nor,he noticed, did Kalam lookup to a scrap, not that theassassin would allow that tostop him.Right now, hewasat his most dangerous – thatlowtonehadsaiditall.Sorryheldherdeadeyeson

Kalam.'Thesergeanthassent

metoyou—''A lie,' Kalam interjected

softly. 'Whiskeyjack doesn'tknowwhereweare.''Very well. I sensed your

power, Wizard. It has anotablesignature.'Quick Ben was stunned.

'But I established a shieldaroundthisplace,'hesaid.'Yes. I, too, was surprised,

Wizard.UsuallyIcannotfind

you. It seems cracksappeared.'Quick Ben thought about

that. 'Cracks', he decided,wasn't the right word – butSorrydidn'tknow that.She'dsensed his whereaboutsbecause she was what they'dsuspected, a pawn of theRope. The Shadow Realmhad been linked, howeverbriefly and howevertenuously, to his flesh and

blood.Yetnonebutaservantof Shadow possessed thenecessarysensitivitytodetectthat link. The wizard movedto stand beside Kalam andlaidahandontheburlyman'sshoulder.Kalam threwhima startled

glare.'She's right. Cracks

appeared, Kalam. She'sobviously a natural Talent inthe ways of sorcery. Come

on, friend, the girl's foundwhatwe'vebeen looking for.Let'smoveonit.'Sorry pulled up the hood

around her head. 'I am notaccompanyingyou,' she said.'You'll know the man whenyouseehim.Isuspectitishistask to make his professionobvious.PerhapstheGuildisanticipatingyou.Inanycase,findthePhoenixInn.''What the hell are you up

to?'Kalamdemanded.'I will be completing an

assignment for the sergeant.'Sheturnedandleftthehut.Kalam's shoulders slumped

andheletoutalongbreath.'She's the one we thought

her to be,' Quick Ben saidquietly.'Sofar,sogood.''In other words,' the

assassin growled, 'if I'dattacked her I'd be a dead

manrightnow.''Exactly.We'lltakeherout,

whenthetime'sright.Butfornowweneedher.'Kalamnodded.'PhoenixInn?''Damn right.Andwhenwe

get there the first thing I'mdoingisbuyingadrink.'QuickBensmiled.'Agreed.'

Rallick looked up as the

heavy-set man entered thebar. His black skin markedhim a southerner, which initself was not unusual.Whatcaught Rallick's attention,however, was the horn-handled, silver-pommelledlong-knives tucked into theman's narrow belt. Thoseweapons were anything butsouthern,andstampedon thepommelswasacross-hatchedpattern, recognizable to all

within the trade as the markofanassassin.Themanswaggeredintothe

room as if he owned it, andnone of the locals heshouldered aside seemedinclinedtodisagreewithhim.He reached the bar andorderedanale.Rallickstudied thedregs in

his own tankard. Obviouslythemanwantedtobemarked,precisely by someone like

Rallick Nom, a Guildassassin. So, who was thebait,then?Thisdidn'tfit.Ocelot, his Clan Leader,

was convinced, along witheveryone else in the Guild,that EmpireClaws had comeinto the city and nowwagedwar against them. Rallickwasn't so sure. The manstanding at the bar could aseasily be Seven Cities as atraveller from Callows. He

had the look of MalazanEmpire about him. Was heClaw? If so, why showhimself? Up until now theenemy hadn't left a singleclue, or a single eye-witness,as to their identity. Thebrazenness he now observedeither didn't fit, or marked areversal of tactics. HadVorcan's order to go togroundtriggeredit?Alarm bells rang in

Rallick's head. None of thisfeltright.Murillio leaned close to

him. 'Something wrong,friend?''Guild business,' Rallick

replied.'Youthirsty?'Murilliogrinned.'AnofferI

can'trefuse.'After a single, bemused

glance at Coil's unconsciousform, slumped in the chair,

the assassin left the table.Whathad all thatbeenaboutfiveblackdragons?Hemadehis way to the bar. As hepushedthroughthecrowd,hegaveoneyouthahardelbowto theback.Theboygasped,then surreptitiously slippedtowardsthekitchen.Rallick arrived, called

Scurve over, then orderedanother pitcher. Though hedid not look the man's way,

heknewhe'dbeenmarkedbyhim. It was no more than afeeling, but one he'd learnedto trust.He sighed asScurvedeliveredthefoamingpitcher.Well, he'd done what Ocelothaddemandedofhim,thoughhesuspectedhisClanLeaderwouldbeaskingformore.Hereturnedtothetableand

conversedwithMurillioforatime, plying his friend withthe majority of the ale.

Murillio sensed a growingtension around Rallick andtook his cue. He drained thelast of his drink and rose.'Well,' he said, 'Kruppe'sscurriedoff,Crokustoo.AndCoil's once againdead to theworld. Rallick, I thank youfor the ale. Time to find awarmbed.Until themorrow,then.'Rallickremainedseatedfor

another five minutes, only

oncebrushinggazeswith theblackmanleaningagainstthebar. Then he rose and strodeinto the kitchen. The twocooksrolledtheireyesateachother as he strode past.Rallick ignored them. Hecame to the door,which hadbeen left ajar in hopes of acooling draught. The alleybeyond was wet, though therain had passed. From ashadowed recess on the wall

opposite the inn stepped afamiliarfigure.Rallick walked up to

Ocelot. 'It's done. Your manis the big black one nursingan ale. Two daggers, hatch-marked. He looks mean andnotoneI'dliketotusslewith.He'sallyours,Ocelot.'The man's pocked face

twisted. 'He's still inside?Good. Head back in. Makesure you've been noticed –

damnsure,Nom.'Rallick crossed his arms.

'I'msurealready,'hedrawled.'You're to draw him out,

lead him into Tarlow'swarehouse – into the loadinggrounds.' Ocelot sneered.'Vorcan's orders, Nom. Andwhen you head out, do it bythe front door. No mistakes,nothingsubtle.''The man's an assassin,'

Rallick grated. 'If I'm notsubtle he'll know it's a trapand crawl all over me insecondsflat.''You do as Vorcan wills,

Nom.Nowgetbackinside!'Rallick stared at his

commander, to make hisdisgustplain,thenreturnedtothe kitchen. The cooksgrinnedathim,butonlyforamoment. One look atRallick's face was enough to

kill anyhumour in the room.Theybent to their tasks as ifproddedbyalandmaster.Rallick entered the main

room, then stopped dead inhis tracks. 'Damn,' hemuttered.Theblackmanwasgone. Now what? Heshrugged. 'Front door it is.'Hemadehiswaythroughthecrowd.

In an alley, on one side ofwhich ran a high stonewall,Crokus leaned against thedamp bricks of a merchant'shouseandgazedsteadilyatawindow. It was on the thirdfloor, beyond the wall, andbehind its shuttered facewasaroomheknewintimately.There'd been a light on

inside for most of the twohours he'd stood below, butforthelastfifteenminutesthe

room within had been dark.Numb with exhaustion andplagued with doubts, Crokuspulled his cloak tighteraround him. He wonderedwhat hewas doing here, andnot for the first time.All hisresolve seemed to havedrainedintotheguttersalongwiththerain.Had itbeen thedark-haired

woman in the Phoenix Inn?Had she rattled him that

much? The blood on herdagger made it obvious thatshe wouldn't hesitate to killhim just to keep her secretintact. Maybe it was thespinningcointhathadhimsoconfused.Nothing about thatincidenthadbeennatural.What was so wrong with

hisdreamofbeingintroducedto theD'Arlemaiden? It hadnothing todowith that killerwomaninthebar.

'Nothing,'hemumbled,thenscowled.Nowhewastalkingaloudtohimself.Athoughtcametohimthat

deepened his scowl.Everythinghadbegunitsmadunravelling the night he'drobbedthemaiden.Ifonlyhehadn't paused, if only hehadn't looked upon her soft,round,lovelyface.A groan escaped him, and

he shifted his feet. A high-

born. That was the realproblem,wasn'tit?Itallseemedsostupidnow,

soabsurd.Howcouldhehaveconvincedhimselfthatsuchathing as meeting her waspossible? He shook himself.It didn't matter, he'd plannedthis,nowitwastimetodoit.'I don't believe this,' he

muttered as he pushedhimself from the wall andheaded down the alley. His

hand brushed the pouch tiedtohiswaist. 'I'mabout toputamaiden'sransomback.'He came to the stone wall

he'd been looking for, andbegan to climb. He drew adeepbreath.Allright,let'sgetitdone.The stone was wet, but he

had enough determination inhim to scale a mountain. Heclimbed on, and did not slipeven so much as a single

foothold.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

There's a spiderhereinthiscornerinthat–herthreeeyestiptoeindarkness,hereightlegstrackmyspine,she mirrors and

mocksmypacing.There's a spiderherewho knows all ofmeherwebmy historyfullwrit.Somewhere in thisstrangeplaceaspiderwaitsfor my panickedflight...

TheConspiracyBlindGallan(b.1078)

AssoonastheGuildassassinleft the room,Kalamdrainedthe last of his beer, paid up,and ascended the staircase.From the gallery railing hestudied the crowd below,then, seeing that no one paidhimmuchattention,hestrodedownthehallwayandenteredthelastroomontheright.

He closed the door andlocked it. Quick Ben wasseated cross-legged on thefloor, within a circle ofmeltedbluewax.Thewizardwas hunched over, bare-chested, his eyes shut anddroplets of sweat tricklingdown his face. Around himthe air shimmered, as ifglossedwithlacquer.Kalam walked around the

waxcircletothebed.Hetook

a leather satchel from a pegabove the bedpost and set itdownonthethin,straw-filledmattress. Peeling back theflapheremovedthecontents.A minute later he'd laid outthe mechanisms for a goat'sfoot arbalest. The crossbow'smetal parts had been blued,the narrow wooden stocksoaked in pitch and dustedwith black sand. Kalamslowly,quietly,assembledthe

weapon.Quick Ben spoke behind

him. 'Done.Wheneveryou'reready,friend.''The man left through the

kitchen. But he'll be back,'Kalam said, rising with thearbalest in his hands. Heattached a strap to it andslung the weapon over oneshoulder. Then he faced thewizard.'I'mready.'

Quick Ben also stood,wiping his forehead with asleeve. 'Twospells.You'llbeable to float, control everydescent. The other shouldgive you the ability to seeanything magical – well,almost anything. If there's aHigh Mage kicking around,we'reoutofluck.''Andyou?'Kalamasked,as

he examined his quiver ofbolts.

'Youwon't seemedirectly,just my aura,' Quick Benrepliedwithagrin,'butI'llbewithyoualltheway.''Well, hopefully this'll go

smoothly. We make contactwith the Guild, we offer theEmpire'scontract,theyacceptand remove for us everymajor threat in the city.' Heshruggedintohisblackcloakandpulledupthehood.'You sure we can't just go

downstairsandwalk rightuptotheman,layitout?'Kalamshookhishead. 'Not

how it's done. We'veidentified him, he's done thesame with us. He's probablyjust made contact with hiscommander, and they'llarrange things to their liking.Ourman should leadusnowtothemeet.''Won't it be an ambush

we'rewalkinginto,then?'

The large man agreed.'Moreorless.Butthey'llwantto know what we want withthem first. And once that'sout, I doubt the Guild'smaster will be interested inkillingus.Youready?'Quick Ben raised a hand

towards Kalam, thenmuttered briefly under hisbreath.Kalamfeltalightnesscome

into him, rising to his skin

and emanating a cushion ofcool air that enveloped hisbody. And before his eyesQuick Ben's figure formed ablue-green penumbra,concentrated at the wizard'slong-fingered hands. 'I havethem,' the assassin said,smiling,'twooldfriends.'Quick Ben sighed. 'Yes,

here we are doing this allover again.' He met hisfriend's gaze. 'Hood's on our

heels, Kal. I can feel hisbreath on my neck, thesedays.''You're not alone in that.'

Kalamturned to thewindow.'Sometimes,' he said drily, 'Ihave the feeling our Empirewantsusdead.'Hewalkedtothe window, unlatched theshutters, then swung theminwardandleanedbothhandsonthesill.QuickBen came up beside

himand restedahandonhisshoulder. They gazed out atthe darkness, a brief sharingof unease passing betweenthem.'We've seen too much,'

QuickBensaidsoftly.'Hood's Breath,' Kalam

growled, 'what are we doingthisforanyway?''Maybe if the Empire gets

whatitwants–Darujhistan–

they'llletusslipaway.''Sure, but who's going to

convincethesergeanttowalkoutoftheEmpire?''Weshowhimhehasn'tgot

anychoice.'Kalam climbed on to the

sill. 'Good thing I'm not aClawanymore.Justsoldiers,right?'Behind him Quick Ben

touched his own chest and

vanished. His disembodiedvoice held a note of wryamusement. 'Right. No morecloak-and-dagger games foroldKalam.'Theassassinpulledhimself

up, turning to face the wallthen beginning his climb tothe roof. 'Yeah, I've alwayshatedit.'Quick Ben's voice was

beside him now. 'No moreassassinations.'

'No more spying,' Kalamadded, reachingfor theroof'sedge.'Nomoredisguisingspells.'Clambering on to the roof,

Kalam lay still. 'No moredaggers in the back,' hewhispered, then sat up andscanned the nearby rooftops.He saw nothing; no unusualhuddled shapes, no brightmagicalauras.

'Thank the gods,' cameQuick Ben's whisper fromabove.'Thank the gods,' Kalam

echoed, then looked downovertheroof'sedge.Belowapool of light marked the innentrance. 'You take the backdoor.I'vegotthisone.''Right.'Even as the wizard

answered Kalam stiffened.

'There he is,' he hissed. 'Youstillwithme?'QuickBenassented.Theywatched the figureof

Rallick Nom, now cloaked,crossingtothefarsideofthestreetandenteringanalley.'I'm on him,' Quick Ben

said.A blue-green glow rose

around the wizard. He roseinto the air and flew out

swiftly across the street,slowing as he reached thealley. Kalam climbed to hisfeetandpaddedsilentlyalongthe roof's edge.Reaching thecorner, he glanced down tothe rooftop of an adjacentbuilding,thenjumped.He descended slowly, as if

sinking through water, andlanded without a sound. Offto his right, moving on aparallel path, was Quick

Ben's magical aura. Kalamcrossed the rooftop to thenextbuilding.Theirmanwasheadingfortheharbour-front.Kalam continued tracking

Quick Ben's beacon, movingfromone rooftop to thenext,sometimes jumping down, atother times climbing. Therewas little subtlety aboutKalam: where others usedfinesseheusedthestrengthofhis thick arms and legs. It

made him an unlikelyassassin, but he'd learned tousethattohisadvantage.They now approached the

harbour area, the buildingssingle-storeyedand large, thestreets rarely lit exceptaround the double-doorentrances to warehouses,where the occasional privateguard lingered. In the nightair hung the taint of sewageandfish.

Finally,QuickBenstopped,hovered over a warehousecourtyard, then hurried backtoKalam, whowaited at theedge of a nearby two-storeyed clearing house.'Looks like the place,' QuickBen said, floating a few feetaboveKalam.'Whatnow?''Iwantagood lineof sight

tothatcourtyard.''Followme.'

Quick Ben led him toanother building. Their manwas now visible, crouchingon the warehouse roof,attention down on thecourtyardbelow.'Kal, do you smell

somethingbadaboutthis?'Kalam snorted. 'Hell, no,

it's bloody roses out here.Takeposition,friend.''Right.'

RallickNomlaydownontherooftop,hisheadoutover itsedge. Below was thewarehouse's courtyard, flat,grey and empty. Directlybeneath him the shadowswere impenetrable. SweattrickleddownRallick'sface.From the shadow below

cameOcelot'svoice,'He'sgotyouinsight?'

'Yes.''Andhe'snotmoving?''No.Listen, I'msure there's

more than one of them. Iwould've known if he'd beentrailingme, and no onewas.It stinks of magery, Ocelot,and you know what I thinkaboutmagery.''Dammit,Nom.Ifyou'djust

start using the stuff we giveyou, you'd rank among the

bestofus.ButtoHood'sGatewith that.We'vegotspotters,andunlessthere'saverygoodwizard around we'd pick uponanymagic.Faceit,'anoteof malice entered Ocelot'svoice, 'he's better than you.He tracked you all right.Solo.''Whatnow?'Rallickasked.Ocelot chuckled. 'We're

closing the circle evenaswespeak. Your work's done,

Nom. Tonight the assassins'warends.Infiveminutesyoucanheadhome.'Highabove thecityademonflappedonleatherywings,itsgreenreptilianeyessurveyingthe rooftops below with avision that detectedmagic aseasily as it did heat. Thoughthedemonwasnolargerthana dog, its power wasimmense,nearpartotheman

who had summoned andchaineditthisverynight.Onthe rooftops it saw twoaurasclose together, one amanonwhom spells had been cast,andtheotherawizard,averygood wizard. In a raggedcircle on other rooftopsaround these two, men andwomen moved inward, somebetrayed by the heat of theirbodies, others by itemsimbuedwithsorcery.

Until now the demon rodethe high night winds boredandresentfulof itsmaster.Ameremission of observation,for one of such power! Butnowthedemonfeltasurgeofbloodlust. If only its masterhad been weaker, so that itcould break the bonds anddescend to the rooftops, thenthere would have beenslaughter.The demonwasmusing on

these thoughts, its eyes fixedon the scene below, when abooted heel rammed into thebackofitssmall,roundhead.The creature spun, tumbling,then twistedround to face itsattacker, rage blazing in itsskull.A moment later it was

fightingforitslife.Thefigurethat closed with the demonpossessed a blindingmagicalaura. Grappling, the surging

energies of both collided,enwrappedliketentacles.Thedemon struggled against thesavage pain constricting it asthe figure pressed its attack.A cold that burned filled thedemon'sskull,acoldalieninits breath of power, so alienthat thedemoncould findnomeansofcounteringit.Thetwofellslowlyas they

fought, duelling in absolutesilence with forces invisible

to the city's inhabitantsbelow, while around themother figures descendedtowards the warehouse,cloaks spread like sails,crossbows crooked in theirarms, hooded faces angleddownward and hiddenbeneath black masks. Therewereeleveninallthatpassedthe demon and its attacker.None of the others paid anyattention, and with this

realization the demonexperiencedanemotionithadneverknownbefore.Fear.Its thoughts turning from

battle to survival, the demontore itself from its attacker'sgrasp.Loosingahigh-pitchedcry,itflappedupward.The figure did not pursue,

instead joining the others intheirsilentdescenttothecity.As the twelve shrouded

assassinsdroppedtowardsthecircle of men and womenbelow, one splitting off andanglingabovethecircle'stwotargets, they tookcarefulaimwith their crossbows, andbeganamassacre.Kalam stared down at theassassin lying supine on theroof below, wondering whattodonext.Weretheywaitingforhimto initiatecontact?A

low growl escaped him.Something was wrong. Hecould feel it like fever in hisbones.'Dammit, Quick. Let's get

outofhere!''Wait!' came Quick Ben's

disembodied voice. 'Oh,damn,'hesaidsoftlythen.In front of Kalam two

brightly glowing shapesdroppeddownon to the roof

below, landing behind theirmark.'Whatthehell?'Thenhefeltaslighttremor

on the flat tiles beneath hishands.Kalamrolledontohisback, hearing a quarrel whizpast. Framed by his knees, acloaked figure stood aboutthirty feet away. Aftermissing with the quarrel thefigureracedforward.Anotherlanded behind the first one,

neartheroof'sfaredge.Kalam scampered. He

droppeddownovertheroof'sedge.Quick Ben floated above

him. The spell of deflectionhe'draisedabouthimselfwasaHighOrdermagery,andhewas certain he remainedunseen by these newassailants.Hewatchedas theapproaching figure slowed,thenpaddedcautiouslytothe

roof edge where Kalam haddropped from sight. Daggersgleaming in both glovedhands, this new assassinreached the edge andcrouched.QuickBenheldhisbreath as the figure leanedforward.Kalam hadn't gone far. He

gripped the roof's gables.When the attacker's upperbodycameintoview,blottingout the stars behind it, he

surged upward on thestrengthofonearm,hisothershooting up to close on theassassin'sneckwithavicelikegrip. Kalam jerked theassassin downward, at thesame time bringing up hisknee. The attacker's cloth-wrapped face met his kneewith a crunch. Kalam, stillgripping the gable with onehand, gave the now limpfigure a shake, then sent the

body spiralling down to thestreetbelow.Gasping, he pulled himself

backontotheroof.Atthefarend he saw the secondassassin whirl around.Growling, Kalam surged tohis feet and sprinted at thefigure.The unknown assassin

stepped back as if startled,then brought a hand downandpromptlyvanished.

Kalam slid to a stop andstood crouched, both handshangingathissides.'I see her,' Quick Ben

whispered.WithahissKalamspunina

fullcircle,thendancedtooneside, putting his back to theroof'sedge.'Idon't.''She'sputtingenergyintoit,'

QuickBensaid.'Ikeeplosingher. Wait, Kal.' The wizard

fellsilent.Kalam's head snappedwith

every muted sound. Hisbreathgustedinandoutfromhis nostrils, his handstwitched.Wait.Alowrumblecamefromhischest.Waitforwhat?Aknifeinhisthroat?All at once the night

explodedwithsoundandfire.The attacker burst into viewimmediately in front ofKalam,daggerflashingathis

chest. Smoke and sparksrained from her but shemoved as if unaffected.Kalam twisted to one side,tryingtoavoidtheblade.Thedagger tore through his shirtbelow his ribs, sinking deepinto his flesh then rippingsideways. He felt a hot gushof blood as he drove a fistintothewoman'ssolarplexus.She gasped, reeling back,threads of blood whipping

from the dagger in her righthand.Kalamchargedforwardwith a snarl. He closed and,ignoring the assassin'sdagger, punched into herchestagain.Ribscracked.Hisother hand flat-palmed herforehead. The assassinsprawled backwards, landingwithathumpontheroof.Herbodystilled.Kalam sank to one knee,

drawingingulpsofair.'Wait,

you said, dammit! What thehell's wrong with you,Quick?'He pushed a knot ofcloth into the wound belowhisribcage.'Quick?'There was no reply. He

tensed, then turned andscanned the lower rooftops.Bodieslayscatteredhereandthere. The warehouse roof,where he'd seen two figuresland behind their mark, wasempty. Groaning softly, he

sankdownontohisknees.With the woman's attack

he'd heard something amidthe flashing fires. A boom,no, two booms, very closetogether. An exchange ofmagic. His breath caught.Wasthereathirdassassin?Awizard? Quick Ben haddamaged this one, butsomeone else had damagedQuick Ben. 'Oh, Hood,' hewhispered,glaringabout.

Rallick's first intimation oftrouble was a sharp blowbetween his shoulder blades.The breath burst from hislungs, carrying with it theability to move. His backthrobbed, and he knew he'dbeenhitbyaquarrel,but theJazeraint armour under hisshirt had withstood theimpact – the quarrel's spikedheadhadpiercedtheironbut

had been too spent to pushfurther. Through thethumpingpulseinhisearshecaught a pair of footstepsapproaching him frombehind.From the shadows below

came Ocelot's voice, 'Nom?What'shappening?'Behind Rallick the

footsteps stopped, and therecame the soft clacking of acrossbow being cocked.

Rallick's wind returned, thenumbness receding from hisbody. His own weapon laybesidehim,ready.Hewaited.'Nom?'A soft footfall sounded

behindhimandtotheleft.InonemotionRallick rolled onto his back, grasped hiscrossbow, sat up and fired.Theassassin,lessthanfifteenfeet away, was thrown backby the quarrel's impact, its

weaponflying.Rallick heaved himself to

oneside,onlynowseeingthesecond attacker well behindthefirst.Thefigurecrouchedand fired its crossbow. ThequarrelcaughtRallick'supperchest on the right, thenricocheteduppasthisheadtodisappear into the darkness.The blow left his right armnumb. He struggled to hisfeet, unsheathing his knife,

the hooked blade a blueflickerinthenight.The assassin opposite him

took a careful step forward,then backed away to the faredge and dropped over theside.'Hood's Breath,' came

Ocelot'svoicebesideRallick.Heturnedbutsawnoone.'He sawmymagic,' Ocelot

said. 'Goodwork on the first

one, Nom. Maybe we canfinally determine who thesepeopleare.''I don't think so,' Rallick

said, his eyes on themotionless body. Anincandescent shimmer nowwreathedit.As the body disappeared

Ocelot cursed. 'Somekindofrecall spell,' he said.Suddenly the Clan Masterappeared in front of Rallick.

His face twisted into a snarlas he glared about. 'We setthetrap,weendupdead.'Rallick did not reply. He

reached over his shoulder,pulled out the quarrel andtossed it to one side. Thetrappers had become thetrapped, thatwas true,buthefelt certain that the manwho'd followed him hadnothing to do with thesenewcomers. He turned and

gazedupattheroofwherehisfollower had been stationed.Evenashewatchedtherewasaflashofredandyellowlightandadoublethunderclap,andin that instant Rallick saw asilhouettedfigureattheroof'sedge, defending itself from afrontal attack. The flashwinked out leaving onlydarkness.'Magery,'Ocelotwhispered.

'High-powerstuff, too.Come

on,we'regettingoutofhere.'They left quickly, climbing

down into the warehousecourt.Once she had marked them,Sorry could find the fat littleman and the Coin Bearereffortlessly. Though she'dintended to trail this Kruppeafter leaving Kalam andQuick Ben in the hut,

something had drawn herinstead to the boy. Asuspicion, a sense that hisactions were – at least fornow – more important thanKruppe'smeanderings.The Coin Bearer was the

lastofOponn'sinfluence,andthegod'smostvitalplayer inthe game. Thus far, she'ddone well in eliminating theotherpotentialplayers–menlike Captain Paran, who had

been the Adjunct's aide and,byextension,aservanttotheEmpress.AndtherehadbeenthatClawLeaderinPale, theone shehadgarotted.Onherpath to the Bridgeburners,others had been removed aswell,butonlyasnecessary.She knew that the boy

would have to die, yetsomethingwithinher seemedtobefightingthatconclusion,and it was a part of her she

could not recognize. She'dbeen taken, born a killer twoyears ago on a coastal road.The body she dwelt withinwas convenient, suitablyunmarred by the events of adramatic life– ayounggirl'sbody, a young girl whosemind was no match for thepower that overwhelmed it,obliteratedit.But was it obliterated?

What had the coin touched

inside her?Andwhose voicewasthisthatspokewithsuchpower and determination inher head? It had come uponher before, whenWhiskeyjack had uttered thewordSeer.She triedhard to remember

any dealings she might havehadwithaseerinthelasttwoyears,butnonecametomind.Shepulledhercloaktighter

about her shoulders. Finding

theboyhadbeeneasy,butastowhathewasupto,thatwasanother matter. On thesurface it looked no morecomplicated than a simpletheft.Crokushadstood inanalley studying a lightedwindow on the third floor ofan estate, waiting until thelight went out. Wrapped inunnatural shadows as shewas,hehadnotseenherashescaled the slick wall she

leaned against. He climbedwith impressive grace andskill.After he'd gone she found

another vantage-point, whichallowed her full view of theroom's balcony and slidingdoors. This had meantentering the estate's garden.But there had been only oneguard,patrollingthegrounds.She'd killed him effortlesslyandnowstoodbeneatha tree

withhereyesonthebalcony.Crokushadalreadyreached

it, had picked the lock andentered the roombeyond.Hewas quite good, she had toadmit. But what thief wouldthen spend close to half anhour in the chamber he wasrobbing? Half an hour andstill counting.She'dheardnoalarms, seen no lights springto life behind any of theestate's other windows,

nothing to indicate thatanythinghadgonewrong.Sowhat was Crokus doing inthere?Sorrystiffened.Sorceryhad

burgeoned in another part ofDarujhistan, and its flavourwas known to her. Shehesitated, unable to decide.Leave the ladand investigatethis new, deadly emanation?Or remain here until Crokusre-emerged or was

discovered?Then she saw something

behind the balcony's slidingdoors that ended herindecision.SweatrandownCrokus'sfaceand he found he hadrepeatedlytowipeitfromhiseyes. He'd beaten the newtriggers to get inside – theone on the balcony, the trip-

wire at the latch – and nowpadded to the makeup table.Oncetherehefroze,unabletomove.Idiot!Whatam1doinghere?He listened to her soft,

regular breathing behind him– like thebreathofadragon–hewascertainhecouldfeelitgustingagainst thebackofhis neck. Crokus looked upand scowled at his ownreflectioninthemirror.What

was happening to him? If hedidn'tleavesoon...Hebeganto remove his bag's contents.When he'd finished heglancedagainathisownface– to see another behind it, around, white face watchinghimfromthebed.The girl spoke. 'Since

you're putting it all back, I'dprefer the properarrangement.Mymakeup jargoestotheleftofthemirror,'

she said, in a whisper. 'Thehairbrush goes to the right.Have you my earrings aswell? Just leave them on thedresser.'Crokus groaned. He'd even

forgotten to cover his face.'Don't try anything,' hegrowled. 'I've returnedeverything, and now I'llleave.Understand?'Thegirlpulledherblankets

about her and moved to the

bed's end. 'Threats won'twork, thief,' she said. 'All Ineed do is scream and myfather's Master Guardsmanwill be here in seconds.Wouldyoucrossyourdaggerwithhisshortsword?''No,'saidCrokus. 'I'dput it

to your throat instead. Withyou as a hostage, with youbetween me and the guard,will he swing his blade atme?Unlikely.'

The girl paled. 'As a thief,you'd lose a hand. Butkidnapping a high-born, it'dbethehighgallowsforyou.'Crokus tried to shrug

casually. He glanced at thebalcony,gauginghowfasthecouldbeoutside and thenupon the roof. That new trip-wirewasanuisance.'Stay where you are,' the

girlcommanded.'I'mlightingalantern.'

'Why?' Crokus demanded,fidgeting.'To see you better,' she

replied, and light bloomed inthe room from the lantern inherlap.He scowled. He hadn't

noticed it there, so close athand. She was ruining hisplans even as hemade them.'What'sthepointinseeingmebetter?' he snarled. 'Just callyour damn guards and have

mearrested.Bedonewithit.'Hepulledthesilkturbanfromhisshirtanddroppeditonthetabletop. 'That's all of it,' hesaid.The girl glanced at the

turban and shrugged easily.'That was to be part of mycostume for the Fete,' shesaid. 'I'vesincefoundanicerone.''What,' he hissed, 'do you

wantwithme?'

Fear showed momentarilyon her face at his desperateoutburst, then she smiled. 'Iwish to know why a thiefwhosucceededinstealingallmy jewels should now bereturning them. That isn'tsomethingthievesusuallydo.''With good reason,' he

muttered, more to himselfthan to her. He steppedforward then stopped as shejerkedbackontoherbed,her

eyeswidening.Crokusraisedahand.'Sorry,didn'tmeantofrighten you. Only ... I wanttoseeyoubetter.That'sall.''Why?'He was at a loss for an

answer to that. After all, hecouldn't very well tell herhe'dfallenmadlyinlovewithher. 'What's your name?' heblurted.'Challice D'Arle. What's

yours?'Challice. 'Of course,' he

said, rolling his eyes. 'Youwould be named somethinglike that.' He glared at her.'My name? None of yourbusiness. Thieves don'tintroduce themselves to theirvictims.'Her eyebrows rose.

'Victim?But I'm no longer avictim, am I? You've settledthat by returning. I'd think,'

shesaidslyly,'you'remoreorless obliged to tell me yourname, considering whatyou're doing. And you mustbe the type who treatsobligations seriously, nomatter how strange theyseem.'Crokus frowned at that.

Whatwas she talking about?What did she know abouthowhelookedatobligations?Andwhywas she right? 'My

name,'hesighed,defeated,'isCrokus Younghand. Andyou're the daughter of thehigh born D'Arle who allthose suitors are lining up tobeintroducedto.Butonedayyou'll see me in that line,Challice, and only you willknowwhereyoulastsawme.It'll be a formal introduction,and I'll bring a gift as iscorrect.' He stared at her,horrifiedbyhisownwords.

Her wide eyes held his,emotion bright in them –emotion he'd no hope ofunderstanding – then sheburst out laughing. Sheimmediately clapped a handover her mouth, then joltedforward on the bed. 'You'dbetter go, Crokus. Someonewillhaveheardme.Quickly,andbewarethetrip-wire!'Crokusmovedwoodenlyto

the balcony's sliding doors.

Her laughter had been thefinal punctuation to all hisdreams. He felt dead inside,except for a cynic's chucklethatmighthavebeenhisown,given theodd lookshe threwhim. Her blankets had fallendown around her, and onceagain she was naked. Itastonished him in a distantway that she hadn't evenseemedtonotice.Avoicecame frombeyond

the door leading to thehallway,indistinct.Thegirlhissed, 'Hurry,you

fool!'Alarm bells jangled in his

head,awakeninghim.Hehadto move, and fast. Crokussteppedoverthetrip-wireandopened the door. He pausedto glance back at her, andsmiled as she clutched theblanketstoherneck.Well,atleasthe'dwonthatmuch.

A knock sounded on theoppositedoor.Crokus emerged on to the

balcony and hitched himselfup on to the railing. Helooked down into the gardenand almost fell. The guardwasgone.Inhisplacestoodawoman–and,thoughshewascloaked,somethingabouthertriggered instant recognition.Thewomanfromthebar,andshewas looking right at him

with dark eyes that burnedhimdeepinside.The door in the room

opened and Crokus shookhimself. Damn that woman,anyway!Damnbothof them!He grasped the eaves abovehisheadandswunglithelyupandoutofsight.Kalam crouched motionlessinthemiddleoftherooftop,a

knife in each hand. Aroundhimwassilence,thenightairtense and heavy. Longminutes passed. At times heconvinced himself he wasalone,thatQuickBenandtheotherwizardhadlefttheroof;thattheyhuntedeachotherinthe sky overhead, or in thealleys and streets below, oronanotherroof.Butthenhe'dhear something, a drawnbreath, a scuff of cloth

against leather, or a wisp ofwind would brush his cheekonthiswindlessnight.Then, before his eyes, the

darkness was shattered. Twoshapes appeared hoveringovertherooftop.Theassassinhad found Quick Ben,attacking with a bolt of firethat seemed to stun thewizard, then swiftly closingthe distance between himselfandthedazedman.

Kalam surged forward tointercept. Quick Benvanished then reappearedimmediately behind theassassin. The blue flash ofpower bursting from thewizard's hands struck themagic-wielding assassin fullin the back. Clothes aflame,theman tumbled through theair.Quick Ben whirled to

Kalam. 'Come on! Get

moving!'Kalamran,hisfriendflying

beside him. As they reachedtheroof'sedgeheturnedforalast look. The assassin magehadsomehowsnuffedthefirefrom his clothes and wasregaining his balance.At thefaredge twoofhiscomradesappeared.'Jump,'QuickBensaid. 'I'll

stallthem.'

'With what?' Kalamdemanded, tottering on theedge.In answer Quick Ben

produced a small vial. Hespunintheairandhurledit.Kalamcursed,thenjumped.The vial struck the rooftop

and shattered with a thintinkle. Beyond, the threeassassins paused. Quick Benremained, his eyes on the

white smoke rising from theglass shards. A figure tookform within the smoke,growinginsize.Itsshapewasalmost insubstantial, thesmoke stretching like threadsinplaces,curlinglikewoolinothers. All that was visiblewithin it was its eyes, twoblackslits,whichitswungtoQuickBen.'You,' it said, its voice that

of a child, 'are not Master

Tayschrenn.''That's right,' Quick Ben

said, 'but I'm in his legion.YourserviceremainswiththeEmpire.' He pointed acrosstheroof.'Therearethreewhoare the Empire's enemies,Demon. Tiste Andii, here toopposetheMalazanEmpire.''My name is Pearl,' the

Korvalah demon said softly,then turned to the threeassassins,whohadspreadout

along the far edge. 'They arenotfleeing,'Pearlsaid,withanoteofsurprise.Quick Ben wiped sweat

from his forehead. Heglanced down. Kalam was avague shape waiting in thealleybelow. 'Iknow,'hesaidtoPearl.Thatobservationhadunnervedhimaswell.OneofTayschrenn's Korvalahraicould level a city if it sochose.

'Theyacceptmychallenge,'Pearl said, facingQuickBenagain.'ShouldIpitythem?''No,'heanswered. 'Justkill

themandbedonewithit.''Then I return to Master

Tayschrenn.''Yes.''What is your name,

Wizard?'Hehesitated,thensaid,'Ben

AdaephonDelat.'

'You are supposed to bedead,'Pearl said. 'YournameissomarkedonthescrollsofthoseHighMageswhofelltotheEmpireinSevenCities.'Quick Ben glanced up.

'Others are coming, Pearl.Youareinforafight.'The demon lifted its gaze.

Above them glowing figuresdescended, five in the firstwave,oneinthesecond.Thislast one radiated such power

that Quick Ben shrank back,his blood chilled. The figurehad something long andnarrowstrappedtoitsback.'BenAdaephonDelat,'Pearl

said plaintively, 'see the lastwho comes.You sendme tomydeath.''I know,' Quick Ben

whispered.'Flee,then.Iwillholdthem

enoughtoensureyourescape,

nomore.'QuickBen sank down past

theroof.Beforehepassedfromsight

Pearl spoke again. 'BenAdaephonDelat, doyoupityme?''Yes,'herepliedsoftly,then

pivoted and dropped downintodarkness.Rallick walked down the

centreofthestreet.Oneithersideofthewidecorridorrosecolumns from which gastorches jutted, casting circlesof blue light on to the wetcobblestones. The light rainhad returned, coatingeverything in a slick sheen.To his right and beyond theresident houses lining thatside of the street, the paledomes of the High Thalantion the hill glistened against

thedeepgreysky.The templewas among the

oldest structures in the city,its founding blocks over twothousand years old. TheThalanti monks had come,like so many others, carriedon the wings of the rumour.Rallick knew less about thestory than did Murillio andColl. One of the ElderPeopleswasbelievedtohavebeen entombed among the

hills, an individual of greatwealth and power, that wastheextentofhisknowledge.But it had been a rumour

with many consequences. Ifnotforthethousandsofshaftssunk into the earth thecaverns of gas would neverhave been found. And whilemany of those shafts hadcollapsed or had beenforgotten over the centuries,still others remained, now

connectedbytunnels.In one of the many

chambers that honeycombedthe ground beneath thetemple waited Vorcan,Master of Assassins. Rallickimagined Ocelot making hisdescent, burdened with thenews of disaster, and itbrought a smile to his leanface.He'dnevermetVorcan,but Ocelot suited thosecatacombs – just another of

the city's rats rushing aboutbeneathhisfeet.Oneday,Rallickknew,he'd

become a Clan Leader, he'dmeet Vorcan face to facesomewhere below. Hewondered at how it wouldchange him, and travellingdown this path soured histhoughtswithdispleasure.Hehadnooption.Once,he

thought,asheapproachedtheblock of the Phoenix Inn,

longago,there'dbeenchoiceshe could have made thatwould have sent him on adifferentpath.Butthosedayswere dead, and the futureheld only nights, a stretch ofdarknessthatleddowntotheeternal dark. He would meetVorcan, eventually, and he'dswear his life to the GuildMaster, and that would bethat, the closing of the finaldoor.

Andhissenseofoutrageattheinjusticesaroundhim,thecorruptions of the world,would wither in the unlittunnels beneath Darujhistan.In the exactness of themethods of assassination, hisfinalvictimwouldbehimself.And this, more than

anything, made his andMurillio'sschemethe lastactof humanity he'd ever make.Betrayal was the greatest of

all crimes in Rallick's mind,forittookallthatwashumanwithinapersonandmadeitathing of pain. In the face ofthat, murder itself wassurcease: itwasquick, and itendedtheanguishanddespairof a life without hope. If allwentasplanned,LadySimtaland those men who'dconspired with her in thebetrayalofherhusband,LordColl, would die. Could that

rightthewrong,coulditeventhe scales of retribution?No,but it might return to a manhislifeandhishope.For himself, Rallick, such

giftshadlongsincebeenlost,and he was not the kind ofman to stir the ashes. Noembers survived, no flamecould be born anew. Lifebelongedtootherpeople,andhis only claim to it was hispower to take it from them.

Norwouldherecognizehopeifitcametohim.Toomuchastranger,toolongaghost.As he neared the inn's

entrance,Rallick sawCrokusapproaching from down thestreet.He increasedhispace.'Crokus,'hecalled.The boy flinched, then,

seeing Rallick, he stoppedandwaited.Rallick took his arm and

steeredhimtowardsthealleywithout saying aword.Oncein the shadows he tightenedhisgrip,swungCrokusroundand pulled him close. 'Listento me,' he hissed, his faceinches from the boy's ownastonishedvisage,'theGuild'sbestwereslaughteredtonight.This isn't a game. You stayoff the rooftops, do youunderstandme?'Crokusnodded.

'And tell your uncle this.There'saClawinthecity.'Theboy'seyeswidened.'And,' Rallick continued,

'there's someone else.Someone coming down fromthe sky, killing everything insight.''UncleMammot?''Just tell him. And now

listencarefully,Crokus.WhatI'mabouttosayisfrommeto

you,onetoone,understand?'Crokus nodded again, his

facepale.'You stay on this path and

you'll end up dead. I don'tgive a damn how exciting itallseems–what'sexcitementto you is desperation toothers. Stop feeding off thecity's lifeblood, lad. There'sno hero's role in suckingothersdry.AmIunderstood?'

'Yes,'Crokuswhispered.Rallick released the boy's

armand steppedback. 'Now,leave.' He shoved Crokus upthe street, watched the boystagger away and disappeararound a corner. He drew adeepbreath,surprised to findhis hands trembling as heloosenedhiscloak'scollar.Murillio stepped from the

shadows. 'I'm not sure it'llwork, friend, but it was a

good try.' He laid a hand onthe assassin's shoulder.'Master Baruk has a job forus. Kruppe insists we bringCrokusalong.'Rallick frowned. 'Along?

Are we leaving Darujhistan,then?''Afraidso.''Go without me,' Rallick

said. 'Tell Baruk I can't befound. Everything's at a

critical juncture – ourplanningincluded.''Something else happening,

Nom?''You heard the message I

gaveCrokusforhisuncle?'Murillio shook his head. 'I

camelate toyourscene.Sawyoudragging the lad into thealley.''Well,'Rallicksaid, 'let'sgo

inside. It's been a night to

makeHoodsmile,friend.'Together, the two men

strode from the alley. In thestreet outside the PhoenixInn, dawn's light creptthrough the mists of thelingeringrain.In the centre of the rooftoplay a large patch of ash andbonethatcrackledfaintlyandcast out the occasional

hissing spark. AnomanderRakeslammedhisswordintoits sheath. 'I sent twelve ofyou,' he said, to the black-caped figure standing besidehim, 'and I see but eight.Whathappened,Serrat?'TheTisteAndiiwomanwas

clearly exhausted. 'We'vebeenworkinghard,Lord.''Details,' Rake said

abruptly.

Serratsighed. 'Jekaralhasabroken neck and threecracked ribs.Boruld's face isa mess, broken nose, brokencheekbone,brokenjaw—''Who were they fighting?'

Rake asked, turning to hislieutenant in exasperation.'Has the Guild Master comeoutofhiding?''No,Lord.BothJekaraland

Boruld fell to a single man,notofthecity'sGuild.'

Rake's eyes flasheddangerously.'Claw?''Possibly. He was

accompanied by a HighMage. The onewho gave usthisKprvalahtoplaywith.''It had the smell of Empire

about it,' Rake muttered, hisgaze on the smoulderingpatchthathadbeguntoeatitsway into the roof. 'One ofTayschrenn's conjurings, Ishould think.' A savage grin

flashed. 'Pity to havedisturbedhissleepthisnight.''Dashtal was struck by a

poisonedquarrel,'Serratsaid.'One of the Guild's assassinsmanaged that.' She hesitated.'Lord.Wewere hard pressedin Brood's campaign. We'reinneedofrest.Mistakesweremade thisnight.Someof theGuild slipped through ourfingers and, had you notanswered my request, we

would have suffered morecasualties destroying thisdemon.'Rake placed his hands on

his hips and surveyed themorningsky.Afteramomenthe sighed. 'Ah, Serrat. Don'tthinkme insensitive. But theGuild Master must beflushed. This Guild must beshut down.' He eyed hislieutenant. 'This Claw youencountered, do you think a

meetwasbeingestablished?''Not a meet,' Serrat

answered.'Atrap.'Rake nodded. 'Good.' He

paused, his eyes matchingSerrat'swithashadeofviolet.'Return to Moon's Spawn,then.HavetheHighPriestessherselfattendtoJekaral.'Serrat bowed. 'Thank you,

Lord.' She turned andgesturedtotheothers.

'Oh,' Rake said, raising hisvoice to address his cadre ofassassin-mages, 'one lastthing. You've done well,exceptionally well. You'veearnedarest.Threedaysandnightsareyourstodowithasyouplease.'Serrat bowed again. 'We

willmourn,Lord.''Mourn?''Thepoisonedquarrelkilled

Dashtal. The poison was theproduct of an alchemist,Lord.Oneof someability. Itcontainedparalt.''Isee.''Willyoureturnwithus?''No.'The lieutenant bowed a

third time. As one, the eightTisteAndiiraisedtheirhands,thenvanished.Rake glanced down at the

sizzling patch just as it atethrough theroofandfell intodarkness. There came a faintcrash from below. LordAnomander Rake swung hisgaze back to the sky, thensighed.SergeantWhiskeyjackrockedhis chair on to its back twolegs and anchored it againstthe crumbling wall. Thesmall, dingy room reeked of

urine and damp. Two singlebeds, wood-framed withburlapmattressesstuffedwithstraw, ran along the wall tohis left. The three otherricketychairshadbeenpulledup around the lone table inthe room's centre.Above thetable hung an oil lantern,which shone down onFiddler,HedgeandMallet astheysatplayingcards.They'd done their work,

finishing with the coming ofdusk just outside MajestyHall. Until the alliance withthe Moranth, the Malazansaboteur had been nothingmore than a glorified sapper,a digger of tunnels andbreakerofcitygates.Moranthalchemy had introduced tothe Empire a variety ofchemical and powderexplosives, most of whichdetonated when exposed to

air.Applyingaslow-workingacid worm-holed the unfiredclay shells. Sabotage hadbecome an art, the preciseequation of clay thicknessand acid strengthwas tricky,and few survived to learnfromtheirmistakes.To Whiskeyjack's mind,

Hedge and Fiddler wereterrible soldiers. He hadtroublerecallingthelast timethey'd unsheathed their

shortswords. Whateverdiscipline that had been partof their basic training haddisintegratedthroughyearsinthe field. Still, when it cameto sabotage they had noequals.Through hooded eyes

Whiskeyjackstudiedthethreemensittingatthetable.Ithadbeensomeminutessinceanyof themhadmadeamoveorsaidaword.OneofFiddler's

new games, he decided, theman was forever inventingnew ones, improvising theruleswhenevertheygavehiman edge. Despite the endlessarguments Fiddler was nevershortofplayers.'And that's what boredom

can do,' he said to himself.But,no,itwasmorethanjustboredom. Waiting gnawed,especially when it had to dowith friends. Quick Ben and

Kalammightbefacedowninsomealleyforall theyknew.Andthatmadeithard.Whiskeyjack's gaze strayed

tooneof thebeds, onwhichlay his armour andlongsword. Rust stained thehauberk's tattered chain likeold blood. The links weremissing in some places, tornin others. In his bones andmuscles the memory of thatdamage remained: every cut,

everyblownowhauntedhimwithaches,greetinghimeachmorning like old comrades.The sword, with its plainleather-wrappedgripandstubhilt,layinitshide-over-woodscabbard, the belt and strapsdrapedoverthebedside.That weapon had come to

him after his first battle,found amid a field of dead.He'dstillhadthechalkofhisfather's quarry on his boots

then, and a world's promisestretched out before him onthe banners of Empire. Theswordhadcometohimshiny,without even so much as anick in its honed blade, andhe had taken it as his ownpersonalstandard.Whiskeyjack's gaze lost its

focus. His mind had steppedintothegrey,muddytracksofhis youth, where he walkedthe familiar path, lost and

blinded by an unidentifiablesorrow.The door flew open,

carrying into theroomagustofsteamyairandthenTrotts.TheBarghast'scoal-darkeyesmetthesergeant's.Whiskeyjackstoodquickly.

He went to the bed andretrieved his sword. At thetable the others remainedintent on their card game,theironlybetrayalofanxiety

a subtle shifting of chairs.Whiskeyjack pushed pastTrotts andclosed thedoor toa crack, through which helooked. Across the street, atthe mouth of an alley, twofigures crouched, the largerleaning heavily against theother. Whiskeyjack's breathhissed through his teeth.'Mallet,' he said over hisshoulder.At the table the healer

frownedatthetwosaboteurs,then carefully set down hiscards.Thetwofiguresinthealley

crossed the street.Whiskeyjack's hand crept togriphissword.'Which?' Mallet asked, as

herearrangedtheblanketsononeofthebeds.'Kalam,' the sergeant

replied.Thetwomenreached

thedoorandheswungitwidetoletthemthrough,thenshutit again. He beckoned atTrotts, who walked over tothecurtainedwindow,pullingback a corner to watch thestreet.Kalam was pale, sagging

against Quick Ben. Theassassin'sdarkgreyshirtwassoaked with blood. Malletmovedtohelpthewizardandtogether they carried Kalam

to the bed. As soon as thehealer had him laid out, hewaved Quick Ben away andbegan removing Kalam'sshirt.Quick Ben shook his head

atWhiskeyjackandsatdownin the chair Mallet hadoccupied. 'What's the game?'heasked,pickingupMallet'scards and frowning as hestudiedthem.Neither Hedge nor Fiddler

replied.'Noidea,'Whiskeyjacksaid,

as he walked over to standbehind Mallet. 'They just sitandstare.'Quick Ben grinned. 'Ah, a

waitinggame, right,Fid?'Heleaned back comfortably andstretchedouthislegs.Mallet glanced up at the

sergeant. 'He'llbedownforawhile,' the healer said. 'The

woundisclean,buthe'slostalotofblood.'Crouching, Whiskeyjack

studied the assassin's pallidface. Kalam's gaze remainedsharp, focused on thesergeant.'Well?'Whiskeyjackdemanded.'Whathappened?'QuickBenansweredbehind

him.'Hadabitofamagedueloutthere.'Kalam nodded in

confirmation.'And?' Whiskeyjack asked,

straightening to glare at thewizard.QuickBenwiltedslightlyin

his chair. 'Itwent sour. Ihadto release an Empire demontogetusoutalive.'Everyone in the roomwent

still. At the window Trottsturned and made a tribalwarding gesture, tracing the

woadlinesonhisface.Whiskeyjack's voice was

soft.'It'slooseinthecity?''No,' the wizard answered.

'It'sdead.''Who did you run into?'

Whiskeyjack bellowed,throwinguphishands.'Not sure exactly,' Quick

Bensaidquietly.'Whateveritwas,ittookcareofthedemoninless thanaminute.Iheard

the death cry when we wereonly a block away. Assassinmages, Sergeant, comingdownoutof thesky.Seemedintentonwipingoutthecity'sGuild.'Whiskeyjackreturnedtohis

chairanddropped into it, thewood complaining beneathhim. 'From the sky. TisteAndii.''Yes,' Quick Ben muttered.

'Wethoughtthat.Thesorcery

had that flavour. Old, darkandicycold.KuraldGalain.''Fromwhatwesaw,'Kalam

added,'theydidadamngoodjob. No contact established,Sergeant. It was messy upthere.''So theMoon'sactivehere.'

Whiskeyjack paused, thenpoundedhisfistonthechair'sarm. 'Worse, theMoon's lordis a move ahead of us. Hereckoned we'd try to contact

the Guild, so what does hedo?''Takes out the Guild,'

Kalam said. 'How's that forarrogance?''Whatever arrogance that

lord has,' Whiskeyjack said,grimacing, 'he's earned it. I'llgive him that. Iwonder howgood this city'sGuildMasteris – good enough to take onTisteAndii?Unlikely.'

'Andabout theother thing,'QuickBensaid.'Itworked.'The sergeant stared at the

wizard for half a dozenseconds,thennodded.'We also ran into Sorry,'

Kalam said, wincing asMallet pressed a handon hiswound. The healer mutteredunderhisbreath.'Oh? I sent her after some

fat man she thought was

important.Howcomesheranintoyoutwo?'Quick Ben's brows had

risen. 'So she told the truth,then.Wedon'tknowhowshefoundus,butshe'd found theman we were looking for –andgavehimtous.'Mallet raised his hand.

Where the wound had beenthere was now a pink scar.Kalamgruntedhisthanksandsatup.

Whiskeyjack tapped hisfingers against the chair'sarm. 'If we only knew whowas running this damn city,wecouldtryitourselves.'The assassin sniffed. 'Ifwe

start taking out Councilmembers, maybe we'll flushouttherealrulers.'The sergeant frowned. 'Not

bad,' he said, rising to hisfeet. 'Work on that. TheMoon's lord knows we're

here, now, with that demonpopping up. We'll have tomovefast.'Fiddlerspokeup,'Wecould

blow up Majesty Hall,' hesaid,smirkingatHedge.'You've got enough

munitions to manage that?'Whiskeyjackasked.Fiddler'sfacefell.'Well,uh,

we'vegot enough to takeoutan estate, maybe. But if we

pullupsomeoftheminesweplanted...'Whiskeyjack sighed. 'This

is getting absurd. No, weleave things as they are.' Hewatchedthenon-existentcardgame. It seemed to involvecomplete immobility. Astand-off.Thesergeant'seyesnarrowed.Weretheytryingtotellhimsomething?

Orange and yellow hues littheeasternhorizon,castingacopperysheenuponthecity'sbricks and cobbles. Apartfromthedrippingofwaterthestreetswerequiet, thoughthefirst emergings of citizenrywere minutes away. Soonthose farmers who haddepleted their supplies ofgrains, fruits and root cropswould take to their carts andwagons and depart the city.

Merchant shops and stallswould open to catch themorningwaveofshoppers.ThroughoutDarujhistan the

Greyfaces prepared to shutthe valves feeding gas to thetorches lining the majoravenues. These figuresmoved in small groups,gatheringatintersectionsthendispersingwiththeday'sfirstbell.Sorry watched Crokus

wearily ascend a tenement'sfront steps. She stood half ablockdown the street,withinshadows that seemedreluctant to disappear despitethegrowinglight.A shortwhile earlier, she'd

felttheEmpiredemon'sdeathstrike her almost physically,deep in her chest. Normallydemons fled back to theirrealm once enough damagehad been inflicted on them,

enough to sever the links ofsummoning. But theKorvalahhadnotbeensimplycut down, or forciblydismissed. There'd been afinalitytoitsendthathadlefther shaken.A death in truth.She still recalled its silent,despairing scream ringing inherhead.All the ambivalence

surrounding the Coin Bearerwas gone, driven away. She

knew now she would killhim. It had to be done, andsoon. All that remainedbefore she could do so wasthemysteryofhisactions.TowhatextentwasOponnusingtheboy?She knew he'd seen her in

the D'Arles' garden, justbefore he'd escaped to theestate's roof. Seeing the lightcomeonbehindthebalcony'sslidingdoorshadclinchedher

decision to continuefollowingCrokus.TheD'Arlefamily was powerful inDarujhistan. That the boyseemed to be involved in aclandestine love affair withthe daughter was anoutrageous proposition, yetwhat else could sheconclude? So, the questionremained: was Oponnworking through the boydirectly, insinuating a

peculiar influence with theCity Council? What powersof influence did this youngmaidenpossess?Only a matter of position,

ofpossiblescandal.Yetwhatwas the political position ofCouncilman EstraysianD'Arle? Sorry realized thateven though she'd learnedmuch of Darujhistan'spoliticalarenashestilldidnotknowenoughtosecond-guess

Oponn's moves. CouncilmanD'Arle was Turban Orr'sprincipal opposition on thisproclamation-of-neutralitybusiness – but what did thatmatter?TheMalazanEmpirecould not care less. Unlessthe proclamation was nomore than a feint. Was thisTurbanOrrseekingtolaythegroundwork for an Empire-backedcoup?The answers to such

questions would be slow incoming.Sheknewshe'dhaveto exercise patience. Ofcourse, patience was herfinest quality. She'd hopedthat showing herself toCrokus a second time, therein the garden, might triggerpanic in the lad – or, at thevery least, annoy Oponn ifindeed the god's control wasasdirectasthat.Sorryhadwatchedon,from

theshadowsshedrewaroundher, as the assassin namedRallick took the lad to task.She'd also lingered to catchthe conversation betweenRallick and Murillio. Itseemed the boy hadprotectors, and an odd lotthey were, assuming that thefat little man, Kruppe, wassome kind of group leader.HearingthattheyweretotakeCrokus out of the city on

behalf of their 'master' madethewholesituationevenmoreintriguing.She knew she'd have to

make her move soon. Theprotection offered byKruppeand this Murillio would notimpede her much, sheexpected. Though Kruppewas certainly more than heseemed, violence hardlyseemedhismajorskill.She would kill Crokus,

then,outsidethecity.Assoonas she discovered the natureof their mission, and whotheirmasterwas.As soon aseverything had fallen intoplace.Sergeant Whiskeyjack

would have to wait a whilelonger for her return. Sorrysmiled at that, knowing fullwell how relieved the wholesquadwould be that shewasnowhere to be seen. As for

thatwholematter–thethreatpresented by Quick Ben andKalam – well, everything initsowntime.Alchemist Baruk's savagemigraine was ebbing.Whatever presence had beenunleashed in the city wasgone. He sat in his readingchair, pressing a cloth-wrappedchunkoficeagainsthis forehead. It had been a

conjuring. He felt certain ofthat.Theemanationsstankofdemonry. But there'd beenmore.Themomentbeforethepresencevanished,Barukhadexperienced amentalwrenchthat came close to drivinghimintounconsciousness.He'd shared the creature's

final death scream, his ownshriek echoing down the hallandbringinghismen-at-armsshoutingtohisbedroomdoor.

Baruk felt a wrongness,deepwithinhim,asifhissoulhad been battered. For asingle, brief second, he'dlooked upon a world ofabsolute darkness, and fromthat darkness came sounds,the creak of woodenwheels,the clank of chains, thegroans of a thousandimprisonedsouls.Thenitwasgone, and he found himselfsitting in his chair, Roald

kneeling at his side with apailoficefromthecellar.He now sat in his study,

alone, and the ice pressedagainst his brow was warmcompared to what he felt inhisheart.There was a knock at the

door, and Roald entered, hisface creased with worry.'Lord,youhaveavisitor.''I have? At this hour?' He

roseshakilytohisfeet. 'Whoisit?''Lord Anomander Rake.'

Roald hesitated. 'And ...another.'Frowning, Baruk waved a

hand.'Bringthemin.''Yes,Lord.'Rake entered, holding a

dog-sizedwingedcreaturebythe nape of its neck. Thecreature twisted and hissed,

then turned pleading eyes toBaruk.'This thing was following

mehere,'Rakesaid.'Yours?'Startled, Baruk managed a

nod.'I thought as much,' Rake

said, releasing the demon toflapacrosstheroomandlandat the alchemist's slipperedfeet.Baruk gazed down on it.

Thedemonwastrembling.Rake strode to a chair and

sat, stretching out his longlegs.'Abusynight,'hesaid.Baruk gestured and the

demon vanished with a faintpopping sound. 'Indeed,' hesaid, his voice hard. 'Myservant was on a mission. Ihad no idea itwould involveyou.'Hewenttostandbeforethe Tiste Andii. 'Why wereyou in the middle of an

assassinwar?''Why not?' Rake answered.

'Istartedit.''What?'He smiled up at Baruk.

'Youdon'tknowtheEmpressaswellasIdo,Baruk.''Pleaseexplain.'Colourhad

riseninthealchemist'sface.Rakelookedaway.'Tellme

this, Baruk,' he said, turningtomeet the alchemist's gaze,

'whointhiscityismostlikelyto be aware of your secretcouncil? And who mightbenefit the most from yourremoval? And, mostimportantly, who in this cityiscapableofkillingyou?'Baruk did not answer

immediately. He walkedslowly to the table, where anewly paintedmap had beenlaid out. He leaned over it,hands resting on the edge.

'You suspect the Empressmight seek out Vorcan,' hesaid.'Acontracttooffer.''Onyou and the rest of the

High Mages,' Rake said,behindhim.'TheEmpresshassentaClawhere,notsomuchtoworryyourcity'sdefences,but to establish contact withtheMasterAssassin. Iwasn'tentirely certain that I wasright in this, but I meant topreventthatcontact.'

Baruk's eyes remained onthe map's red wash. 'So yousent your own assassins towipe out herGuild. To flushherout.'HefacedRake.'Andthen what? Kill her? All onthebasisofsomesuspicionofyours?''This night,' Rake said

calmly, 'we prevented theClaw from making thatcontact. Your demon's reportwill confirm this. Besides,

youaren't suggesting that thedeath of Vorcan and thedecimation of the city'sassassins is a bad thing, areyou?''I fear I am.' Baruk was

pacing, struggling against agrowing sense of outrage. 'ImaynotknowtheEmpressaswell as you, Rake,' he said,gritting his teeth, 'but I doknow this city – far betterthanyoueverwill.'Heglared

at the Tiste Andii. 'To you,Darujhistan is just anotherbattleground for your privatewar with the Empress. Youdon'tgiveadamnabouthowthiscitysurvives–howithasmanaged to survive threethousandyears.'Rake shrugged. 'Enlighten

me.''The City Council has its

function,avitalone.Theyarethe city's machine. True,

Majesty Hall is a place ofpettiness, corruption, endlessbickeringbut,despiteallthat,it's also a placewhere thingsgetdone.''What's that got to do with

Vorcan and her gang ofkillers?'Baruk grimaced. 'Like any

burdened wagon, the wheelsrequire grease. Without theoption of assassination thenoble families would have

long since destroyedthemselves, taking the citywith them, throughcivilwar.Secondly, the Guild'sefficiencyprovidesameasureof control on vendettas,arguments and so forth. It isthe guaranteed option ofbloodshed, and bloodshed ismessy.Usuallytoomessyforthenobility'ssensibilities.''Curious,' Rake said.

'Nevertheless,don'tyouthink

thatVorcanwouldlistenverycarefully indeed to an offerfrom the Empress? After all,Laseen has the precedent ofhanding over the rule of aconqueredcitytoanassassin.In fact,at leasta thirdofherpresentHighFistscomefromthatprofession.''Youaremissingthepoint!'

Baruk's face was dark. 'Youdid not consult us, and thatcannotbetolerated.'

'You haven't answered me,'Rakeretorted,inavoicequietandcold.'WouldVorcantakethe contract? Could shemanage it? Is she that good,Baruk?'Thealchemist turnedaway.

'I don't know. That's myanswer,toallthreequestions.'Rake stared hard at Baruk.

'If you were indeed nothingmore than an alchemist, Imightbelieveyou.'

Baruk's smile was wry.'Why would you think meanythingbut?'Now it was Rake's turn to

smile. 'There are few whowouldarguewithmewithoutflinching. I am unused to beaddressedasanequal.''There are many paths to

Ascendancy, some moresubtle than others.' Barukwalked over to the mantelabove the fireplace, took a

carafe, thenwent to the shelfbehindhisdeskandretrievedtwo crystal goblets. 'She's aHigh Mage. We all havemagicaldefences,butagainsther...' He filled the gobletswithwine.Rake joined the alchemist.

He accepted the glass andraised it between them. 'Iapologize for not informingyou. In truth, the thoughthadn't crossed my mind as

being especially important.Untiltonight,Iwasactingona theory, nothing more. Ididn't consider the ripples agroundedGuildmightcause.'Baruk sipped his wine.

'Anomander Rake, tell mesomething. There was apresenceinourcitytonight–aconjuring.''One of Tayschrenn's

Korvalah demons,' Rakeanswered. 'Released by a

Claw wizard.' He took amouthfulofthetartliquid,letit roll for a moment, thenswallowed with satisfaction.'It'sgone.''Gone?' Baruk asked

quietly.'Where?''OutofTayschrenn'sreach,'

Rakesaid,atightsmileonhislips.'Outofanyone'sreach.''Your sword,' Baruk said,

repressing a shiver as the

memoryofthatclosingvisionreturnedtohim.Thecreakofwheels, the clank of chains,thegroansof a thousand lostsouls.Anddarkness.'Oh, yes,' Rake said,

refillinghisgoblet.'Ireceivedthe two Pale wizards' heads.As you promised. I admireyour efficiency, Baruk. Didtheyprotest?'Barukpaled. 'Iexplainedto

them the options,' he said

quietly. 'No, they didn'tprotest.'Rake'ssoftlaughchilledthe

bloodinBaruk'sveins.At the distant sound Krupperose.The small fire flickeredsteadily before him, but itsheat seemed less. 'Ah,' hesighed, 'Kruppe's hands arenearnumb,yethisearsareassharp as ever. Listen to this

faintsoundintheverynetherregionsof his present dream.Doesheknowitssource?''Perhaps,' K'rul said beside

him.Startled,Kruppeturned,his

eyebrows rising. 'Kruppethought you long gone,ElderingOne.None the less,he is thankful for yourcompany.'The hooded god nodded.

'All is well with the childTattersail. The Rhivi protecther,andshegrowsswiftly,asis the nature of Soletaken.Apowerful warlord nowsheltersher.''Good,' Kruppe said,

smiling. The noises in thedistance drew his attentionagain. He stared out into thedarkness,seeingnothing.'Tell me, Kruppe,' K'rul

said,'whatdoyouhear?'

'The passing of a greatwagon or some such thing,'he replied, with a frown. 'Ihear its wheels, and chains,andthegroaningofslaves.''Its name is Dragnipur,'

K'rulsaid.'Anditisasword.'Kruppe's frown deepened.

'Howcanawagonandslavesbeasword?''Forged in darkness, it

chainssoulstotheworldthat

existed before the coming oflight. Kruppe, its wielder isamongyou.'InKruppe'smind hisDeck

ofDragons rose.He saw theimage of half man, halfdragon – theKnight ofHighHouseDarkness, also knownas the Son of Darkness. Themanheldaloftablackswordtrailing smoky chains. 'TheKnight is inDarujhistan?' heasked, fighting a shiver of

fear.'In Darujhistan,' K'rul

replied. 'Around Darujhistan.Above Darujhistan. Hispresence is a lodestone topower, and great is thedanger.'TheElderGodfacedKruppe. 'HeisinleaguewithMasterBarukandtheT'orrudCabal – Darujhistan's secretrulers have found a two-edgedally.Dragnipurtastedademon's soul this night,

Kruppe, in your city. It isnever thirsty for long, and itwill feed on more bloodbeforethisisdone.''Can anyone withstand it?'

Kruppeasked.K'rulshrugged.'Nonecould

when it was first forged, butthat was long ago, beforeeven my time. I cannotanswerforthepresent.Ihaveone other piece ofinformation, Kruppe, a small

piece,I'mafraid.''Kruppehearkens.''The journeyMaster Baruk

is sending you on to theGadrobi Hills. Elder magicbrews anew, after so long. Itis Tellann – of the Imass –butwhatittouchesisOmtosePhellack – Jaghut Eldermagic. Kruppe, stay out oftheir way. Especially guardthe Coin Bearer. What isabout to come is a danger as

grave as the Knight and hissword, and as ancient. Stepcarefully,Kruppe.''Kruppe always steps

carefully,ElderingOne.'

BOOKFIVE

THEGADROBIHILLS

Beyond these thinhidewallsa child sits, beforeheronwornsilkaDeckisarrayed.She cannot yetspeakand the scenesbeforehershe's never beforeseeninthislife.The child gazesuponalonecard

named Obelisk, thestonegreyshe can feel itsroughness in hermind.Obelisk standsburied in a grassyknolllike a knuckleprotrudedfrom the earth, pastandfuture.Thischild'seyesare

widewith terror, forcracks haveappearedin the stone ofstones and sheknowsthe shattering isbegun.

SilverfoxOutriderHurlochel,

6thArmy

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

I saw them on theshoresthe deepening pitsoftheirgazevowed immortalwaragainst the sighingcalmofJaghutseas...

Gothos'FollyGothos(b.?)

907th Year in the ThirdMillenniumThe Season of Fanderay intheYearoftheFiveTusksBy Malazan reckoning,1163rdYearofBurn'sSleepT'lan Imass reckoning, TheYear of Gathering, TellannAriseAs the days passed, Adjunct

Lornfeltasharpnessreturntohermind, the exhaustion anddepression fading away. Thethought that she could allowherself to slip intocarelessnesssoeasilyhadlefthershaken,andthatwasnotafeeling with which she wasfamiliar. She did not knowhow to deal with it, and thiskeptherunbalanced,notquitesureofherownefficacy.As the Gadrobi Hills

appeared, first to the southand then to thewest aswell,she sensed a desperateurgency to regain herconfidence. The missionapproached a vital juncture.Success with the Jaghutbarrow would almost ensuresuccesswitheverythingelse.Since this dawn she'd

ridden hard, pushing to keepher schedule intact aftertravelling so slowly in the

first few days. Both horseswere in need of rest, so shenow walked ahead of them,the reins tucked through herbelt. And beside her walkedTool.Though the Imass spoke

often, at her prodding, ofmany fascinating things, hedenied her efforts regardingmatters important to theEmpire, and to Laseen'scontinuedpower.All seemed

to return to the vows he hadtaken at the last Gathering.FortheImass,somethingwascoming to a head. Shewondered if it was somehowconnected with freeing thisJaghutTyrant.Andthatwasadisturbingthought.Still, she would not permit

any ambivalence to threatenthe mission. In this she wasLaseen's arm, and it wasdirected not of Lorn's own

accord but by the Empress.Dujek and Tayschrenn hadwell reminded her of thattruth. Thus, she played norole in all this – not as thewoman named Lorn. Howcouldshebeheldresponsibleforanything?'In my years among

humans,' Tool said, besideher, 'Ihavecometo recollectthe passing of emotions inbody and expressions.

Adjunct, you have worn afrown the past two days. Isthissignificant?''No,' she snapped. 'It isn't.'

Purging her thoughts ofpersonal feelings had neverbeen so difficult as it wasnow – was this a lastingeffect of Oponn's meddling?PerhapsToolcouldridherofit. 'Tool,' she said, 'what issignificant, as you put it, isthat I don't know enough

about what we're doing. Weare seeking a standing stone,the barrow's marker. Well,assuming it can be found,whywas it not so long ago?Whycouldnotthreethousandyears of hunting find thisbarrow?''We will find the standing

stone,'Toolrepliedcalmly.'Itmarksthebarrowintruth,butthebarrowisnotthere.'TheAdjunctscowled.More

riddles.'Explain.'The Imass was silent for a

minute, then he said, 'I amborn of an Elder Warren,Adjunct,knownasTellann.Itis more than a source ofmagic,itisalsoatime.''Areyousuggestingthatthe

barrow exists in a differenttime?Isthathowyouplantoreach it – by using yourTellannWarren?'

'No,thereisnoparalleltimeanydifferentfromtheoneweknow.Thattimeisgone,past.It is more a matter of ...flavour. Adjunct, may Icontinue?'Lorn'smouththinnedintoa

straightline.'The Jaghut who entombed

the Tyrant were born of adifferent Elder Warren. Butthe term "Elder" is relativeonly to the existingWarrens

of this age. The JaghutOmtose Phellack is not"Elder" when compared toTellann. They are the same,of the same flavour. Do youunderstandthusfar,Adjunct?''Patronizing bastard,' she

muttered to herself. 'Yes,Tool.'The Imass nodded, his

bones creaking. 'The barrowhas not been found before,precisely because it is

Omtose Phellack. It lieswithin aWarren now lost totheworld.Yet,IamTellann.My Warren touches OmtosePhellack. I can reach it,Adjunct. Any T'lan Imasscould.IwaschosenbecauseIamwithoutaClan.Iamaloneineveryway.''Why should that be

important?' Lorn asked, herstomachtwisting.Tool looked at her.

'Adjunct. What we seek toaccomplishisthefreeingofaJaghut Tyrant. Such a being,should it escape our control,or defy our predictions, iscapable of destroying thiscontinent. It can enslave allliving upon it, and it woulddoso ifpermitted. If, insteadofme,Logroshad selected aBone Caster; and if theTyrant was freed, that BoneCaster would become

enslaved. A Jaghut Tyrant isdangerous alone. A JaghutTyrant with an Imass BoneCaster at its side isunstoppable. They wouldchallenge the gods, and theywould kill most of them.Also, I am without a Clan,thus my enslavement –should that event befall –wouldnotenslavebloodkin.'Lorn stared at the Imass.

What were the Empress and

Tayschrennthinkingof?Howcould they hope to controlthis thing? 'You are saying,Tool,thatyou'reexpendable.''Yes,Adjunct.'And so, she realized, am I.

'What,' she asked, 'will stopthe Tyrant? How do wecontrolit?''We don't, Adjunct. That is

thegamblewetake.''Andwhatdoesthatmean?'

Tool shrugged, an audibleliftinganddroppingofbonesbeneath the rotted furs. 'TheLord of Moon's Spawn,Adjunct. He will have nochoicebuttointervene.''He's capable of stopping

theTyrant?''Yes, Adjunct. He is,

although it will cost himdearly,weakenhim.More,heis capable of delivering thesingle punishment that a

Jaghut Tyrant fears most.' Afaint gleam of light rose inTool's eye sockets as theImass stared at Lorn.'Enslavement,Adjunct.'Lorn stopped in her tracks.

'You mean the Moon's lordwillhave theTyrantworkingonhisside?''No, Adjunct. The

enslavement is by the lord'shand,but it isbeyondhimaswell. You see, the Empress

knows who the lord is, andwhathepossesses.'Lorn nodded. 'He's Tiste

Andii,andaHighMage.'A rasp of laughter came

from Tool. 'Adjunct, he isAnomanderRake, theSonofDarkness. Bearer ofDragnipur.'Lornfrowned.Tool seemed to have

noticedherconfusion,forthe

Imass elaborated. 'Dragnipuris a sword, born of the Agebefore Light. And Darkness,Adjunct, is the Goddess oftheTisteAndii.'A few minutes later, Lorn

found her voice. 'TheEmpress,' she said quietly,'knows how to pick herenemies.'And thenTool hit herwith

anotherstunningrevelation.'Iam sure,' the Imass said, 'the

Tiste Andii regret theircomingtothisworld.''They came to this world?

Fromwhere?How?Why?''The Tiste Andii were of

KuraldGalain, theWarrenofDarkness. Kurald Galainstood alone, untouched. TheGoddess, their mother, knewloneliness ...' Tool hesitated.'There is probably little truthinthisstory,Adjunct.'

'Go on,' Lorn said quietly.'Please.''In her loneliness, the

Goddess sought somethingoutside herself. Thus wasborn Light. Her children theTiste Andii saw this as abetrayal. They rejected her.Someholdtheywerecastout,othersthattheydepartedtheirmother's embrace by choice.WhileTisteAndiimagesstilluse the Warren of Kurald

Galain they are no longer ofit. And some have embracedanother Warren, that ofStarvaldDemelain.''TheFirstWarren.'Toolnodded.'WhoseWarrendidStarvald

Demelainbelongto?''It was the home of

Dragons,Adjunct.'Murillio turned in his saddle

andbroughtthemuletoahaltonthedustyroad.Heglancedahead. Kruppe and Crokushad already reached theWorryCrossroads.He pattedhisbrowwiththesoftsatinofhisburnous,thenlookedbackagain. Coll leaned hunchedover in his saddle, losing therestofhisbreakfast.Murillio sighed. It was a

wondertoseethemansober,but that he'd insisted on

accompanying themborderedon miraculous. Murilliowondered if Coll suspectedanything of Rallick's plans –butno,hewould'vebroughtafistdownonhisandRallick'shead in shortorder ifhe'd somuchascaughtahintofwhattheyweredoing.IthadbeenCoil'spridethat

had got him into his presentmess, and drink did nothingto diminish it. To the

contrary, in fact. Coll hadeven donned his brigandinearmour, repletewitharmandleggreaves.Abastard swordhung at the large man's hipand, with his mail coif andhelmet, he looked every incha noble knight. The onlyexceptionwasthegreentingeto his rounded face. He wasalso the only one of them tohavefoundahorseinsteadofthese damned mules Kruppe

hadscrounged.Coll straightened in his

saddle and smiled wanly atMurillio, then spurred hishorse alongside. Theyresumed the journey withoutaword,nudgingtheirmountsinto a canter until they'dcaughtupwiththeothers.As usual, Kruppe was

pontificating.'Nomorethanahandful of days, assuresKruppe, wizened traveller of

the wastes beyond glitteringDarujhistan.No reason to beso glum, lad.Consider this amightyadventure.'Crokus looked to Murillio

and threw up his hands.'Adventure? I don't evenknow what we're doing outhere!Won't anybody tell meanything? I can't believe Iagreedtothis!'Murilliogrinnedattheboy.

'Come now, Crokus. How

many times have youexpressedcuriosity aboutourconstant travels outside thecity?Well, herewe are – allyour questions are about tofindanswers.'Crokus hunched down in

his saddle. 'You toldme youallworkedasagentsforsomemerchant. What merchant? Idon't see any merchant. Andwhere's our horses? HowcomeCoil'stheonlyonewith

a horse? How come nobodygave me a sword orsomething?Why—?''All right!' Murillio

laughed, holding up a hand.'Enough, please! We areagents for a merchant,' heexplained. 'But it's ratherunusual merchandise we'reacquiring.''A rather unusual merchant

as well, Kruppe adds with awarm smile. Lad, we are

agentsseekinginformationonbehalf of our employer, whois none other than HighAlchemistBaruk!'Crokus stared at Kruppe.

'Baruk!Andhecan'taffordtogiveushorses?'Kruppe cleared his throat.

'Ah, yes. Well. There wassomething of amisunderstanding betweenworthy, honestKruppe and aconniving, deceitful stabler.

None the less, Kruppereceived full recompense,thus saving our kind masterelevensilvercoins.''Which he'll never see,'

Murilliomuttered.Kruppe went on, 'As for a

sword,lad,whatonearthfor?Ignore blustery, pallid Collthere, with all his sweatytrappings of war. A mereaffectation of his. AndMurillio's rapier is no more

than an ornamental trifle,though no doubt he wouldclaim that the jewels andemeraldsstuddingsaid item'shilt are towards achievingfine balance or some suchmartialdetail.'Kruppesmiledbeatifically atMurillio. 'Nay,lad, the true masters atacquiring information needno such clumsy pieces ofmetal; indeed, we disdainthem.'

'OK,' Crokus grumbled,'whatkindof informationarewelookingfor,then?''All that yon ravens

overhead can see,' Kruppesaid,wavingahandintheair.'Othertravellers,othereffortswithin the Gadrobi Hills, allgrist for Master Baruk's millofnews.Weobservewithoutbeing observed. We learnwhileremainingamysterytoall.Weascendtothe—'

'Will you shut up?' Collmoaned. 'Who brought thewater-skins?'Smiling, Murillio removed

a clay jug webbed in twinefrom his saddlehorn andhandedittoColl.'A sponge,' Kruppe said,

'squeezed beneath the burdenofarmour.Seethemandownour precious water, see itimmediately reappear saltyand grimy on his weathered

skin.What yon poisons haveleaked forth? Kruppeshuddersatthethought.'Coll ignored him, handing

the jug to Crokus. 'Buck up,lad,' he said. 'You're gettingpaid, and damn well. Withluck there'll be no trouble.Believe me, in this kind ofwork, excitement is the lastthingwe'relookingfor.Still,'heglaredatMurillio, 'I'dfeela whole lot better if Rallick

werewithus.'Crokusbristled.'AndI'man

unworthy stand-in, right?You think I don't know that,Coll?Youthink—?''Don't tellmewhatI think,'

Coll rumbled. 'I never saidyouwere a stand-in, Crokus.You're a thief, and thosekinds of skill come in a lothandierthananythingIcouldmanage. The same forMurillio.And as forKruppe,

well, his talents extend nofurther than his stomach andwhateverhewantsjammedinit.YouandRallicksharealotmore than you think, andthat's why you're the mostqualifiedmanhere.''Barring the necessary

brains, of course,' Kruppesaid,'whichismytrueskill–though one such as Collwould never understand suchabilities, alien as they are to

him.'Coll leaned towards

Crokus. 'You're wonderingwhy I'm wearing all thisarmour,'hewhisperedloudly.'It's because Kruppe's incharge. When Kruppe's inchargeIdon'tfeelsafeunlessI'm prepared for war. If itcomes to that, lad, I'll get usoutalive.'Heleanedbackandstared straight ahead. 'I'vedone it before. Right,

Kruppe?''Absurd accusations.'

Kruppesniffed.'So,'Crokus said, 'what are

we supposed to be on thelookoutfor?''We'llknowitwhenwesee

it,' Murillio said. He noddedtowardsthehillsrisingtotheeast.'Upthere.'Crokus was silent for a

time,thenhiseyesnarrowed.

'The Gadrobi Hills, Are welooking for a rumour,Murillio?'Murillio stiffened, but it

was Kruppe who replied,'Indeed, lad. Rumours uponrumours. I applaud yourcunning conclusion. Now,where is that water jug?Kruppe's thirst has becomeintense.'

Sorry's departure throughJammit's Gate was casual,unhurried.Tracking theCoinBearer was simple, and didnot require that the boyremain within her range ofvision. She sensed Crokusand Kruppe, in the companyof two others, on the road aleague beyond Worrytown.They did not seem to be inanykindofrush.Whatever mission they

wereon,thatitconcernedthewelfare of Darujhistan wasplain. Thinking on it, Sorrywas sure that themenwithinthatgroupwere spies and, inall likelihood,ableones.Thedandy, Murillio, could movethrough noble-born circleswith an ease coupled with adesirable coyness – theperfectcombinationforaspy.Rallick, though he did notaccompany them on this

mission, was the eyes andears within the Assassins'Guild, thus covering anotherpower base. Kruppe's worldwas that of the thieves andlower classes, whencerumours sprang to life likeweeds in muddy soil. Thethird man was clearly amilitary man, no doubtserving as the group's swordarm.On a mundane level, then,

an adequate group to protectthe Coin Bearer, thoughinsufficient to prevent herkillinghim—especiallywiththeassassinleftbehind.Yet something nagged

within Sorry'smind, a vaguesuspicion that the group washeading into danger – adanger that threatened her aswell. Once beyondWorrytownshepickedupherpace. As soon as she found

herselfaloneontheroad,sheopened her Warren ofShadow and slipped into itsswifttracks.The Adjunct could findnothing to set apart the hillthey approached. Its grass-cloaked summitwas dwarfedby those around it. A halfdozen scraggly, wind-twistedscrub oaks climbed one sideamid a scree of broken

boulders. The summitflattened out into a roughcircle, rock pushing throughhereandthere.Overhead wheeled ravens,

sohighastobenomorethanspecks against the muggygrey sky.LornwatchedToolstriding ahead of her, theImass choosing anunwavering path towards thehill's base. She slumped inher saddle, feeling defeated

bytheworldaroundher.Themidday heat sapped herstrength,andthesluggishnessreached through to herthoughts–notOponn'sdoing,she knew. This was thepervasive dread clinging tothe air, the sense that whatthey were doing was wrong,terriblywrong.To fling this Jaghut Tyrant

intothehandsoftheEmpire'senemy, to trust this Tiste

Andii Anomander Rake todestroyit,yetatgreatcosttohimself – thus opening theway forMalazan sorceries inturn to kill the Son ofDarkness – now seemedprecipitous, absurd in itsambitions.Toolcametothebaseofthe

hill and waited for theAdjunct to arrive. Lorn saw,atTool'shide-wrappedfeet,agrey rock jutting perhaps ten

inchesfromthe.earth.'Adjunct,' the Imass said,

'this is thebarrowmarkerweseek.'She raised an eyebrow.

'There'shardlyanysoilcoverhereatall,'shesaid.'Areyousuggestingthisstandingstonehas eroded down to itspresentsize?''The stone has not eroded,'

Tool answered. 'It has stood

heresincebeforethesheetsoficecametocoverthisland.Itstood here when the RhiviPlainwasaninlandsea, longbeforethewaterswithdrewtowhat is now Lake Azur.Adjunct, the stone is in facttaller than both of uscombined, and what youthinktobebedrockisshale.'Lorn was surprised at the

hintofanger inTool'svoice.She dismounted and set to

hobbling the horses. 'Howlongdowestayhere,then?''Until this evening passes.

With tomorrow's dawn Iwillopentheway,Adjunct.'Faintly from above came

the cries of ravens. Lornlifted her head and gazed atthe specks wheeling highover them. They'd been withthem for days. Was thatunusual? She didn't know.Shrugging,sheunsaddled the

horses.The Imass remained

motionless, his gaze seemingfixedonthestonemarker.Lorn went about preparing

her camp. Among the scruboaks she found wood for asmallcookingfire.Itwasdry,weatheredand likely toyieldlittle smoke. Though she didnot anticipate company,cautionhadbecomeherhabit.Before dusk arrived she

found a nearby hill higherthan those around it, andascendedtoitssummit.Fromthis position she commandeda view that encompassedleaguesonallsides.Thehillscontinued their rollsouthward,sinkingtosteppesto the southeast. Due east ofthem stretched Catlin Plain,empty of life as far as shecouldsee.Lorn turned to the north.

The forest they had travelledround a few days ago wasstill visible, a dark linethickening as it sweptwestward to the TahlynMountains.Shesatdownandwaitedfornighttofall.Itwasthenthatshe'dbeabletospotanycampfires.Even as night fell, the heat

remained oppressive. Lornwalked around the hill'ssummit to stretch her legs.

She found evidence of pastexcavations, scars that duginto the shale. And evidenceof the Gadrobi herdersremained,fromasfarbackaswhen they fashioned stonetools. Against the south sideof the hill the ground hadbeencarvedout,notinsearchof a barrow but as a stonequarry. It appeared thatbeneath the shale was flint,chocolatebrown,sharp-edged

andcrustedinwhitechalk.Curious, Lorn investigated

further,scramblingdownintothe cavity. Stone flakescarpeted the pit's base. Shecrouched and picked up apieceofflint.Itwasthetipofa spear point, expertlyshaped.Theechoofthistechnology

was found in Tool'schalcedony sword. Sheneedednofurtherproofofthe

Imass's assertions. Humanshad indeed come from them,hadindeedinheritedaworld.Empirewasapartof them,

a legacy flowing like bloodthrough humanmuscle, boneand brain. But such a thingcould easily be seen as acurse.Weretheydestinedoneday to become humanversions of the T'lan Imass?Was war all there was?Would they bow to it in

immortal servitude, no morethandeliverersofdeath?Lornsatdowninthequarry

and leaned against thechiselled, weathered stone.The Imass had conducted awar of extermination lastinghundreds of thousands ofyears. Who or what had theJaghut been? According toTool, they'd abandoned theconcept of government, andturnedtheirbacksonempires,

on armies, on the cycles ofrise and fall, fire and rebirth.They'd walked alone,disdainful of their own kind,dismissive of community, ofpurposes greater thanthemselves.They would not, she

realized,havestartedawar.'Oh, Laseen,' she

murmured, tears welling inhereyes,'Iknowwhywefearthis Jaghut Tyrant. Because

hebecamehuman,hebecamelike us, he enslaved, hedestroyed,andhediditbetterthan we could.' She loweredher head into her hands.'That'swhywefear.'She fell silent then, letting

the tears roll down hercheeks, seep between herfingers, trickle along herwrists. Who wept from hereyes? she wondered. Was itLorn, or Laseen? Or was it

for our kind? What did itmatter? Such tears had beenshed before, and would beagain–byotherslikeherandyetunlikeher.Andthewindswoulddrythemall.Captain Paran glanced at hiscompanion. 'You've got atheory about all this?' heasked.Toc the Younger scratched

his scar. 'Damned if I know,Captain.' He stared down atthe black, burned, crustedraven lying on the ground infront of them. 'I've beencounting, though. That's theeleventh roasted bird in thelast three hours. And, unlessthey're covering the RhiviPlain like some bloodycarpet, it seems we're onsomebody'strail.'Paran grunted, then kicked

hishorseforward.Toc followed. 'And it's a

nasty somebody,' hecontinued.'Thoseravenslookliketheywasblastedfromtheinsideout.Hell,eventhefliesavoidthem.''In other words,' Paran

grated,'sorcery.'Toc squinted at the hills

southofthem.They'dfoundawoodcutter's trail through the

Tahlyn Forest, shaving daysoff their journey.As soon asthey'd returned to the Rhivitraders'track,however,they'dfoundtheravens,andalsothesigns of two horses and onemoccasinedmanonfoot.Thislatter group of tracks wasonlyafewdaysold.'Can't understand why the

Adjunct and that Imass aremoving so slowly,' Tocmuttered, repeating words

he'd uttered a dozen timessince the day's beginning.'You think she doesn't knowsomething'strailingher?''She's an arrogant woman,'

Paran said, his free handgrippinghissword.'Andwiththat Imass with her, whyshouldsheworry?''Power draws power,' Toc

said, scratching again at hisscar.Themotiontriggeredyetanother flash of light in his

head,butitwaschanging.Attimes he thought he couldalmost see images, sceneswithinthelight.'DamnSevenCities' superstitions,anyway,'hegrowled,underhisbreath.Paran looked at him oddly.

'Yousaysomething?''No.' Toc hunched down in

his saddle. The captain hadbeen pushing them hard.Hisobsession was running themdown; even with the extra

mount, the horses were nearfinished. And a thoughtnagged Toc. What wouldhappenwhen they caught upwiththeAdjunct?Obviously,Paran intended to catchLornand the Imass, spurred byvengeance that overwhelmedhis previous intentions.WithLorndeadorherplansawry,Paran's command would besafe. He could joinWhiskeyjackandthesquadat

leisure. Assuming they stilllived,ofcourse.Toc could think of a

thousand flaws in theCaptain's plans. First andforemostwastheT'lanImass.WasParan'ssworditsmatch?In the past, sorcery had beenflung at the Imass warriorswith a frenzy born ofdesperation. Nothing hadworked. The only way todestroyanImasswastochop

it to pieces. Toc didn't thinkthe captain's weapon, god-touched as it was, could dothe job, but there was noconvincingParanofanythingthesedays.They came upon another

raven,itsfeathersflutteringinthewind, its entrails swollenbythesunandbrightredlikecherries. Toc rubbed his scaragain, and almost fell fromthe saddle as an image, clear

andprecise,burgeoned inhishead. He saw a small shape,movingsofastas tobebutablur.Horses screamed, and amassivetearopenedupintheair.Hejolted,asifsomethinglarge and heavy had struckhim, and the tear yawned,swirling darkness beyond.Toc heard his own horsescream. Then it was gone,and he found himselfgripping the hinged horn of

his saddle with all hisstrength.Paran rode ahead,

apparently noticing nothing,hisbackstraightandhisgazefixed southward. One handplayed lightly on the sword'spommel.Toc shook himself, leaned

to one side and spat. Whathadhe just seen?That tear–how could the air itself betorn like that? The answer

came to him. AWarren, anopening Warren could dothat. He spurred his horsealongsideParan's.'Captain,we'reheadinginto

anambush.'Paran's head snapped

around. His eyes glittered.'Thenprepareyourself.'Toc opened his mouth to

protest,butheshutitwithoutspeaking.Whatwas the use?

He strung his bow andloosened the scimitar in itsscabbard, then set an arrowagainst the bowstring. Heglanced over at Paran, whohadunsheathedhisswordandlaid it across his thighs. 'It'llcomebyWarren,Captain.'Paran found no need to

question Toe's certitude. Healmostlookedeager.Toc studied the sword,

Chance. The dull, hazy light

played along the polishedbladelikewater.Somehowit,too, looked eager to Toe'seye.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

'Tis bloody stirrupswhentheJaghutride their souls, athund'rouschargewithoutsurcease,the hard knotswithinthuddrummingfiercetheflowofice

acertainpromise...'tis the Jaghutwarringtheduskonafieldofbrokenstones...

JaghutFisher(b.?)

QuickBen sat in thehut,hisback to the ancient stone tierWall. Before him rose thefive sticks that linked him

with Hairlock. The stringconnecting the sticks wastaut.Across fromthewizard,near the hide-coveredentrance,satTrotts.Kalam had still not

recovered enough toaccompanyQuickBen, or toguardhimasTrottsnowdid.The wizard had known theBarghast warrior for years,he'd fought alongside him inmorebattles thanhecared to

recall, and more than onceone of them had saved theother's skin. And yet QuickBen realized he really knewvery little about Trotts. Theone thing he did know,however,comfortedhim.TheBarghastwasasavage,brutalfighter, as capable with histhrowingaxesashewaswiththelongswordhenowcradledin his lap. And he wasfearlessinthefaceofsorcery,

secureinthefetishestiedintohis braids, and in the woadtattoos inscribed by the handofhisclan'sshaman.Consideringwhatmightfall

into their laps, thoseprotections could come inhandy.The Barghast stared at the

wizard with flat,expressionless eyes,unwaveringinthedimlight.

Quick Ben shook out thekinks in his hands, then bentforward to study the arrayoftied sticks. 'Hairlock'scrouching insidehisWarren,'he said. 'Not moving. Seemsto be waiting.' He sat backand withdrew his dagger,which he jammed point firstinto thepackedearth. 'Sowewait,too.Andwatch.'Trottsasked,'Watchwhat?''Never mind.' Quick Ben

sighed. 'You have that scrapofbedroll?'Trotts removed from a

sleeve a torn piece of cloth.He came forward, giving thesticks more room than wasnecessary, and pushed thescrapintothewizard'shand.Quick Ben set it down on

his left. He muttered a fewwords and passed his handoverit.'Resumeyourseat,'hesaid. 'Andkeepyourweapon

readyincasethingsgobad.'He closed his eyes then,

reaching into his Warren.Before him an image formedthat made him jerk withsurprise. 'What,' hewhispered, 'isHairlockdoingonRhiviPlain?'Paran could feel nothing butthe white fire of vengeance,filling his mind, coruscating

throughhisbody.Oponnhadchosen to use him. Now hewoulduseOponn,theTwins'power,thathorrifyingedgeofdestruction that came withAscendancy. And like thegods, he could be cold-bloodedinthatuse,evenifitmeantpullingOponnkickingandscreamingontothisplaintofacewhateverlayahead.A hiss of warning that

might have been his

conscience reached throughtohim.ToctheYoungerwashis friend, perhaps the onlyfriendhehad.Unprotectedbyany god, his chance ofsurviving what was comingwas slim. Would there beanother death to lay at hisfeet? Paran pushed aside thepossibility. He was here toanswer for Tattersail'smurder. The Adjunct hadtaughthimthevalueofbeing

singleminded. But what didTattersailteachyou?'If things get too hot,' he

said, 'pull out, Toc. Ride forDarujhistan. FindWhiskeyjack.'Thescoutnodded.'IfIgodown—''Iheardyou,Captain.''Good.'Silence fell between them,

theonlysoundsremainingthe

thump of hoofs and the hotwestwindthatblewlikesandwhisperingacrossstone.Vague anticipations

crowded Paran's head. WastheAdjunctwaitingforthem?If she recognized him andToe, she'd have no reason toattackthem.Forallsheknew,the captain had been killed.AndTocwasaClaw.There'dbe no ambush. The Adjunctwould simply step out into

the open and hail him, nodoubt shocked by hisappearance but hardlysuspicious.And when she came close,

Chancewould sing. Itwouldbe done, and if necessarythey'd deal with the Imassafterwards.HehopedthattheImass would simply leavewith the mission's collapse.Without the Adjunct,everything would fall

through.At least, so he hoped.

Chance might be a giftedsword, but the T'lan ImasswereEldercreations,bornofsorceries that made Oponnlessthanachild.Paran's grip on the sword's

handle was tight. His handached, and he could feelsweat between his fingers.Chancefeltnodifferentfromanyotherweapon.Shouldhe

be expecting somethingmore? He couldn't recallmuch of the time he'd lastused it, against the Hound.Butiftherewaspowerintheweapon, should he not beable to sense it? As it was,Chance felt cold, as if heclutched a shard of ice thatrefused tomelt inhisgrip. Ifanything, Chance feltawkward, as if he was anoviceandhelditwrongly.

What had triggered thissudden crumpling ofconfidence? Pulling anAscendant into the fray ...how precisely do I do that?Of course, if Oponn's aseageraslasttime...Maybeitwas no more than just thetension that came withwaiting for something tohappen. Was Toc mistaken?He turned to the man besidehimandopenedhismouthto

speak.A loud, manic cackle

stopped him. Paran pulledsavagely on the reins. Hishorse screamed and reared.The air seemed to rip and acold wind gusted againstthem. The captain raised hissword and cursed. The horsescreamed again, this time inpain. It crumpled beneathhim, as if itsboneshadbeenturned to dust. Paran

sprawled, the sword flyingfrom his hand as the groundrose up to meet him. Thehorse'sfallhadthesoundofabag filled with rocks andlamp oil, landing beside himandrollingoverhislegs.Toc's bowstring twanged

and an arrow shatteredagainstsomethinghard.Paranpushedhimselfon to

hissideandlookedup.

ThepuppetHairlockfloatedabove theground twentyfeetahead.Asecondarrowstruckas the captain watched, alsoshattering.Hairlock laughed again,

swinging his mad stare toToc.Hegestured.Paran cried out, twisting to

see Toc thrown from hismount.TheClawcartwheeledthroughtheair.Ajaggedtearopened in the air in front of

him. Paran shouted a secondtimeinhelplesshonorasToctheYoungerplungedintothattear and disappeared intoswirling mists. The rentclosedwithasnap,leavingnosignofParan'scompanion.Hairlock descended slowly

to the ground. The puppetpaused to adjust his tatteredclothing, then strode towardsParan.'I thought itmight be you,'

Hairlock sniggered. 'Isn'tvengeance sweeter thanhoney, eh, Captain? Yourdeathwillbelong,protractedand very, very painful.Imagine my pleasure atseeingyoulikethis!'Paranpushedwithhis legs.

The horse's body fell back,freeinghim.Hescrambled tohis feet and dived for hissword, grasping it whilerolling,thenregainedhisfeet.

Hairlockwatchedinevidentamusement and began toadvance. 'Thatweapon is notforme,Captain.It'llnotevencutme.So,' thepuppet cameon,'wailaway.'Paran raised the weapon, a

waveofdespair comingoverhim.Hairlock stopped and

cocked his head. He whirledtofacethenorth.

'Impossible!' the puppetsnarled.Now Paran caught what

Hairlock had already heard:thehowlingofHounds.In the hut Quick Ben hadwatched the ambush,dumbfounded. What wasParan doing? Where wasTattersail? 'Hood'sPath,'he'dwhisperedangrily, 'talkabout

losing track!' In any case, ithad all happened too fast forhimtopreventthelossoftheone-eyed man accompanyingthecaptain.His eyes flew open and he

snatched the scrap of cloth.'Sorry,' he hissed. 'Sorry!Hear me, woman! I knowyou. I know who you are.Cotillion, Patron ofAssassins, the Rope, I calluponyou!'

Hefeltapresenceenterhismind, followed by a man'svoice. 'Well done, QuickBen.'The wizard said, 'I have a

message for you, Rope. ForShadowthrone.' He felt aheightened tension in hishead. 'A deal's been struck.Your lord's Hounds hungerfor vengeance. I haven't timeto explain it all now – leavethat to Shadowthrone. I am

about to give to you thelocation of the oneShadowthroneseeks.'Heheardwryamusementin

the Rope's voice. 'I providethe link, correct? The meansbywhichyoustayaliveinallthis. I congratulate you,QuickBen.Fewmortalshaveever succeeded in avoidingmy lord's inclination todouble-cross. It seems youhave outwitted him. Very

well, convey to me thislocation. Shadowthrone willreceiveitimmediately.'Quick Ben cast forth

Hairlock'sprecisepositiononthe Rhivi Plain. He onlyhoped the Hounds wouldarriveintime.Hehadalotofquestions for Paran, andwanted the captain to reachthem alive but he had toadmitthatthechancesofthatwereslight.

All that remained for thewizard now was to preventthe puppet's escape. Hesmiled again. That wassomethinghe looked forwardto.Onos T'oolan had squattedbefore the standing stonesince dawn. In the hourssince,Lornhadwanderedthenearby hills, at war withherself.Shenowknewwitha

certainty thatwhat theyweredoing was wrong, that itsconsequences went farbeyond the petty efforts of amundaneEmpire.The T'lan Imass worked in

the span of millennia, theirpurposes theirown.Yet theirendless war had become herendlesswar.Laseen'sEmpirewas a shadow of the FirstEmpire.Thedifferencelayinthat the Imass conducted

genocide against anotherspecies.Malazkilleditsown.Humanityhadnotclimbedupsince the dark age of theImass:ithadspiralleddown.The sun stood high

overhead.Shehadlastlookedupon Tool an hour past. Thewarrior had not moved aninch. Lorn climbed yetanother hill, already aquarter-mile distant from thestanding stone. She hoped to

catchaglimpseofLakeAzur,tothewest.She came to the hill's

summitandfoundherselfnotthirtyfeetfromfourmountedtravellers. It was hard todetermine who was moresurprised, but the Adjunctmoved first, her swordrasping intoherhandsas shesprangtoclosethedistance.Two were essentially

unarmed, a boy and a short

fatman.Theyandoneother,a gaudily dressed man nowunsheathingaduellingrapier,rodemules.Butitwasthelastman who held Lorn'sattention. Fully armouredastride a horse, he was thefirst to react to her charge.Bellowing, he spurred hismount past the others andunsheathedabastardsword.Lorn smiled as the fatman

attempted to open a Warren

andfailed.HerOtataralbladesteamedbrieflybeforeacoldwash of air poured from it.The fat man, his eyeswidening, reeled back in hissaddle and promptly rolledoverthemule'srump,landingheavily in the dust. The boyleaped down from his ownmount and paused, unsurewhether toaid thefatmanorremove the dagger from hisbelt. As the armoured man

rodepasthim,hereachedhisdecisionandrantowherethefat man had fallen. The onewith the rapier had alsodismounted and approachedinthewarrior'swake.Lorn's eyes caught all this

between blinks. Then thewarrior was upon her,swinging his bastard swordone-handeddowntowardsherhead.TheAdjunctdidn'tbotherto

parry. Instead, she dodged infrontofthehorsetocomeupon the man from his left,away from his sword arm.Thehorsereared.Lorndartedpast, slicing her blade acrossthe man's thigh, above theplate armour. The Otataraledge sliced through chainlinks, leather and flesh withequalease.The warrior grunted and

clappedamailedhand to the

spurting wound even as thehorse threw him from thesaddle.Ignoringhim,Lornengaged

the duellist, attempting tobeat his thin blade aside andclosetobringtheedgeofherweapon into play. But theman was good, deftlydisengaging her attemptedbeat. The sword's swingunbalanced her before shecould slow its momentum

preparatory to an upper-cut,and in this moment theduellistextendedhisrapier.She cursed as her forward

motionbroughtheron to theblade's tip. The point pushedthrough the links of herhauberk and entered her leftshoulder.Painlancedlikefireup her arm. Angered by thewound, she swungher swordsavagely at the man's head.The flat of the blade caught

himflushontheforeheadandhe sprawledback like a limpdoll.Lorncastaquickglance to

where the warrior stillstruggled to stop the bloodgushing from his leg, thenwhirled to face the last twomen. The boy stood beforethe fat man, who layunconscious.Thoughhisfacewas pale, he held a thin-bladeddaggerinhislefthand

andalargerknifeintheother.His eyes were hard as hestaredather.The thought crossed Lorn's

mind,belatedly,thatsheneednot have attacked thesemen.She wore mercenary garb,and the T'lan Imass was noteven within sight. Wordsmighthaveachievedthesameresults, and she'd never likedshedding blood.Well, it wastoo late for that now. She

advancedslowly.'We meant no harm,' the

boy said in Daru. 'Leave usbe.'Lorn hesitated. The

suggestion surprised her.Why not? She straightened.'Agreed,' sheanswered in thesame language. 'Patch upyourfriendsandsteerclear.''We'll head back to

Darujhistan,' the boy said,

looking equally surprised.'We'llcamphereandrecover,leaveinthemorning.'The Adjunct stepped back.

'Dothat,andyou'llstayalive.Tryanythingelse,andI'llkillyouall.Understood?'Theboynodded.Lorn backed away, angling

to the north. She'd head thatway for a time, then swinground to the east and come

back down to where Toolwas. She had no idea whathad brought these men outinto the hills, but didn'tsuspect it hadanything todowithher,oreven thebarrow.Assheincreasedthedistancebetween herself and the hill,she saw theboy rushover tothe warrior. In any case, sheconcluded,therewasn'tmuchleftofthatgrouptocauseherworry. The duellist wasn't

dead, but he'd awake to aheadache.Asfor thewarrior,it was touch and go. She'dseenalotofbloodcomefromhim.Thefatmanmighthavebroken his neck, and as amagehewasharmless inhervicinity. That left the boy,and since when had she hadcausetofearaboy?Lornquickenedherpace.

After the startlingcommunication from QuickBen, Sorry had contactedShadowthrone. The Lord ofShadows had fumed briefly,andafter informing theRopethatBenAdeaphonDelathadbeenahighpriestofShadow,Sorry found herself sharingShadowthrone's anger. Themanwouldpay forhismanydeceits.Shadowthrone's Hounds

had indeed been ready, andshe was sure that even nowtheyclosedthehunt.Assheresumedherjourney

through her Warren she metwith increasing resistance, astrange pressure with everystep she took eastward.Finally, she relented andemerged into the GadrobiHills.Itwasmidday,andhalfa mile ahead rode the CoinBearer'sparty.Sheclosedthe

gap swiftly until she was nomore than a hundred yardsbehind them, gatheringshadows about her as shewent – though even thisproved increasingly difficult.Andthatcouldmeanonlyonething: a T'lan Imass wasnearby.Towhat,andtowhom,was

the Coin Bearer riding? Hadshe miscalculated entirely?Were they agents for the

Malazan Empire? Thatpossibility ran contrary toOponn's influence, but shehad trouble arriving at anyotherconclusion.This, she told herself,

would prove an interestingday.The party was fifty yards

ahead,makingtheirwayupahillside. They reached thesummit and disappearedbriefly from her view. She

quickened her pace, only tohearsoundsoffightingonthehilltop – a fight in whichOtataralwasunveiled.Aflashofrageranthrough

her.Memorywasattached toOtataral, a very personalmemory. Cautiously shesought avantagepoint at thehill'screst.The exchange had been

short, and the Coin Bearer'sparty looked nearwiped out.

In fact, only theCoinBearerstill stood, facing a tall, lithewoman wielding an Otataralblade.Sorry recognized Adjunct

Lorn.Onamission,nodoubt,for her dear Empress, amission that included aT'lanImass, still out of sight butclose. She caught theirconversation. If the boy'sgroup weren't agents for theEmpire then perhaps their

master in Darujhistan hadsensed the presence of theImass out here, and had sentthemtoinvestigate.She would discover the

nature of the Adjunct'smission later. Right now,however, it was time to killtheCoinBearer.Andthenearproximity of the Imassmadesuccess all the more certain.Even Oponn's powers couldnotovercometheinfluenceof

aTellannWarren.Murderingtheboywouldbeeasy.Sorrywaited, then smiled asAdjunct Lorn withdrew,headingnorth.In minutes, the Coin of

Oponnwouldbeinherhands.And this day, a god mightdie.As soon as Lorn was

sufficiently distant Crokusrantothewarrior.Sorryroseslowly into a crouch, then

movedforwardinsilence,hergarotteinherhands.The Hounds howled again,their eager cries closing infrom all sides. Hairlockcrouched, indecisive. Thenthe puppet faced the captain.'You'll have to wait a littlelongertodie,Captain.I'venointention of allowing thingsto be rushed. No, I wish tolingeroveryourdemise.'

Chancesweatyinhishands,Paran shrugged. To his ownsurprise, it made littledifference to him. If theHounds arrived to findHairlock gone, they'dprobably take out theirfrustration on him, and thatwouldbethat.'You'llcometoregret the opportunity,Hairlock. Whether thissword's magic is meant foryou or not, I was looking

forwardtochoppingyouintokindling. Is your magic amatch for my hatred? Itwouldhavebeennice to findout.''Oh, sudden bravery!What

do you know of hatred,Captain? When I return I'llshow you precisely whathatred can achieve.' Thewoodenfiguregesturedandadozen feet away another tearopened in the air, this one

exuding a fetid stench.'Stubborn mutts,' Hairlockmuttered. 'Until later,Captain,' and he scurried fortherent.In the hut, Quick Ben's grinturned savage. He jerked thedagger free with his righthand and, in a single, fluidmotion,slicedthetautstringsconnectingthesticks.

'Goodbye, Hairlock,' hehissed.Paran's eyes widened as thepuppet flopped on to hisstomach. A moment laterHairlockletlooseashriek.The captain's eyes

narrowed. 'Looks likesomebody cut your strings,Hairlock,'hesaid.TheHoundswere close. In

moments they'd be all overthem.'Your life, Captain!'

Hairlockcried.'Flingmeintothe Warren and your life isyours,Iswearit!'Paran leaned on his sword

andmadenoreply.'Pawn of Oponn,' Hairlock

snarled, 'I would spit on youifIcould!Spitonyoursoul!'The earth rumbled, and at

once massive shapes movedaroundParan,silentlyclosingin on the immobilemarionette. Paran recognizedGear, the Hound he'dwounded. He felt the swordin his hands answer thatchallenge with an eagertremor that reached into hisarms. Gear's head swung inhisdirectionasitpassed,andParan saw a promise in itseyes. The captain smiled. If

anythingdrawsOponnout, itwillbethefighttocome.Hairlock shrieked one last

time, and then the Houndswereuponhim.A large shadow passed

across the hill and Paranlooked up to see a GreatRaven swooping over them.The bird cawed hungrily.'Too bad,' Paran said to it, 'Idoubt its remains would bepalatable.'

Three Hounds beganfighting over the splinteredwood – all that was left ofHairlock.Theremainingfour,led by Gear, now turned toParan.The captain raised his

sword and dropped into acombativecrouch. 'Comeon,then. Throughme to the godusing me, just once let thetoolturnintheTwins'hands.Comeon,Hounds,letussoak

thisgroundwithblood.'The creatures fanned out

intoahalf-circle,Gear in thecentre.Paran's smile broadened.

Come to me, Gear. I'm tiredof being used and deathdoesn't seem so frighteninganymore.Let's bedonewithit.Something heavy pressed

downonhim,asifahandhad

reached down from the skyandtriedtodrivehimintotheearth. The Hounds flinched.Paran staggered, unable tobreathe, a sudden darknessclosing around the edges ofhis vision. The groundgroaned beneath him, theyellowedgrassesof theplainlying flat. Then the pressurelifted and chilled air floodedbackintohislungs.Sensingapresence,thecaptainwhirled.

'Step aside,' a tall, black-skinned, white-haired mansaid, as he pushed past toconfront the Hounds. Paranalmost dropped his sword.ATisteAndii?The man wore a massive

two-handedswordstrappedtohisback.HestoodbeforetheHounds, making no movetowards the weapon. Allseven had now arrayedthemselves before them, but

they shifted restlessly,warilyeyeingthenewcomer.The Tiste Andii glanced at

Paran.'Whateveryou'vedonetodrawtheattentionofgods,it was unwise,' he said, inMalazan.'It seems I never learn,'

Paranreplied.The Tiste Andii smiled.

'Then we are much alike,mortal.'

Mortal?TheHoundspacedbackand

forth, growling and snappingthe air. The Tiste Andiiwatched them, then spoke.'Enoughmeddling. Iseeyou,Rood,'hesaid tooneHound,mangy brown, scarred andyellow-eyed. 'Take your kinandleave.TellShadowthroneI won't tolerate hisinterference. My battle withMalazismyown.Darujhistan

isnotforhim.'Rood was the only Hound

not growling. Its glowingeyes bore steadily into theTisteAndii's.'You have heard my

warning,Rood.'Paran watched as the Tiste

Andii cocked his head.Slowly he returned hisattentiontothecaptain. 'Gearwishesyoudead.'

'It's the price I pay forshowingmercy.'The Tiste Andii raised an

eyebrow.Paran shrugged. 'See the

scarhecarries?''That was your mistake,

mortal.Youmustfinishwhatyousetouttodo.''Next time. What happens

now?''For the moment, mortal,

they find the thought ofkilling me more desirablethanthatofkillingyou.''And what are their

chances?''The answer to that is

evident in how long they'vebeenhesitating,wouldn't youthink,mortal?'TheHoundsattacked faster

than anything Paran couldhave imagined. His heart

lurchedas a flurryofmotionclosed in around the otherman. As the captain steppedback an invisible fist ofdarknessexplodedbehindhiseyes, a snapping of massivechains, the groan of hugewoodenwheels.Hesqueezedshut his eyes against thestaggering pain, then forcedthem open again to see thatthe fightwasover.TheTisteAndii had his sword in his

hands, its black blade slickwithblood–bloodthatboiledandswiftlybecameash.TwoHounds lay un-moving, oneto either side of him. Awaywardwinddrewawintrybreathacrossthescenewithasound like a gasp, shiveringthegrasses.Paran saw that one Hound

had been nearly decapitated,while the other had beenslicedacrossitsbroadchest–

it did not look like a killingwound, but the creature'seyes, one blue the otheryellow, stared sightlesslyskyward.Roodyelpedand theothers

backedaway.Paran tasted blood in his

mouth.Hespat, thenraisedahand to find blood tricklingfromhisears.Thepaininhishead was ebbing. He lookedup just as the Tiste Andii's

headcameroundtofacehim.Seeing death in the man'seyes,Paransteppedbackandhalf raisedhis sword, thoughthe effort took all hisstrength. He watched,uncomprehending, as theTiste Andii shook his head.'For a moment I thought ...No,Iseenothingnow...'Paranblinkedstingingtears

fromhiseyes,thenwipedhischeeks. He started on seeing

thatthestainofthosetearsonhis forearm was pink. 'Youjust killed two Hounds ofShadow.''Theotherswithdrew.''Whoareyou?'The Tiste Andii did not

answer, his attention oncemoreontheHounds.Behind them a cloud of

shadow was forming in theair,deepeningandthickening

in its centre.Amoment laterit dissipated, and a black,shrouded, translucent figurestood in its place, handstucked into its sleeves.Shadows commandedwhatever face lay hiddenbeneaththehood.TheTisteAndiiloweredhis

sword's point to the ground.'They were warned,Shadowthrone. I want onething understood. You may

prove my match here,especially if your Rope isabout. But I promise you, itwill be messy, and there arethose who will avenge me.Your existence,Shadowthrone,couldbecomeuncomfortable.Now, I've yetto losemytemper.Withdrawyour Realm's influence fromthe proceedings, and I willleaveitatthat.''I am not involved,'

Shadowthrone said quietly.'MyHoundsfoundthequarryI sought. The hunt is over.'The god's head tilted toobserve the two deadcreatures. 'Over for all time,for Doan and Ganrod.'Shadowthrone looked up.'Thereisnoreleaseforthem?''None. Nor for any who

wouldpursuevengeance.'A sigh issued from the

hoodeddarkness of thegod's

face. 'Ah, well. As I said, Iam not involved. However,theRopeis.''Recallhim,'theTisteAndii

commanded.'Now.''He will be severely

displeased,AnomanderRake.His plans extend far beyondDarujhistan, seeking to reachtheMalazanthroneitself.'Anomander Rake ... Paran

recalled Tattersail's

convictions after scrying herDeckofDragons.TheKnightofHighHouseDark, theSonofDarkness,thelordwiththeblack sword and its deadlychains. Ruler of Moon'sSpawn,orsoshethought.Shesaw this coming. This verymoment, the clash betweenShadow andDark, the bloodspilled...'I fight my own battles,'

Rakegrowled.'AndI'drather

deal with Laseen on theMalazan throne than with aservant of Shadow. Recallhim.''One last point,'

Shadowthrone said, a giggleescaping him, 'I am notresponsible for whateveractions the Rope might takeagainstyou.'A smile entered Rake's

tone. 'Convince him of thewisecourse,Shadowthrone. I

have no patience for yourgames. If I am pushed, byeither you, your Hounds, orby the Rope, I'll make nodistinction. I will assail theShadow Realm, and you areinvitedtotrytostopme.''You lack all subtlety,' the

godsaid,sighing.'Verywell.'He paused and shadowsswirled around him. 'He hasbeen recalled. Forciblyextracted, as it were. The

field is yours once again,Anomander Rake. TheMalazanEmpire is all yours,as is Oponn,' Shadowthroneadded.'Oponn?'Rake'sheadturned

slowly, and the captain onceagain looked into eyes ofdeep, cold blue. Paran'sspiritssank.TheTisteAndii'sgaze fell to the sword, thenagain to Shadowthrone.'Begone,' Rake said. 'The

matterisended.'Shadowthrone dipped his

head. 'For now.' The godraisedhishandsandshadowsgathered around him. Thesurviving Hounds closed in,leaving their dead kin wherethey lay. The shadowsthickened, became opaque,entirely hiding those within.Whentheydispersed,thelordandhisHoundsweregone.Paran eyed the Tiste Andii

who now faced him. After amomentthecaptainshrugged.Rake's brows rose. 'That's

it?' he asked. 'That's theextentofyourcomments?DoI speakwithOponndirectly?I thought Isensedapresencebefore, but when I lookedmore carefully ... nothing.'Rake shifted grip on hissword, the point rising. 'Doyouhidewithin,Oponn?''Not as far as I'm aware,'

Paran replied. 'ApparentlyOponn saved my life or,rather, brought me back tolife.I'venoideawhy,butI'vebeen told that I've becomeOponn'stool.''You are journeying to

Darujhistan?'Parannodded.'May I approach?' Rake

asked,sheathinghissword.'Whynot?'

TheTisteAndiistrodeuptohim and laid a hand againsthis chest. Paran felt nothinguntoward.Rakesteppedback.'Oponnmayhavebeenwithinyou in the past, but it seemsthe Twins have hastilywithdrawn. I see their signs,butnogodcontrolsyounow,mortal.' He hesitated. 'Theirtreatment of you was ...unkind.IfCaladanBroodwashere he could heal that ...

You're no longer Oponn'stool.' The Tiste's eyesremained blue, but they'dlightened to thecolourof thesky.'Butyourswordis.'Therewasasquawknearby

andbothturnedtoseeaGreatRaven alight on one of theHound's bodies. It pluckedout an eye and gobbled itdown. Paran fought back awave of nausea. The hugebattered bird hopped towards

them.'Thisman's sword,Master,'

theravensaid,'isnotOponn'sonlytool,I'mafraid.'Paran shook his head, his

only surprise the realizationthat nothing surprised himany more. He sheathed hissword.'Speak on, Crone,' Rake

commanded.The raven cocked its head

atParan.'Here,Master?'Rake frowned. 'Perhaps

not.' He faced the captainagain. 'Hold on to thatweaponuntilyourluckturns.When that happens, and ifyou're still alive, break it orgive it toyourworst enemy.'A grin crossed his features.'Thus far, it seems your luckholds.'Paranhesitated. 'I'm free to

go?'

Lord Anomander Rakenodded.The captain looked around,

then strode off in search ofthesurvivinghorses.Minuteslater,theshockcameto Paran, driving him to hisknees. Toc was gone. He'ddragged themanwithhim inhis relentless, mindlesspursuit across the plain. He

looked up, eyes unseeing.He'd called Hairlock hisenemy. He'd proclaimedLorn'sdeathhisfinalgoal.Asif these two things wouldanswer the anguish withinhim, would heal the pain ofloss.But thedemon iswithinme.Oponn had been unkind ...

WhathadRakemeant?Haveanyofthesethoughtsbeenmyown?Lookatme—myevery

move seems a desperatesearchforsomeonetoblame,always someone else. I'vemadebeingatoolofagodanexcuse,a justification fornotthinking, for simply reacting.Andothershavediedforit.Rake had also said, 'Finish

what you start.' He wouldhave to deal with his owndemons later.Therecouldbeno turning back. But it hadbeenwrongtothinkthatwhat

he planned would end thepain within him. AddingLorn's blood to his stainedhands would not achievewhathesought.Paran rose, collected the

reins of the survivinghorses.He led thebeastsback to thescene of the fight. The TisteAndii had vanished, but theHoundsremained,motionlessdark humps in the yellowgrass. He dropped the reins

and approached one. Theslice across its chest stillleaked blood. Crouching,Paran reached out, ran hisfingers along the animal'shide.Seewhat the desire formurder gets you? Hood'sBreath, but you were abeautifulbeast.Hisfingertipsbrushed blood. The captainrecoiled at the contact, but itwas too late. Somethingrippled up his arm, swept

through him. He fell backinto darkness, the sound ofchainsrattlingtaut.Paran found himself

walking and he was notalone.Through thegloomhecouldmakeoutfiguresonallsides, each shackled withlong iron chains, leaningforward as if pulling at animmenseweight.Thegroundunderfootwasbarren,lifeless.Overhead there was nothing

but darkness. Beneath theconstant creak of the chainswas a heavier sound thatParan could feel through thesoles of his boots. Aloneunchained, he fell backtowards the source of thatsound, passing chainedfigures, many of them nothuman. A shape appeared,hulking, pitching. A wagon,impossibly huge, its woodenwheels taller than a man.

Drivenbyaninsatiabledesireto discover what it carried,Paranmovedcloser.A chain ripped across his

chest, throwinghim fromhisfeet. An ear-piercing howlsounded directly above him.Claws gouged his left arm,pinning it to the ground. Achain rippledunder his back.He struggled as a cold wetnoseandsavageteethpushedunder his chin. The jaws

opened, slipped around hisneck,thentightened.Paran lay perfectly still,

waitingforthefatalclenchingof those jaws. Instead, theypulled away. He foundhimself staring up into theHound's eyes, one blue, onebrown. A massive collar ofiron circled its neck. Thebeastlungedaway.Thechainunder him snapped taut,flingingParanintotheair.He

felt more than heard thewagon groan sideways, evenas he landed sprawling intothepathofoneofthewoodenwheels.A hand grasped the collar

ofhiscloakanddraggedhimclear. The captain scrambledtohisfeet.A voice beside him spoke.

'Any man who has earnedmercy from Hounds andwalks here unchained is a

man worth talking to. Walkwithme.'The shadow of a cowl hid

the stranger's features. Themanwasbig,dressedinrags.After releasing Paran heresumed straining on hischain. 'Never before,' hegrunted, 'has thisprisonbeenso tested.' He hissed as thewagon lurched yet again tothe Hounds' frantic attemptsto escape. 'I fear this will

overturn.''Andifitdoes?'The face swung to him

briefly and in the darknessParan saw the flash of teeth.'Thepullingwillgetharder.''Wherearewe?''The Warren within the

Sword. Did not Dragnipurtakeyourlife,too?''If it had, would I not be

chainedaswell?'

'True enough. What thenareyoudoinghere?''I don't know,' Paran

admitted. 'I saw the HoundskilledbyRake's sword.ThenItouchedthebloodofoneoftheslainbeasts.''That explains their

confusion. They thought youone of their own ... at first.You were wise to submit tothatHound'schallenge.'

'Too frightened to move,youmean.'Thestrangerlaughed.'Even

so.''Whatisyourname?''Names are meaningless.

Rake killed me. Long ago.Thatisenough.'Paran fell silent. Eternity,

chainedhere,foreverpulling.AndIaskfortheman'sname.Wouldanyapologysuffice?

The wagon buckedsavagely, earth ripped fromunderitswheels.Figuresfell,wailing. TheHounds howledtheirfury.'Gethol's Breath,' the

stranger gasped. 'Will theynevercease?''I don't think they will,'

Paran said. 'Can those chainsbebroken?''No.Nonehavemanaged it

yet, that is, and there aredragons among us.But theseHounds ...' He sighed. 'It isastonishing, but already Ilong for the peace theirarrivalhasshattered.''PerhapsIcanhelp.'The stranger barked a

laugh.'Byallmeans,try.'Paranmovedaway,heading

towards the Hounds. He hadnoplan inmind.But Ialone

am unchained. The thoughtstopped him and he smiled.Unchained.Noone'stool.Hecontinued on,wondering.Hepassed figures straining stepby step, some silent, somemuttering in madness. Noneraiseditsheadtoglanceashepassed. The sound of bestialgasping reached him.'Hounds!' Para called. 'Iwouldhelp!'Aftera time, theyappeared

from the gloom. Bloodsheathed their shoulders andchests, the flesh torn andmangled by the collars. TheHounds trembled, musclesjumping along their flanks.Theireyes,levelwithParan'sown, met his with suchnumbed, helplessmisery thathisheart lurched.Hereachedout to the odd-eyed one. 'Iwould examine your collars,yourchains,seekingaflaw.'

Thebeastwalkedalongsidehim–theywereevermovingforward,thewagonunceasingin its roll. Paran bent close,running his hands on thecollar, seeking a join. Therewas none. Where the chainattached, the link and thecollar seemed of one solidpiece. Though he knew littleof smithing, he believed thisattachment would prove theweakest element and should

already show signs of strain.But his fingertips told himotherwise. The iron was notevenscratched.Paran ran his hand along

thechain,leavingtheHound'sside. He paused noticing theother beast watching hisevery move, then continuedon. From the animal to thewagon, over seventyarmspansoflength,heranhishands from link to link,

seeking a change in the feelof the iron, seeking heat,gouges. Nothing. He arrivedalongside the wagon. Thewheel hewalked behindwassolid wood, a span in width,nicked and gouged butotherwise featureless. Thewallofthebedwastwentyormore feet high. The slattedsideboardsofwithered,bone-grey wood showed spaces afinger'swidthbetween.Paran

flinched back on seeingskeletal fingers crowding thecracks,wrigglinghelplessly.Thewagon's framebeneath

the sideboards drew hisattention.Here thewoodwasblack, glistening with pitch.Chain-ends entered it,countless in number, sinkingseamlessly into the wood.Under his touch the frameseemedsolid,yet itwasas ifthe chain links passed

through it – whatever heldthem, then, was beyond thewagon's frame. Paran drew adeepbreathof the cool, staleair, then ducked under thebed.The frame's beam was a

dozen spans thick,condensation dripping downfrom its pitched underside inendless rain. At the insideedge Paran found once againthe chains, continuing on

further under the wagon.Grasping one, he followed itinward.Thelinksgrewcolderas did the air around him.Before longhewasforced torelease the chain, his handsburned by the cold. The rainfrom the underside of thewagon came down as sliversof ice. Two paces ahead, thechains converged, swallowedby a suspended pool ofabsolute darkness. Cold

poured from it in pulsingwaves. Paran could get nocloser.He hissed in frustration as

he scrambled along oppositethe dark hole, wonderingwhat to do next. Even if hemanagedtobreakachain,hehad no idea which onesbelonged to the Hounds. Asfor the others ... AnomanderRake seemed a creature ofclear – if cold – justice. To

break a chain could unleashancient horrors upon therealmsoftheliving.Eventhestranger he'd spoken withcould once have been aTyrant,ahorribledominator.Paran unsheathed Chance.

As the blade leaped free ofthescabbarditbuckedwildlyin his hands. The captaingrinned even as tremors ofterror reached through hishands from the sword.

'Oponn!DearTwins,Icallonyou!Now!'The air groaned. Paran

stumbledover someone,wholoosed a stream of curses.Sheathing his sword, hereached down, hand closingonbrocaded cloth.Hepulledthe god to his feet. 'Whyyou?' Paran demanded. 'Iwantedyoursister.''Madness,mortal!' themale

Twin snapped. 'To call me

here! So close to the QueenofDarkness –here, within agod-slayingsword!'Paran shook him. Filled

withamindless,bestial rage,thecaptainshookthegod.Heheard the Hounds howl, andfought back a sudden desiretojoinhisvoicetotheircries.The Twin, terror in his

bright eyes, clawed at Paran.'What–whatareyoudoing?'

Paranstopped,hisattentiondrawn to twochains thathadgoneslack.'They'recoming.'The wagon seemed to leap

upward, rocked as it hadnever been before. Thethunder of the impact filledthe air, wood and icecascadingdown.'They have your scent,

Twin.'The god shrieked, battered

his fists into Paran's face,scratching, kicking, but thecaptainheldon.'Nottheluckthat pulls.' He spat blood.'Theluck...thatpushes—'The wagon was hammered

again,itswheelsbuckingintothe air to come downwith asplintering, echoingconcussion. Paran had notime towonder at the savagestrength that coursed throughhim, a strength sufficient to

hold down a god gripped inpanic.Hesimplyheldon.'Please!' the Twin begged.

'Anything! Just ask it!Anythingwithinmypowers.''TheHounds'chains,'Paran

said.'Breakthem.''I–Icannot!'The wagon shuddered

sickeningly, distant woodsplintering.ParandraggedtheTwin a pace as it rolled

forward again. 'Think of away,'hesaid.'OrtheHoundswillhaveyou.''I–Icannotbesure,Paran.''What?Youcan'tbesureof

what?'TheTwingestured towards

the blackness. 'In there. Thechains are held in placewithinit–withintheWarrenof Darkness, within KuraldGalain.Shouldtheyenter...I

do not know – I cannot becertain, but the chains maydisappear.''Howcantheyenter?''They could be leaving one

nightmare only to enteranother.''Itcannotbeworse,Twin.I

askedyou,how?''Bait.''What?'The Twin smiled shakily.

'Asyou said, they're coming.But, Paran, youmust releaseme. By all means, hold mebefore the portal, but please,atthelastmoment...''Ireleasemyholdonyou.'Thegodnodded.'Verywell.'The Hounds struck the

wagon again, and this timetheybrokethrough.Clutchingthe Twin, Paran spun round

toseethebeastschargingoutof the gloom. His captiveshrieked.TheHoundsleaped.Paran released the god,

droppingflattothegroundasthe Hounds passed throughthe air above. The Twinvanished. The Houndsflashedpast,disappearedintotheportalinsilence,andweregone.

Paran rolled to his feet,evenasdarkness reachedoutfor him, notwith the cold ofoblivionbutwithabreathlikewarm,sighingwind.He opened his eyes to find

himself on his hands andkneesontheplain'syellowedgrass, beside a flattened,blood-smeared patch wherethebodyofaHoundhadoncelain. Insectsbuzzedcloseby.His head aching, Paran

climbedtohisfeet.TheotherHound's body was gone aswell.Whathadhedone?Andwhy? Of all the things thatthe Twin could have offeredhim ... Tattersail ... Toc theYounger... Then again, topluck a soul back throughHood's Gate was not likelywithin Oponn's power toachieve. Had he freed theHounds? He realized hewouldprobablyneverknow.

He staggered over to thehorses. At least, for a shorttime there, he had beenunchained.Hehadbeenfree,andwhathehaddonehehaddone by his own choice.Myownchoice.He looked to the south.

Darujhistan and the Adjunctawait me. Finish what youstarted,Paran.Finishitonceandforall.

'Damn inconvenient,' CollgrowledasCrokuscompletedtying the bandage. 'She wasgood,' he added. 'She knewexactly what to do. I'd sayshe'd been trained. Sort offits, since she was dressedlikeamercenary.''I still don't understand,'

Crokus said, sitting back onhis haunches. He glanced atMurillio and Kruppe. Bothremained unconscious. 'Why

did she attack us? And whydidn'tshekillme?'Coll did not reply. He sat

glaring at his horse, whichstood a dozen feet away,quietly cropping grass. He'dalready voiced a dozen foulcurses at the beast, andCrokus suspected that theirrelationship had been, asKruppe would put it,irretrievablycompromised.'What'sthis?'Collgrunted.

Crokus realized that theman was looking past thehorse, a frowndeepening thelinesofhisforehead.Theboyturned,thenletout

a wild shout, springingbackwards and snatching athisdaggers.Hisbootcaughtastone and he sprawled. Hejumped tohis feet,onebladefreed and in his hand. 'It'sher!' he yelled. 'The womanfrom the bar! She's a killer,

Coll.''Easy, lad,' Coll said. 'She

looksanythingbutdangerous,despitethatswordonherhip.Hell,' he added, pushinghimself straighter, 'ifanything, she lookscompletelylost.'Crokus stared at the

woman, who stood at thesummit's edge. 'Hood'sBreath,' he muttered. Collwas right. He'd never seen

anyone look so bewildered,so utterly at a loss. She waslooking at them, tensed as ifready to flee. All the poise,the deadly confidence she'dpossessed in thePhoenix Innwas gone, as if it had neverbeen. Crokus sheathed hisdagger.'So,' he asked, 'what dowe

donow,Coll?'The wounded man

shrugged. 'Ease the girl's

mind,Iguess.Fromthelooksofit,sheneedssomehelp.''But she killed Chert,'

Crokus stated. 'I saw thebloodonherknife.'Coll squinted at the girl. 'I

don'tdoubtyou,boy,butthisgirl doesn't look capable ofkillinganyone.''You think Ican't see that?'

Crokus said. 'I'm just tellingyou what I saw. I know it

doesn'tmakeanysense!'Coll sighed. 'Anyway, she

stillneedsourhelp.Sogoandgether,Crokus.'Theboythrewuphishands.

'HowdoIdothat?''Damned if I know,' Coll

replied, grinning. 'Tryflirting.'Crokus threw the man a

disgusted look, then hewalked cautiously towards

the girl. She tensed andbacked a step. 'Careful!'Crokus cried, pointing at thesummit'screstbehindher.Thegirl saw that she stood

at the very edge of a steepslope. Oddly enough, thisseemed to relax her. Shemoved a few steps closer toCrokus, her wide eyessearchinghis.'That's right,' Crokus

murmured. 'Everything'sfine.

Do you understand?' Hepointed at his mouth andmadetalkingmotions.Collgroaned.The girl surprised them

both by replying in Daru, 'Iunderstand you,' she saidhaltingly. 'More now. You'renot Malazan, you're notspeaking Malazan. But Iunderstand you.' Shefrowned.'How?'

'Malazan, huh?' Coll said.'Whereareyoufrom,girl?'She thought for amoment.

'ItkoKan,'shesaid.'What the hell?' Coll

laughed. 'What storm blewyouhere?'Realization flooded her

eyes. 'Where's my father?Whathappenedtothenets?Ibought the twine, and therewas that Seer – Riggalai the

Seer, the wax-witch. Iremember her – she died!'Thegirlfelltoherknees.'Shedied.Andthen—'Coil's expression was

severe, thoughtful. 'Andthen?''I don't remember,' the girl

whispered, looking down ather hands. 'I don't rememberanythingmore.'Shebegan tocry.

'Gedderone's thousandteats,' Coll cursed quietly,waving Crokus to his side.'Listen carefully, lad. Don'twait for us. Take this girl toyour uncle. Take her toMammot,andquickly.'Crokus scowled. 'Why? I

can'tjustleaveyouhere,Coll.Who knows when Murillioand Kruppe will comearound? What if thatmercenarycomesback?'

'What if she does?' Collaskedpointedly.Crokus flushed and looked

away.'Murillio's a tough bastard,

despite the perfume,' Collsaid.'He'llbeupanddancingin no time. Take the girl toyouruncle,lad.DoasIsay.''You still haven't told me

why,'Crokussaid.'It'sahunch,nomore.'Coll

reached up and gripped theboy's shoulder. 'This girl'sbeen possessed. I think.Someone,something,broughther here, to Darujhistan, andon to our trail. The truth issomewhere in her head,Crokus,and itcouldbevital.Your uncle knows the rightpeople,theycanhelpher,lad.Now,saddleupmyhorse.I'llwait here for our friends towake. Hell, I can't walk

anyway.Ishouldn'tmoveforat least a couple of days.Kruppe and Murillio willhandlethingshere.Go!'Crokus eyed the weeping

girl. Then he said. 'All right,Coll. We'll go back, me andher.''Good,'Collgrunted. 'Now,

laymeoutabedrollandsomefood. Then ride on out ofhere, and if that damn horseof mine has a heart attack

outside the city gates, evenbetter.Hoptoit,lad.'

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Dessembrae knowsthesorrowsinoursouls.Hewalksatthesideofeachmortalavesselofregretonthefiresofvengeance.Dessembrae knows

thesorrowsand would nowshare them with usall.

TheLordofTragedyHolyBookprayer(Canonof

Kassal)

ThepuncturewoundinLorn'sleft shoulder was not deep.Without magical aid,however,theriskofinfection

wasacause forconcern.Shereturned to the camp to findToolstillpositionedwherehehadbeensincedawn.Ignoring the Imass, the

Adjunct found her collectionof herbs in her saddle bag.Shesatdownandleanedbackagainstthesaddle,thensettotreatingthewound.It had been a foolish,

unnecessary attack. Toomany things had happened

recently, toomany ideas, toomuch of the woman Lorninterferingwithher functionsand duties as Adjunct to theEmpress. She was makingmistakes that she would nothavemadeayearago.Toolhadgivenhermoreto

think about than she couldhandle. Thewords the Imasshadthrownatherfeet,asifinafterthought,hadreachedintoand grasped something deep

withinherandnowwouldnotlet go. Emotions seeped intothe Adjunct, clouding theworld around her. She'dabandoned sorrow long ago,along with regret.Compassionwasanathematothe Adjunct. Yet now allthese feelings swept throughher in tidespullinghereverywhichway.Shefoundherselfclinging to the title ofAdjunct, and what it meant,

asifitwasalifelinetosanity,tostabilityandcontrol.Shecompletedcleaning the

woundasbestshecould,thenprepared a poultice.Control.The word rebounded in herthoughts, clipped, hard andsure. What was the heart ofEmpire, if not control?Whatshaped Empress Laseen'severyact,herevery thought?And what had been at theheartof theveryfirstEmpire

– the great wars that shapedtheT'lanImasstothisday?She sighed and looked

down at the dirt beneath her.Butthatwasnomorethanweall sought, she told herself.From a young girl bringingtwine home to her father, tothe immortal power that hadseized her for its own use.Through thegamutof lifewestruggled for control, for ameans to fashion the world

around us, an eternal,hopeless hunt for theprivilege of being able topredicttheshapeofourlives.The Imass, and his three-

hundred-thousand-year-oldwords, had given to Lorn asense of futility. And itworked on her, it threatenedtooverwhelmher.She'dgiventheboyhislife,

surprising both him andherself.Lorn smiled ruefully.

Prediction had become aprivilege now lost to her.Never mind the outsideworld, she could not evenguessherownactions,or thecourseofherthoughts.Was this the true nature of

emotion? she wondered. Thegreat defier of logic, ofcontrol– thewhimsofbeinghuman.Whatlayahead?'Adjunct.'

Startled, Lorn looked up tosee Tool standing over her.Frost covered the warrior,steamingintheheat.'Youhavebeenwounded.''A skirmish,' she said

gruffly, almost embarrassed.'It's over now.' She pressedthe poultice against thewound then wrapped clotharound her shoulder. It wasan awkward effort, since shecoulduseonlyonehand.

Toolkneltbesideher.'Iwillassistyou,Adjunct.'Surprised, Lorn studied the

warrior'sdeath'sface.Buthisnext words wiped out anythought of the Imassrevealingcompassion.'We have little time,

Adjunct. The opening awaitsus.'An expressionless mask

settled over her face. She

jerkedanodasToolfinished,hiswithered, shredded hands– the nails blunt, polishedbrown and curved – deftlytyingaknotwiththestripsofcloth. 'Help me to my feet,'shecommanded.The marker had been

shattered, she saw, as theImass guided her forward.Apart from this,however, alllooked unchanged. 'Where isthisopening?'sheasked.

Tool halted before thebroken stones. 'I will lead,Adjunct. Follow closelybehind me. When we arewithin the tomb, unsheathyour sword. The deadeningeffectwill beminimal, yet itwill slow the Jaghut's returntoconsciousness.Enough forustocompleteourefforts.'Lorn drew a deep breath.

She shrugged off her doubts.There was no turning back

now. Had there ever beensuchachance?Thequestion,sherealized,wasamootone:the course had been chosenforher. 'Verywell,' she said.'Leadon,Tool.'The Imass spread out his

armstothesides.Thehillsidebefore them blurred, as if acurtain of wind-blown sandrose before it. A churningwind roiled through thisstrange mist. Tool stepped

forward.Following, Lorn at first

recoiled at the stench thatwafted into her, a stench ofair poisoned by centuries ofpulsing sorcery, countlesswards dispersed by Tool'sTellann powers. She pushedahead,her eyes fixingon theImass'sbroad,tatteredback.Theyenteredthehillside.A

rough corridor, leading intodarkness, appeared before

them. Frost limned thestacked boulders forming thewalls and ceiling. As theywent further, the air grewbittercold,strippedofscents,and thick green and whiteropesoficetrackedthewalls.The floor, which had beenfrozen, packed earth, becameslabsofstone,slickwithice.Numbness seeped into

Lorn's extremities and herface.Shesawherbreathcurl

in a white stream, drawninward to the darknessbeyond. The corridornarrowedandshesawstrangesymbols painted on andwithin the ice streaking thewalls, dull red ochre incolour. These markingsbrushed something deepinside her – she almostrecognized them,butas soonas she concentrated on doingso, the sensation of

familiarityvanished.Tool spoke. 'My people

have visited here before,' hesaid, pausing to look at theAdjunct over one shoulder.'They added their ownwardsto those of the Jaghut whoimprisonedthisTyrant.'Lornwasirritated.'Whatof

it?'The Imass stared at her in

silence, then replied, dully,

'Adjunct,IbelieveIknowthenameof this JaghutTyrant. Iam now beset by doubts. Itshouldnotbefreed.Yet, likeyou,Iamcompelled.'Lorn'sbreathcaught.'Adjunct,'Toolcontinued,'I

acknowledgetheambivalenceyouhavebeenfeeling.Ishareit.When this is done, I shallleave.'Shewasconfused.'Leave?'

Tool nodded. 'Within thistomb, andwithwhatwewilldo,myvowsareended.Theywillbindmenolonger.Suchis the residual power of thissleepingJaghut.Andforthat,Iamthankful.''Why are you telling me

this?''Adjunct, you are welcome

toaccompanyme.'Lornopenedhermouth,but

could think of no immediatereplysoshutitagain.'I ask thatyouconsidermy

offer,Adjunct.Ishalljourneyinsearchofananswer,andIshallfindit.'Answer? To what? she

wantedtoask.Yetsomethingstopped her, a surge of fearthat said to her: You don'twant to know. Remainignorant in this. 'Let's get onwithit,'shegrated.

Tool resumed his marchintothedarkness.After aminuteLorn asked,

'Howmuchtimeisthisgoingtotake?''Time?' There was

amusement in his voice.'Within thisbarrow,Adjunct,time does not exist. TheJaghut who imprisoned theirkin brought an age of ice tothis land, the barrow's finalseal.Adjunct,ahalf-leagueof

ice stands over this burialchamber – still. We havecome to a time and placebefore the faltering of theJaghutice,beforethecomingofthegreatinlandseaknownto the Imass as Jhagra Til,before the passing ofcountlessages—''Andwhenwereturn?'Lorn

interrupted. 'How much timewillhavepassed?''Icannotsay,Adjunct.'The

Imasspausedandturnedbackto her, his eye socketsglimmeringwitha sourcelesslight. 'I have never done thisbefore.'Despite the hardened leatherarmour, the feel of awomanpressing against Crokus'sback had brought to his facemore sweat than theafternoon heat could accountfor. Yet it was a mix of

feelings that had his heartthumping against his chest.Ontheonehandwasthebaldfact that here was a girl ofnearly his age, and anattractive one at that, withsurprisingly strong armswrappedaroundhiswaistandherwarm,moistbreathonhisneck.On theotherhand, thiswomanhadmurderedaman,and theonly reasonhe couldthink of her arriving on the

scene back there in the hillswas that she'd been planningto kill him, too. So he foundhimself too tense to enjoysharingthesaddlewithher.Theyhadsaid little toeach

other since leaving Coll. Inanother day, Crokus knew,Darujhistan's walls wouldcomeintoview.Hewonderedif she'd remember it. AndthenavoicespokeinhisheadthatsoundedlikeCoil's:'Why

don't youask thegirl, idiot?'Crokusscowled.Shespokefirst.'IsItkoKan

farfromhere?'He thought about laughing,

butsomething–an instinct–stoppedhim.Treadsoftly,hetoldhimself.'I'veneverheardof such a place,' he said. 'It'sintheMalazanEmpire?''Yes. We aren't in the

Empire?'

Crokus growled, 'Not yet.'Then his shoulders slumped.'We're on a continent calledGenabackis. The Malazanscame from the seasbotheastand west. They now controlall the Free Cities to thenorth,aswellastheNathilogConfederacy.''Oh,' the girl replied

weakly. 'You're at war withtheEmpire,then.''Moreor less, thoughyou'd

never know it as far asDarujhistanisconcerned.''Isthatthenameofthetown

youlivein?''Town?Darujhistan'sacity.

It'sthebiggest,richestcityinalltheland.'There was awe and

excitement in her reply. 'Acity.I'veneverbeentoacity.YournameisCrokus,isn'tit?''Howdidyouknowthat?'

'That's what your soldierfriendcalledyou.''Oh,ofcourse.'Whydidthe

fact that she'd known hisnamesendhisheartlurching?'Aren'tyougoingtoaskme

my name?' thewoman askedquietly.'Youcanrememberit?''No,' she admitted. 'That's

strange,isn'tit?'He heard pathos in that

reply, and something meltedinside – making him evenangrier. 'Well, I can't verywellhelpyouinthat,canI?'The woman seemed to

withdrawbehindhim,andherarmsloosenedtheirgrip.'No.'Abruptly his anger fell

away. Crokus was ready toscream at the chaos in hishead.Insteadheshiftedinthesaddle, forcing her to clutchhim tightly. Ah, he smirked,

that's better. Then his eyeswidened.WhatamIsaying?'Crokus?''What?''Give me a Darujhistan

name. Pick one. Pick yourfavourite.''Challice,' he responded

immediately. 'No, wait! Youcan't be Challice. I alreadyknow a Challice. You've gottobesomeoneelse.'

'Issheyourgirlfriend?''No!'hesnapped.Hepulled

atthereinsandtheystopped.Crokus clawed at his hair,then threw a leg over anddropped to the ground. Hepulled the reins over thehorse'shead.'Iwanttowalk,'hesaid.'Yes,'shesaid.'Iwouldlike

to,too.''Well,maybeIwanttorun!'

She stepped round to facehim, her expression troubled.'Run?Fromme,Crokus?'He saw things falling into

ruinsbehindher eyes–whatwere those things? He felt adesperate need to know, butasking straight out wasclearly impossible. Why itwas impossible he couldn'tsay. It just was. He lookeddown at the ground andkicked at a rock. 'No,' he

mumbled. 'Ididn'tmean that.Sorry.'Her eyes widened. 'That

was my name!' she gasped.'Thatwasmyname,Crokus–youjustsaidmyname!''What?' He frowned.

'Sorry?''Yes!' She looked away.

'Only, it wasn't always myname. I don't think. No. Itwasn't the name my father

gaveme.''Can you remember that

one?'Sheshookherheadandran

ahandthroughherlong,darkhair.Crokusstartedwalking,and

the girl fell into step besidehim. The road wound downthrough the low hills. In anhour they'd reach the CatlinBridge. The panic that had

filled him was subsiding,perhaps having burned itselfout.He felt relaxed, and thatsurprised him, since hecouldn't recall the last timehe'dfeltrelaxedinafemale'scompany.Theywalked in silence for

a time. Ahead, the sun sankdown in a golden blaze,shimmeringalongablueandgreen line on the horizonbeyond the hills. Crokus

pointed to theglistening line.'That's Lake Azur.Darujhistan lies on its southshore.''Haven't you thought of a

nameformeyet?'thewomanasked.'The only name that comes

to mind,' Crokus saidsheepishly,'ismymatron's.'The girl glanced at him.

'Yourmother's?'

Crokus laughed. 'No, notthat kind of matron. I meanttheLadyofThieves,Apsalar.Only,it'snotgoodtotakethatkind of name, since she's agoddess.WhataboutSalar?'Her nose wrinkled. 'No, I

like Apsalar. Make itApsalar.''ButIjustsaid—''That'sthenameIwant,'the

girl insisted, her face

darkening.Uh-oh, Crokus thought.

Betternotpressthisone. 'Allright.'Hesighed.'Soyou'reathief.''What'swrongwiththat?'Apsalargrinned. 'Givenmy

new name, nothing. Nothingat all, Crokus. When do wecamp?'He blanched. He hadn't

thought about that. 'Maybe

we should just push on,' hesaid warily, not meeting hereyes.'I'm tired. Why don't we

campatthisCatlinBridge?''Well, I'veonlygot theone

bedroll. You can have it. I'llstandwatch.''All night? What's there to

watchoutfor?'Crokus rounded on her.

'Why all these questions?' he

demanded hotly. 'It'sdangerous out here! Didn'tyou see Coil's wound? Andhow do we know thegarrison'sstillthere?''Whatgarrison?'Crokus cursed himself. He

averted his gaze. 'Thegarrison on the other side ofthebridge,'hesaid.'Butit'salongbridge—''Oh, come on, Crokus!'

Apsalar laughed and droveherelbowintohisribs. 'We'llshare the bedroll. I don'tmind, so long as you keepyourhandstoyourself.'Rubbing his ribs, Crokus

couldonlystareather.Cursing, Kruppe glared overhis shoulder at Murillio.'Damnation! Can't you urgethatbeastanyfaster?'

Themule was living up toits reputation, refusinganythingbutaploddingwalk.Murillio grinned sheepishly.'What's the big hurry,Kruppe? The boy can takecareofhimself.''It was Master Baruk's

explicit command that weguardhim,andguardhimwemust!'Murillio's eyes narrowed.

'So you keep saying,' he

muttered.'IsthissomefavouronMammot'sbehalf?Hastheboy'sunclegotallworriedallofasudden?Why'sBaruksointerested in Crokus? Youconveythealchemist'sorders,Kruppe,butyoudon'texplainthem.'Kruppereinedinhismount.

'Oh, very well,' he said.'Mutiny in the ranks forcesKruppe'sslyhand.Oponnhaschosen Crokus, for whatever

purposes the devious deitymay devise. Baruk wouldhave us keep an eye on thelad and, more, prevent anyother powers from findinghim.'Murillio rubbed the bruise

on his forehead and winced.'Damn you.' He sighed. 'Youshould've explained all thisfrom the start, Kruppe. DoesRallickknow?''Of course not,' Kruppe

replied tartly. 'He's too busy,after all, unable to extricatehimself from his variousresponsibilities. Hence,'Kruppe's expression turnedcrafty, 'the assassin's absenceon this journey. But why,praytell,isKruppeinformingMurillio of such things?Clearly,MurillioknowsmoreofRallick'sdoingsthanpoor,ignorantKruppe.'Murillio's look was blank.

'Whatdoyoumean?'Kruppe sniggered, then

kicked his mule into motiononceagain.Murilliofollowed.'And as for our present

mission,' Kruppe continuedblithely, 'what seems a vastfailure, particularly on Coil'spart,isintruthanastonishingsuccess. Master Baruk mustbe made aware of the

nefarious activities afoot intheGadrobiHills.''Success? What are you

talkingabout?'Kruppe waved a hand.

'Dear man, though I wasconscious but a momentduringthefracas,clearitwasthat this woman warriorpossessed an Otataral sword.Which means, as any childmightguess,she'sMalazan.'

Murillio hissed slowlybetween his teeth. 'And weleftCollbackthere?Areyouinsane,Kruppe?''He'll mend enough to

follow us shortly,' Kruppesaid. 'The need for hasteoverwhelms all otherconsiderations.''Except cheap deals with a

certain stabler,' Murilliogrowled. 'So, there's someMalazanintheGadrobiHills.

What's she up to? And don'ttrytellingmeyoudon'tknow.If you didn't suspectsomethingwewouldn't be insuchahurry.''Suspicions, indeed.'

Kruppenodded,hisshouldershunching. 'Recall Crokusuttering that perceptivecomment as we left thecrossroads? Hunting arumour,orsomesuchthing?''Wait a minute.' Murillio

groaned. 'Not that barrowlegendagain?There'snota—'Kruppeheldupafingerand

cut in smoothly, 'What webelieveisirrelevant,Murillio.The fact remains that theMalazans are seeking thetruth of that rumour. Andboth Kruppe and MasterBaruksuspect,beingofequalintelligence, that they mightwell discover it. Hence thismission, my fluttery friend.'

He waggled his brows.'Otataral in the hands of aswordmasteroftheEmpire.AT'lan Imass lurking in thevicinity—''What?' Murillio exploded,

his eyes wide. He made toturnhismulearound,but thebeastcomplainedandplantedits hoofs. He struggled withit, cursing. 'Coil's all cut upandhe's got aMalazankillerout there and an Imass!

You've lost your mind,Kruppe!''But,dearMurillio,'Kruppe

crooned, 'Kruppewouldhavethought you eager, nay,desperate to return toDarujhistan as quickly aspossible!'That stopped the man. He

rounded on Kruppe, facedarkening. 'Come on,' hegritted,'outwithit,then.'

Kruppe's brows rose. 'Outwithwhat?''You've been hinting about

something,pokingmewithit.So if you think you knowsomething about whatever,let's hear it. Otherwise, weturn round right now andhead back to Coll.' SeeingKruppe's eyes dart, Murilliogrinned. 'Hah,youthoughttodistractme,didn'tyou?Well,it'snotgoingtowork.'

Kruppe raised his handspalm up. 'No matter whosebrain was responsible foryourschemetoreturnColltohis rightful title, Kruppe cando naught but eagerlyapplaud!'Murillio's jaw dropped.

How in Hood's name didKruppe...?Themancontinued,'Butall

that is inconsequential whenfacedwiththefactofCrokus,

and the grave danger he ispresently in. More, if thisyoung girl was indeedpossessed, as Coll suspects,the risks are frightening tobehold! Was she the onlyhunter for the lad's frail,unprotectedlife?Whatofthethousand gods and demonswhowould eagerly confoundOponn at the firstopportunity? Thus, wouldMurillio, friend of long

standing with Crokus, socallouslyabandonthechildtothefates?IsMurillioamantosuccumbtopanic,towhat-ifs,to a host of imaginednightmares slinking aboutwithin the shadows of hisoverwroughtimagination—?''All right!'Murillio barked.

'Now hold your tongue andlet'sride.'Kruppegaveabrusquenod

atthiswiseremark.

An hour later, as duskclambered up the hillsidesand ever westward to thedying sun, Murillio startedand threw Kruppe a furiousglare that was lost in thegloom. 'Damn him,' hewhispered, 'I said I wasn'tabout to let him distract me.So what's the first thing hedoes?Distractme.''Murillio murmurs

something?'Kruppeasked.

Murillio massaged hisforehead. 'I'm having dizzyspells,' he said. 'Let's find acamp. Crokus and the girlwon't make it to the citybefore tomorrow anyway. Idoubt he's in any danger onthe road, and we'll find himeasily enough beforetomorrow's sunset. Theyshouldbefineinthedaytime– hell, they'll be withMammot,right?'

'Kruppe admits to his ownweariness. Indeed, a campshouldbefound,andMurilliocan construct a small fire,perhaps, and so preparedinnerwhileKruppe pondersvitalthoughtsandsuch.''Fine.'Murilliosighed. 'Just

fine.'It came to Captain Paran acouple days after his

encounter with the TisteAndii and the events withinthelord'sswordthatRakehadnot suspected him to be aMalazan soldier. Or he'd bedead.Oversightsblessedhim,it seemed. His assassin inPale should have checkedtwice – and now the Son ofDarkness,snatchinghimfromthe jaws of the Hounds, hadinturnlethimwalkfree.Wasthereapattern to this? Ithad

Oponn's flavour, yet Parandidn'tdoubtRake'sassertion.Thendidhisluckindeedlie

in his sword?And had thesemercies of fortune markedpivotal moments – momentsthat would come back tohaunt those who'd sparedhim?Forhisownwell-being,hehopednot.His was no longer the

Empire's road. He'd walkedthat path of blood and

treachery for too long.Neveragain. What lay before him,then, was the singular effortto save the lives ofWhiskeyjack and the squad.Ifhemanagedthat,hewouldnot begrudge his own deathasaconsequence.Somethingswentbeyonda

single man's life, and maybejustice existed outside theminds of humanity, beyondeventhehungryeyesofgods

and goddesses, a thingshining and pure and final.Some philosophers he'd readduring his schooling in theMalazan capital, Unta, hadassertedwhat seemed to himthen an absurd position.Morality was not relative,they claimed, nor evenexistingsolelyintherealmofthe human condition. No,they proclaimed morality asan imperative of all life, a

natural law that was neitherthe brutal acts of beasts northe lofty ambitions ofhumanity, but somethingother, somethingunassailable.Just another hunt for

certainty. Paran scowled andstiffened in his saddle, hiseyesfixedonthetrader trackwinding before him throughlow, rounded hills. Herecalled discussing this with

AdjunctLorn,atatimewhenneither had been compelledby the outside world. Justanother hunt for certainty,she'd said, in a voice brittleandcynical,puttinganendtothediscussionasclearlyas ifshe'd driven a knife into thewine-stained table betweenthem.For such words to have

comefromawomannoolderthan him, Paran suspected

then, as he did now, that herparticular view had been nomore than an easy, lazymimicryofEmpressLaseen's.But Laseen had a right to itandLorndidnot.At least, inParan'smind.Ifanyonehadaright to world-wearycynicism, itwas theEmpressoftheMalazanEmpire.TrulyhadtheAdjunctmade

herself Laseen's extension.But at what cost? He'd seen

theyoungwomanbehind themask just once – as they'dlooked out over a roadcarpeted with dead soldiersthen proceeded to pick theirway through them. The pale,frightened girl thatwas Lornhadshownherself inasinglefrail moment. He couldn'trememberwhathad triggeredthereturnofthemask–likelyit had been something he'dsaid, something he'd tossed

off in his own guise as ahardenedsoldier.Paran sighed deeply. Too

manyregrets.Lostchances–andwitheachonepassingtheless human we all became,and the deeper into thenightmare of power we allsank.Was his life irretrievable?

Hewished he had an answertothatquestion.

Movement in the southcaughthisattention,andwithit he became aware of arumbling sound, rising upfrom the earth around him.Heroseinthesaddle.Awallof dust curled over the ridgeof land directly ahead. Heswung his mount westwardand nudged it into a trot.Moments later he reined in.The curtains of dust hung inthat direction as well.

Cursing, he spurred to thecrest of a nearby rise. Dust.Dust on all sides. A storm?No, the thunder is tooregular.Herodedowntotheplain below and reined inagain,wonderingwhat todo.The dust wall rose, crestingthe hill he faced. The deeprumbling grew. Paransquinted into the dust. Dark,massive shapesmoved there,spreading out to either side,

sweeping down on hisposition. Inmoments hewassurrounded.Bhederin. He'd heard tales

of thehugeshaggycreatures,moving across the innerplains inherdshalf amillionstrong.Onall sides,Paran could seenothing but the humpedreddish-brown, dust-caked

backs of the beasts. Therewas nowhere he could leadhis horse, no place of safetywithin sight. Paran leanedbackinhissaddleandwaited.Something flashed to his

left, tawny and low to theground. The captain halfturned, just as somethingheavy hammered him fromthe right and clung, dragginghimfromthesaddle.Cursing,Paranthumpedheavilyinthe

dust, grappling with wirylimbs, ragged black hair. Hedrovehiskneeup,connectingwith a solid stomach. Hisattacker rolled to one side,gasping. Paran scrambled tohisfeet,foundhimselffacinga youth in tanned hides. Theboy sprang to close with thecaptainonceagain.Paran sidestepped and

cloutedtheboyonthesideofthe head. His attacker

sprawledunconscious.Piercing cries were

sounding on all sides. TheBhederin were parting,moving away. Figuresemerged, closing on Paran'sposition. Rhivi. Swornenemies to theEmpire,alliedin the north with CaladanBrood and the CrimsonGuard.Two warriors came to the

unconscious boy's side; each

tookanarmanddraggedhimoff.The herd had come to a

stop.Another warrior

approached, striding boldlyuptoParan.Hisdust-streakedface was stitched with dyedthreads, black and red, fromhigh on the cheeks down tothe jawline then up andaround the mouth. ABhederinhiderode thebroad

line of his shoulders.Stopping less than an arm'slength in front of Paran, thewarrior reached out andclosedhishandonthegripofChance. Paran struck awaythe hand. The Rhivi smiled,stepped back and loosed ahigh-pitched,ululatingcry.Figuresroseonthebacksof

the surrounding Bhederin,lances balanced in one handas they crouched on the

shaggy backs. The hugeanimals beneath the warriorsignored themas if theywerebuttick-birds.The two Rhivi who had

taken the boy away nowreturned, joining the stitch-faced warrior, who saidsomething to the one on hisleft. This man movedforward. Before Paran couldreact, he surged intomotion,throwing a leg behind the

captain then driving hisshoulderintoParan'schest.The warrior fell on top of

him. A knife blade slidagainst the line of Paran'sjaw,slicedthroughthehelmetstrap. The iron skullcap waspulled away and fingerssnaggedahandfulofhishair.Dragging the warrior withhim, Paran pushed himselfupright. He'd had enough.Death was one thing, death

withoutdignityquiteanother.As the Rhivi's hand twisted,pulling his head up, thecaptain reached between thewarrior's legs and found hisown handful. He yankedhard.The warrior shrieked,

releasingParan'shair.Aknifeappeared again, flashing atthecaptain's face.Heduckedto one side, his free handsnapping up to grasp the

wrist,pushingawaytheknife.He squeezed oncemorewithhis other hand. The Rhivishriekedagain,thenParanletgo, twisted round and drovehis armoured elbow into theman'sface.Bloodspattered like rain in

the dust. The warrior reeledback,crumpledtotheground.A lance haft hammered a

glancing blow along Paran'stemple. He spun round with

the impact. A second lancestruckhiminthehip,hardasakickfromahorse,numbinghisleg.Somethingpinnedhisleftfoottotheground.Paran unsheathed Chance.

The weapon was almostknockedfromhishandwitharinging, pealing sound. Heswung it upward and it wasstruck again. Half blindedwith pain, sweat and dust,Paran rearedupright, shifting

to a two-handed grip anddrawing Chance down to acentre guard position. Thesword's blade was struck athirdtime,butheretainedhisgrip.Therewassilence.Gasping,

blinking, Paran raised hishead,lookedaround.Rhivi surrounded him, but

nonemoved.Theirdarkeyeswerewide.

Paranflickedhisgazetohisweapon, glared back up andaround at the warriors, thenhis eyes returned to Chance.Andstayedthere.Three iron lanceheads

sprouted from the blade likeleaves, each point split andjammed, the hafts shatteredandgone, leavingonlywhitewood jutting out from thesockets.He looked down at his

pinned foot. A lance hadstruck, through his boot, butthe wide blade of the headwas turned, its flat sidepressing against his foot.Splintered wood surroundedhim.Paranglancedathiship,sawnowound.Ajaggedtearmarred the leather ofChance'sscabbard.TheRhiviwarriorwith the

smashed face lay motionlessa few feet fromwhere Paran

stood. The captain saw thathismountandthepackhorseswere untouched and had notmoved. The other Rhivi hadpulled back. Theencirclement now divided asasmallfigureapproached.A girl, perhaps no more

than five years old. Thewarriors moved aside fromher as if in awe, or fear,possibly both. She woreantelope skins tiedwith cord

at the waist, and nothing onherfeet.There was something

familiar about her, a way ofwalking, her stance as shestopped before him –something in her heavy-liddedeyes–thatmadeParanfrownuneasily.The girl stopped to regard

him, her small round faceslowly coming to mirrorParan'sownfrown.Sheraised

one hand, as if reaching forhim, then dropped it. Thecaptain found he could notpull away his eyes from her.Child,doIknowyou?As the silence between

them lengthened, an oldwoman came up behind thegirl, rested a wrinkled handon her shoulder. Lookingworn,almostexasperated,theold woman studied thecaptain. The girl beside her

said something, the quicklilting language of theRhivi,surprisingly low-pitched forone so young. The oldwomancrossedherarms.Thegirlspokeagain,insistently.The old woman addressed

Paran in Daru, 'Five lancesclaimed you as our enemy.'Shepaused.'Fivelanceswerewrong.''You'veplentymore,'Paran

said.

'So we have, and the godfavouring your sword has nofollowershere.''Sofinishit,'Parangrowled.

'I'mtiredofthegame.'The girl spoke, a tone of

command that rang like irononstone.The old woman turned in

obvioussurprise.The girl continued, her

words now evidently

explanatory. The old womanlistened,thenswungherdark,glittering gaze back to thecaptain. 'You are Malazan,andMalazanshavechosentobe the enemies of the Rhivi.Is this choice yours as well?And know this: I willrecognizealiewhenIhearit.''I am Malazan by birth,'

Paransaid.'Ihavenointerestin calling the Rhivi myenemy. I would rather have

noenemiesatall.'The old woman blinked.

'Sheoffersyouwordstoeaseyourgrief,soldier.''Meaning?''Youaretolive.'Parandidnotquitetrustthis

turn of events. 'What wordshas she for me? I've neverseenherbefore.''Nor has she seen you

before. Yet you know each

other.''No,wedon't.'The old woman's eyes

hardened. 'Will you hear herwordsornot?Sheoffersyouagift.Willyouthrowitbackinherface?'Profoundlyuneasy,hesaid.

'No,Isupposenot.''The child says you need

not grieve. The woman youknowhasnotpassed through

the Arching Trees of Death.Her journey was beyond thelands you can see, beyondthose of the spirit that allmortals sense. And now shehas returned. You must bepatient, soldier. You willmeet again, so this childpromises.''Which woman?' Paran

demanded, his heartpounding.'Theoneyouthoughtdead.'

Helookedagainat thegirl.Thefamiliarityreturnedlikeablow to his chest. Hestaggered back a step. 'Notpossible,'hewhispered.The girl withdrew, dust

swirling.Shevanished.'Wait!'Another cry sounded. The

herd lurched into motion,closing in, obscuring theRhivi. In moments all Paran

could see were the backs ofthe giant beasts, shufflingpast. He thought to pushamong them, but knew itwouldbringhimonlydeath.'Wait!' the captain shouted

again, but the sound ofhundreds – thousands – ofhoofs on the plain drownedhisefforts.Tattersail!

It was fully an hour beforethe Bhederin herd's tail endappeared. As the last of thebeasts strolled past thecaptain, he looked around.The wind rolled the dustcloud eastward, over thesloping,humpedhills.Paran climbed into the

saddle, swung his mountsouthward once again. Thehills of Gadrobi rose beforehim.Tattersail,whatdid you

do? He recalled Toc notingthe trail of small printsleading from the scorchedpillar that had been all thatwas left of Bellurdan andTattersail.Hood'sBreath,didyou plan such a thing? Andwhy the Rhivi? Reborn,alreadyachildoffive,maybesix–areyouevenmortalanymore, woman? Have youascended? You've foundyourself a people, a strange,

primitive people – to whatend?Andwhenwenextmeet,howoldwillyouappeartobethen?He thought again about the

Rhivi. They'd been drivingthe herd north, a herd bigenoughtofeed...anarmyonthemarch.Caladan Brood –he'sonhiswaytoPale.Thatis something I don't thinkDujek's prepared for. OldOnearm'sintrouble.

He had another two hoursof riding before sunset.Beyond the Gadrobi Hillswas Lake Azur, and the cityof Darujhistan. And withinthecity,Whiskeyjackandhissquad. And in that squad, ayoung woman I've beenpreparing to meet for threeyears.Thegodpossessingher–is he even my enemy anymore?The question arrived

unbidden, turning his heartcold. Gods, what a journeythishasbeen,andhereIhadthought to travel this plainunnoticed. A foolish thought.Scholars and mages writeendlesslyoffellconvergences– it seems I am a walkingconvergence, a lodestone todraw Ascendants. To theirperil, it seems. My swordChance answered those fivelances, despite my treatment

of one of the Twins.How toexplainthat?Thetruthis,mycause has become my own.Not the Adjunct's, not theEmpire's. I said I'd ratherhavenoenemiesatall–andthe old woman saw those astruewords.And so, it seems,theyare.Endless surprises, Ganoes

Paran. Ride on, see whatcomes.

The track climbed a hillsideand the captain spurred hishorse up the slope.Reachingthe summit, he yanked hardon the reins. The horsesnorted indignantly andswung her head round, eyesrolling. But Paran's attentionwas elsewhere. He leanedback in the saddle andloosenedhissword.A heavily armoured man

struggled to his feet beside a

small campfire. Beyond himwasahobbledmule.Themantottered, his weight on oneleg,andunsheathedabastardsword, which he then leanedonasheregardedthecaptain.Paran nudged his mount

forward, scanning theimmediate area. It seemedthatthewarriorwasalone.Hebrought his horse to a haltwiththirtyfeetbetweenthem.The man spoke in Daru.

'I'm in no shape for a fight,butifyouwantoneit'syours.'Once again Paran found

himself thankful for theAdjunct's insistence that hebe thoroughly schooled: hisreply was as fluent as thisnative's. 'No. I've lost thetaste for it.' He waited,leaningforwardinthesaddle,then grinned at the mule. 'IsthatbeastaWarMule?'The man barked a laugh.

'I'm sure it thinks it is,' hesaid, relaxing. 'I've food tospare, traveller, ifyou'reofamind.'Thecaptaindismountedand

approached. 'My name'sParan,' he said. He sat downbythefire.Theotherfollowedsuit,the

fire between them. 'Coll,' hegrunted, stretching out abandaged leg. 'You downfromthenorth?'

'Genabaris, initially. SpentsometimeinPale,recently.'Coil's brows rose at that.

'You've the look of amercenary,' he said, 'thoughlikely an officer. I heard itwasprettybadupthere.''Iarrivedalittlelate,'Paran

admitted. 'Saw lots of rubbleand lots of dead, so I'minclined to believe thestories.' He hesitated, thensaid, 'Therewas a rumour in

Pale that Moon's Spawn isnowoverDarujhistan.'Coll grunted, tossing a

handful of sticks on to thefire. 'So it is,' he said. Hegestured at a battered pottucked against the coals.'That'sstew,ifyou'rehungry.Helpyourself.'Paran realized he was

famished.He acceptedCoil'soffer gratefully. As he ate,using a wooden spoon the

man loaned him, he thoughtto ask about that leg wound.ButthenherecalledhisClawtraining. When you play asoldier,youplayittothehilt.Nobody talks about what'sobvious. Something staringyou in the eye, you lookaround it and grumble aboutthe weather. Anythingimportantwillcomeoutinitsown time. Soldiers havenothing to look forward to,

making patience an easyvirtue,andsometimesit'snotjust avirtue,but a contestofindifference. So Paranemptied the pot, while Collwaited in casual silence,pokingat the fireandaddingthe occasional stick from anenormous pile behind him –where the wood had comefromwasanybody'sguess.Finally, Paran wiped his

mouth with his sleeve and

scrubbed the spoon as cleanas he could manage withoutwater. He sat back then, andbelched.Coll spoke. 'You heading

intoDarujhistan,then?''Iam.Andyou?''Shouldbeabletomanageit

inanotherdayorso,thoughIcan't sayI'm lookingforwardto riding into the city on thebackofamule.'

Paran looked westward.'Well,' he said, squinting,'sun's about down.Mind if Isharethiscampforthenight?''Byallmeans.'The captain rose and

attended to his horses. Hethoughtaboutdelayingadayto let this man mend somemore, then lending him ahorse.Ifherodeintothecityin the company of a local,there'd be advantages –

someone to direct him,perhapsevengivehimaplaceto stay for adayor two.Notonly that, but hemight learnsomething in the meantime.Would another day matter?Possibly, but it lookedworthit. He hobbled the Wickanhorses near the mule, thencarriedhissaddlebacktothefire.'Been thinking about your

problem,' Paran said, as he

dropped the saddle and satwith his back against it. 'I'llrideinwithyou.Youcanusemypackhorse.'Coil's eyes were alert. 'A

generousoffer.'Seeing theman'ssuspicion,

Paran smiled. 'The horsescouldusetheextraday'srest,for one. Second, I've neverbeforebeentoDarujhistan,soinexchange formyso-calledgenerosity I'd like to plague

youwithendlessquestionsinthenext twodays.After that,I get my horse back andyou're on your way, and ifanyone's comeoutahead, it'sme.''Better warn you now,

Paran, I'm not much of atalker.''I'lltaketherisk.'Coll considered for a time.

'Hell,'hesaid,'I'dbemadnot

to accept, wouldn't I? Youdon'tlookthetypetostickmeintheback.Idon'tknowyourreal story, Paran. If that'ssomething you want to keepto yourself, that's yourbusiness. Thatwon't stopmefrom asking questions,though.It'suptoyouwhetheryoulieornot.''Ithinkthatgoesbothways,

doesn't it?' Paran responded.'Well, you want my story

straight?Fine,hereitis,Coll.I'm a deserter from theMalazan Army, ranked ascaptain. I also did a lot ofwork with the Claw, andlooking back on it that'swhere the trouble started.Anyway, it's done.' Oh, yes,and one more thing: peoplewho get close to me usuallyendupdead.Coll was silent, his eyes

glittering in the firelight and

fixed on the man oppositehim. Then he puffed hischeeks and blew out a loudbreathofair.'Truthasbaldasthatmakes a challenge, don'tit?' He stared into the fire,then leaned back on hiselbows and lifted his face tothe stars now appearingoverhead.'IwasonceanobleinDarujhistan,thelastsonofalong-lined,powerfulfamily.I was set for an arranged

marriage but I fell in lovewith another woman – ahungry, ambitious woman,thoughIwasblindtothat.'Hesmiled wryly. 'She was awhore, in fact, only wheremost whores I've met areprettydown-to-earth,shewasastwistedasoulasyoucouldimagine.'Hepassedahandacrosshis

eyes. 'Anyway, I refuted myobligations and broke off the

arranged marriage. It killedmy father, I think, when ImarriedAystal–thatwasthewhore's name, though she'schanged it since.'He laughedharshly at the night sky.'Didn't takeher long.I'mstillnotsurehowshemanagedthedetails, how many men shetook to bed to buy theirinfluence,orhowtheydid it.All I know is Iwokeuponeday and found myself

strippedoftitle,strippedevenof my family name. Theestate was hers, the moneywashers, itwasallhers,andherneedformehadended.'The flames licked the dry

wood between them. Paransaid nothing. He sensed thatmore was to come from theman opposite him, and thatCollwasstrugglingwithit.'But that wasn't the worst

betrayal, Paran,' he said at

length, meeting the captain'seyes. 'Oh, no. That camewhenIwalkedawayfromit.Icould've fought her. I mighteven have won.' His jawtautened – the only hint ofanguishthatescapedhisself-control – then he continued,in a flat, empty voice,'Acquaintances I'dknown fordecades looked right throughme.Toeveryone Iwasdead.They chose not to hear me.

They just walked past, ordidn'tevencometo thegatesof their estateswhen I calledon them. I was dead, Paran,even the city's recordsclaimed it. And so I agreedwith them. I walked away.Disappeared.It'sonethingtohaveyourfriendsmournyourpassing in your face. But it'sanother to betray your ownlife, Paran. But, as you said,it'sdone.'

The captain looked away,squinting into the darkness.What's this human urge, hewondered, that brings us tosuchdevastation?'Thegamesof the high born,' he saidquietly,'spantheworld.Iwasborn a noble, like you, Coll.But in Malaz we'd met ourmatchintheoldEmperor.Hecrushedusateveryturnuntilwe cowered like whippeddogs.Coweredforyears.But

itwasonlyanissueofpower,wasn't it?' he said, more tohimself than to themanwhoshared the fire. 'There are nolessons worthy enough for anobletoheed.Ilookbackonmyyearswithin that twisted,hungry company – I lookback on that life now, Coll,andIseeitwasn'talifeatall.'Hewassilentforatime,thena slow smile curved hismouthandhisgazeswungto

Coll. 'Since I walked awayfrom the Malazan Empire,and severed once and for allthe dubious privileges ofmynobleblood,damn,I'veneverfelt so alive. It was never alife before, only the palestshadow of what I've nowfound. Is thata truthmostofusaretoofrightenedtoface?'Coll grunted. 'I'm not the

sharpest man you'll meet,Paran, and your thoughts are

running a touch too deep forme. But if I understand youright, you're sitting therelooking at a chopped-up oldfool of a man and you'retelling him he's alive. Rightnow.Asaliveascanbe.Andwhatever he betrayed backthen,itwasn'tlife,wasit?''Youtellme,Coll.'Theman grimaced and ran

a hand through his thinninghair. 'The thing is, I want it

back.Iwantitallback.'Paran burst out laughing,

and continued to laugh untilsharp pains cramped hisstomach.Collsatwatchinghim,then

a low, rumblingchuckle rosefrom his chest. He reachedback, retrieved a handful ofsticks and tossed them intothe fire,oneat a time. 'Well,dammit, Paran,' he said,amusedlinescrinklingaround

hiseyes, 'you'vecomeoutofthe blue like a god-sent boltoflightning.AndIappreciateit. I appreciate it more thanyou'lleverknow.'Paranwiped tears from his

eyes.'Hood'sBreath,'hesaid.'JustoneWarMuletalkingtoanother,right?''I guess so, Paran. Now, if

you'll look in that pack ofmine, you'll find a jug ofWorrytown wine. Its vintage

isaboutaweek.'The captain rose.

'Meaning?''Meaningit'srunningoutof

time.'

BOOKSIX

THECITY

OFBLUEFIRE

Rumours like tatteredflagswind-snapped andechoinginthestreetsbelowtold the tale of the daysuponus...'Twas said an eel hadslippedashoreornotonebutathousandunderajaggedmoonthatmightbedead,'twas whispered that a

clawscrapedslowon the city's cobbles,evenasadragonwas seen sailing highsilver and black in thenightsky.'Twas heard, they say, ademon'sdeathcryon the rooftops on anightofblood,evenas the master's hundredhandslostahundreddaggerstothe

dark,and'twasrumouredthen,aladymasked highborn hadoffered to unbiddenguestsafetetoremember...

RumourBornFisher(b.?)

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

Fewcanseethedarkhandholdingaloftthesplinter,orthenotchedchainsfatedtobeheardbeforedeath'srattle,butharkthewheelof minions and

victimswhomoanthelord'snameinthedarkheartofMoon'sSpawn...

SilverfoxOutriderHurlochel,

6thArmy

As Rallick Nom approachedthe Phoenix Inn from thealleyway, a large, beefy

woman stepped out from ashadowed niche andconfrontedhim.He raisedaneyebrow. 'You wantsomething,Meese?''Never mind what I want.'

She grinned invitingly.'You'veknownabout that foryears.Anyway,Icometotellyasomething,Nom.Sorelax.'He crossed his arms and

waited.

Meeseglancedbackup thealley, then hunched close totheassassin.'There'ssomeoneinthebar.Beenaskingforya.Byname.'Startled, Rallick

straightened. 'What's he looklike?'heaskedcasually.'Like a soldier outa

uniform,' Meese replied.'Never seen him aroundbefore. Sowhat do ya think,Nom?'

He looked away. 'Nothing.Where'shesitting?'Meese grinned again. 'At

Kruppe'stable.Homeground.Nowain'tthatfine?'Rallick stepped past the

woman and headed towardsthe inn. As she moved tofollow he held out his hand.'A minute between us,Meese,' he said, withoutturning.'Where'sIrilta?'

'Inside,' she said, behindhim.'Goodluck,Nom.''Luck's never free,' Rallick

muttered, as he turned thecornerandclimbedthesteps.Hestoodstilljustwithinthe

doorandsurveyedthecrowd.A few strangers, not enoughto cause him concern,however.Hisgazeslidacrossto a man sitting at Kruppe'stable.Healmosthadtotakeasecond look, so nondescript

was he. Then Rallick strodestraight for him, the crowdparting as he went –somethinghe'dnevernoticedbefore. Amused, he held hiseyes on the stranger until hewas noticed. They lockedgazes, though the man madenomoveother than to takeasip from his tankard then setitdowncarefullyonthetable.Rallick pulled out a chair

and dragged it opposite. 'I'm

RallickNom.'There was something solid

about this person, a kind ofassurance that was calming.Rallick felt himself relaxingin spite of his habitualcaution.Theman'sfirstwordschangedthat,however.'TheEel has amessage 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 thetankard, then resumed. 'Now,TurbanOrrhashiredanotherdozenhunters.Whatare theyhunting? Well, me, for one.Your problem is that he'sgoing to be harder to reach.The Eel approves of yourefforts concerning LadySimtal.Coil'sreturnisdesiredbyallwhovalueintegrityandhonourwithin theCouncil. If

you require anything, asknowandit'syours.'Rallick'seyeshadhardened.

'Never knew Murillio hadsuchabigmouth,'hesaid.The man shook his head.

'Yourcompatriothasrevealednothing. Nor have you. It istheEel'sbusiness.Now,whatdoyourequire?''Nothing.''Good.' The stranger

nodded, as if he'd expectedthat reply and was pleased.'Incidentally, Turban Orr'sefforts to pass theproclamation have been ...impeded. Indefinitely. TheEel wishes to thank you foryour unwitting role in that.Nevertheless, the councilmanexplores other options. Hehas been watched closely.Hence our fortunatediscovery that is at the heart

of the Eel's message to you.Last night, beneath Despot'sBarbican, Turban Orr metwith a representative of theAssassins' Guild – how hemanaged that was quite afeat, considering howdifficult your comrades havebeen to find. In any case, acontract was tendered byTurbanOrr.'Themanwaitedfor the shock to wear offRallick'sface,thencontinued.

'TenderedbyTurbanOrr,asIsaid, but not on his ownbehalf. Rather, Lady Simtalhas decided that Coil's deathshould be a fact in the realworldasitisonpaper.''Who?' Rallick rasped.

'Whowasthecontact?''I'mcomingtothat.First, it

was accepted, for thepayment was substantial.They are aware that Coll ispresentlyoutsideDarujhistan.

Theysimplyawaithisreturn.''Theassassin'sname.''Ocelot.'Themanrose.'The

Eelwishesyousuccess inallyour ventures, Rallick Nom.Thusthemessageends.Goodevening.'Heturnedtoleave.'Wait.''Yes?''Thankyou,'Rallicksaid.The stranger smiled, then

left.

Theassassintooktheman'sseat, and leaned against thewall.HewavedatSulty,whohad a pitcher of ale and atankard waiting. She hurriedover. Behind her strode, at amoreleisurelypace,IriltaandMeese. They sat downwithout preamble, each withherowntankard.'Everybody'sstillbreathing,'

Irilta said, raising her drink.'Andhere'st'that.'

Meese lifted hers as welland the two women drankdeep. Then Meese bentforward. 'Any word ofKruppeandtheboy?'Rallick shook his head. 'I

may not be here when theycome back,' he said. 'TellMurilliotogoaheadifIdon'tshow, and if other ... eventsoccur. And, if that happens,tell him our man's eyes areopen.' Rallick filled his

tankard and drained itimmediately. Then he rose.'Don'twishmeluck,'hesaid.'Howaboutsuccess?'Meese

asked, a worried expressiononherbroadface.Rallickjerkedhisheadina

nod.Thenhelefttheinn.Anomander Rakewas hidingsomething.Barukwascertainofitashestaredmoodilyinto

thefireplace.Inhisrighthandwas a goblet of goat's milk,and in his left a largefragment of Daru flatbread.Why had the Tiste Andiipermitted the Imass to enterthe barrow? He'd asked thatquestion already of the Lordsitting beside him, but ananswer didn't seemforthcoming. Instead, all thealchemistgot fromRakewasthat irritating smugness.

Baruk took a bite from theflatbread, the crack loudbetweenthem.Rake stretched out his legs

and sighed. 'An odd hour todine,'hesaid.'All my hours have been

odd, lately,' Baruk said,aroundthebread.Hedrankamouthfulofmilk.'I'd no idea that both the

ShadowLordandOponnhad

become involved in affairs,'Rakesaid.Baruk felt the Lord's eyes

on him, but he remainedstaring at the fire. 'I had anintimationofOponn,'hesaid.'Butnothingdefinite.'Rakesnortedinreply.Baruk downed some more

milk.'Youholdyourhunchesclose to your chest. I do thesame.'

'This avails us nothing,'Rakesnapped.Thealchemist turned inhis

chair to face theTisteAndii.'Your ravens watched thatwoman and the T'lan Imassenterthebarrow.Doyoustillbelievetheywillfail?''Do you?' Rake retorted. 'I

seem to recall that that wasyour position on the matter,Baruk.AsfarasIwasandamconcerned, I don'tmuch care

whether they succeed or not.Eitherway,there'llbeafight.I suspect you'd imaginedtherewouldbeawaytoavoidone. Obviously, yourintelligence concerning theMalazan Empire is sorelylacking. Laseen knows onlyone thing, and that's force.She'll ignore power until it'sunveiled, and then she'll hityou with everything at herdisposal.'

'Andyou justwait for it tohappen?' Baruk scowled.'That's how cities aredestroyed. That's howthousandsofpeopledie.Doesany of that matter to you,AnomanderRake?Solongasyouwinintheend?'Atightsmileplayedonthe

Lord's thin lips. 'An accurateassessment, Baruk. In thiscase, however, Laseen wantsDarujhistan intact. I mean to

prevent that. But destroyingthecity todefyherwouldbetoo easy. I could havemanagedthatweeksago.No,IwantDarujhistan to remainas it is. Yet out of Laseen'sreach. That, Alchemist, isvictory.' His grey eyes wereon Baruk. 'I would not havesought an alliance with youotherwise.'The alchemist frowned.

'Unlessyouplantreachery.'

Rakewas silent for a time,studyinghishandsclaspedonhislap.'Baruk,'hesaidsoftly,'as any commander of longstanding knows, treacherybreeds its own. Oncecommitted, whether againstan enemy or an ally, itbecomes a legitimate choicefor everyone in yourcommand, from the lowestprivateseekingpromotion, toyour personal aides,

bodyguards and officers.Mypeople know of our alliancewithyou,Alchemist.IfIweretobetray it, Iwouldnot longremain the Lord of Moon'sSpawn.Andrightlyso.'Baruk smiled. 'And who

could challenge your power,Rake?''Caladan Brood, for one,'

Rake replied immediately.'And then there's my fourassassinmages.EvenSilanah,

thedwellerwithintheMoon'scaverns, might take it uponherselftoexactjudgementonme. I can think of others,Baruk,manyothers.''Sofearholdsyouincheck,

SonofDarkness?'Rake scowled. 'That title is

heldbythosefoolswhothinkme worthy of worship. Idislike it, Baruk, and wouldnot hear it again from you.Does fear holdme in check?

No.Aspowerfulasfear is, itisnomatchforwhatcompelsme. Duty.' The Lord's eyeshadshiftedintoaduntoneasthey remained fixed on hishands, which he now turnedpalmsup.'Youhaveadutytoyour city, Baruk. It drivesyou, shapes you. I'm nostranger to such a thing.WithinMoon'sSpawnarethelastoftheTisteAndiionthisworld. We are dying,

Alchemist. No cause seemsgreat enough to return tomypeople thezest for life. I try,butinspirationhasneverbeena great talent of mine. Eventhis Malazan Empire couldnot make us rise to defendourselves – until we ran outofplacestorunto.'We still die on this

continent.Betterthatitbebythe sword.' He let his handsslip from his lap. 'Imagine

your spirit dying while yourbody lives on. Not for tenyears, not for fifty. But abodythatlivesonforfifteen,twentythousandyears.'Rake rose swiftly. He

looked down upon a silentBaruk, and smiled a smilethatlaunchedadaggerofpaininto the alchemist's heart.'Thus duty holds me, yet adutythatisinitselfhollow.Isit enough to preserve the

TisteAndii?Simplypreservethem? Do I raise Moon'sSpawn into the heavens,whereweliveon,beyondanyrisk, any threat? What, then,will I be preserving? Ahistory, a particular point ofview.' He shrugged. 'Thehistory is done, Baruk, andtheTisteAndiipointofviewisoneofdisinterest, stoicismandquiet,emptydespair.Arethese gifts to the world

worthy of preservation? Ithinknot.'Baruk had no immediate

response. What AnomanderRake had described wasalmost beyondcomprehension, yet itsanguished cry reachedthroughtothealchemist.'Andyet,' he said, 'here you are.Allied with the Empire'svictims. Do you stand aloneinthis,AnomanderRake?Do

yourpeopleapprove?''They care not,' Rake said.

'They accept my commands.They follow me. They serveCaladan Brood when I askthem to.And they die in themudandforestsofalandthatisnottheirown,inawarnottheir own, for a people whoareterrifiedofthem.'Baruk sat forward. 'Then

why? Why do you do allthis?'

A harsh laugh was Rake'sresponse. After a moment,however, his bitteramusement fell away and hesaid, 'Is an honourable causeworth anything these days?Does it matter that we'veborrowedit?Wefightaswellasanyman.Wediealongsidethem. Mercenaries of thespirit.Andeventhatisacoinwe scarcely value. Why? Itdoesn't matter why. But we

neverbetrayourallies.'Iknowyouareworriedthat

I did nothing to prevent theT'lanImassfromenteringthebarrow. I believe the JaghutTyrant will be freed, Baruk.Butbetternow,withmeherebeside you, than at someother time when the Jaghuthas no one capable ofopposinghim.We'll takethislegendandcarvethelifefromit,Alchemist,andneveragain

willthethreathauntyou.'Baruk stared at the Tiste

Andii. 'Are you that certainyou'll be able to destroy theJaghut?''No.Butwhenitisfinished

with us, it will have beenmuchreduced.Thenitfallstoothers – to your Cabal, infact. There's no certainty inthis,Baruk.Thatseemsafactparticularly galling to youhumans.You'dbetterlearnto

accept it. We may well beable to destroy the JaghutTyrant, but even this willserveLaseen'splans.'The alchemist was

bemused.'Idon'tunderstand.'Rakegrinned.'Whenweare

finishedwithit,wewillhavebeenmuchreduced.Andthenwill come the powers of theMalazanEmpire.So,yousee,either way she wins. Ifanythinghas herworried, it's

your T'orrud Cabal, Baruk.Of your abilities she knowsnothing. Which is why heragents seek thisVorcan. TheGuild Master accepting thecontract will solve theproblemyourepresent.''Yet,' Baruk mused, 'there

areotherfactorsinvolved.''Oponn,' Rake stated. 'That

is a danger to everyoneinvolved. Do you thinkOponn cares for a mortal

city?For itspeople? It is thenexus of power that mattersto Oponn, the whirlwindwhere games get nasty.Willimmortal blood be spilled?That's the question the godsareeagertohaveanswered.'Baruk stared down at his

gobletofgoat'smilk.'Well,atleast we've avoided that sofar.'Hetookasip.'Wrong,'Rakesaid.'Forcing

Shadowthrone out of the

gamemarkedthefirstspillingofimmortalblood.'Barukalmostchokedonthe

milk.Hesetdown thegobletand stared up at the TisteAndii.'Whose?''Two Hounds died by my

sword. KnockedShadowthrone somewhat off-balance,Ibelieve.'Baruk leaned back and

closed his eyes. 'Then the

stakeshaverisen,'hesaid.'As far as Moon's Spawn,

Alchemist.' Rake returned tohis chair and sat, once againstretching his legs out to thefire's warmth. 'Now, whatmore can you tell me aboutthis Jaghut Tyrant? I recallyou said you wished toconsultanauthority.'Baruk opened his eyes and

tossed the flatbread into thefire. 'There'saproblemthere,

Rake. I'm hoping you canhelpexplainwhat'shappened.Please,' he said, rising,'followme.'Grunting, Rake climbed

back to his feet. This nighthe'd not worn his sword. ToBaruk the Lord's broad backlooked incomplete, but hewasthankfulfortheweapon'sabsence.HeledRakefromtheroom

anddownthecentralstairsto

thelowerchambers.Thefirstof these subterranean roomsheldanarrowcot,andonthecot lay an old man. Barukindicatedhim.'Asyousee,heappears to be sleeping.He isnamedMammot.'Rake raised an eyebrow.

'Thehistorian?''Also a High Priest of

D'rek.''That explains the cynicism

in his writings,' Rake said,grinning. 'The Worm ofAutumn breeds an unhappylot.'Baruk was surprised that

this Tiste Andii had readMammot's Histories but,then, why not? A lifespanning twenty thousandyearsnecessitatedhobbies,hesupposed.'So,' Rake said, striding to

thebed, 'thisMammot sleeps

a deep sleep.What triggeredit?' He crouched before theoldman.Baruk joined him. 'That is

the odd part. I admit toknowinglittleofearthmagic.D'riss is aWarren I've neverexplored. I called onMammot, as I indicated toyou, and upon his arrival Iasked him to tell me all heknew of the Jaghut Tyrantand thebarrow.Hepromptly

satdownandclosedhiseyes.They'veyet toopen,andhe'snot uttered a single wordsince.'Rakestraightened. 'Hetook

yourrequestseriously,Isee.''Whatdoyoumean?''Asyouguessed,heopened

hisD'rissWarren.He soughtto answer your question byrather, shall we say, directmeans.Andnowsomething's

trappedhim.''He travelled byWarren to

the Jaghut Tyrant's barrow?Theoldfool!''Into a concentration of

Tellann sorcery, not tomention Jaghut OmtosePhellack.Ontopofallthat,awoman with an Otataralsword.' Rake crossed hisarms. 'He'll not come rounduntilboththeT'lanImassandthe Otataral have left the

barrow.Andeventhen,ifhe'snot quick, the awakeningJaghutmighttakehim.'A chill burgeoned in

Baruk's bones. 'Take, as inpossession?'Rake nodded, his

expression grim. 'A HighPriest, is he? The Jaghutwould find him very useful.Not to mention the accessMammot provides to D'rek.Do you know, Baruk, if this

Tyrant's capable of enslavingagoddess?''I don't know,' Baruk

whispered, sweat tricklingdown his round face as hestared at Mammot'srecumbentform.'Dessembraefend,'headded.Theoldwomansittingonthetenementstepssquintedatthelate afternoon sky while she

tamped dried Italbe leavesinto her steatite pipe.On thewooden steps beside herwasa small covered bronzebrazier. Thin kindling sticksjutted from holes around thebowl. The old womanwithdrewoneandsetittoherpipe, then tossed it into thestreet.Themanwalkingdownthe

opposite side of the streetcaught the signal and ran a

hand through his hair. CircleBreaker felt near to panic.This takingtothestreetswasfar too risky. Turban Orr'shunters were close to him –he could feel it with dreadcertainty.Sooneror later, thecouncilman would recall hismany meetings beneathDespot's Barbican, and theguard who'd been stationedthereevery time.Thisbrazenshowing of himself

compromisedeverything.Heturnedacorner,passing

beyond the old woman'ssight,and.continuedforthreeblocksuntilhecameoppositethePhoenixInn.Twowomenloungedbythedoor,laughingatsomejokebetweenthem.Circle Breaker tucked his

thumbs into his sword-beltand angled the scabbard outtotheside.Itsbronze-cappedendscrapedagainst thestone

wall beside him. Then hewithdrew his hands andcontinuedonhiswaytowardsLakefront.Well,it'sdone.Allthat remained for him wasone final contact, possiblyredundant, but he wouldfollow the Eel's orders.Things were coming to ahead. He did not expect tolivemuchlonger,buthe'ddowhat hemust until that time.Whatmorecouldbeaskedof

him?At the entrance of thePhoenix Inn, Meese nudgedIrilta.'That'sit,'shemuttered.'Youdotheback-upthistime.Usualpattern.'Iriltascowled,thennodded.

'Headoff,then.'Meese descended the steps

and turned up the street. Shereversed the route taken by

Circle Breaker until shereached the tenement. Shesaw the old woman stillsitting there, lazily watchingpassers-by.AsMeese passedthroughherlineofvision,theoldwomanremoved thepipefromhermouthandtappeditagainst the heel of her shoe.Sparks rained on to thecobbles.Thatwas the signal.Meese

came to the corner of the

block, then turned right andentered the alley running thebuilding's length. A dooropened for her a third of thewaydownandshestrodeintoadimlylitroomwithanopendoor beyond. Someone hidbehind the first door but shedid not acknowledge thatsomeone's presence. Shepassed through the second,inner door and found herselfin a hallway. From there it

wasaquickjogupthestairs.Apsalar–orSorry,asshehadbeen known before – hadn'tbeenmuch impressed by herfirstsightofDarujhistan.Forsome reason, despite herexcitement and anticipation,ithadallseemedtoofamiliar.Disappointed, Crokus had

wasted no time in taking herto his uncle's home once

they'd stabled Coil's horse.The journey to the city, andthen through its crowdedstreets,hadbeen, forCrokus,a continual storm ofconfusion. This womanseemed to have a knack forcatching him off-guard, andall he desired now was tothrowherintosomeoneelse'slapandbedonewithit.Yet, if that was truly the

case, why did he feel so

miserableaboutit?Crokus left Mammot's

library and returned to theouter room. Moby chirpedandstuckoutitsredtongueathim from Mammot's desk.Ignoring thecreature,Crokusstood before Apsalar, who'dseatedherself in thebetterofthe twochairs–his chair, ofcourse. 'I don't understand.Fromthelooksofit,he'sbeengone for a couple of days at

least.''So? Is that so unusual?'

Apsalaraskedcasually.'Itis,'hegrumbled.'Didyou

feedMobyasIasked?'Shenodded.'Thegrapes?''Yes.' He placed his hands

on his hips. 'Strange. MaybeRallick knows somethingaboutit.''Who'sRallick?''Anassassinfriend,'Crokus

replieddistractedly.Apsalarshottoherfeet,her

eyeswide.'What's wrong?' Crokus

asked, stepping close. Thegirl looked positivelyterrified. He glared around,half expecting to see somedemonriseoutofthefloororthe cupboard, but the roomwas unchanged – a littlemessier than usual, though.Moby'sfault,heassumed.

'I'm not sure,' she said,relaxingwithaneffort.'ItwasasifIwasabouttoremembersomething. But it nevercame.''Oh,'Crokussaid.'Well,we

could—'A knock sounded on the

door.Crokusbrightened,walking

over to it. 'Oh, he probablylosthiskeysorsomething,'he

said.'It was unlocked,' Apsalar

pointedout.Crokus opened the door.

'Meese!What'reyou—?''Quiet!' the big woman

hissed, pushing past him andshutting the door. Her gazefell on Apsalar and her eyeswidened. Then she turnedback to Crokus. 'Good Ifound you, lad! You've seen

noonesincegettingback?''Why,no.That'sjustit—''A stabler,' Apsalar said,

frowning up atMeese. 'Havewemet?''She's lost her memory,'

Crokus explained. 'But, yes,westabledCoil'shorse.''Why?' Meese demanded,

then as Crokus was about toelaborateshewenton,'Nevermind. The stabler shouldn't

proveaproblem.Well,we'reinluck!''Dammit, Meese,' Crokus

said.'What'sgoingon?'She met his eyes. 'That

D'Arle guard you killed theother night. The one in thegarden. They've got yourname and description, lad.Don't ask me how. But theD'Arles are talking highgallowswhenyou'recaught.'

The blood left Crokus'sface.Thenhishead jerked toApsalar. He opened hismouth,thenshutitagain.No,she truly didn't remember.Butitmusthavebeenher.Hecollapsed into Mammot'schair.'We'vegottohideyou,lad,'

Meese said. 'Both of you, Iguess. But don't you worry,Crokus, me and Irilta, we'lltake care of you till

something can be workedout.''I don't believe this,' he

whispered,staringat thewallopposite him. 'She betrayedme,damnher!'Meeselookedquestioningly

at Apsalar, who said, 'It's aguess,butI'dsayagirlnamedChallice.'Meese closed her eyes

briefly. 'Challice D'Arle, the

court's honey these days.'Compassionsoftenedherfaceas she looked down onCrokus. 'Oh, lad. That's thewayofit,then.'He jerked in the seat and

glared up at her. 'It isn't anymore.'Meese grinned. 'Right. For

now,' she said, arms foldedover her chest, 'we just sittight till night, then it's therooftops for us.Don'tworry,

we'llhandlethings,lad.'Apsalar rose. 'My name's

Apsalar,'shesaid. 'Pleasedtomeet you,Meese.And thankyouforhelpingCrokus.''Apsalar, huh? Well,' her

grin broadened, 'guess therooftops will be no problemforyou,then.''None,' she replied,

knowing somehow that shewasrightinthis.

'Goodenough,'Meese said.'Now, how about we findsomethingtodrink?''Meese,' Crokus asked, 'do

you know where my unclemighthavegone?''Can't help you there, lad.

Noidea.'Shewasn'tsureabout theoldwoman on the steps, but theone immediately below,

tuckedintoashadowednicheand steadily watching thetenement building – that onewould have to be taken careof. It seemed that this CoinBearerhadprotection.Serrat was not unduly

concerned. Next to her lord,AnomanderRake,sherankedthedeadliestamongtheTisteAndii of Moon's Spawn.Finding this boy-servant ofOponn's had not proved

difficult. Once her lord hadgiven her the necessarydetails, Oponn's magicalsignature had been easy tofind. It helped that she'dencountered it before – andfrom this very boy – on therooftops twoweekspast.Heragents had chased the CoinBearerthatnight,abandoninghim once he'd entered thePhoenixInn–butonlyathercommand. If she'd suspected

then what she now knew,Oponn'spresencewouldhaveendedthatverynight.Ill luck, Serrat smiled to

herself, taking a morecomfortable position on therooftop. They'd move atnight, she suspected. As forthe woman hiding below,she'd have to be removed.Indeed, with a spell ofblurring and enough in thewayofshadows,shemightas

easilytakethewoman'splace.There'd be no suspicion

from the other woman, then,the one presently insidewiththe Coin Bearer. Serratnodded. Yes, that would behowshe'dplayit.But for now, she'd wait.

Patienceeverrewards.'Well,' Murillio said, as hescanned the crowd, 'they're

not here. Which meansthey'rewithMammot.'Kruppedrewadeepbreath

ofthesweaty,smokyair.'Ah,civilization. Kruppe believesyour assessment is accurate,friend.Ifso,thenwemightaswell rest here, drinking andsupping for an hour or two.'With that, he strode into thePhoenixInn.A few old hands, seated at

Kruppe's table,gathered their

tankardsandpitcherand left,murmuring apologies andgrinning among themselves.Kruppegavethemagraciousnod and settled with a loudsigh into his usual chair.Murilliopausedatthebarandspoke with Scurve, then hejoinedKruppe.Brushing dust from his

shirt, Murillio frowneddistractedlyathisroad-wearycondition.'Ilookforwardtoa

bath,' he said. 'ApparentlyScurve saw Rallick in hereearlier, talking with somestranger.Sincethen,nobody'sseenhim.'Kruppe waved an

uninterested hand. 'KindSulty arrives,' he announced.A moment later a pitcher ofalestoodonthetable.Kruppewiped his tankard with hissilk handkerchief, then filleditwiththefoamingbrew.

'Weren't we supposed toreport to Baruk?' Murillioasked,hiseyesonhisfriend.'All in due time,' Kruppe

said. 'First, we must recoverfrom our ordeals. What ifKruppeweretolosehisvoicein very mid-sentence of saidreport? What would availBaruk of that?'He raised histankardanddrankdeep.Murillio drummed the

fingersofonehandrestlessly

on the table, his eyesconstantly scanning thecrowd. Then he straightenedin his seat. He filled histankard. 'So now that youknowwhat Rallick and I areup to,' he said, 'what do youplantodoaboutit?'Kruppe's eyebrows lifted.

'Kruppe? Why, nothing butgood, of course. Timelyassistance,andsuch.Noneedfor blatant fretting, friend

Murillio. By all meansproceedasplanned.ThinkofwiseKruppeasnomorethanakindlychaperon.''Hood's Breath,' Murillio

groaned, eyes rolling. 'Weweredoingfinewithoutyourhelp. The best thing youcoulddoforus isstayoutofourway.Don'tgetinvolved.''Andabandonmyfriendsto

thefates?Nonsense!'

Murilliofinishedhisaleandrose. 'I'm going home,' hesaid. 'You can make thereport to Baruk in a week'stimeforallIcare.AndwhenRallick finds out you knowall about our plans, well,Kruppe,I'dhatetobeinyourboots.'Kruppe waved

dismissively. 'SeeSulty yon?Upon her tray is Kruppe'ssupper. Rallick Nom's nasty

daggers and nastier temperpale to insignificance beforesuch repast as nowapproaches. Goodnight toyou, then,Murillio.Until themorrow.'Murillio stared down at

him, then grumbled,'Goodnight,Kruppe.'He left the bar through the

kitchen door. As soon as hestepped into the back alley afigure accosted him from

across the way. Murilliofrowned.'Thatyou,Rallick?''No,' the shadowed figure

said.'Fearmenot,Murillio.Ihave a message to you fromthe Eel. Call me CircleBreaker.' The man strodecloser.'ThemessageconcernsCouncilmanTurbanOrr...'Rallick moved from rooftopto rooftop in the darkness.

Theneedforabsolutesilenceslowedhishuntconsiderably.There'd be no conversationwithOcelot.Rallickexpectedhe'd havebut one shot at theman.Ifhemissedhischance,his Clan Leader's sorcerywould prove the decidingfactor.Unless...Rallickpausedandchecked

his pouch. Years back, thealchemist Baruk hadrewarded him for work well

done with a small bag ofreddish dust. Baruk hadexplained its magic-deadening properties, butRallick resisted placing histrust in the powder. Had itspotency survived the years?Was it a match for Ocelot'spowers?Therewasnotelling.He crossed a high rooftop,

skirting the edge of a dome.Off to his right and belowwas the city's eastern wall.

ThefaintglowofWorrytownrose beyond it. The assassinsuspected that Ocelot wouldawait Coil's arrival atWorryGate,hidingwithincrossbowrange. Better to kill the manbeforeheenteredthecity.This limited the

possibilities considerably.Lines of sightwere few, andK'rul Hill was the best ofthem.Still,Ocelotmightwellhave used sorcery already,

andliehiddenfrommundaneeyes. Rallick might stumblerightoverhim.Hereachedthenorthsideof

the dome's skirt. Before himrose the K'rul Temple. Fromthe belfry, there'd be a cleanshot just as Coll entered thegate. Rallick removed thepouch from his bag.Whatever the dust covered,Baruk had said, would beimpervioustomagic.More,it

had an area effect. Theassassin scowled.Howmuchof an area? And did it wearoff?Most importantly,Barukhad said – and Rallickremembered thisclearly–donot let it touch your skin.Poison? he'd asked. 'No,' thealchemist had replied. 'Thepowderchangessomepeople.There is no predicting suchchanges,however.Bestnottotakethechance,Rallick.'

Sweat trickled down hisface. Finding Ocelot wasalready a slim chance. Coil'sdeath would ruin everythingand,more,itwouldstripfromRallick his last claim ... towhat?Tohumanity.Thepriceof failure had become veryhigh. 'Justice,' he hissedangrily. 'It has to meansomething.Ithasto!'Rallick untied the pouch.

Hedippedintoitandscraped

out a handful of the powder.He rubbed it between hisfingers.Itfeltlikerust.'That'sit?' he wondered. Maybe ithad deteriorated. Shrugging,he began to massage it intohis skin, starting with hisface. 'What changes?' hemuttered. 'I don't feel anychanges.'Reachingunderhisclothing

as much as was possible,Rallickusedupthelastofthe

powder.Thepouchitselfwasstained on the inside. Heturned it inside out, thenstuffed it into his belt. Now,he grimaced, the huntcontinues. Somewhere outthereanassassinwaited,eyesfixed on Jammit's WorryRoad. 'I'll find you, Ocelot,'he whispered, his eyes fixedon K'rul's belfry tower. 'Andmagicornomagic,youwon'thearme,youwon't even feel

mybreathonyourneckuntilit'stoolate.Iswearit.'Hebeganhisascent.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Thisbluecityhides under itscloakahiddenhandthatholdslikestoneabladeenvenomedby the eight limbedParalt–the sting brings

deathinthespanofgriefthat marks a finalbreath–sothishanddefiessorcery'sweband trembles thegossamerstrandof a spider's deadlythreat.Thishandbeneaththebluecity'scloakdrives home

Power'sgentlebalance.

TheConspiracyBlindGallan(b.1078)

Sergeant Whiskeyjack strodeto the bedside. 'You sureyou're up to it?' he askedKalam.The assassin, sitting with

his back against the wall,glanced up from honing his

long knives. 'Not muchchoice, is there?'He returnedtohissharpening.Whiskeyjack's expression

wasdrawnandhaggardfromlack of sleep. He lookedacross the small room towhereQuickBencrouchedina corner. A fragment ofbedroll was clutched in thewizard's hands, and his eyeswereclosed.At the table, Fiddler and

Hedge had dismantled theirmassive arbalest. They nowsat cleaning and examiningeach piece. They werelooking at a fight ahead ofthem.Whiskeyjack shared their

conviction. Each hour thatpassed brought their manyhunters that much closer. Ofthose it was the Tiste Andiihefearedthemost.Hissquadwasgood,butnotthatgood.

By thewindowwasTrotts,leaning against thewallwithhis burly arms crossed. AndagainstonewallsleptMallet,hissnoresloudintheroom.The sergeant returned his

attentiontoKalam.'It'salongshot,isn'tit?'The assassin nodded. 'No

reason for the man to keepshowing himself. They gotburned the last time.' Heshrugged. 'I'll try the inn

again. If anything, someonewill mark me and the Guildwillcome.IfIcangetawordinbeforetheykillme,there'sachance.It'snotmuch...''... but it'll have to do,'

Whiskeyjack finished.'You've got tomorrow. If wedrawablank,'helookedoverto Fiddler and Hedge andfound their eyes on him, 'wedetonatetheintersections.Dodamage,hurtthem.'

The two saboteurs grinnedtheiranticipation.Quick Ben's loud hiss of

frustration brought everyoneround.Thewizard's eyeshadopened. He tossed the torncloth contemptuously on tothefloor.'Nogood,Sergeant,'he said. 'Can't find Sorryanywhere.'Kalamrumbledacurseand

thrust his weapons into theirscabbards.

'So, what does that mean?'Whiskeyjack asked thewizard.'Most likely,' Quick Ben

said,'she'sdead.'Hegesturedatthecloth.'Withthat,there'sno way the Rope could hidefrom me. Not while stillpossessingSorry.''Maybe once you told him

you'd figured him out,'Fiddlersaid, 'he tossed inhiscoinsandquitthegame.'

Quick Ben made a face.'The Rope isn't scared of us,Fiddler. Come back to earth.If anything, he'd be comingdown on us. Shadowthronemust'vetoldhimbynowwhoI am or, rather, who I oncewas. It's not the Rope'sbusiness, but Shadowthronemight insist. Gods don't likebeing cheated. Especiallybeing cheated twice.' Heclimbed to his feet and

stretched the kinks from hisback. He met Whiskeyjack'sgaze. 'Idon'tunderstand this,Sergeant.I'mstumped.''Do we abandon her?'

Whiskeyjackasked.Quick Ben nodded. 'Might

as well.' He paused, thensteppedforward.'Wewereallwishingwewerewrongabouther,' he said, 'butwhat Sorrydid had nothing to do withbeing human. And, as far as

I'm concerned, I'm glad ofthat.''I'd hate to think,' Kalam

said, from the bed, 'that evilwasreal,thatitexistedwithaface as plain as the nextman's. I know,Whiskeyjack,you've got your reasons forwantingitthatway.'QuickBenmovedcloser to

the sergeant, his gazesoftening. 'Keeps you saneevery time you order

somebody to die,' he said.'We all know about that,Sergeant. And we'd be thelast to suggest there's someother way that maybe youhaven'tthoughtofyet.''Well, I'm glad to hear it,'

Whiskeyjack growled. Hesurveyed everyone in theroom, seeing thatMalletwasawake and watching him.'Anybody else got somethingtosay?'

'I have,' Fiddler said, thenducked at the sergeant'sglower. 'Well, you asked,didn'tyou?''Outwithit,then.'Fiddler straightened in his

chair and cleared his throat.Hedge poked him in the ribsas he was about to begin.After a menacing scowl, hetried again. 'It's like this,Sergeant.We'veseenahellofalotofourfriendsdie,right?

Andmaybewedidn'thavetogivetheorders,somaybeyouthink it's easier for us. But Idon'tthinkso.Yousee,tousthose people were living,breathing.Theywerefriends.When they die, it hurts. Butyou go around tellingyourself that theonlyway tokeep from going mad is totakeallthatawayfromthem,so you don't have to thinkabout it,soyoudon'thaveto

feel anything when they die.But, damn, when you takeaway everybody else'shumanity, you take awayyour own. And that'll driveyoumadassureasanything.It's that hurt we feel thatmakes us keep going,Sergeant. And maybe we'renot getting anywhere, but atleast we're not running awayfromanything.'There was silence in the

room. Then Hedge punchedFiddler in the arm. 'I'll bedamned! You got a brain inthere,afterall.IguessIbeenwrong about you all theseyears.''Yeah, right,' Fiddler said,

rollinghiseyesatMallet,'andwho is it who's burned hishair off so many times he'sgottawear some ugly leathercapallthetime,hey?'Mallet laughed, but the

tension remained andeveryone's gaze swung backto fix on their sergeant.Slowly, Whiskeyjack studiedeach man in his squad. Hesaw the caring in their eyes,the open offer to thefriendship he'd spent yearssuppressing. All that timepushing them away, pushingeveryone away, and thestubbornbastardsjustkeptoncomingback.

So Sorry hadn't beenhuman.Hisconvictionthatallshe'd done was within thepossibilitiesofhumanitynowseemed to rest on uncertainground. But it did notcollapse.He'd seen toomuchin his life. There'd be nosudden faith in his view ofhumanhistory,noburgeoningoptimism to chase away allthedemonicmemoriesof thehellshe'dlivedthrough.

Still, there came a timewhen some denials lost theirfunction, when the world'srelentless battering at himmadehis foolishnessobviouseven to himself. He was,finally, and after all theseyears, among friends. Thatwas ahard admission andherealized he was alreadyimpatient with it. 'All right,'he growled, 'enoughwith theflappinglips.We'vegotwork

todo.Corporal?''Sergeant?'Kalamreplied.'Getyourself ready.You've

got the daylight hours toreestablish contact with theAssassins'Guild.Meanwhile,I want everyone else to layout their weapons and givethem a good cleaning.Repairstoarmour.There'llbean inspection, and if I find asingledamnthingIdon'tlike,there'llbehell comingdown.

Understood?''We hear ya,' Mallet said,

grinning.Despite their slow pace,Coil'swoundhadopenedhalfa dozen times since they'dbegun the journey. He'dfound away of sitting in hissaddle, leaning to one sideandtakingmostoftheweighton his uninjured leg, and

sincethismorningthewoundhad yet to reopen. Theawkward position broughtpains and cramps to the restofhim,however.Paran knew a foul mood

when he saw one. Though itwascleartobothofthemthata bond had formed betweenthem, comfortable andunfettered by pretences,they'd exchanged but scantwordsastheravagesofCoil's

wound continued to take itstoll.Coil's entire left leg, from

the hip where the sword haddone its damagedown to thefoot, was a uniform sun-darkenedbrowncolour.Clotsof drying blood gathered inthe joints of his upper legplatesandkneeguard.Asthethigh swelled, they wereforced to slice the leatherpaddingbeneaththeplate.

Succour had been deniedthem at the Catlin Bridgegarrison, since the lonesurgeon stationed there hadbeen sleeping off one of his'bad nights'. Clean bandageshad been donated, though,and it was these – alreadysoaked through – that nowcoveredthewound.There was little traffic on

Jammit's Worry despite thecity's walls being within

sight. The flood of refugeesfrom the north had sinceended, and those whowouldgather for the GedderoneFestivalhadalreadydoneso.As they approached the

edge of Worrytown, Collraisedhimselffromthesemi-conscious state he'd been infor the last few hours. Hisface was deathly white. 'Isthis Worry Gate?' he askeddully.

'I believe so,' Paran said,since they were on the roadsharing that strange name.'Willwebepermittedtopasswithin?' he asked. 'Will theguardscallforasurgeon?'Coll shook his head. 'Take

me on through. Phoenix Inn.Takeme to thePhoenix Inn.'Hisheadsaggedagain.'Very well, Coll.' He'd be

surprised if the guardspermitted it, and he'd need a

storytotellthem,thoughCollhadsaidnothingofhowhe'dbeen wounded. 'I hope,' hemuttered, 'there's someone inthis Phoenix Inn with ahealer's touch.' The manlooked bad. Paran fixed hisgazeon thecity'sgates.He'dalready seen enough tounderstand why the Empresswanted it so avidly.'Darujhistan.'Hesighed.'My,but you are a wonder, aren't

you?'Rallick nudged himselfanother inch upward. Hislimbs trembled withexhaustion. If not for themorningshadowsonthissideof the belfry, he'd have beenspotted long ago. As it was,he would not remain hiddenmuchlonger.Taking the stairs would

have been suicide in thedarkness. Ocelot would havesetalarmsallalongtheway–the man was no fool atcovering the approaches tohisposition.If he was up there, Rallick

remindedhimself.Ifnot,Collwas in trouble.Therewasnotelling if his friend hadarrived at the gates yet, andthesilencefromthetopofthebelfry could mean anything.

Hepausedtorestandglancedup. Ten feet to go, the mostcritical ones yet. He was sotired it was all he could dosimply to retain thehandholds. The silentapproach was now beyondhim. His only advantage layin thatOcelot's concentrationwould be eastward, while henowclimbedthewestsideofthetower.Hedrewsomedeepbreaths,

then reached for anotherhand-hold.Passers-by stopped to watchParan and Coll move slowlythrough Worrytown towardsthe gate. Ignoring them, andthe questions they asked, thecaptain focused his attentionon the twoguardsat thegateitself.They'dspottedhimandColl,andnowstoodwaiting.

Reaching the gate, Paranmotioned that they wouldpass through. One guardnodded while the otherwalked alongside thecaptain's horse. 'Your friendneeds a surgeon,' he said. 'Ifyou wait just inside we canhave one here in fiveminutes.'Paranrefusedtheoffer.'We

needtofindthePhoenixInn.I'm from the north, never

been here before. The mansaidthePhoenixInn,sothat'swhereI'mgoingtotakehim.'Theguardwasdubious.'Be

surprised if he'dmake it thatfar. But if that's what youwant, the least we can do isgiveyouanescort.'As they emerged from the

gate'sshadowtheotherguardcriedoutinsurprise.Paranheldhisbreathasthe

man stepped close to Coll. 'Iknowhim,'hesaid.'He'sCollJhamin, of House Jhamin. Iserved under him. Whathappened?''I thought Coll died a few

years back,' the other guardsaid.'Screw the writs,' his

companion snapped. 'I knowwhatIknow,Vildron.ThisisColl,allright.'

'He wants to go to thePhoenix Inn,' Paran told theman. 'That's the last thing hesaidtome.'The man nodded. 'Let's do

itright, though.'Heturnedtothe other guard. 'I'll take thegrief if there's any, Vildron.Getme thewagon – it's stillhitchedupfromthismorning,right?'TheguardsmiledupatParan. 'Thanks for gettinghim here. Some of us in the

city still got eyes, and damnwhat the highbrows whisper.We'll put him in the back ofthe wagon – less jarring thatway.'Paran relaxed. 'Thanks,

soldier.' He looked past theman, eager to see what hecouldofthecitynowthatthewall was behind him.Immediatelybeforethemrosea humped hill, its sidesovergrown with weeds and

gnarled trees. On its summitsquatted a temple of somekind, abandoned long ago,from which a square-sidedtower rose, capped by abronze-tiledroof.Ashiseyesreached the belfry's open-sidedplatform,hesawaflashofmovement.Hesquinted.Rallick raised his headcautiouslyovertheplatform'sedge. He almost gasped

aloud.Thebelfrywasempty.ThenherememberedOcelot'ssorcery. Holding his breath,hestrainedonelasttimewithleadenarms,drawinghimselfflat on to the platform. Assoonashemovedtogatherinhis feet, the barren stone ofthe platform shimmered andhe saw Ocelot lying beforehim,crossbowcocked,takingaimatsomethingbelow.Rallick unsheathed his

knivesandmovedallatonce.But his exhaustion gave himaway, his boots scuffing thestone.Ocelotspunontohisback,

weapon swinging to fix onRallick. The Clan Leader'sface twisted into a mask ofrage and fear. He wasted notime with words andimmediately released thequarrelsetinhiscrossbow.Rallick tensed for the

impact that he was certainwould throw him across theplatform and possibly overthe edge. A flash of redbefore his chest blinded himmomentarily, but no impactcame. Blinking, Rallicklookeddown.Thequarrelhadvanished. The truth came tohiminaninstant.Thequarrelhad been magic, created bysorcerytoflyunimpeded,butBaruk's rusty powder had

worked.Evenas this thoughtburst into his head, hepropelledhimselfforward.Ocelot swore and dropped

the crossbow. As he reachedfor his knife, Rallick landedonhim.Aloudgruntsoundedfrom the Clan Leader, hiseyessqueezingshutinpain.Rallickdrove thedagger in

hisrighthandagainstOcelot'schest. The weapon scrapedacrossmailbeneath thecloth

shirt. Damn, the man hadlearned something from thatother night – and this wasRallick's own precaution,come to defy him now. Theblade in his left hand heangled upward, underOcelot's right arm. Theweapon'spointcut intoflesh,then continued on into theman'sarmpit.Rallick saw, inches from

his face, the dagger's tip

emerge from the clothcovering Ocelot's rightshoulder, followed by abloom of blood. He heard aknife skitter across theflagstones.Teeth bared, Ocelot

snapped his left hand up tothe back of Rallick's neck,findinghisbraid.Hegaveitasavage yank, twistingRallick's head around. Thenhe tried to sinkhis teeth into

Rallick'sneck.Ocelot gasped as Rallick

jammed a knee into hiscrotch.He tightenedhis holdon the braid again, this timenearitsknottedend.Rallick heard the snick of

metal and attempteddesperatelytorolltohisright.Wounded as Ocelot's rightarm was, it struck his bodywithenoughforcetodrivethewedged wrist-blade through

the chain links and into hischest. A dull fire blossomedfrom the wound. Ocelotjerkedthebladefreeand,stillholding Rallick's braid, drewbackforanotherstab.Rallickbroughtuphisright

armand,inasinglesweepingmotion, sliced through hisbraid. Freed, he pushedhimself on to that side,withdrawing the knife in hislefthandashedidso.Ocelot

slashed wildly at his face,missingbyinches.With all the remaining

strength in his left arm,Rallick slammed his knifeinto Ocelot's stomach. Linkssnappedandthebladesanktoits hilt. The Clan Leader'sbody doubled up, curlingaround the embeddedweapon. Gasping, Rallicklurched forward andhammered the other dagger

intoOcelot'sforehead.Rallick lay unmoving for a

time, wondering at theabsence of pain. The planwould fall to Murillio now.Coll would be avenged.Murillio couldhandle it –hehadnochoice.Ocelot's body seemed to

grow heavier on him despitethebloodleakingfromit. 'I'dalways believed I was thisman'smatch,'hemuttered.He

pushedhimselffromthestill-twitching body and rolled ontohisbackinthecentreoftheplatform. He'd hoped to seesky, to lookone last timeonits bright, depthless blue.Instead, he found himselflooking at the underside ofthe belfry's roof, its ancientstone arch crowded withnestingbats.Thisdetailfixeditselfinhisheadashefelttheblood stream from his chest.

He thought he could seebeadyeyesglitteringdownathim.After seeingnoother signofmovement on the belfry,Paran's gaze swung to theavenue on his left. Vildronapproached, seated on awagon drawn by two horses.The guard waiting besideCoil's horse said, 'Giveme ahandhere,willyou?Let'sget

theoldmandown.'Paran dismounted and

hurried to help him. Heglanced at Coil's face.Though still hunched on thesaddle, he was unconscious.How much longer could helast? If that was me, Paranrealized, I'dbedeadbynow.'Afterall this,' he growled asthey dragged Coll from thesaddle, 'you'd damn wellbetterlive.'

Groaning, Serrat rolled on toherback.The sunbeatdownhotagainsthereyelidsas thescattered fragments of hermemory gathered. The TisteAndiihadbeenabouttomakeher move on the woman inthealleybelow.Withthatonedead, the Coin Bearer'sprotectors would number butone. And when they left thetenement block under cover

ofdarkness,they'dwalkrightintothetrapshe'dset.The assassin-mage opened

her eyes to a mid-morningsun overhead. Her daggers,whichshe'dheldinherhandsas she crouched at therooftop'sedge,nowlayonthepebbled surface beside her,neatlyplaced sideby side.Athick, dull ache throbbed inthe back of her skull. Sheprobed the wound, wincing,

thensatup.The world spun, then

settled.Serratwasbewilderedand angry. She'd been blind-sided, andwhoeverhaddoneitwas good, good enough tosneak up on a Tiste Andiiassassin-mage. And that wasworrying, since they'd yet tomeet such a match inDarujhistan, with theexception of those two Clawon the night of the ambush.

But if it had been the Claw,she'dbedeadnow.Instead, the arrangements

lookedtohavebeendesignedmore with embarrassment inmind than anything else.Leaving her here in broaddaylight,weaponsbesideher,hintedofasubtleandcunningsense of humour. Oponn?Possibly, though gods rarelyacted so directly, preferringunwitting agents culled from

amongthemortalmasses.Onecertaintyrosefromthe

mystery, however, and thatwas that she'd lost heropportunity to kill the CoinBearer – at least, for anotherday.Nexttime,shevowed,asshe climbed to her feet andaccessed her Kurald GalainWarren,hersecretfoeswouldfindherreadyforthem.The air around her

shimmered with sorcery.

When it settled, Serrat wasgone.Motesofdustdriftedthroughthe dead, hot air of thePhoenix Inn's attic. Theslantingceilingrosefromfivefeet along the east wall toseven feet along the westwall. Sunlight streamed infromwindowsateachendofthelongandnarrowroom.

Both Crokus and Apsalarslept,thoughatoppositeendsoftheroom.Sittingonacratebeside the trap-door, Meesecleanedhernailswithasliverof wood. Leaving Mallet'stenement and making theirway across the rooftops tothis hiding place had provedan easy task. Too easy, infact. Irilta reported that noone on the streets hadfollowed them. And the

rooftopsthemselveshadbeenempty of life. It was as if apath free of obstruction hadbeenmadeforthem.Moreof theEel'sbrilliance

at work? Meese gruntedsoftly. Maybe. More likelyMeesewas putting toomuchweight on the instinctiveunease that travelled like anelusive itch along her spine.Even now she felt hiddeneyesuponthem,andthat,she

told herself, glaring aroundthe musty attic, wasimpossible.Therecamea softknockat

the trap-door. The doorswungupandIriltaappeared.'Meese?' she whisperedloudly.'Breathingdownyourneck,'

Meese rumbled, tossing thewood sliver on to the oilyfloor. 'Tell Scurve this placeisafirewaitingtohappen.'

Irilta grunted as she pulledherself into the room. Sheshut the trap-door andwipedthe dust from her hands.'Getting strange downstairs,'shesaid.'Citywagonrollsupand off comes a guard andsome other fellow carryingColl between them. The oldfool'snear-deadfromaswordcut.TheyputhiminKruppe'sroom a floor down. Sulty'srunoff tofindacutter,but it

don't lookgood.Notgoodatall.'Meesesquintedinthedusty

air,hergazefixingonCrokuswhere he still slept. 'What'sthe other one look like?' sheasked.Iriltagrinned.'Goodenough

fora rollon themat, I'd say.Said he found Coll onJammit'sWorry, bleeding allover theplace.Collwokeuplong enough to tell him to

ride here. The guy'sdownstairs in the bar rightnow, eating enough for threemen.'Meesegrunted.'Foreigner?'Irilta strode to the window

facing the street. 'SpeaksDaru like he was born to it.But he said he'd come downfrom the north. Pale,Genabaris before that. He'sgot the soldierabouthim, I'dsay.'

'Any word from the Eelyet?''We keep the lad here for

now.''Andthegirl?''Thesame.'Meese sighed loudly.

'Crokusain'tgonnalikebeingcoopeduphere.'Irilta glared over at

Crokus's sleeping form.Wasthe lad truly asleep? 'No

choice.Gotword that there'sa couple of guardsmenwaiting atMammot's place–toolate,ofcourse,butthey'vegotdamnclose.' Irilta rubbeddust from the window andleaned forward. 'Sometimes Iswear I see someone, ormaybe something. Then Iblinkandit'sgone.''Know what you mean.'

Bones creaking, Meesepushed herself to her feet. 'I

thinkeventheEel'sbeginningto sweat.' She chuckled.'Life's heating up, friend.Rollingtimesahead.'Irilta nodded grimly. 'Roll

on,rollon.'Captain Paran refilled histankard for the third time.Was this what that TisteAndii had meant about hisluckturning?Sincecomingto

this land he'd found threefriends – something whollyunexpected and new to him,precious, in fact. But theTattersail heknewwasdead,and in her place ... a child.Toc was dead. And now itlooked like Coll would jointhatlist.He ran a finger through a

pool of spilled beer on thetable,creatinga river leadingto a crack between two

planks, then watched as thebeerdraineddownandoutofsight. He felt a spreadingwetness on his right shin butignoreditashiseyesfocusedon the crack. The wood hadbeenbolteddown,joiningthethick planks to an equallyrobustframeoflegs.WhathadRakesaid?Paran

roseandunclippedhisswordbelt. He laid it on the table,thenwithdrewChance.

The fewregulars in thebarfellsilentandturnedtowatchhim. Behind the counter,Scurvereachedforhisclub.Thecaptainnoticednoneof

this. With the sword in hisright hand, he set the pointintothecrackandbroughttheweapon vertical. Working itback and forth, he managedto drive it close to half itslength between the planks.Then he sat down again and

reachedforhisbeer.Everyone relaxed, and

spoke among themselves insharedconfusion.Paran swallowed a

mouthfulofbeer,frowningatChance.WhathadRakesaid?When your luck turns, breakthe sword.Orgive it toyourworst enemy. He doubtedOponn would accept it,however. And that meantbreaking it. The sword had

been with him for a longtime. He'd used it in battleonly once, and that had beenagainsttheHound.Faintly,heheard thewords

ofoneofhischildhoodtutors.Theman'slinedfaceroseintohis thoughts to accompanythe voice. 'Those whom thegods choose, 'tis said, theyfirst separate from othermortals – by treachery, bystripping from you your

spirit's lifeblood. The godswill takeallyourlovedones,one by one, to their death.And, as you harden, as youbecome what they seek, thegods smile and nod. Eachcompanyyoushunbringsyoucloser to them. 'Tis theshaping of a tool, son, theprod and pull, and the finalsuccour they offer you is toendyourloneliness–theveryisolation they helped you

create.' Never get noticed,boy.Had the shaping begun?

Paran scowled. Was heresponsible for taking Coil'slife? The mere brush offriendship between them –enough to seal the man'sdoom? 'Oponn,' hewhispered, 'you've a lot toanswer for, andanswer for ityoushall.'He set down the tankard

androse.Thenhereachedforthesword.Climbing the steps of thePhoenix Inn, Kalam paused.Damn,thereitwasagain,thisfeelingthatunseeneyeswerefixed on him. The sensation,bornofhisClawtraining,hadstruckhimfourtimesinquicksuccession since he'd comewithin sight of this bar.Heeding such warnings was

what kept him alive, and yethe felt no malice in thatunwantedattention–rather,ithad the feel of amusedcuriosity, as if whoeverwatched him knew full wellwho and what he was, yetseemedunconcerned.He shook himself, then

enteredthebar.Assoonashetook his first step into theheavy, stagnant atmosphere,Kalam knew that something

waswrong.He shut thedoorbehind him, waited for hiseyes to adjust to the gloom.He heard breathing, the lightscuffoffurnitureandclankoftankards coming to rest ontabletops. So, there werepeople here. Then why thesilence?As thegreyconfinesof the

bargrewdefined,hesawthatits denizens had turned theirbacks to him and were

watching a man standingbehindhistableatthefarendoftheroom.Thelanternlightreflected dully from a swordthrust through the table, andthemanhadclosedonehandaround its grip. He seemedoblivioustoeveryoneelseinthebar.Kalam took a half-dozen

steps,comingtothenearendof the counter.Hisdark eyesremainedonthemanwiththe

sword,andafrowndeepenedthe lines on his broad, flatforehead. The assassinstopped.Wasitatrickofthisdamn light? he wondered.'No,' he said, startling theinnkeeperbehindthecounter,'it isn't.' He pushed himselfbackfromthecounter,ranhiseyes over the others in thechamber – all locals. He'dhavetotaketherisk.Abandoftensiontightened

around Kalam's neck andshoulders as he strodedirectly for the man, wholooked to be but momentsaway from snapping hissword's blade. The assassinplucked an empty chair froma table in his path andslammeditdownone-handedopposite the man. StartledeyesfixedonKalam.'Your god-given luck's

holding,Captain,'theassassin

rumbled, in low, close tones.'Sitdown.'His expression confused

and frightened, Paranreleased his grip on theweapon and sank back intohisseat.Kalam followed suit and

leanedforwardoverthetable.'What's all this dramaanyway?' he asked, in awhisper.

The captain frowned. 'Whoareyou?'Behind them conversations

resumed, loud with rattlednerves.'Ain't you guessed?' Kalam

wagged his head. 'CorporalKalam, Ninth Squad,Bridgeburners.ThelasttimeIsawyou,youwas recoveringfrom two fatal knife wounds—'

Paran's hands shot out andgripped Kalam's shirt. Theassassinwas too surprised toreact,andthecaptain'swordsconfusedhimallthemore.'Isyoursquad'shealerstillalive,Corporal?''What? Alive? Yeah, sure,

whynot?What's—?''Shut up,' Paran snapped.

'Justlisten,soldier.Bringhimhere.Now!Noquestions.I'mgiving you a direct order,

Corporal.' He released hisgrip on the assassin's shirt.'Now,move!'Kalam almost saluted, but

caught himself in time. 'Asyou command, sir,' hewhispered.Paranglaredat thecorporal'sback until the mandisappeared through thefrontdoor. Then he surged to his

feet. 'Innkeeper!' he called,stepping around the table.'The black man will beshowingup ina fewminuteswithcompany.Send themuptoCoil'sroomonthedouble.Understood?'Scurvenodded.Paran strode to the stairs.

As he reached them heglanced back at the sword.'And nobody touch thatsword,' he ordered, swinging

aglareacrosseveryoneintheroom. Nobody seemedinclined to challenge him.With a sharp, satisfied nod,the captain ascended thestairs.Onthefirstfloor,hestrode

down the hallway to the lastroomontheright.Heenteredwithout knocking to findSulty and a local surgeonsitting at the room's lonetable. Coil's blanket-covered

form lay unmoving on thebed.The surgeon rose. 'It's no

good,'hesaid,inathin,reedyvoice. 'The infection's toofaralong.'Paran asked, 'Is he still

breathing?''Aye,' the surgeon replied.

'But it won't be for muchlonger.Ifthewoundhadbeenfurther down on his leg, I

mighthavebeenabletocutitoff.Even then, I'mafraid thepoison'sspreadthroughallofhim.I'msorry,sir.''Leave,'Paransnapped.The surgeon bowed and

preparedtodepart.'WhatdoIoweyoufor the

services?' the captain asked,remembering.The surgeon frowned over

atSulty. 'Why,nothing,sir. I

failed.' He left the room,shuttingthedoorbehindhim.Sulty joined the captain at

the bedside. She wiped herface as she looked down onColl,butsaidnothing.Afewminuteslatershe,too,lefttheroom, unable to remain anylonger.Paran found a stool and

pulled it over to the bed.Hesat and leaned his forearmsonhisknees.Hewasnotsure

howlonghesatthere,staringdown at the straw-litteredfloor, but the door slammingopenbehindhimbroughthimtohisfeet.Abeardedmanstoodinthe

doorway, his slate-grey eyeshardandcold.'Are you Mallet?' Paran

demanded.The man shook his head

andstrodeinside.Behindhim

appeared Kalam and anotherman. The latter's gaze foundColl, and he walked quicklytothebed.'I'mSergeantWhiskeyjack,'

thebeardedmansaidquietly.'Pardonmydirectness,sir,butwhat the hell are you doinghere?'Ignoringthequestion,Paran

joined the healer.Mallet laida hand over the crustedbandages.Heglaredupatthe

captain. 'Can't you smell therot? He's gone.' Malletfrowned and leaned forward.'No, wait ... Damn, I don'tbelieve it.' The healer took aspoon-shaped blade from hispouch and removed thebandages. Then he began todig into the wound with theblade. 'Shedenul's Mercy,someone's stuffed this withherbs!' He drove his fingersintothewound.

Colljerkedandmoaned.Mallet grinned. 'Hah, that

gotyougoing,did it?Good.'Heprobeddeeper. 'Thiscut'shalf-way through the bone,'he breathed in amazement.'Those damn herbs havepoisoned his marrow. Whothe hell treated this?' heasked, looking accusingly atParan.'Idon'tknow,'Paransaid.

'All right,' Mallet said,removing his hand andwiping it on the blankets.'Moveback,everybody.Giveme some room. A minutelater, Captain, and this manwould've been stridingthrough Hood's Gate.' Hepressed his hand down onCoil's chest and closed hiseyes. 'And be glad I'm asgoodasIam.''Now,Captain?'

Paran walked over to thetable and motioned for thesergeant to join him. 'First,has Adjunct Lorn contactedyouyet?'Whiskeyjack's blank look

wassufficientanswer.'Good, I'm in time, then.'

Paran glanced up at Kalam,who had stationed himselfbehind the sergeant. 'You'vebeen setup.Theplanwas totake thecity,yes,but also to

make certain you were allkilledintheprocess.'Whiskeyjack held up a

hand. 'A moment, sir. Youand Tattersail worked thisout?'Paran closed his eyes

briefly. 'She's ... dead.Chasing Hairlock out on theRhivi Plain. Tayschrenn gotto her. It was also her intentto find you and tell you allthatI'mtellingyou.I'mafraid

I won't be her equal as yourally once the Adjunct showsup, but at least I can prepareyousomewhat.'Kalam spoke. 'I don't like

the idea of Oponn's pawnsupposedlyhelpingus.'Paran nodded. 'I have it on

good authority that I'm notOponn's. That sworddownstairs is, though. Yoursquad wizard should be abletoconfirmthis.'

'The Adjunct's plan,'Whiskeyjack reminded him,the fingers of one handtapping slowly on thetabletop.'She'll have no trouble

finding you. She has a talentin that area. But I fear she'snotthemajorthreat.There'saT'lan Imass with her.Maybehermission is simply to leadhim to you, then he'll handletherest.'

Kalam cursed and beganpacing behind the sergeant'schair.Whiskeyjack reached a

decision. 'The satchel,Corporal.'The assassin frowned, then

picked up the sergeant'sstandard-issue supply satchelleft beside the door. Hereturned and set it down onthetabletop.

Whiskeyjack released thestraps and pulled out anobject wrapped in burgundysilk. He removed the cloth,revealing twin yellowedbones of a human forearm.The elbow-end's ball jointswere bound together withverdigrised copper wire; thewrist ends were wrapped aswell,butasamisshapenknifegrip, beyond which jutted aserratedblade.

'What is it?' the captainasked.'I'veneverseenitslikebefore.''Be surprised if you had,'

Whiskeyjack said. 'Back inthe days of the Emperor, theinner ring of militarycommanders each possessedone of these, the booty of alooted K'Chain Che'Malletomb.' He grasped the boneswith both hands. 'It was thesource of much of our

success,Captain.'Heroseanddrovethepointintothetable.A flash of white light

erupted from the bones, thencontractedtoaswirlspinningthread-like between them.Paranheardavoiceheknew.'I was getting worried,

Whiskeyjack,' High FistDujekgrowled.'Unavoidable,' the sergeant

replied, frowning at Paran.

'We've had little to report...untilnow.ButIneedtoknowthe situation in Pale, HighFist.''Youwantanupdatebefore

you spill the bad news, eh?Fair enough,' Dujek said.'Tayschrenn's stumbling incircles. He was last happywhen Bellurdan was killedalong with Tattersail. Twomore of the OldGuard goneinonefellswoop.Sincethen,

allhe'sgotisquestions.WhatgameisOponnplaying?Wasthere truly a clash betweenthe Knight of Darkness andShadowthrone? Did a soul-shiftedpuppetkidnap,torturethenmurderaClawofficerinNathilog and what truthswere revealed by the poorman?''We were not aware that

Hairlockhaddone that,HighFist.'

'I believe you,Whiskeyjack. In any case,enough of the Empress'splans have been discoveredand, indeed, she seemsconvinced that thedismantling ofmy armywillpullmebackunderherwing,intimetosaddlemewiththecommandoftheSevenCities'garrisons and put a bloodystop to the rebellion that'sbrewing. She seriously

miscalculated there – if onlyshe'dpaidattentiontoToctheYounger's reports. Well ...Laseen'sintentionsnowseemtobe ridingonAdjunctLornand Onos T'oolan. They'vereached the Jaghut barrow,Whiskeyjack.'Malletjoinedthemandmet

Kalam's stunned gaze.Clearly, even they'd had noideathattheirsergeantwassowell informed. Suspicion

dawnedintheassassin'seyes,andParannodded tohimself.Itwashappening,afterall.Dujek continued, 'The

Moranth Black are ready tomarch,butit'sonlyforshow,and to get them out of thecity.So,whatarewelookingat,friend?Thebalanceoftheworld is with you, inDarujhistan.IfLornandOnosT'oolansucceedinunleashingthe Tyrant on the city, you

can be certain that you andyoursquadareintendedtobeonthecasualtylist.Closer tohome, here's what youwant:we're ready to move.Tayschrenn himself willtrigger events when heannounces the disbanding oftheBridgeburners–theblindidiot.Now,I'mwaiting.''High Fist,' Whiskeyjack

began, 'CaptainParan'smadeit.He'ssittingacrossfromme

right now. His story is thatOponn'sworking through hissword, not him.' He met thecaptain'seyes.'Ibelievehim.'Dujekspoke.'Captain?''Yes,HighFist?''WasTocanyhelp?'Paranwinced. 'Hegavehis

life for this, High Fist. Thepuppet Hairlock ambushedus, tossedTocintoa–arentorsomething.'

There was silence, thenDujek said, his voice hoarse,'I'm sorry to hear that,Captain. More than youknow. His father ... Well,enough of that. Go on,Whiskeyjack.''No success yet in

contacting the localAssassins' Guild, High Fist.We've mined theintersections, though. I'll beexplaining everything to my

men tonight. The questionremains what to do aboutCaptainParan.''Understood,'Dujekreplied.

'CaptainParan?''Sir?''Have you come to any

conclusions?'Paran glanced at

Whiskeyjack.'Yes,sir.Ithinkso.''So? What choice will you

make,Captain?'He ran a hand through his

hair and leaned back in thechair. 'High Fist,' he saidslowly, 'Tayschrenn killedTattersail.' And failed, butthatisasecret1willkeeptomyself. 'The Adjunct's planincluded betraying her wordto me, and probably killingme in the process. But, Iadmit, that's secondary towhat Tayschrenn did.'

Looking up, he metWhiskeyjack's steady gaze.'Tattersail took care of me,andIherafter thatHound. It...' he hesitated '... it meantsomething, High Fist.' Hestraightened.'So,Igatheryouintend to defy the Empress.But what then? Do wechallenge the Empire'shundred legions with tenthousand men? Do weproclaim an independent

kingdomandwaitforLaseentomake an example of us? Ineedmore details,HighFist,beforeIdecidewhetherIjoinyou. Because, sir, I wantvengeance.'Dujek responded, 'The

Empress loses Genabackis,Captain. We've got thesupport for that. By the timetheMalazanMarinesarrivetoreinforce the campaign, it'llalreadybeover.TheCrimson

Guard won't even let themdisembark. Expect Nathilogto rise up and Genabaris tofollow.TheMoranthallianceis about to lose its punch –though I'mafraid Ican'tgiveyouthedetailsonthat.'My plans, Captain? They

might not make sense,because I don't have time toexplain. But we're readyingourselves to take on a newplayerinthegame–someone

completelyoutsideallofthis,and that someone is damnnasty. He is called thePannionSeer,whoevennowprepareshisarmiesforaholywar. You want vengeance?LeaveTayschrenntoenemiescloser to home.As for Lorn,she's all yours, if you canmanage it. I can't offer youanythingmore, Captain.Youcan say no.Nobodywill killyouforthat.'

Paranstaredathishands. 'Iwant to know when HighMage Tayschrenn gets whathedeserves.''Agreed.''Very well, High Fist. As

faras thispresentsituationisconcerned, however, I'drather Sergeant Whiskeyjackremainedincommand.'Dujek asked, a grin in his

voice,'Whiskeyjack?'

'Accepted,' the sergeantanswered. He smiled atParan. 'Welcome aboard,Captain.''Enough?'Dujekasked.'We'll speak again after it's

all done,' Whiskeyjack said.'Until then, High Fist,success.''Success,Whiskeyjack.'The threads of light faded.

As soon as they were gone

Kalam rounded on hissergeant. 'You old bastard!Fiddler told me Dujekwouldn't hear any talk ofrevolt! Not only that, theHigh Fist told you to walkafterthismission!'Whiskeyjack shrugged,

removing the strangecontraption from the table.'Things change, Corporal.When Dujek got theAdjunct'swordonnextyear's

reinforcements, it becameobvious that someone wasensuringthattheGenabackanCampaign would end indisaster. Now, even Dujekwon'ttoleratethat.Obviously,plans would have to berevised.' He faced Paran, hiseyes hardening. 'I'm sorry,Captain,butLornhastolive.''ButtheHighFist—'Whiskeyjack shook his

head. 'She's on her way into

the city, assuming that sheand the Imass succeed infreeing the Jaghut. TheTyrant will need a reason tocome toDarujhistan, andwecan only assume that,somehow, Lorn will be thatreason. She will find us,Captain. Once that happens,we'lldecidewhat'stobedonewith her, depending on whatshe tells us. If you challengeheropenly, shewill kill you.

Ifnecessary,shewill have todie, but her demise will besubtle.Doyouhaveproblemswithanyofthis?'Paran released a long

breath. 'Can you at leastexplain why youwent aheadandminedthecity?''Inamoment,'Whiskeyjack

said, rising. 'First,' he said,'who'sthewoundedman?''Not wounded any more,'

Mallet said, grinning atParan.'Justsleeping.'Paran also rose. 'In that

case, I'll also explaineverything. Just let me godownstairs and retrieve mysword.'Atthedoorhepausedand turned to Whiskeyjack.'One more thing. Where'syourrecruit,Sorry?'Kalam answered, 'Missing.

We know what she is,Captain.Doyou?'

'Yes.' But she may not bewhatsheoncewas,assumingShadowthrone didn't lie. Hethought to relate that part ofhis story, then dismissed thenotion. He couldn't be sure,after all. Better to wait andsee.Theburialchamberprovedtobe a small, nondescriptbeehive tomb, the low domeconstructed of roughly

dressed stones. Thepassageway leading to itwasnarrowandlessthanfourfeethigh, sloping slightlydownwards. The chamber'sfloorwasofpackedearthandin its centre rose a circularwall of stones, capped by asingle, massive lintel stone.Frost-crusted objects lay onthisflatsurface.ToolswungtotheAdjunct.

'Theobjectyouseekiscalled

a Finnest.Within it is storedtheJaghutTyrant'spowers.Itisperhapsbestdescribedasaself-contained OmtosePhellack Warren. He willdiscover it is missing oncefully awakened, and willunerringlyhuntitdown.'Lorn blew on her numb

hands, then slowlyapproached the lintel stone.'And while it's in mypossession?'sheasked.

'Your Otataral sword willdeaden its aura. Notcompletely. The Finnestshould not remain in yourhandsforlong,Adjunct.'She scanned the objects

scatteredonthestonesurface.The Imass joined her. Lornpickedupascabbardedknife,thendiscardedit.InthisToolcouldnothelpher.Shehadtorely upon her own senses,honed by the strange,

unpredictable effects of theOtataral. A mirror set in anantler caught her eye. Themicasurfacewaslatticedinaweboffrost,yetitseemedtoglimmer with a light of itsown.She reached for it, thenhesitated. Beside it, almostlost among the crystallinefrost, was a small, roundobject. It lay upon a flap ofhide. Lorn frowned, thenpickeditup.

As its ice coating melted,she saw that it was notperfectly round.Shepolishedthe blackened surface andstudieditclosely.'I believe it is an acorn,'

Toolsaid.Lorn nodded. 'And it's the

Finnest.' Her gaze fell to thecapped mound of rocks.'Whatanoddchoice.'The Imass shrugged in a

clatter of bones. 'The Jaghutareoddpeople.''Tool, they weren't very

war-like, were they? I mean,before your kind sought todestroythem.'The Imass was slow to

reply. 'Even then,' he said atlast. 'The key lay in makingthem angry, for then theydestroyed indiscriminately,includingtheirown.'

Lorn shut her eyes briefly.She pocketed the Finnest.'Let'sgetoutofhere.''Yes, Adjunct. Even now

theJaghutTyrantstirs.'

CHAPTERNINETEEN

But someone diedherealas.Whodrinksofthisnowandthenandstirstheashesofthineownpyre?MakerofPaths,youwere never sothirsty

inyouth...OldTemple

SivynStor(b.1022)

'This isn't right, Meese,'Crokussaid,asherubbedthesleepfromhiseyes.'Wecan'tjusthideinhereforever.'Apsalar said, from the

window,'It'salmostdark.'Meesecrouchedonceagain

to check the trap-door's lock.

'We're moving you again,after the twelfth bell. Irilta'sdownbelow,gettingdetails.''Who'sgivingtheseorders?'

Crokusdemanded. 'HaveyoufoundUncleMammotyet?''Relax, lad.' Meese

straightened. 'No, we ain'tfound your uncle. And theorders come from yourprotectors.Iwon'tansweranyquestionsaboutwhotheyare,Crokus,sosaveyourbreath.'

Apsalar shifted position bythewindowtotakeinMeese.'Your friend's been a longtime,'shesaid. 'Doyouthinksomething'shappened?'Meese looked away. This

girl was sharp. Of course,Meese had known that thefirst time they'dmet, andoldCherthad foundout thehardway. 'Notsure,'sheadmitted.She bent to unlock the trap-door. 'Youbothstayput,'she

ordered, glaring atCrokus. 'Iain'tgoingtobehappyifyoudo something stupid.Understand?'The boy looked glum, his

arms crossed.Hewatched asMeese opened the trap-doorandclimbeddowntheladder.'Closethisupafterme,'she

said,frombelow,'andlockit.Wait to hear from either meorIrilta,gotit?'

'Yes.' Crokus strode to thesquare hole in the floor andstared down at Meese. 'Wegot it,' he said, grasping thedoor and swinging it shut.Thenhelockedit.'Crokus,' Apsalar asked,

'whydidyoukillaguard?'This was their first time

alone since entering the city.Crokusglancedaway. 'Itwasan accident. I don't want totalk about it.' He crossed the

room to the back window.'All these people trying toprotect me,' he said. 'Makesme uneasy. There's moregoing on than just an orderformyarrest.Hood'sBreath,theThieves'Guild takes careof such things, that's whytheygettenpercentofeveryjobIdo.No,noneofitmakessense,Apsalar.And,'hesaid,as he unlatched the window,'I'msickofeverybody telling

mewhattodo.'She came to his side. 'Are

weleaving,then?''Damn right. It's already

dusk so we'll take therooftops.' He pulled and thewindowswunginward.'Where?'Crokus grinned. 'I've got a

great hiding-place in mind.Nobodywillfindus,notevenmy protectors. Once there, I

candowhatIwant.'Apsalar's brown eyes

searched his face. 'What doyou want to do?' she askedsoftly.He looked away,

concentratingonproppingupthewindow.'IwanttotalktoChallice D'Arle,' he said.'Facetoface.''She betrayed you, didn't

she?'

'Never mind that. Are youstayinghere?''No,' she said, surprised.

'I'm coming with you,Crokus.'The power of her Warrenbristled on her body. Serratscanned the area one moretime, still seeing and sensingnothing. She was certain shewas alone. The Tiste Andii

tensed as the window in theattic beneath her creakedinward on rusty hinges.Knowing herself to beinvisible,sheleanedforward.The lad's head popped out.

He glanced at the alleybelow, the opposite rooftopsand those to either side, thenhelookedup.Hisgazepassedright through Serrat, and shesmiled.It hadn't taken long to find

himagain.Hisonlycompany,shecouldsense,wasayoungwoman whose aura washarmless, astonishinglyinnocent. The other twowomen no longer occupiedthe attic. Excellent. It wouldbe that much easier. Shestepped back as the CoinBearer climbed through thewindow.A moment later he

scrambled on to the sloping

rooftop.Serrat decided that she

wouldwastenotime.Evenasthe Coin Bearer pushedhimselftohisfeet,shesprangforward.Herchargemetaninvisible

hand, driving into her chestwith bone-jarring force. Itpushed her back through theair, giving a final shove thatsenther cartwheelingbeyondthe roof's edge.Her spellsof

invisibility and flightremainedwithher,evenwhenshe rebounded off a brickchimney,dazedanddrifting.Apsalar appeared on theroof's edge.Crokus crouchedbefore her, daggers in handand glaring all around him.'What's wrong?' shewhispered,frightened.Slowly,Crokusrelaxedand

turned a rueful grin herway.'Just nerves,' he said.'Thought I saw something,felt a wind. Looked like ...Well,nevermind.'Helookedaroundagain.'There'snothinghere.Comeon,then.''Where's this new hiding-

place of yours?' Aspalarasked, as she gained therooftop.He faced east and pointed

to the shadowed hills rising

on theother sideof thewall.'Up there,' he said. 'Rightundertheirverynoses.'Murillio clasped on hissword-belt. The longer hewaited for Rallick to arrivethe more certain he was thatOcelot had killed his friend.The only question thatremained was whether Collstilllived.MaybeRallickhaddone enough, wounded

Ocelot sufficiently topreventthe Clan Master fromcompletingthecontract.Icanhope,anyway.They'dknowatthePhoenix

Inn, and each minute thatpassed made his Spartanroom seem smaller, morecramped. If Coll lived,Murillio vowed to attemptRallick's role in the plan.Hechecked his rapier. It'd beenyears since his last duel, and

TurbanOrrwassaidtobethecity's best. His chanceslookedpoor.He collected his cape and

fastenedthecollararoundhisneck. And who was thisCircle Breaker with all thedevastating news? How didthis Eel justify involvinghimself or herself in theirschemes? Murillio's eyesnarrowed. Was it possible?That little round runt of a

man?He pulled on his doeskin

gloves, muttering under hisbreath.Ascrapeatthedoorcaught

hisattention.Aheavysighofrelief escaped him. 'Rallick,you old bastard,' he said, ashe opened the door. For aninstanthethoughtthehallwayempty, then his gaze fell tothe floor. The assassin laythere, his clothing soaked

through with blood, lookingupathimwithaweakgrin.'SorryI'mlate,'hesaid.'My

legskeepgivingout.'Cursing, Murillio helped

Rallick into the roomandontothebed.Hereturnedtothedoor, checked the hallway,thenshutandsetthelock.Rallick pushed himself

upright against theheadboard. 'On-offered a

contractonColl—''I know, I know,' Murillio

said, as he approached. Hekneltbesidethebed.'Let'sseetoyourwound.''I need to take off my

armour first,' Rallick said.'Ocelot stuckmeone.Then Ikilledhim.Coil'sstillaliveasfar as I know. What day isthis?''The same day,' Murillio

said, as he helped his friendremove his mail hauberk.'We're still on schedule,though from all this blood itlooks like you won't beduellingOrr at Simtal's Fete.I'llhandlethat.''Stupid idea.' Rallick

groaned.'You'lljustgetkilledand Turban Orr will walkaway, still Lady Simtal'sbacker and still powerfulenough to prevent Coil's

claimtorights.'Murillio made no reply to

that. He peeled back theleatherpaddingtoexposethewound. 'What's with all thisbloodonyou?'hedemanded.'There's nothing here but aweek-oldscar.''Huh?' Rallick probed the

place where Ocelot's wrist-bladehadstabbedhim.Itfeltmildly tender, itchy at theedges. 'I'll be damned,' he

muttered. 'Anyway, getme awashcloth, so I can clean allthisrustoff.'Murillio sat back on his

haunches, clearly confused.'Whatrust?''The stuff on my face,'

Rallick said, scowling at hisfriend.Murillioleanedclose.'Baruk's magic-deadening

powder!' the assassin

snapped. 'How the hell doyou think I managed to killOcelot?''Yourfaceisclean,Rallick,'

Murillio said. 'You'rewelcome to the washcloth.We'll get all that dried bloodoffyouinanycase.''Give me a mirror first,'

Rallicksaid.Murillio found one and

stoodwatchingRallick study

his own pallid reflection,whichboreadeepfrown.Heobserved drily, 'Well, thatexpression confirms it forme.''Confirms what?' the

assassinasked,inadangeroustone.'That you're you, Rallick.'

Murillio squared hisshoulders. 'Rest here for awhile. You've lost a lot ofblood. I'moff to find theEel

andtellhimathingortwo.''YouknowwhotheEelis?'He strode to the door. 'I've

gotahunch.Ifyoucanwalk,try locking this door behindme,willyou?'Kruppe mopped his browwith his limp, soddenhandkerchief. 'Kruppe hasuttered every single detail atleastathousandtimes,Master

Baruk,' he complained. 'Willthis ordeal never end? Lookatyonwindow.AwholedayinKruppe'slifehaspassed!'The alchemist sat frowning

down at his slippers,occasionally wiggling histoes,astheminutespassed.Itwas as if he'd forgottenKruppe's presence in theroom, and it had been thisway for the past hour, nomatter how much Kruppe

talked.'Master Baruk,' Kruppe

tried again, 'may your loyalservant leave? He's not yetrecovered from his horrificjourney in the easternwastelands. Simple fare, ofroast mutton, potatoes, friedonionsandcarrots,musselsingarlic butter, dates, cheese,smoked slipperminnows anda carafe of wine, nowoccupies Kruppe's mind to

theexclusionofallelse.Suchas he has been reduced, hisworld contracting apacewithhisstomach—'Baruk spoke. 'For the past

year,' he said slowly, 'anagent of the Eel's, known tome as Circle Breaker, hasbeen providingmewith vitalinformation regarding theCityCouncil.'Kruppe's mouth shut with

anaudibleclick.

'Itlieswithinmypowers,ofcourse, to identify thisCircleBreakeratmy leisure. Ihaveascoreofmissiveswritteninhisownhand–theparchmentalone suffices.' Baruk's eyeslifted to fix on themantelpiece. 'I amconsideringdoingso,'hesaid.'I must speak with this Eel.We've reached a criticaljuncture in the life ofDarujhistan,andImustknow

theEel's purposes.We couldwork in close alliance,sharing all we know, andperhaps we can save the lifeofthiscity.Perhaps.'Kruppe cleared his throat

andwipedhisbrowagain.Hecarefully folded thehandkerchief onhis lap, thenstuffeditintoasleeve.'Ifyouwish to convey such amessage,' he said quietly,'Kruppe can oblige Master

Baruk.'Baruk's gaze dropped

calmly to Kruppe. 'Thankyou.Howsoonthereply?''By this evening,' Kruppe

said.'Excellent. I admit to

resistingmy own decision tocompromise this CircleBreaker.Themeansyouofferseem the best. You may gonow,Kruppe.'

Kruppe's head bobbed. Herose. 'Until tonight, then,MasterBaruk.'Coll slept while the men inthe room continued theirdiscussion. Mallet said thatthemanmightwell sleep fordays, Hood's Gate havingbeenascloseasitwas.Paran felt frustrated.

Somethingwasmissing from

Whiskeyjack's explanations.Thesaboteurshadgoneaheadwith planting the mines, andeven now it wasWhiskeyjack's plan todetonate them. More, theefforts to contact theAssassins' Guild remainedwiththepurposeofofferingacon-tractonDarujhistan'struerulers. These facts hardlycomplemented this idea of afull-scale, continent-wide

revolt. If anything, wouldn'tDujek be seeking localalliances?As the sergeant went on,

more and more of what theman said gathered in thecaptain'smind,andhesensedapatternemerging.Hebrokehis hour-long silence andaddressedWhiskeyjack. 'Youstill intend to crippleDarujhistan. And I keepthinkingaboutthat,andnowI

think I've worked out why.'He studied Whiskeyjack'sblank expression. 'What youseekistocrackthiscitywideopen. Chaos in the streets, aheadless government.Everybody who mattersshows up and they kill eachother.What does that leave?'Paran leaned forward, hiseyes hard. 'Dujek's got anarmy ten thousand strong,about to become outlaws of

the Empire. Maintaining tenthousand soldiers is anexpensive business. Housingthem is even tougher. Dujekknows Pale's days arenumbered. Caladan Brood'sonthemarchdowntheRhiviPlain right now. Are theMoranth about to pull out ofthe alliance? Maybe make amove of their own?Tayschrenn'sinPale–maybeold Onearm can handle him,

maybenot.HowamI so far,Sergeant?'Whiskeyjack glanced over

atKalam, thenshrugged. 'Goon,'hesaidtoParan.'Darujhistan's filled with

panic. No one knowsanything. In marches Dujek,rebel army at his heels.He'llset things aright. Wealthbeyondmeasurefalls intohislap–andhe'llneedallofitifhe's to oppose what the

Empress sendsafterhim.So,the city gets conquered afterall.Fancythat.'Hesatback.'Not bad,' Whiskeyjack

admitted, grinning at thesurprise on the faces ofMallet andKalam. 'Withonepiecemissing.Something,'heeyed Paran, 'that mightrelieve the captain's sense ofbetrayal,ifnothisoutrage.'Paran's smile was cold.

'Surpriseme.'

'Allright,Captain.Wedon'tgive a damn if the Empresswants to come after us. Shewon't have much to do itwith, since Seven Cities isdays away from reclaimingits independence. It's comingdown, Captain. On all sides.So why do we maintain ourarmy? Look to the south.Something's growing there,so ugly it makes the Imasslook likekittens.When I say

we'reintrouble,Idon'tmeanjust Genabackis, I mean theworld.We'reallinforafight,Captain. And that's why weneedDarujhistan.''What's tothesouth?'Paran

askedsceptically.Kalamanswered,hiswords

abreathoffear,'ThePannionSeer.Sotherumoursaretrue,then.TheSeer'sproclaimedaholy war. The genocide'sbegun.'

Whiskeyjackgottohisfeet.'Explainittotheman,'hesaidto Kalam. 'That Guild stillneeds contacting, if possible.Hood knows, we've made ashowofourselvesatthisbar.Might be what's needed,though.' He looked to Paran.'Captain, I don't thinkAdjunct Lorn should knowyou'realive,doyou?''No.''Can you stay here until I

callforyou?'Paran glanced at Kalam,

thennodded.'Good.Mallet,let'smove.'

'We'velostatleasttwodays,'Lorn pronounced, thankfulfor the day's lingering heat.'Thesearethirstyhorses.'Tool stood near the

shattered barrow marker,watching the Adjunct ready

herhorsesforthejourneyintoDarujhistan. 'How fares yourwound,Adjunct?'heasked.'Mostlyhealed,'shereplied.

'Otataral has that effect onme.''My task is finished,' the

Imass said. 'If it becomesyourdesiretoaccompanymeafter you have completedyourmission,Iwillbefoundhere for the next ten days. Iwish to observe this Jaghut

Tyrant – though it will notsee me, nor will I interfere.My thoughts of success arewithyou,Adjunct.'Lorn climbed on to her

horse and stared down at theImass. 'Fare well in yoursearch,OnosT'oolan.''That name is past. I am

nowTool.'She grinned, then gathered

the reins and kicked her

mountforward,thepackhorsetrailing on its lead.Once theFinnestwasoutofherhands,she would focus her talentson discovering this CoinBearer.UntilnowshehadnotallowedherselftothinkaboutOponn. She had had toomany other, more immediateconcerns,likeSorry.A strong sense of regret

filled her at the loss ofCaptain Paran. That man

would have made her taskmuch easier, possibly evenenjoyable. Though he'd beena dourman, getting grimmerby the minute, she had toadmit that she had beenattracted tohim.Theremighthavebeensomethingthere.'Well,' she sighed, as she

urgedherhorseupahillside,'dying's never in anybody'splans.'Tool's estimation gave her

two days at the most. Thenthe Jaghut would be fullyawake, and free of thebarrow. The Finnest wouldhave to be securely in placelong before then. She lookedforward to her meeting withSorry, and instinctivelybrushed a hand against hersword's pommel. To kill aservant of Shadow, perhapsthe Rope himself. TheEmpress's pleasure at that

wouldbeimmense.Sherealizedthatthedoubts

that had plagued her, borneon those dark wings ofknowledge, now layquiescent. An effect of hertime in the barrow? Morelikely this acorn in herpocket. Or perhaps she'dmovedunconsciouslybeyondthem. When the time foractioncomes,alldoubtsmustbe discarded. An old Claw

tenet. She knewherselfwell,andsheknewhow tocontrolallthatwaswithinher.Yearsoftraining,discipline,loyaltyand duty. The virtues of asoldier.She was ready for the

mission, and with thisrealization the weight on hershoulders vanished. Sheurged her mount into agallop.

Crokus craned his head andsquinted into the darknessabove. 'Right to the top,' hesaid. 'We can see the wholecityfromthere.'Apsalar eyed the stairs

dubiously. 'It's awfully dark,'she said. 'Are you sure thistower is abandoned? Imean,my father told me storiesabout ghosts, undeadmonsters, and they alwayslived in ruined places.' She

looked around with wideeyes. 'Places just like thisone.'Crokus groaned. 'The god

K'rul's been dead forthousands of years,' he said.'Besides, no one ever comeshere,sowhatwouldallthosemonsters do with all thatsparetime?Whatwouldtheyeat? Tell me that! Stupidstories.'Hewalkedtothefootof the spiral staircase. 'Come

on,theview'sworthit.'She watched Crokus climb

upwardandhurriedtofollowbefore he disappeared fromsight.Whatatfirstseemedtobe impenetrable darknessslowly faded to grey, andApsalarwassurprisedtofindherself able to discern eventheminutestdetails.Thefirstthings she noticed were thesoot-stained paintings on thewall to their left. Each stone

panelwasaswideasasinglestep, rising half a dozen feetin a jagged procession thatmimickedthestairs. 'Crokus,'shewhispered,'there'sastorypaintedonthiswall.'Crokus snorted. 'Don't be

ridiculous!Youcan'tevenseeyour hand in front of yourfaceinhere.'Ican't?Hecontinued,'Waittillyou

get up top. Those clouds wesaw should have cleared themoonbynow.''There's something wet on

thesesteps,'Apsalarsaid.'Run off from up top,' he

explained,exasperated.'No, it isn't,' she insisted.

'It'sthick,andsticky.'Crokus stopped above her.

'Look,willyoubequietforaminute?We'realmostthere.'

They emerged on to aplatformbathedinthemoon'ssilver glow. Near one of thelowwallsCrokussawaheapof cloth. 'What's that?' hewondered. 'Looks likesomebody'sbeencampinguphere.'Apsalar stifled a gasp.

'That'sadeadman!''What?'Crokushissed. 'Not

anotherone!'Herushedtothehuddled figure and crouched

beside it. 'Blessed Mowri,somebody's stabbed him inthehead.''There's a crossbow over

here.'He grunted. 'An assassin. I

saw one just like this killedhere last week. There's anassassin war going on. Justlike I told Kruppe andMurillio.''Lookatthemoon,'Apsalar

breathed,fromthefarsideoftheplatform.Crokus shivered. She was

still a cold one, at times.'Whichone?'heasked,rising.'Theshiningone,ofcourse.'Feeling contrary, Crokus

studied Moon's Spawninstead.A faint reddishglowsuffused it – something he'dnot seen before. A worm offearsquirmedinhisstomach.

Then his eyes widened. Fivemassive winged shapesseemed to sweep down theMoon's face, angling north-east. He blinked, and theyweregone.'Do you see its oceans?'

Apsalarasked.'What?'Heturned.'Its oceans. Grallin's Sea.

That's the big one. The Lordof the Deep Waters living

there is named Grallin. Hetends vast, beautifulunderwater gardens. Grallinwill come down to us, oneday, to our world. And he'llgather his chosen and takethem to hisworld.Andwe'llliveinthosegardens,warmedby the deep fires, and ourchildren will swim likedolphins, and we'll be happysincetherewon'tbeanymorewars,andnoempires,andno

swords and shields. Oh,Crokus, it'll be wonderful,won'tit?'Her profile was in

silhouette. He stared at her.'Of course,' he said quietly.'Why not?' And then thatquestionrepeateditself inhishead for an entirely differentreason.Whynot?

BOOKSEVEN

THEFÊTE

The Flaying of Fander,She-Wolf of Winter,marks the Dawn ofGedderone. Thepriestessesracedownthestreets,stripsofwolf-furstreaming from theirhands. Banners areunfurled.Thenoisesandsmellsofthemarketriseinto the morning air.Masks are donned, thecitizens discard the

year'sworriesanddanceacrossthedayintonight.The Lady of Spring is

bornanew.It is as if the godsthemselves pause theirbreath...

FacesofDarujhistanMaskralJemre(b.110l)

CHAPTERTWENTY

It is said that thematron'sblood like ice broughtforthintothisworld a birthing ofdragonsand this flowingriveroffatebrought light into dark

anddarkintolight,unveiling at last in cold,coldeyesthechildrenofchaos...

T'matha'sChildrenHeboric

Murillio wondered again atRallick's healedwound.He'dalready concluded thatwhatever magic-deadeningpowder of Baruk's the

assassin had used had beenresponsible for the healing.Nevertheless, much bloodhad been lost, and Rallickwouldneedtimetorecover–time they didn't have. WastheassassincapableofkillingOrrnow?In answer to his own

question,Murilliolaidahandon the rapier at his side. Hestrodedowntheemptystreet,cleaving the low-lying mists

thatswirledlikeincandescentcloaks in the gaslight. Dawnwas still twohours away.AswastheDarucustom,thenewyear's celebrations wouldbegin with sunrise, lastingthroughthedayandwellintothenight.Hewalked through a silent

city, as ifhewere the lastofthe livingyet to flee thepastyear's turmoil, and nowshared theworldwith ghosts

tolledamong theyear'sdead.The Five Tusks had slippedbehind in the ancient cycle,and taking its place was theYear of the Moon's Tears.Murillio mused on suchobscure, arcane titles. AmassivestonediscinMajestyHallmarked theCycleof theAge, naming each year inaccordance with itsmysterious movingmechanisms.

Asachild,he'dthoughtthewheelmagicalinhowitspunslowly as the year rolled by,coming into the new yearaligned precisely with thedawn whether there wascloud in the sky or not.Mammothadsinceexplainedto him that thewheelwas infactamachine. Ithadbeenagift to Darujhistan over athousandyearsago,byamannamed Icarium. It was

Mammot'sbeliefthatIcariumhad Jaghut blood. By allaccountshe'driddenaJaghuthorse,andaTrellstrodeathisside – clear evidence,Mammot asserted, to add tothe wonder of the wheelitself, for the Jaghut wereknowntohavebeenskilledatsuchcreations.Murillio wondered at the

significance of the nameseach year bore. The close

associationof theFiveTuskswith Moon's Tears heldprophecy, according to theSeers. The Boar Tennerock'stusks were named Hate,Love, Laughter, War andTears. Which Tusk wouldprove dominant in the year?The new year's nameprovidedtheanswer.Murillioshrugged. He viewed suchastrologywithascepticaleye.How could a man of a

thousand years ago – Jaghutorotherwise–havepredictedsuchthings?Still, he admitted to more

than a few qualms. Thearrival of Moon's Spawnthrewthenewyear'stitleintoadifferentlight,andheknewthat the local scholars –particularlythosewhomovedin the noble circles – hadbecomeanagitatedandshort-tempered lot. Quite unlike

theirusualpatronizingselves.Murillio turnedacorneron

his approach to the PhoenixInn,andcollidedwithashort,fat man in a red coat. Bothgrunted,andthreelargeboxesthat the man had beencarrying fell between them,spillingouttheircontents.'Aye, why, Murillio! Such

fortune as Kruppe is knownfor! Thus does your searchend, here in this dank, dark

street where even the ratsshun the shadow. What? Issomething the matter, friendMurillio?'He stared down at the

objects on the cobbles at hisfeet. Slowly, Murillio asked,'Whatarethesefor,Kruppe?'Kruppe stepped forward

and frowned down at thethree expertly carved masks.'Gifts, friend Murillio, ofcourse. For you and Rallick

Nom.Afterall,'helookedupwith a beatific smile, 'theLady Simtal's Fete demandsthe finest in workmanship,the subtlest of designperfectly mated with ironicintent. Don't you thinkKruppe's taste is sufficientlyexpensive? Do you fearembarrassment?''You'll not distract me this

time,'Murilliogrowled. 'Firstof all, there are three masks

here,nottwo.''Indeed!' Kruppe replied,

bendingdowntopickoneup.He brushed spatters of mudfromthepaintedface.'ThisisKruppe's own. Well chosen,Kruppe pronounces withcertainaplomb.'Murillio's eyes hardened.

'You'renotcoming,Kruppe.''Well, of course Kruppe

will attend! Do you think

LadySimtalwouldevershowherself if her long-timeacquaintance, Kruppe theFirst, was not in attendance?Why, she'd wither withshame!''Dammit,you'venevereven

metSimtal!''Not relevant to Kruppe's

argument, friend Murillio.Kruppe has been acquaintedwith Simtal's existence formanyyears.Suchassociation

is made better, nay, pristine,for the fact that she has notmetKruppe,norKruppeher.And, in final argumentdesigned to end alldiscussion, here,' he pulledfrom his sleeve a parchmentscrolltiedinbluesilkribbon,'Kruppe's invitation, signedbytheLadyherself.'Murilliomade a grab for it

butKruppe replaced it deftlyinhissleeve.

'Rallick will kill you,'Murilliosaidlevelly.'Nonsense.' Kruppe placed

themaskoverhis face. 'Howwill the lad ever recognizeKruppe?'Murillio studied the man's

round body, the faded redwaistcoat,gatheredcuffs,andthe short oily curls atop hishead. 'Never mind.' Hesighed.

'Excellent,' Kruppe said.'Now,pleaseacceptthesetwomasks,gifts fromyour friendKruppe. A trip is saved, andBaruk need not wait anylonger for a secret messagethat must not be mentioned.'He replaced his mask in itsbox,thenspunroundtostudythe eastern skyline. 'Off toyon alchemist's abode, then.Goodevening,friend—''Wait a minute,' Murillio

said, grasping Kruppe's armandturninghimround. 'HaveyouseenColl?''Why, of course. The man

sleeps a deep, recoveringsleep fromhisordeals. 'Twashealed magically, Sulty said.By some stranger, yet. Collhimselfwasbroughtinbyyetasecondstranger,whofounda third stranger, who in turnbroughtafifthstrangerinthecompanyof thestrangerwho

healed Coll. And so it goes,friend Murillio. Strangedoings, indeed.Now,Kruppemustbeoff.Goodbye, friend—''Not yet,' Murillio snarled.

Heglancedaround.Thestreetwas still empty. He leanedclose. 'I've worked somethings out, Kruppe. CircleBreaker contacting me puteverything into order in mymind.Iknowwhoyouare.'

'Aaai!' Kruppe cried,withdrawing. 'I'll not deny it,then! It's true, Murillio,Kruppe is Lady Simtalconnivinglydisguised.''Not this time! No

distractions. You're the Eel,Kruppe. All this blubbering,sweaty meek-mouse stuff isjustanact,isn'tit?You'vegothalf this city in your pocket,Eel.'Eyes wide, Kruppe

snatched the handkerchieffrom his sleeve and moppedhis brow. He wrung sweatfromit,dropletsspatteringonthe cobbles, then a veritabletorrent splashed on to thestones.Murillio barked a laugh.

'No more magical cantrips,Kruppe. I've known you along time, remember? I'veseen you cast spells. You'vegoteverybodyfooled,butnot

me. I'm not telling, though.You don't have to worryabout that.' He smiled. 'Thenagain, if you don't come outwithithereandnow,Imightgetannoyed.'Sighing, Kruppe returned

the handkerchief to hissleeve. 'Annoyance isuncalledfor,'hesaid,wavinga hand and fluttering hisfingers.Murillio blinked, suddenly

dizzy.Herubbedhisforeheadand frowned.What had theyjust been talking about? Itcouldn'thavebeenimportant.'Thanksforthemasks,friend.They'll come in handy, I'msure.' His frown deepened.What a confusing thing tosay! He wasn't even angrythat Kruppe had figuredthings out; nor that the fatlittle man would attend theFête. How odd! 'Good that

Coil'sallright,isn'tit?Well,'he mumbled, 'I'd better headbacktocheckonRallick.'Smiling, Kruppe nodded.

'UntiltheFête,then,fareyouwell,Murillio,Kruppe'sfinestanddearestfriend.''Goodnight,' Murillio

replied, turning to retracehissteps. He lacked sleep. Allthese late nights were takingtheir toll. That was theproblem. 'Of course,' he

muttered,thenbegantowalk.Hisfeaturesdarkening,Barukstudied the Tiste Andiilounging in the chair acrossfromhim. 'I don't think it's averygoodidea,Rake.'The Lord raised an

eyebrow. 'As I understandsuch things, the eventincludes the wearing ofdisguises,' he said, with a

slight smile. 'Do you fear Ilacktaste?''I've no doubt your attire

will be suitable,' Baruksnapped. 'Particularly if youchoosethecostumeofaTisteAndii warlord. It's theCouncil that worries me.They'renotallfools.''Iwouldbesurprisedifthey

were,' Rake said. 'Indeed, Iwouldhaveyoupointoutthecunningones.Idon'timagine

youwill refutemy suspicionthattherearethosewithintheCouncil seeking to pave theway for the Empress – for aprice,ofcourse.Powercomesto mind. Nobles delving inmerchant trades no doubtdrool at the prospect ofEmpiretrade.AmIfaroffthemark,Baruk?''No,'thealchemistadmitted

sourly. 'But we have thatundercontrol.'

'Ah, yes,' Rake said. 'Thisbrings to mind my otherreason for wishing to attendthis Lady Simtal's Fête. Asyousaid,thecity'spowerwillbe there. I assume thisincludessuchmagesasareinyourT'orrudCabal?''Some will attend,' Baruk

conceded. 'But I must tellyou, Anomander Rake, yourdebacles with the Assassins'Guild has made a good

number of them rue ouralliance. They'll notappreciate your presence intheleast.'Rake's smile returned. 'To

the extent that they willreveal their community tocunning Council members? Ithink not.'He rose in a fluidmotion. 'No, I would like toattend this Fête. My ownpeople hold little to suchsocialaffairs.Therearetimes

when I grow weary of theirdourpreoccupations.'Baruk'sgazefocusedonthe

Tiste Andii. 'You suspect aconvergence, don't you? Afell gatheringof powers, likeironfilingstoalodestone.''With so much power

gathered in one place,' Rakeadmitted,'it'slikely.I'dratherbe on hand in suchcircumstances.'His eyesheldBaruk's, their colour flowing

from dun green to amber.'Also, if this event is aspublicly known as yousuggest, then the Empire'sagents within the city willknowof it.Should theywishtocutoutDarujhistan'sheart,they'll have no betteropportunity.'Baruk barely repressed a

shiver. 'Extra guards havebeen hired, of course. If anEmpire Claw should strike,

theywillfindtheirhandsfullwith the T'orrud magesbesides.' He thought for atime, then nodded wearily.'Verywell,Rake.Simtalwillacceptyouasmyguest.Youwill wear an effectivedisguise?''Naturally.'Baruk climbed to his feet

and strode to the window.Beyondtheskyhadbeguntopale. 'And so it begins,' he

whispered.Rake joined him. 'What

begins?''The new year,' the

alchemist replied. 'Past is theFive Tusks. The dawn yousee marks the birth of theYearoftheMoon'sTears.'Lord Anomander Rake

stiffened.Baruk noticed. 'Indeed. An

unusualcoincidence,thoughI

would put little weight uponit. The titles were devisedover a millennium ago, by avisitortotheselands.'WhenRakespokehisvoice

was a ravaged whisper.'Icarium's gifts. I recognizethestyle.FiveTusks,Moon'sTears – the Wheel is his,correct?'Eyeswide,Barukhissedhis

surprise betweenhis teeth.Adozen questions struggled to

be uttered first, but the Lordcontinued. 'In the future, I'dsuggest you heed Icarium'sgifts – all of them. Athousandyears isnotso longa time, Alchemist. Not solong a time. Icarium lastvisited me eight hundredyearsago, in thecompanyoftheTrellMappo,andOsric–or Osserc, as the localworshippers call him.' Rakesmiled bitterly. 'Osric and I

argued,asIrecall,anditwasallBroodcoulddotokeepusapart.Itwasanoldargument...' His almond eyes shadedinto grey. He fell silent, lostinmemories.There came a knock at the

door and both turned to seeRoaldenterandbow.'Master Baruk, Mammot

has awakened and appearsrefreshed. More, your agentKruppehasdeliveredaverbal

message. He extends hisregretthathecannotdeliverittoyouinperson.Doyouwishtoreceiveitnow?''Yes,'Baruksaid.Roald bowed again. 'The

Eel will contact you the eveof thisday.AtLadySimtal'sFête.TheEelfurtherfindstheprospect of sharedinformation and co-operationintriguing.Thatisall.'

Baruk brightened.'Excellent.''Shall I bring Mammot to

you,Master?''Ifhe'sable.''He is. A moment, then.'

Roaldleft.Thealchemistsmiled. 'AsI

said,' he laughed, 'everyonewillbethere,andinthiscase,everyone is an appropriateterm.'Hissmilebroadenedat

Rake's blank look. 'The Eel,Lord. Darujhistan's master-spy,afigurewithoutaface.''A masked face,' the Tiste

Andiiremindedhim.'If my suspicions are

correct,'Baruksaid,'themaskwon'thelptheEelonebit.'Thedooropenedagainand

therestoodMammot,lookingfit and full of energy. HenoddedtoBaruk.'Withdrawal

proved easier than I'dimagined,' he said, withoutpreamble. His bright gazefixed on Anomander Rakeand he smiled, then bowed.'Greetings, Lord. I've lookedforward to this meeting eversinceBarukbroughttoustheofferofalliance.'Rake glanced atBaruk and

raisedaneyebrow.The alchemist said,

'Mammotnumbersamongthe

T'orrud Cabal.' He faced theold man again. 'We weredeeplyworried, friend, giventhe Elder mageries at playaroundthebarrow.''I was snared for a time,'

Mammotadmitted,'butattheextremeedgesof theOmtosePhellackinfluence.Quiescentregard proved the correctcourse, as the one stirringwithindidnotsenseme.''How much time do we

have?'Barukaskedtightly.'Two, perhaps three days.

EvenforaJaghutTyrant,itisan effort to make the returnjourney to life.' Mammot'seyes fell upon themantelpiece. 'Ah,yourcarafeof wine awaits as is usual.Excellent.' He strode over tothefireplace.'Haveyouwordof my nephew, by anychance?'Barukfrowned. 'No,should

I have? The last time I metthe child was, what, fiveyearsago?''Mmm,' Mammot said,

raising his freshly filledgobletandtakingamouthful.'Well, Crokus has grownsomewhatsincethen,Iassureyou.Ihopethelad'sallright.Hewas—'Baruk threwupahandand

staggered a step forward.'What?' he demanded in

sudden fear. 'What's hisname?Crokus?Crokus!' Thealchemist rapped hisforehead. 'Oh, what a foolI'vebeen!'Mammot's face crinkled

into a wise smile. 'Oh, youmean the matter of the CoinBearer,doyou?'Shock registered inBaruk's

face.'Youknew?'Standing to one side, his

charcoal-grey eyes fixedintently on Mammot, Rakesaid, in a strangely flat tone,'Mammot, forgive me forinterrupting. Will you beattendingLadySimtal'sFête?'Theoldmannoddedeasily.

'Ofcourse.''Verygood,'Rakesaid,with

something like anticipation.He pulled his leather glovesfrom his belt. 'We'll speakthen.'

Barukhadno time to thinkabout Rake's suddendeparture. It was his firstmistakeoftheday.Awomanwithashavedheadand long flowing robes ranshrieking from the gates, ashredofbrownfurstreamingfromonehand.AdjunctLornstepped back to let thepriestesspass.Shewatchedasthe woman plunged into the

crowd behind her. Thefestival had spilled outbeyond Darujhistan's walls,andWorrytown's main streetwas a streaming mob she'dspent the last half-hourpushing through on her waytothegates.Absently she rubbed the

rapierwoundinhershoulder.Her journey into the barrowseemed to have slowed thehealing, and an ache had

settled inside the puncture,coldastheiceinthebarrow'stunnel.Eyeingthetwoguardsstationed at the gate, sheapproachedwarily.Onlyoneseemedtopayher

any attention, and this manspared her but the briefestglance before returning hisattention to the Worrytownmob. Lorn entered the cityunremarked,simplyonemoretraveller come to attend the

springfestival.Immediately within the

gates theavenue split aroundthe base of a squat hill, onwhichcrouchedahalf-ruinedtemple and tower.Off to herright rose another hill,evidently a garden, given thewide steps ascending to thesummit,coveredintrees,andthemanyfetishesandbannerstied to branches and the gas-lamps.

Lorn's sense of those shesought was strong, unerring.Oncepastthehills,shecouldsee an inner wall. SergeantWhiskeyjack and his squadweresomewherebeyondit,inthe lower city. Lorn strodethrough the surging crowds,onehandhitchedinherswordbelt, the othermassaging thepuffed red flesh around herwound.

The guard at Worry Gatepushedhimselffromthewallhe had been leaning againstandpacedaslowcircleonthecobblestones. He paused toadjust his peaked helmet,looseningthestrapanotch.The other guard, an older

man,bandy-leggedandshort,approached. 'Those fools outtheremakingyouuneasy?'heasked with a grin more gapsthanteeth.

The first man glancedthrough the gateway. 'Had anear-riot here a couple ofyearsback,'hesaid.'I was there,' the old man

said, hawking on to thestones. 'We had to pull thehoodsoffourpolearms,drawsome blood. That sent thempacking,andIdon'tthinkthelesson's gone on them. Iwouldn't worry much. Thisain'tyourregularduty,isit?'

'No,justfillingintimeforafriend.''That'sthewayofit,isn'tit?

What'syourusualround?''Midnight till the thirdbell,

Despot's Barbican,' CircleBreaker replied. He adjustedhis helmet again, hoping theunseen friendly eyes hadmarked his signal. Thatwoman who had passedthrough a few minutes agohad matched the Eel's

description perfectly. CircleBreaker knew he wasn'tmistaken.She'd looked the warrior,

dressed as a mercenary andtryingtohidetheblood-stainsof a wound on her shoulder.His searching glance hadbeen but momentary. Yearsofpractice,however,made itsufficient. He'd caughteverything the Eel'smessenger had told him to

lookfor.'That'sahellofawatch,'the

old man said beside him,turning to squint up atDespot'sPark.'Andyouwerehere t' meet the dawn.' Hewagged his head. 'Thebastards got us working toohard these days, what withthe city infiltrated withEmpirespiesandthelike.''It doesn't get any better,'

CircleBreakeragreed.

'I'm here for another threehours, and you think theygivemesometimetojoinmywifeandkidsinthefestival?'The old man spat again. 'Noway. Old Berrute's off tostand around watching otherpeople having fun in somebloodyestate.'Circle Breaker held his

breath, then sighed. 'LadySimtal'sFete,Isuppose.''Damn right. Bloody

Councilmen chuffing aroundwith all their stinking airs.Andmewithsorefeetandall,standinglikeastatue.'This was a bit of luck,

Circle Breaker smiled tohimself. His companion'snext station was preciselywhat the Eel had wanted forCircleBreaker.Betteryet,theold man was complainingabout it. 'They need thosestatues,'he said. 'Keeps them

secure.' He stepped close toBerrute. 'Didn't you tell thesergeantaboutyourbadfeet?''What's the point?' Berrute

complained. 'He justdelivered them orders, hedidn'tcomeupwiththem.'Circle Breaker looked up

the street, as if consideringsomething, then he laid ahand on the other's shoulderand met his gaze. 'Look, Idon't have any family. For

me, today's just another day.I'll stand in for you,Berrute.Next time I want some timeoff,though,I'llcomecalling.'Genuine relief lit the old

man's eyes. 'Nerruse blessyou,' he said, grinning again.'It'sadeal,friend.Hey,Idon'tevenknowyourname!'CircleBreaker smiled, then

toldhim.

Withmost of the revelry outin the streets, the interior ofQuip's Bar was all butdeserted. Adjunct Lornpaused inside the doorwayand waited for her eyes toadjust to the gloom. A fewdesultoryvoicesdriftedouttoher,minglingwith theclatterofwoodencards.She entered the low-

ceilinged chamber. Adishevelled old woman

watched her dully frombehind the counter. Againstthe far wall was a table atwhich sat threemen. Coppercoins glittered in thelamplight, amid pools ofspilled beer on the tabletop.The men held cards in theirhands.The man with his back

against the wall, wearing ascorched leather cap, lookedup to meet Lorn's eyes. He

gestured to an empty chair.'Have a seat, Adjunct,' hesaid.'Joininthegame.'Lorn blinked, then hid her

shock with a shrug. 'I don'tgamble,' she said, loweringherselfintothericketychair.The man examined his

cards. 'Notwhat Imeant,' hesaid.The one seated on her left

muttered, 'Meant a different

game,didHedge.'She turned to regard him.

Skinny, short, with massivewrists. 'And what's yourname, soldier?' she askedquietly.'Fiddler.Theguylosinghis

coins is Mallet. We've beenexpectingyou.''So I gather,' Lorn said

drily, leaning back. 'Yourintelligence impresses me,

gentlemen. Is the sergeantnearby?''Makingtherounds,'Fiddler

said. 'Should be by in tenminutes or so.We've got theback room in this rat trap.Right up against the Tierwall.'Hedge added, 'Me and Fid

dug through that damn wall,sevenbloody feet thick at itsbase.Anabandonedhouseonthe Daru side.' He grinned.

'It'sourbackdoor.''So you're the saboteurs.

And Mallet? A healer,correct?'Mallet nodded, still

contemplating his cards.'C'mon, Fiddler,' he said, 'it'syourgame.Let'shearthenextrule.'Fiddlersatforward.'Knight

of House Dark is the wildcard,' he said. 'That's the

opening suit, too. Unlessyou're holding the Virgin ofDeath.Ifyougetheryoucanopen with half ante anddouble up if you win theround.'Mallet slapped down the

Virgin ofDeath.He tossed asingle copper coin into thecentre of the table. 'Let's runitthrough,then.'Fiddler dealt the man

another card. 'We ante up

now, Hedge, two coppersapiece and High Hell cometheHeraldofDeath.'Lorn watched the bizarre

game proceed. These menwere using a Deck ofDragons. Astonishing. Theman Fiddler was inventingthe rules as theywent along,andyetshewatchedthecardsmerge into a pattern on thetabletop. Her brows knittedthoughtfully.

'You got theHound on therun,' Fiddler said, pointing atthe latest card placed on thetable by Mallet. 'Knight ofDark'sclose,Icanfeelit.''But what about this

damned Virgin of Death?'grousedthehealer.'She's had her teeth pulled.

Takea look, theRope's rightouta the picture, ain't he?'Fiddler laid another card.'And there's the Dragon

bastard himself, sword allsmoking and black as amoonlessnight.That'swhat'sgottheHoundscampering.''Wait a minute,' Hedge

cried, ramming down a cardatoptheKnightofDark.'Yousaid the Captain of Light'srising,right?'Fiddler concentratedon the

pattern. 'He's right, Mallet.We pay over two copperseach automatically. That

Captain's already dancing ontheKnight'sshadow—''Excuse me,' Lorn said

loudly.Thethreemenlookedat her. 'Are you a Talent,Fiddler?Shouldyoubeusingthisdeck?'Fiddler scowled. 'It ain't

your business, Adjunct. Webeen playing for years,nobody's tossed a dagger ourway.Youwantin,justsayso.Here, I'll give you your first

card.'Beforeshecouldprotesthe

placedacardbeforeher,faceup.Shestareddownatit.'Now, ain't that odd?'

Fiddler remarked. 'Throne,inverted. You owe us all tengold each – a year's pay forall of us, hell of acoincidence.'Hedgesnortedloudly.'Also

happens to be the Empire

Guilt Coin paid to our kinonce we're confirmed dead.Thanksalot,Fid.''Takethecoinandshutup,'

Fiddler snapped. 'We ain'tdeadyet.''I'm still holding a card,'

Malletsaid.Fiddler rolled his eyes. 'So

let'sseethedamnthing,then.'The healer set the card

down.

'Orb.'Fiddlerlaughed.'Truesight and judgement closesthisgame,wouldn'tyouknowit?'Lorn sensed a presence at

her back. She turned slowlytofindabeardedmanbehindher. His flat grey eyes heldhers. 'I'm Whiskeyjack,' hesaid softly. 'Good morning,Adjunct, and welcome toDarujhistan.' He found anearby chair and pulled it to

the table,sittingdownbesideHedge. 'You'llwant a report,right?Well,we're still tryingto contact the Assassin'sGuild.All themining'sdone,ready for the order. Onesquad member lost thus far.In other words, we've beendamn lucky. There are TisteAndiiinthecity,huntingus.''Who have you lost,

Sergeant?'Lornasked.'The recruit. Sorry was her

name.''Dead?''Been missing for a few

daysnow.'Lorn clenched her teeth to

bite back a curse. 'So youdon'tknowifshe'sdead?''No. Is there a problem,

Adjunct? She was just arecruit. Even if she'd beennabbed by the guard, there'sscant little she could tell

them. Besides, we've heardno such news. More likelysome thugs scrubbed her insomebackalley–we'vebeenscurrying down a lot of rat-holes trying to find theselocalassassins.'Heshrugged.'It'sariskyoulivewith,that'sall.''Sorry was a spy,' Lorn

explained. 'A very good one,Sergeant.You can be certainthat no thug killed her. No,

she's not dead. She's hiding,because she knew I'd comelooking for her. I've been onher trail for three years. Iwanther.''If we'd had a hint of all

this,' Whiskeyjack saidtightly, 'it could've beenarranged, Adjunct. But youkept it to yourself, and thatmakesyouonyourownnow.'His eyes hardened on her.'Whether we contact the

Guildornot,wedetonatethemines before tomorrow'sdawn, and then we're out ofhere.'Lorndrewherselfup. 'Iam

Adjunct to the Empress,Sergeant. As of now thismission is under mydirection. You will takeorders from me. All thisindependent crap is over,understand?' For a momentshealmost thoughtshesawa

flashof triumph in theman'seyes.Asecond lookrevealedit to be no more than theexpectedanger.'Understood, Adjunct,'

Whiskeyjack replied curtly.'Whatareyourorders?''I am serious in this,

Sergeant,' shewarned. 'AndIdon't care how angry thismakes you. Now, I suggestwe retire to more privatesurroundings.'Sherose.'Your

mencanremainhere.'Whiskeyjack stood. 'Of

course,Adjunct.Wehavethebackroom.Ifyouwillfollowme.'Lorn reached down to thebed's top blanket. 'There isblood here, Sergeant.' Sheturned to regard the man asheclosedthedoor.He faced her. 'One of my

menhadabrushwithaTisteAndii assassin-mage. He'llrecover.''Highly unlikely, Sergeant.

The Tiste Andii are all withCaladan Brood in the north.'Her eyes widened indisbelief. 'You don'tmean tosuggest that the Lord ofMoon's Spawn himself haslefthisfortress?Todowhat?Hunt down Malazan spies?Don'tbeabsurd.'

Whiskeyjack scowled.'Corporal Kalam and mysquad mage had a rooftopengagementwithat leasthalfadozenTisteAndii.Thatmymensurvivedmakesithighlyunlikely that theMoon's lordwasanywhereinthevicinity,doesn't it, Adjunct? Put ittogether. The Moon stationsitselfjustsouthofthecity.Itslord strikes an alliance withDarujhistan's rulers,and their

first task is to wipe out thelocalAssassins'Guild.Why?To prevent people like usfrom contacting them andoffering a contract. And, sofar,it'sworked.'Lorn thought for a time,

thenshesaid,'SoiftheGuildcannotbecontacted,whynotdo the assassinationsyourselves? Your CorporalKalamrankedamongthebestin theClaw before his ... his

fallingout.Whynot takeoutthecity'srulers?'The man folded his arms

across his chest and leanedagainst the wall beside thedoor.'We'vebeenconsideringthat, Adjunct. And we're astepaheadofyou.Rightnow,oneofmymenisnegotiatingfor us to work as privatestrong-arms for a highbrowFete this evening.Everybodywho'sanybodyissupposedto

attend – Council members,High Mages, the works. Mysaboteurs have enough left-over munitions to make it aparty this city will have ahardtimeforgetting.'Lorn struggled against a

growing sense of frustration.Asmuchasshe'dintendedtotake command of things, itseemedthatthisWhiskeyjackhad been doing just fine upuntil now, given the

circumstances. She suspectedshe could not have donethings any better, though shestill doubted the story aboutthe Tiste Andii. 'Why onearth,' she asked finally,'wouldanestatehireabunchofstrangersasguards?''Oh, there'llbecitysoldiers

there as well. But none ofthem is a Barghast.'Whiskeyjack smiledcynically. 'Titillation factor,

Adjunct. It's what makes thenobility drool. Look there, abig tattooed barbarianglowering down at them.Exciting, yes?' He shrugged.'It's a risk, but one worthtaking.Unless,ofcourse,youhaveabetteridea,Adjunct?'She heard the challenge in

his tone. Had she thoughtabout it, she would haverealizedlongbeforenowthathertitleandpowerwouldnot

intimidate this man. He'dstood atDassemUltor's side,arguing tactics with theSword of the Empire in themidstofbattle.Anditseemedthatdemotiontosergeanthadfailedtobreakthisman–thatmuchshe'dgatheredfromtheBridgeburners' reputation atPale.Hewouldnothesitatetochallengehereverycommandif he found reason to do so.'Yourplanissound,'shesaid.

'Tell me the name of thisestate.''Somewoman named Lady

Simtal. I don't know thefamily name, but everybodyseemstoknowher.Saidtobea real looker, with influenceintheCouncil.''Very well,' Lorn said,

adjustinghercloak.'I'llreturnintwohours,Sergeant.Thereare other matters I mustattendto.Becertainthatallis

ready–detonationproceduresincluded. If you don't gethired, we'll have to findanother way of being at thatfete.'Shestrodetothedoor.'Adjunct?'Sheturned.Whiskeyjackwalked to the

backwall and pulled aside atattered hanging. 'This tunnelemerges into another house.From it you can enter the

DaruDistrict.''Unnecessary.' Lorn was

irritatedbyhiscondescendingtone.As soon as she was gone

Quick Ben scrambled fromthe tunnel. 'Dammit,Sergeant,' he muttered. 'Youalmosthadherwalkinginonme!''No chance,' Whiskeyjack

observed. 'In fact, I made

certain she wouldn't use it.AnythingfromKalam?'QuickBen paced the small

room.'Notyet.Buthe'saboutto run out of patience.' Heturned to the sergeant. 'So?Doyouthinkshewasfooled?''Fooled?' Whiskeyjack

laughed.'Shewasreeling.''Paransaidshewasgoingto

drop something off,' QuickBensaid.'Didshe?'

'Notyet.''It's getting tight, Sergeant.

Damntight.'The other door opened and

Trotts entered, his filed teethexposed in somethingbetween a smile and agrimace.'Success?' Whiskeyjack

asked.Trottsnodded.

As the afternoon wanedCrokus and Apsalar waitedatop the tower's platform.Every now and then theypeeredovertheedgetowatchthe festivities. There was ataste of mania among thecrowds below, as if theydanced on the rim ofdesperation. In spite of theseason'srejoicing,theshadowof theMalazan Empire hungoverall.Indeed,withMoon's

Spawn immediately to thesouth, Darujhistan's placebetween the two forces wasobvioustoeveryone.'Somehow,' Crokus

muttered, as he watched thecrowds moving down thestreets like churning rivers,'Darujhistan seems smaller.Almostinsignificant.''It looks huge to me,'

Apsalar said. 'It's one of thebiggest cities I've ever seen,'

she said. 'As big as Unta, Ithink.'Hestaredather.She'dbeen

saying strange things lately,which did not seem rightcomingfromafishergirlfromasmallcoastalvillage. 'Unta.That'stheEmpirecapital,isn'tit?'She frowned, which made

herlookolder.'Yes.OnlyI'veneverbeenthere.'

'Well,howcouldyouknowhowbigitis,then?''I'mnotsure,Crokus.'Possession, Coll had said.

Two sets of memory warredin the woman, and the warwas getting worse. Hewondered if Mammot hadshownup yet. For amomenthe came near to regrettingtheir escape fromMeese andIrilta. But then his thoughtsturned to what was to come.

He sat downon the platformand propped himself againstthelowwall.Hestaredattheassassin's body across fromhim.Thebloodthathadbeenspilled had blackened underthehotsun.Atrailofdropletscrossedthefloortothestairs.Clearly, this assassin's killerhad himself been wounded.Yet Crokus did not feel indanger, up here, although hewasn'tsurewhy.

For an abandoned belfrytower, this place hadwitnessed a lot of dramalately.'Are wewaiting for night?'

Apsalarasked.Crokusnodded.'Then we find this

Challice?''That's right. The D'Arles

willbeatLadySimtal'sFête,I'm sure of it. The estate has

anenormousgarden,almostaforest. It goes rightup to theback wall. Getting in shouldbeeasy.''Won'tyoubenoticedonce

youjointheguests,though?''I'll be dressed as a thief.

Everybody will be wearingcostumes.Besides, there'llbehundreds of people there. Itmight take an hour or two,butI'llfindher.'

'Andthen?''I'll think of something,'

Crokussaid.Apsalar stretched out her

legsonthepavingstonesandcrossed her arms. 'And I'msupposed to hide in thebushes,huh?'Heshrugged.'MaybeUncle

Mammot will be there,' hesaid.'Theneverythingwillbeallright.'

'Why?''Because that's what Coll

said,' Crokus shot back,exasperated. Was hesupposed to tell her she'dbeenpossessedforwhoknewhow long? 'We'll work out away to get you home,' heexplained. 'That's what youwant,right?'Shenoddedslowly,asifno

longer certain of that. 'Imissmyfather,'shesaid.

To Crokus, Apsalarsounded as though she wastrying to convince herself.He'd looked at her whenthey'darrived, thinking,Whynot?And he had to admit tohimself now that hercompany wasn't bad. Exceptfor all the questions, ofcourse. Mind, what if he'dbeen in her situation,wakingupthousandsofleaguesfromhome? It'd be terrifying.

Would he have held up aswell as she seemed to bedoing?'I'm feeling all right,' she

said,watching him. 'It's as ifsomething inside is keepingthingstogether.Ican'texplainit any better, but it's like asmooth, black stone. Solidand warm, and whenever Istart getting scared it takesme inside. And theneverything's fine again.' She

added, 'I'm sorry. I didn'tmeantopushyouaway.''Nevermind,'hesaid.

Within the shadows of thestairwell, Serrat studied thetwo figures out on theplatform. Enough wasenough. She'd opened herKurald GalainWarren into adefensive layering of wardsaroundher.Nomoreofthese

invisible enemies. If theywanted her, they'd have toshow themselves. And thenshe'dkillthem.AndasfortheCoin Bearer and the girl,where could they hope toescape to, up here on thistower?Sheunsheathedherdaggers

andpreparedforherattack.Adozen wards protected herback, all along the staircase.An approach from there was

impossible.Two sharp points touched

her flesh, one under her chinandtheotherbeneathherleftshoulder blade. The TisteAndii froze. And then sheheardavoiceclosetoherear–avoicesherecognized.'Give Rake this warning,

Serrat.He'llonlygetone,andthe same for you. The CoinBearer shall not be harmed.Thegamesaredone.Trythis

againandyou'lldie.''Youbastard!'sheexploded.

'Mylord'sanger—''Will be in vain. We both

know who sends thismessage, don't we? And, asRakewellknows,he'snotasfarawayasheoncewas.'Thepointbeneathherchinmovedaway to allow her to nod,then returned. 'Good.Deliverthe message, then, and hopewedon'tmeetagain.'

'Thiswill not be forgotten,'Serratpromised,shakingwithrage.A low chuckle answered

her. 'Compliments of thePrince,Serrat.Takeitupwithourmutualfriend.'The daggers left her flesh.

Serrat exhaled a long breath,then sheathed her weapons.ShesnappedaKuraldGalainspellandvanished.

Crokus jumped at a faintplopping sound from thestairwell. He laid his handsonhisknives,tensing.'What's wrong?' Apsalar

said.'Shhh. Wait.' He felt his

heart pound hard against hischest. 'I'm ducking atshadows,' he said, sittingback. 'Well, we're off soon,

anyway.'It was an age of wind,sweeping across the grassplainsbeneathapewtersky,awindwhosethirstassailedalllife, mindless, unrelentinglikeabeastthatdidnotknowitself.Struggling in his mother's

wake, it was Raest's firstlesson in power. In the hunt

for domination that wouldshape his life, he saw themanyways of thewind – itssubtlesculptingofstoneoverhundreds and then thousandsof years, and its raging galesthat flattened forests – andfoundclosest tohisheart theviolent power of the wind'sbansheefury.Raest'smotherhadbeenthe

first to flee his deliberateshaping of power. She'd

denied him to his face,proclaiming theSunderingofBlood and thus cutting himfree. That the ritual hadbroken her he disregarded. Itwas unimportant. He whowould dominate must learnearly that those resisting hiscommand should bedestroyed. Failure was herprice,nothis.While the Jaghut feared

community, pronouncing

societytobethebirthplaceoftyranny–ofthefleshandthespirit – and citing their ownbloodyhistoryasproof,Raestdiscovered a hunger for it.The power he commandedinsisted upon subjects.Strength was ever relative,and he could not dominatewithout the company of thedominated.At first he sought to

subjugate other Jaghut, but

more often than not theyeitherescapedhimorhewasforced to kill them. Suchcontestsheldonlymomentarysatisfaction. Raest gatheredbeasts around him, bendingnature to hiswill.But naturewitheredanddiedinbondage,and so found an escape hecouldnotcontrol.Inhisangerhe laid waste to the land,driving into extinctioncountless species. The earth

resisted him, and its powerwas immense. Yet it wasdirectionless and could notoverwhelm Raest in itsageless tide. His was afocused power, precise in itsdestruction and pervasive initseffect.Thenintohispathcamethe

first of the Imass, creatureswho struggled against hiswill, defying slavery and yetliving on. Creatures of

boundless, pitiful hope. ForRaest, he had found in themthe glory of domination, forwitheachImassthatbrokehetook another. Their linkwithnature was minimal, for theImass themselves played thegame of tyranny over theirlands. They could not defeathim.He fashioned an empire of

sorts, bereft of cities yetplagued with the endless

dramasofsociety,itspatheticvictories and inevitablefailures. The community ofenslavedImassthrivedinthisquagmire of pettiness. Theyeven managed to convincethemselves that theypossessed freedom, a will oftheir own that could shapedestiny. They electedchampions. They tore downtheir champions once failuredraped its shroud over them.

They ran in endless circlesand called it growth,emergence, knowledge.While over them all, apresence invisible to theireyes, Raest flexed his will.His greatest joy came whenhis slaves proclaimed himgod– though theyknewhimnot–andconstructedtemplesto serve him and organizedpriesthoods whose activitiesmimicked Raest's tyranny

with such cosmic irony thatthe Jaghut could only shakehishead.It should have been an

empire to last for millennia,and its day of dying shouldhave been by his own hand,when he at last tired of it.Raest had never imaginedthat other Jaghut would findhis activities abhorrent, thatthey would risk themselvesand their own power on

behalf of these short-lived,small-minded Imass. Yetwhat astonished Raest morethan anything else was thatwhen the Jaghut came theycame in numbers, incommunity. A communitywhose sole purpose ofexistence was to destroy hisempire,toimprisonhim.Hehadbeenunprepared.Thelessonwaslearned,and

nomatterwhattheworldhad

becomesincethattime,Raestwas ready for it. His limbscreaked at first, throbbingwith dull aches bridged bysharp pangs. The effort ofdigging himself from thefrozenearthhadincapacitatedhimfora time,butfinallyhefelt ready to walk the tunnelthat opened out into a newland.Preparation. Already he'd

initiated his first moves. He

sensed that others had cometohim,had freed thepathofOmtose Phellack wards andseals. Perhaps hisworshippers remained,fanatics who had sought hisrelease for generations, andeven now awaited himbeyondthebarrow.Themissing Finnestwould

be his first priority.Much ofhis power had been storedwithintheseed,strippedfrom

him and stored there by theJaghut betrayers. It had notbeen carried far, and therewas nothing that couldprevent his recovering it.Omtose Phellack no longerexistedinthelandabove–hecould feel itsabsence likeanairless void. Nothing couldopposehimnow.Preparation. Raest's

withered, cracked facetwistedintoasavagegrin,his

lower tusks splittingdesiccatedskin.Thepowerfulmust gather other power,subjugateittotheirownwill,then direct it unerringly. Hismoveshadalreadybegun.He sloshed through the

slush now covering thebarrow'smuddyfloor.Beforehimrosetheslantedwallthatmarked the tomb's barrier.Beyond the lime-streakedearth waited a world to be

enslaved. Raest gestured andthebarrierexplodedoutward.Bright sunlight flared in theclouds of steam rollingaroundhim,andhefeltwavesof cold, ancient air sweepingpasthim.The Jaghut Tyrant walked

intothelight.TheGreatRavenCrone rodethe hot streamsofwind high

above theGadrobiHills.Theburst of power that launchedtons of earth and rocks ahundred feet into the skyelicited a cackle from her.She dipped a wing, eyes onthewhitepillarofsteam,andbankedtowardsit.This,shelaughedtoherself,

shouldproveinteresting.A wash of air pounded

downontoher.Shriekingheroutrage, Crone twisted and

slid along the shuntingwind.Massiveshadowsflowedoverher. Her anger was sweptaway on a surge ofexcitement.Headcraning,shebeat the air with her wingsandclimbedagain.Inmatterssuch as these, a proper pointof viewwas essential. Croneclimbed higher still, thencocked her head and lookeddown.Bythelightofthesunscalesflashediridescentfrom

five ridged backs, but of thefive one shone like fire.Sorcerous power bled inripples from thewebof theirspread wings. The dragonssailed silent over thelandscape, closing on thebillowing dust-cloud abovethe Jaghut tomb. Crone'sblack eyes fixed on thedragonthatblazedred.'Silanah!' she screamed,

laughing. 'Dragnipurake t'na

Draconiaes! Eleint, eleint!'The day of the Tiste Andiihadcome.Raest emerged into richafternoon sunlight. Yellow-grassed hills rose inweathered humps in everydirection but the one hefaced. To the east behind athinning curtain of driftingduststretchedanemptyplain.

The Jaghut Tyrant grunted.Not so different after all. Heraised his arms, feelingwindslide along his cabledmuscles. He drew a breath,tasting the life-rich air. Hequested lightly with hispower and exulted in thewavesoffearthatansweredit–answersthatcamefromthemindless lifebeneathhis feetor hiding in the grassesaround him. But of higher

life, higher concentrations ofpower, he sensed nothing.Raest drove his senses downintotheground,seekingwhatdwelt there. Earth andbedrock, the sluggish moltendarkness beneath, down,down to find the sleepinggoddess–youngasfarastheJaghutTyrantwasconcerned.'Shall I wake you?' hewhispered. 'Not yet. But Ishall make you bleed.' His

righthandclosedintoafist.He speared the goddess

with pain, driving a fissurethrough the bedrock, feelingthegushofherblood,enoughto make her stir but notawaken.Thelineofhillstothenorth

lifted skyward. Magmasprayed into the air amid arising pillar of smoke, rockandash.Theearthshudderedeven as the sound of the

eruption swept over Raest inafierce,hotwind.TheJaghutTyrantsmiled.He studied the shattered

ridgeandbreathedtheheavy,sulphurous air, then turnedabout and strode westtowards the highest hill inthatdirection.HisFinnestlaybeyondit,perhapsthreedays'walk.He considered openinghis Warren, then decided towaituntilhereachedthehill's

summit. From that vantagepoint, he could better judgetheFinnest'slocation.Half-way up the slope he

heard distant laughter. Raeststiffened just as the daydarkened suddenly aroundhim.Ontheswardbeforehimhe saw five enormousshadows sweeping up theslope, then beyond the hill'ssummit. The sunlightreturned. The Jaghut Tyrant

looked into the sky abovehim.Five dragons banked in

perfectformation,theirheadsdipping towatchhimas theyglided back in his direction.'Estideein eleint,' hewhispered, in his Jaghuttongue. Four were black,barbed in silver along thewingsandflyingtwotoeitherside of the fifth dragon, thisoneredand twiceas largeas

the others. 'Silanah red-wings,' Raest muttered, eyesnarrowing. 'Elder-born andtrue-blooded Tiam, you leadSoletaken, whose blood isalientothisworld.Ifeelyouall!'Heraisedfiststothesky.'Colder than the ice born ofJaghut hands, as dark asblindness-Ifeelyou!'He lowered his arms.

'Harass me not, eleint. Icannotenslaveyou,butIwill

destroyyou.Knowthat.Iwilldriveyoutotheground,eachand all, and with my ownhands I shall tearyourheartsfrom your chests.' His eyesnarrowed on the four blackdragons. 'Soletaken. Youwould challenge me at thecommand of another. Youwould battle with me for noreason of your own. Ah, butif I were to command you Iwould not throw your lives

away so carelessly. I wouldcherish you, Soletaken, Iwouldgiveyoucausesworthbelieving in, show you thetruerewardsofpower.'Raestscowled, as their derisionswept through his mind. 'Sobeit.'The dragons passed low

overhead in silence, bankingonce again and disappearingbehind the hills to the south.Raest spread his arms wide

and unleashed his Warren.His flesh split as powerflowed into him. His armsshed skin like ash. He bothfelt and heard hills crack allaround him, the snapping ofstone, thesunderingofcrags.To all sides the horizonsblurred as dust curtainedskyward. He faced south.'This is my power! Come tome!'A long minute passed. He

frowned at the hills beforehim, then cried out andwhirled to his right just asSilanah and the four blackdragons,all less thantenfeetabove the ground, plungedover the summit of the hillhe'dbeenclimbing.Raest screamed at the

whirlwindofpowerbatteringhim,hisshrunkeneyeslockedon Silanah's blank, empty,deadlygaze–eyesaslargeas

theJaghut'shead–as itboredown upon him with thespeed of a springing viper.Thereddragon'sjawsopenedwideandRaestfoundhimselfstaring down the beast'sthroat.Hescreamedasecond time

and released his power all atonce.The air detonated as the

Warrens collided. Jaggedshards of rock ripped in all

directions.StarvaldDemelainand Kurald Galain warredwith Omtose Phellack in asavage maelstrom of will.Grasses, earth and rockwithered to fine ash on allsides, and within the vortexstood Raest, his powerroaring from him. Lashes ofsorcery from the dragonslanced into his body, boringthroughhiswitheredflesh.The Jaghut Tyrant flayed

his power like a scythe.Blood spattered the ground,sprayedingouts.Thedragonsshrieked.Awaveofincandescentfire

struck Raest from the right,solid as a battering fist.Howling, he was thrownthrough the air, landing in abank of powdery ash.Silanah's fire racedoverhim,blackening what was left ofhis flesh. The Tyrant

clambered upright, his bodyjerking uncontrollably assorcerygoutedfromhis righthand.The ground shook as

Raest's power hammeredSilanah down, driving thedragonskiddingandtumblingacrosstheslope.TheTyrant'sexultantroarwascutshortastalonsthelengthofaforearmcrunched into him frombehind.Asecondclawedfoot

joined the first, snappingthrough the bones of Raest'schest as if they were twigs.More talons flexed aroundhim as a second dragonsoughtgrip.The Tyrant twisted

helplessly as the claws liftedhim into the air and startedripping his body apart. Hedislocated his own shoulderin reaching round to dig hisfingers into a sleek scaled

shin. At the contact, OmtosePhellack surged into thedragon's leg, shatteringbone,boiling blood. Raest laughedas the claws spasmed looseandhewasflungaway.Morebones snapped as he struckthe ground, but it did notmatter. His power wasabsolute, the vessel thatcarried ithad little relevance.If need be, theTyrantwouldfind other bodies, bodies in

thethousands.He climbed once more to

hisfeet. 'Now,'hewhispered,'Ideliverdeath.'

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

The flowering oflightfromdarknessbrought into mysight there on thefielda host of dragonscaughtlike a crest ofwindbefore the eternal

flame.I saw the ages intheireyesa worldly mapinscribedin each whirledscaleontheirhides.Their sorcery bledfromthemlikethebreathingofstarsandIknewthenthat dragons had

comeamongus...AnomandarisFisher(b.?)

Shadows crowded thegarden's undergrowth.Adjunct Lorn rose from hercrouch and brushed the dirtfrom her hands. 'Find anacorn.' She smiled to herself.'Plant it.' Somewhere beyondthe heavily wooded garden,

servantsshoutedateachotheras they scrambled aboutmaking last-minutearrangements. She hitchedher cloak's tail into her beltandquietlyslippedamongtheboles of vine-wrapped trees.Amomentlaterthebackwallcameintoview.An alley lay beyond,

narrow and choked with theleaves and fallen branchesfromthegardensrisingabove

the walls on its either side.Herroutein–andnowout–was a thing of ease. Shescaled the rough-stonedwall,grasping vines whennecessary, then slid over thetop.She landed with a soft

crunch of twigs and dryleaves, within shadows asdeep as those in the garden.She adjusted her cloak, thenwalkedtooneendofthealley

where she leaned against acorner, crossed her arms andsmiled at the crowds passingtoandfroonthestreetbeforeher.Two tasks left to perform,

then she would leave thiscity. One of those tasks,however, might proveimpossible. She sensednothing of Sorry's presence.Perhaps the woman wasindeed dead. Under the

circumstancesitwastheonlyexplanation.She watched the sea of

people, its tide of facesswirling past. The latentmadness there made heruneasy, especially with thecity's guards maintaining analoofdistance.Shewonderedat the taint of terror in thatmultitude of faces, and howalmost every face seemedfamiliar.

Darujhistan blurred in hermind, becoming a hundredothercities,eachrisingoutofher past as if on parade. Joyand fear, agony and laughter–theexpressionsmergedintoone,thesoundscomingtoherno different from each other.She could distinguishnothing, the faces becomingexpressionless, the sounds aroar of history withoutmeaning.

Lornpassedahandoverhereyes, then staggered back astepandreeledintothealley'sshadowsbehindher.She sliddownonewallintoasaggingcrouch. A celebration ofinsignificance. Is that all weare in the end? Listen tothem!Inafewhoursthecity'sintersections would explode.Hundredswoulddieinstantly,thousands to follow. Amidthe rubble of shattered

cobblesandtoppledbuildingswould be these faces, lockedin expressions somewherebetween joy and terror. Andfrom the dying would comesounds, hopeless cries thatdwindled in the passing ofpain.She'd seen them all before,

those faces. She knew themall, knew the sound of theirvoices, sounds mired inhuman emotions, sounds

clear and pure with thought,and sounds wavering in thatchasm between the two. Isthis, she wondered, mylegacy? And one day I'll bejust onemore of those faces,frozenindeathandwonder.Lornshookherhead,but it

was a wan effort. Sherealized, with suddencomprehension, that she wasbreaking down. The Adjunctwas cracking, its armour

crumblingandthelustregonefromitsmarbledgrandeur.Atitle as meaningless as thewoman bearing it. TheEmpress – just another faceshe'dseensomewherebefore,a mask behind whichsomeonehidfrommortality.'No use hiding,' she

whispered, frowningdownatthedead leavesandbranchesaroundher.'Nouse.'A few minutes later she

pushed herself upright onceagain. She brushed the dirtmeticulously from her cloak.Onetaskremainedwithinherabilities. Find the CoinBearer. Kill him, and takeOponn's Coin.Make the godpayforitsintrusioninEmpireaffairs – the Empress andTayschrennwouldseetothat.The task demanded

concentration, fixing hersenses upon one particular

signature.Itwouldbeherlastact,sheknew.Butshewouldsucceed. Death at the handsof failure was unthinkable.Lorn turned to the street.Dusk crept from the groundandengulfed thecrowds.Faroff to the east thundersounded,yet the airwasdry,with no hint of rain. Shechecked her weapons. 'TheAdjunct's mission,' she saidquietly,'isalmostdone.'

She entered the street anddisappearedintothemob.Krupperosefromhistableatthe Phoenix Inn andattempted to fasten the lastbutton on his waistcoat.Failing, he let his stomachrelaxonceagainandletloosea weary sigh. Well, at leastthecoathadbeencleaned.Headjusted the cuffsofhisnewshirt, then walked out of the

mostlyemptybar.He'd spent the last hour

seated at his table, to alloutward appearances musingon nothing of greatimportance, though in hishead a pattern formed, bornofhisTalent,anditdisturbedhimgreatly.Meese and Iriltalosing Crokus and the girlbroughteverythingintofocus– as with most unwittingservantsofthegods,oncethe

game was done so was theservant'slife.TheCoinmightbe gambled in a singlecontest,buttohaveitfloatingaround indefinitely was fartoo dangerous. No, Crokuswould find his luckabandoning him when heneeded itmost, and it wouldcosttheladhislife.'No, no,' Kruppe had

murmured over his tankard.'Kruppecan'tpermitthat.'Yet

the pattern of successremained elusive. He feltcertainhehadcoveredallthepotentialthreatsregardingthelad or, rather, someone wasdoing a good job ofprotecting Crokus – thatmuchthepatternshowedhim.He experienced a naggingsuspicion that the 'someone'wasn't himself, or any of hisagents.Andhe'd justhave totrustinitsintegrity.

Circle Breaker had comethrough yet again, andKruppe was still confidentthatTurbanOrr'shuntfortheman would prove fruitless.TheEelknewhowtoprotecthis own. In fact, CircleBreaker was due forretirement – for the man'sown safety – and Kruppeintended to deliver the goodnewsthisverynight,atLadySimtal's Fête. Circle Breaker

deserved no less after alltheseyears.The pattern also told him

something he already knew:his cover was blown. Thespell he had cast onMurilliowouldn't last much longer,norwasitrequiredto.Kruppehad wanted his freedomunimpeded this day. Afterthat,well,thingswouldfallasthey would fall – and thesame applied for hismeeting

withBaruk.If anything gave Kruppe

pause, it was the pattern'sabrupt ending. Beyondtonight, thefuturewasblank.Clearly, a crux had beenreached,anditwouldturn,heknew,atLadySimtal'sFête.Kruppe now entered the

HigherEstatesDistrict,withagenerous nod at the loneguard stationed near theramp. The man scowled, but

otherwisemadenocomment.The Fêtewas set to begin inthirty minutes, and Kruppeplanned on being one of thefirst to arrive. His mouthwatered at the thought of allthose pastries, fresh anddripping with warm, sweetliquids.Heremovedhismaskfrom inside his coat andsmiled at it. Perhaps, amongall those attending, HighAlchemistBarukalonewould

appreciate the irony of thismouldedvisage.Ah,well,hesighed. One is more thanenough, given who that oneis. After all, is Kruppegreedy?His stomach rumbled in

answer.Crokus strained his eyestowards the darkening east.Something like lightning

flashed every now and thenbeyond the hills, each onecloser than the last. But thethunder's rumble, which hadbegun early that afternoonand still continued, soundedsomehow wrong, its timbreunlike the normal bass thatrolled through the earth. Itseemed almost brittle. Thecloudsthathadappearedoverthe hill earlier had been aneerieochrecolour,sickly,and

thosecloudsnowapproachedthecity.'When are we leaving?'

Apsalarasked,leaningonthewallbesidehim.Crokus shook himself.

'Now.It'sdarkenough.''Crokus?Whatwill you do

ifChalliceD'Arlebetraysyouasecondtime?'He could barely see her

face in the gloom. Had she

meantthattocut?Itwashardto tell from her voice. 'Shewon't,'hesaid,tellinghimselfthathebelievedit.'Trustme,'and he turned towards thestairwell.'Ido,'shesaidsimply.Crokus winced. Why did

shemakethingsseemsoeasyfor her? Hood's Breath, hewouldn'ttrusthim.Ofcourse,he didn't knowChallice verywell. They'd only had that

one, confusing conversation.Whatifshecalledtheguards?Well,he'dmakesureApsalargot away safely. He pausedandgraspedherarm. 'Listen,'his own voice soundedunduly harsh, but he pushedon,'ifsomethinggoeswrong,gotothePhoenixInn.Right?Find Meese, Irilta, or myfriends Kruppe andMurillio.Tellthemwhathappened.''Allright,Crokus.'

'Good.' He released herarm. 'Wishwehada lantern,'hesaid,ashesteppedintothedarkness, one hand reachingbeforehim.'Why?' Apsalar asked,

slipping past him. She tookhishandandledhimdown.'Ican see. Don't let go of myhand.'Thatmight be a hard thing

to do even if he'd desired it,herealized.Still,therewerea

lot of rough calluses on thatsmall hand. He let themremind him of what thiswomanwascapableofdoing,thoughtheeffortembarrassedhiminsomevagueway.Eyes wide, yet seeing

nothing, Crokus allowedhimself to be guided downthestairs.ThecaptainofSimtal'sHouse

Guard viewed Whiskeyjackand his men with obviousdistaste. 'I thought you wereall Barghast.' He stepped uptoTrotts and jabbed a fingerinto the warrior's massivechest. 'You ledme tobelieveyou were all like you,Niganga.'A low, menacing growl

emergedfromTrotts,and thecaptain stepped back, onehand reaching for his short

sword.'Captain,'Whiskeyjacksaid,

'ifwewereallBarghast—'The man's narrow face

swungtohimwithascowl.'– you'd never be able to

afford us,' the sergeantfinished with a tight smile.He glanced at Trotts.Niganga? Hood's Breath!'Niganga is my second-in-command, Captain. Now,

how would you like uspositioned?''Just beyond the fountain,'

hesaid.'Yourbackswillbetothegarden,whichhas,ah,runwild of late. We don't wantany guests getting lost inthere, so you gently steerthemback.Understood?Andwhen I say gently Imean it.You're to salute anyone whotalks toyou,and if there'sanargument direct them to me,

CaptainStillis. I'llbemakingtherounds,butanyoneofthehouseguardcanfindme.'Whiskeyjack nodded.

'Understood,sir.'Heturnedtosurveyhissquad.FiddlerandHedge stood behind Trotts,bothlookingeager.PastthemMallet and Quick Ben stoodon the edge of the street,heads bent together inconversation. The sergeantfrowned at them, noticing

how his wizard winced witheveryboomofthunderto theeast.Captain Stillis marched off

after giving them directionsthroughtheestate'sroomsoutto the terrace and gardenbeyond. Whiskeyjack waitedfor theman to leave his lineof sight, then he strode toQuick Ben and Mallet.'What'swrong?'heasked.Quick Ben looked

frightened.Mallet said, 'That thunder

and lightning, Sergeant?Well,itain'tnostorm.Paran'sstoryislookingreal.''Meaning we have little

time,' Whiskeyjack said.'Wonder why the Adjunctdidn't show up – you thinkshe's melting her bootsgettingawayfromhere?'Malletshrugged.

'Don't you get it?' QuickBen said shakily. He took acouple of deep breaths, thencontinued, 'That creature outthere is in a fight. We'retalking major sorceries, onlyit's getting closer, whichmeans that it's winning. Andthatmeans—''We're in trouble,'

Whiskeyjack finished. 'Allright, we go as planned fornow. Come on, we've been

assignedrightwherewewantto be. Quick Ben, you sureKalam and Paran can findus?'The wizard moaned.

'Directions delivered,Sergeant.''Good. Let's move, then.

Through the house and eyesforward.''He looks like he's going to

sleep for days,' Kalam said,straightening beside Coil'sbedandfacingthecaptain.Paran rubbed his red-shot

eyes. 'She must have giventhem something,' he insistedwearily, 'even if they didn'tseeit.'Kalam wagged his head.

'I've told you, sir, she didn't.Everyonewasonthelook-outfor something like that. Thesquad'sstillclean.Now,we'd

bettergetmoving.'Paran climbed to his feet

with an effort. He wasexhausted, and he knew hewas just an added burden.'She'll turn up at this estate,then,' he insisted, strappingonhissword.'Well,' Kalam said, as he

walked to the door, 'that'swhere you and me come in,right? She shows up and wetakeherout–justlikeyou've

wantedtodoallalong.''Right now,' Paran said,

joining the assassin, 'theshape I'm in will make myrole in the fight a short one.Consider me the surprisefactor,theonethingshewon'tbe expecting, the one thingthat'll stop her for a second.'Helookedintotheman'sdarkeyes. 'Make that secondcount,Corporal.'Kalamgrinned. 'Ihearyou,

sir.'They left Coll still snoring

contentedlyandwentdowntothe bar'smain floor.As theypassed along the counter,Scurvelookedatthemwarily.Kalam released an

exasperated curse and, in asurge ofmotion, reached outandgraspedhimbytheshirt.He pulled the squealinginnkeeperhalf-wayacrossthecounteruntil their faceswere

inches apart. 'I'm sick ofwaiting,' the assassingrowled. 'You get thismessage to this city'sMasterof theAssassins. I don't carehow.Justdoit,anddoitfast.Here's the message: thebiggest contract offer of theMaster's life will be waitingat the back wall of LadySimtal'sestate.Tonight.IftheGuildMaster'sworthyofthatname then maybe – just

maybe – it's not too big forthe Guild to handle. Deliverthat message, even if youhave to shout it from therooftops, or I'm comingbackherewithkillinginmind.'Paranstaredathiscorporal,

tootiredtobeamazed.'We'rewastingtime,'hedrawled.Kalam tightened his grip

andglaredintoScurve'seyes.'We'd better not be,' hegrowled.Hereleasedtheman

bygentlyloweringhimontothe counter-top. Then hetossed a handful of silvercoinsbesideScurve.'Foryourtroubles,'hesaid.Paran gestured and the

assassinnodded.TheyleftthePhoenixInn.'Still following orders,

Corporal?'Kalam grunted. 'We were

instructedtomaketheofferin

the name of the Empress,Captain. If the contract'saccepted and theassassinations are done, thenLaseen will have to pay up,whetherwe'vebeenoutlawedornot.''AguttedcityforDujekand

his army to occupy,with theEmpress paying for it. She'llchokeonthat,Kalam.'He grinned. 'That's her

problem,notmine.'

In the street, theGreyfacesmoved through the noisycrowd like silent spectres,lighting the gas-lamps withlong-poled sparkers. Somepeople, brazen with drink,hugged the figures andblessed them.TheGreyfaces,hooded and anonymous,simply bowed in reply andcontinued on their way oncefreed.Kalam stared at them, his

browsknitting.'Something the matter,

Corporal?'Paranasked.'Justsomethingnaggingme.

Can't pin it down. Only, it'sgot to do with thoseGreyfaces.'Thecaptainshrugged.'They

keepthelanternslit.Shallwemakeourway,then?'Kalam sighed. 'Might as

well,sir.'

Theblacklacqueredcarriage,drawn by two dun stallions,moved slowly through thepress. A dozen feet aheadmarched a brace of Baruk'sown house guards, driving awedge down the street'scentre, using their wrappedweapons when shouts andcursesfailed.Intheplushconfinesofthe

carriage the outside roar

surged and ebbed like adistant tide, muted by thealchemist's sound-deadeningspells. He sat with his chinloweredonhischest,hiseyes–hiddenintheshadowofhisbrowandhalf-shut–studyingthe TisteAndii seated acrossfrom him. Rake had saidnothingsincehisreturntotheestate just minutes beforetheirplanneddeparture.Baruk's head throbbed.

Sorceryshookthehillstotheeast, sending waves ofconcussion that struck everymage within range likemailedfists.Hewellknewitssource. The barrow dwellerapproached, its every stepcontested by AnomanderRake'sTisteAndii.ItseemedthatMammot'spredictionhadbeen too generous. Theydidn't have days, they hadhours.

Yet, despite the warringWarrens,despite thefact thatthe Jaghut Tyrant's powerwassuperiortoRake'smages'– that the barrow dwellercame on, relentless,unstoppable,agrowingstormofOmtosePhellacksorcery–theLordofMoon'sSpawnsatat ease on the padded couch,legs stretchedoutbeforehimand gloved hands folded inhislap.Themasklyingonthe

velvet at his side wasexquisite, ifghastly.InbettertimesBarukmighthavebeenamused, appreciative of itsworkmanship, but right nowwhen he regarded it his loneresponse was suspicion. Asecret was locked in thatmask,somethingthatbespokethe man who would wear it.ButthesecreteludedBaruk.TurbanOrradjustedhishawk

mask and paused just beforethewide steps leading to theestate'smaindoors.Heheardanother carriage arrive at thegates and turned. From thedoorwayathisbackcametheshuffleoffootsteps.Lady Simtal spoke behind

him. 'I would rather you'dpermittedoneofmyservantsto informmeofyour arrival,Councilman. Allow me theprivilege of escorting you

into the main chamber.' Sheslippedherarmthroughhis.'A moment,' he muttered,

eyes on the figure nowemerging from the carriage.'It's the alchemist's carriage,'he said, 'but that's hardlyBaruk,now,isit?'Lady Simtal looked. 'Trake

unleashed!' shegasped. 'Whowouldthatbe?''Baruk's guest,' Orr said

drily.Her grip bit into his arm.

'I'm aware of his privilege,Councilman. Tell me, haveyouseenthisonebefore?'The man shrugged. 'He's

masked.HowcouldItell?''How many men do you

know,Turban,whoaresevenfeettallandweartwo-handedswords strapped to theirbacks?' She squinted. 'That

white hair, do you think it'spartofthemask?'The councilman did not

reply. He watched as Barukemerged behind the stranger.The alchemist's mask was aconservative silver-inlaidhalf-shield that nomore thancoveredhiseyes.Anobviousstatement denying duplicity.TurbanOrrgrunted,knowingwellthathissuspicionsaboutthe alchemist's influence and

power were accurate. Hiseyes returned to the stranger.Hismaskwas thatofablackdragon, lacquered with finesilver-traced highlights;somehow the dragon'sexpressionseemed...sly.'Well?' Lady Simtal

demanded. 'Are we going tolingerouthereallnight?Andwhere's your dear wife,anyway?''Ill,'hesaiddistractedly.He

smiled at her. 'Shall weintroduce ourselves to thealchemist'sguest?AndhaveIcomplimented you yet onyourattire?''Youhaven't,'shesaid.'A black panther suits you,

Lady.''But of course it does,' she

replied testily, as Baruk andhis guest strode down thepaved walk towards them.

She disengaged her arm andstepped forward. 'Goodevening, Alchemist Baruk.Welcome,' she added to theblack-dragon-masked man.'An astonishing presentation.Havewemet?''Good evening, Lady

Simtal,' Baruk said, bowing.'Councilman Turban Orr.Permit me to introduce,' hehesitated, but theTisteAndiihad been firm on this, 'Lord

AnomanderRake,avisitortoDarujhistan.' The alchemistwaited to see if thecouncilman would recognizethename.Turban Orr bowed

formally. 'On behalf of theCityCouncil,welcome,LordAnomanderRake.'Baruk sighed. Anomander

Rake,anameknownbypoetsand scholars, but not, itappeared,bycouncilmen.

Orrcontinued, 'Asa lord, Iassume you hold title toland?' He almost steppedback as the dragon's visageswung to regard him. Deepblueeyesfixedonhis.'Land? Yes, Councilman, I

hold title. However, my titleis honorary, presented to meby my people.' Rake lookedpast Orr's shoulder to theroom beyond the widedoorway.'Itseems,Lady,that

the evening is well underway.''Indeed.' She laughed.

'Come,joininthefestivities.'Baruk breathed another

relievedsigh.Murillio had to admit thatKruppe's choice of masksuited him perfectly. Hefound himself grinningbehind his feather-decked

peacockmask in spite of histrepidation.Hestoodneartheopened doorway leading outto the patio and garden, agoblet of light wine in onehand, theotherhitchedinhisbelt.Rallick leaned against the

wall beside him, armscrossed.Hismaskwasthatofa Catlin tiger, idealized tomimicthegodTrake'simage.Murillioknewtheassassinlet

the wall bear his weight outof exhaustion rather thanfrom a lazy slouch. Hewonderedyetagainifmatterswould fall to him. Theassassin stiffened suddenly,eyes on the entrance acrossfromthem.Murillio craned to see past

the crowd. There, the hawk.Hemurmured, 'That'sTurbanOrrallright.Who'shewith?''Simtal,' Rallick growled.

'And Baruk, and somemonster of a man wearing adragon'smask–andarmed.''Baruk?' Murillio laughed

nervously. 'Let's hope hedoesn't recognize us. Itwouldn'ttakehimasecondtoputeverythingtogether.''It doesn't matter,' Rallick

said.'Hewon'tstopus.''Maybe you're right.' Then

Murillio almost dropped his

glass.'Hood'sWearyFeet!'Rallick hissed between his

teeth. 'Dammit!Lookathim!He's heading straight forthem!'Lady Simtal and Turban Orrexcused themselves, leavingBarukandRakemomentarilyalone in the middle of thechamber. People movedaround them, some nodding

deferentially at Baruk but allkeeping their distance. AcrowdgatheredaroundSimtalwhereshestoodatthefootofthe winding staircase, eagerwith questions regardingAnomanderRake.A figure approachedBaruk

and his companion. Short,round, wearing a faded redwaistcoat, both handsclutching pastries, the manwore a cherub's mask, its

open red-lipped mouthsmeared with cake icing andcrumbs. His route to themmet with one obstacle afteranother as he negotiated hisway across the room,excusing himself at everyturnandtwist.Rake noticed the

newcomer, for he said,'Seemseager,doesn'the?'Baruk chuckled. 'He's

workedforme,'hesaid.'And

I've worked for him as well.AnomanderRake,behold theone they call the Eel.Darujhistan'smaster-spy.''Doyoujest?''No.'Kruppe arrived, his chest

heaving. 'Master Baruk!' hesaid breathlessly. 'What asurprisetofindyouhere.'Thecherub face swung over andup to Rake. 'The hair is an

exquisite touch, sir.Exquisite. I am namedKruppe,sir.KruppetheFirst.'He raised a pastry to hismouthandjammeditin.'This is Lord Anomander

Rake,Kruppe.'Kruppe nodded vigorously,

then swallowed audibly. 'Ofcourse!Why, then, youmustbe quite used to such a loftystance, sir. Kruppe enviesthose who can look down

uponeveryoneelse.''It is easy to fool oneself,'

Rakeanswered, 'intoviewingthose beneath one as smallandinsignificant.Therisksofoversight,youmightsay.''Kruppe might well say,

assuming the pun wasintended. But who woulddisagree that the dragon's lotis ever beyond the ken ofmerehumankind?Kruppecanonly guess at the thrill of

flight,thewailofhighwinds,therabbitsscurryingbelowasone's shadow brushes theirlimitedawareness.''My dear Kruppe,' Baruk

sighed,'itisbutamask.''Such is the irony of life,'

Kruppe proclaimed, raisingone pastry-filled hand overhis head, 'that one learns todistrust the obvious,surrendering instead toinsidious suspicion and

confused conclusion.But, lo,is Kruppe deceived? Can aneel swim? Hurrah, theseseeming muddy waters arehometoKruppe,andhiseyesare wide with wonder!' Hebowed with a flourish,spattering bits of cake overRake and Baruk, thenmarched off, still talking. 'Asurvey of the kitchen is inorder,Kruppesuspects...''An eel indeed,' Rake said,

in an amused tone. 'He is alessontousall,ishenot?'Agreed,' Baruk muttered,

shoulders slumping. 'Ineedadrink. Let me get you one.Excuseme.'Turban Orr stood with hisbacktothewallandsurveyedthe crowded room. He wasfinding it difficult to relax.The last week had been

exhausting. He still awaitedconfirmation from theAssassins' Guild that Collwasdead. Itwasn't like themto takeso long tocompleteacontract, and sticking a knifeinto a drunk shouldn't havebeentoodifficult.His hunt for the spy in his

organizations had reached adead end, but he remainedconvinced that such aman –or woman – existed. Again

and again, and especiallysince Lim's assassination,he'd found his moves in theCouncil blocked bycountermoves, too unfocusedfor him to point a finger atany one person. But theproclamationwasdeadinthewater.He'd come to that

conclusionthismorning.Andhe'd acted. Even now hismost trusted and capable

messenger rode the trader'strack, probably passingthroughtheGadrobiHillsandthatthunderstormatthisverymoment, on hisway to Pale.To the Empire. Turban Orrknew the Malazans were onthe way. No one inDarujhistan could stop them.AndtheMoon'slordhadbeendefeated once, at Pale. Whywould itbeanydifferent thistime around? No, the time

had come to ensure that hisown position would survivethe Empire's occupation. Or,better yet, an even higherrank to reward his vitalsupport.His eyes fell casually on a

guardstationedtoonesideofthe spiral staircase. Themanlooked familiar somehow –not his face, but the way hestood, the set of theshoulders. Was the man's

usualstationatMajestyHall?No,theuniformwasthatofaregular, while Majesty Hallwasthedomainof theElites.TurbanOrr's frowndeepenedbehind the hawkmask.Thentheguardadjustedhishelmetstrap,andTurbanOrrgasped.He leaned back against thewall,overcomeby trembling.Despot's Barbican! All thosenights,nightafternight– foryears – that guard had

witnessed his midnightmeetings with his allies andagents.Therestoodhisspy.He straightened, closing

onehandoverthepommelofhisduellingsword.He'dleaveno room for questions, anddamn Simtal's sensibilities –and damn this party. Hewanted his vengeance to beswiftandimmediate.He'dletno one stop him. His eyesfixing on the unsuspecting

guard, Turban Orr steppedforward.He collided with a hard

shoulder and staggered back.A largeman in a tigermaskturnedtohim.Orrwaitedforanapology,butreceivedonlysilence. He moved to steppasttheman.The stranger's arm

intercepted him. Turban Orrcursed as a gloved handpoured wine down his chest.

'Idiot!' he snapped. 'I amCouncilmanTurbanOrr!Outofmyway.''I know who you are,' the

mansaidquietly.Orrjabbedafingerintothe

man's chest. 'Keep thatmaskon, so I'll knowwho to lookforlater.''I didn't even notice your

mask,'themansaid,hisvoicecold and flat. 'Fooled by the

nose,Isuppose.'The councilman's eyes

narrowed. 'Eager to die, areyou?'hegrated. 'Iwillobligeyou.' His hand twitched onhissword'spommel.'Inafewminutes.RightnowIhave—''I wait on noman,' Rallick

Nom said. 'And certainly notfor some thin-lipped prancerpretending to manhood. Ifyou've the belly for a duel,make it now or stopwasting

timewithallthistalk.'Shaking,TurbanOrrtooka

step back and faced themandirectly. 'What's your name?'hedemandedhoarsely.'You are not fit to hear it,

Councilman.'TurbanOrrraisedhishands

and whirled to the crowd.'Hearme,guests!Unexpectedentertainment for you all!'Conversation died and

everyone faced thecouncilman.Hecontinued,'Afool has challenged myhonour, friends. And sincewhen has Turban Orrpermittedsuchaninsult?'A duel!' someone cried

excitedly.Voicesrose.OrrpointedatRallickNom.

'Thisman,soboldastowearTrake's face, will be deadshortly.Lookuponhimnow,friends,ashelooksuponyou

–andknow thathe is allbutdeadalready.''Stop babbling,' Rallick

drawled.The councilman pulled the

maskfromhisface,revealinga tight grin. 'If I could killyou a thousand times,' hesaid, 'itwouldnotbeenoughto satisfy me. I must settlewithyoubutonce.'Rallick removed his mask

and tossed it on to thecarpeted stairs. He lookedupon Turban Orr with flat,dark eyes. 'Done breakingwind,Councilman?''Unmasked and still a

stranger,' Orr said, scowling.'So be it. Find yourself asecond.' A thought struckhim, and he turned back tothe crowd, searching it.Towards thebackhesawthemask he sought, that of a

wolf. His choosing of asecond could well havepolitical benefits, assumingthe man accepted. And, inthis crowd, he'd be a fool todeny Orr. 'For myself,' hesaid loudly, 'I would behonoured if CouncilmanEstraysian D'Arle act as mysecond.'The wolf started. Beside

him stood two women, onenomore than a girl.D'Arle's

wife was dressed as a veiledwomanofCallows,whilethegirl had selected –outrageously – the minimalgarb of a Barghastwarmaiden. Both wife anddaughterspoke toEstraysian.He stepped forward. 'Thehonour ismine,' he rumbled,completing the ritualacceptance.Turban Orr felt a surge of

triumph. To have his most

powerful enemy in theCouncil at his side for thisduel would send a messagemixed enough to panic halftheCouncilmemberspresent.Pleasedat his coup,he facedhisnamelessopponent again.'Andyoursecond?'Silencefellovertheroom.

'I haven't much time,' LadySimtal said in a low voice.

'After all, as the hostess forthisfête...''It's your duty,' murmured

themanbeforeher,'tosatisfyyourguests.'Hereachedforthandbrushedthehairfromherforehead. 'Which issomethingI'mcertainyoucando,anddowell.'She smiled and walked to

thedoor.Shelockeditslatch,then spun to face the managain. 'Perhaps half an hour,'

shesaid.The man strode to the bed

and tossed down his leathergloves. 'I'm confident,' hesaid,'thatthosethirtyminuteswill be satisfying indeed,eachmorethanthelast.'Lady Simtal joined him

beside the bed. 'I suppose,'shewhispered,assheslippedher arms around the man'sneckanddrewhisfacedownto her lips, 'that you've no

choice now but to tell theWidow Lim the sad news.'She touched her lips to his,thenranhertonguealongthelineofhisjaw.'Mmm? What sad news is

that?''Oh, that you've found

yourselfamoreworthylover,of course.' Her tonguereachedintohisear.Abruptlyshe pulled back and met hiseyes searchingly. 'Do you

hearthat?'sheasked.Hebroughthisarmsaround

heranddrewhercloser.'Hearwhat?''That's just it,' shesaid. 'It's

suddenlyquietdownstairs.I'dbetter—''They're in the garden, no

doubt,' the man saidreassuringly.'Theminutesarepassing,Lady.'She hesitated, then made

the mistake of letting himpress his body against hers.Lady Simtal's eyes widenedin near-alarm. Her breathingchanged. 'So,' she gasped,'what are we doing stilldressed?''Good question,' Murillio

growled,pullingbothofthemontothebed.In the silence following

TurbanOrr's question,Barukfound himself preparing tostep forward. Knowing wellwhat that would reveal, hefelt compelled nevertheless.RallickNomwasheretorighta dreadful wrong. More, theman was a friend, closer tothealchemist thanKruppeorMurillio–and,inspiteofhisprofession,amanofintegrity.And Turban Orr was LadySimtal's last link to real

power. If Rallick killed theman,she'dfall.Coil's return to theCouncil

wassomethingBarukandhisfellow T'orrudmages greatlydesired. And Turban Orr'sdeathwouldbearelief.Morewas riding on this duel thanRallick imagined. Thealchemist adjusted his robeanddrewadeepbreath.A large hand closed on his

upper arm and, beforeBaruk

couldreact,LordAnomanderRakesteppedforward.'Ioffermy services as second,' hesaid loudly.HemetRallick'seyes.The assassin betrayed

nothing, not once looking atBaruk. He answered Rake'sofferwithanod.'Perhaps,' Turban Orr

sneered, 'the two strangersknoweachother.'

'We've never met,' Rakesaid. 'However, I findmyselfinstinctively sharing hisdistaste foryourendless talk,Councilman. Thus I seek toavoid a Council debate onwho will be this man'ssecond.Shallweproceed?'TurbanOrrledthewayout

to the terrace, EstraysianD'Arlebehindhim.AsBarukturned to follow he felt afamiliarcontactofenergiesat

his side. He swung his headand recoiled. 'Good gods,Mammot!Wheredidyougetthathideousmask?'Theoldman'seyesheldhis

briefly then shied away. 'Anaccurate rendition of Jaghutfeatures, I believe,' he saidsoftly. 'Though I think thetusksarealittleshort.'Barukshookhimself.'Have

you managed to find yournephewyet?'

'No,'Mammotreplied.'Iamdeeplyworriedbythat.''Well,' the alchemist

grunted as they walkedoutside, 'let's hope thatOponn's luck holds for thelad.''Of course,' Mammot

murmured.Whiskeyjack's eyes widenedas a crowd of excited guests

poured out from the mainchamber and gathered on theterrace.Fiddlerscurried tohisside.

'It'saduel,Sergeant.Theguywith the wine stain on hisshirt is one of them, acouncilman named Orr.Nobodyknowswhotheotherman is. He's over there withthat big man in the dragonmask.'The sergeant had been

leaning,armscrossed,againstone of the marble pillarsencirclingthefountain,butatseeingthetalldragon-maskedfigure he came near totoppling into the fountainbehindhim.'Hood'sBalls!'hecursed. 'Recognize that longsilverhair,Fid?'Thesaboteurfrowned.'Moon's Spawn,'

Whiskeyjackbreathed.'That'sthemage,theLordwhostood

on that portal and battledTayschrenn.'Hereeledoffanimpressivelistofcurses,thenadded,'Andhe'snothuman.'Fiddler groaned. 'Tiste

Andii.Thebastard'sfoundus.We'vehadit.''Shutup.'Whiskeyjackwas

recovering from his shock.'Line everybody up the waythatCaptainStilliswantedus.Backstothewoodsandhandsonweapons.Move!'

Fiddler scrambled. Thesergeantwatchedthesaboteurrounduphismen.Wherethehell were Kalam and Parananyway? He caught QuickBen's eye and gestured themageover.'Fid explained it,' Quick

Ben said, leaning close. 'Imay not be much use,Sergeant. That barrow-dweller'sunleashingwavesofnasty stuff. My head feels

readytoexplode.'Hegrinnedwanly. 'And look around.You can pick out all themages by the sick looks ontheirfaces.IfweallaccessedourWarrens,we'dbefine.''Thenwhydon'tyou?'Thewizardgrimaced. 'That

Jaghut would fix on us as ifwewereabeaconoffire.Andhe'd take the weaker ones –even from this distance, he'dtake them. And then there'd

behelltopay.'Whiskeyjack watched the

guests create a space on theterrace, lining up on eitherside. 'Checkwith Hedge andFiddler,' he ordered, eyeslingering on the Tiste Andii.'Make sure they've gotsomething handy, in case itall comes apart. This estate'sgot to burn then, hot andlong.We'llneedthediversionto set off the intersection

mines. Give me the nodtellingmethey'reuptoit.''Right.' Quick Ben moved

off.Whiskeyjack grunted in

surprise as a young mansteppedroundhim,dressedasa thief, complete with facemask.'Excuse me,' the man

muttered, as he walked intothecrowd.

The sergeant stared afterhim,thenglancedbackatthegarden.Howthehellhadthatlad got past them in the firstplace? He could've swornthey'd sealed off the woods.He loosened his swordsurreptitiouslyinitssheath.Crokushadnoideawhatkindof costume Challice D'Arlewould be wearing, and hewas resigned to a long hunt.

He'd left Apsalar at thegarden's back wall, and nowfeltguilty.Still,she'dseemedto take it well – though in away thatmadehimfeelevenworse. Why did she have tobesoniceaboutthings?He spared barely a thought

about the crowd's strangeformation, looking as hewasforaheadsomewhereatchestlevel to everyone else. As itturned out, that proved

unnecessary, for ChalliceD'Arle's costume was nodisguise.Crokus found himself

between two burly houseguards. Across from him,twentyfeetawaywithnooneto block his view, stoodChalliceandanolderwomanCrokustooktobehermother.Their attention was heldunerringly on a tall, severe-looking man standing at one

end of the cleared space andspeaking with another man,who was strapping on aduelling glove. It slowlydawned on the thief that aduelwasbutmomentsaway.Squeezingbetween the two

guards, Crokus craned hisnecktofindtheotherduellist.At first he thought him thegiant with the dragon maskand two-handed sword.Thenhis gaze found the man.

Rallick Nom. His eyessnapped back to the firstduellist. Familiar.He nudgedthe guard on his left. 'Is thatCouncilmanTurbanOrr?''Itis,sir,' theguardreplied,

anoddtightnessinhistone.Crokus glanced up to see

the man's face wet withsweat, trickling down fromunder his peaked helmet.Strange. 'So, where's LadySimtal?'heaskedcasually.

'Nowhere in sight,' theguardanswered,withobviousrelief. 'Otherwise she'd stopthis.'Crokus nodded at that.

'Well,' he said, 'Rallick willwin.'The guard's gaze was on

him, the eyes hard andpiercing. 'You know theman?''Well—'

Someone tapped his backand he turned to find acherub's face smilingmindlessly at him. 'Why,Crokus lad! What aninventive costume you'rewearing!''Kruppe?''Well guessed!' Kruppe

replied. The painted woodenfaceswungtotheguard.'Oh,kind sir, I have a writtenmessage for you.' Kruppe

placedascroll into theman'shand. 'Compliments of along-timesecretadmirer.'Crokus grinned. These

guardshad all the luckwhenitcametonobleladies.CircleBreakeracceptedthe

scrollandslidfromitthesilktie.More than once he had

sensed Turban Orr's eyes onhim. First in the central

chamber,whenitlookedasifthe councilman might accosthim directly, and now,whileothers argued over whoshouldrefereetheduel.Circle Breaker prayed

Rallick would kill TurbanOrr. He felt his own fearracing through his body, andit was with trembling handsthat he read the Eel'smessage.The time has come for

Circle Breaker to retirefrom active duty. Thecircle is mended, loyalfriend.Thoughyouhavenever seen the Eel, youhave been his mosttrusted hand, and youhave earned your rest.Think not that the Eelsimplydiscardsyounow.SuchisnottheEel'sway.Thesigilatthebottomofthis parchment will

provide you passage tothe city of Dhavran,where loyal servants ofthe Eel have preparedyour arrival bypurchasinganestateandalegitimatetitleonyourbehalf. You enter adifferent world soon,withitsowngames.Trust your new

servants, friend, in thisandallotherconcerns.

Proceed, this verynight, to the Dhavrantrader's pier inLakefront. You seek theriver longboat namedEnskalader. Show thesigil to any crewmanaboard–allareservantsof theEel. The time hascome, Circle Breaker.The circle is mended.Fareyouwell.

Baruk threw up his hands inexasperation. 'Enough ofthis!' he bellowed. 'I willreferee this duel, and acceptall responsibility. Judgementof victory is mine. Acceptedbybothparties?'Turban Orr nodded. Even

better than Estraysian beinghis second. Baruk'sproclaiminghimvictorintheduel would be a coup in itsownright.'Iaccept.'

'As do I,' Rallick said, hisshort cloak drawn about hisbody.Asuddenwindthrashedthe

treetops in the garden,sweepingdownfromtheeast.Thunder boomed from thissideofthehills.Anumberofonlookers seemed to flinch.Turban On-grinned, steppinginto the cleared area. Leavesskirled past, clattering liketiny bones. 'Before it rains,'

hesaid.His allies in the crowd

laughed at this. 'Of course,'Orrcontinued,'itmightprovemore entertaining to drawthings out. A wound here, awound there. Shall I cut himtopiecesslowly?'Hefeigneddismayatthechorusofeagerassent. 'Too eager for blood,friends!Musttheladiesdanceon slick flagstones oncedarkness falls? We must

consider our host ...' Andwhere was Simtal? Hisimagination conjured animage in answer and hefrowned. 'No indeed,'he saidcoldly,'itshallbequick.'Thecouncilmanunsheathed

his sword and fastened hisglove's leather straps to theornate grip behind the bellguard. He scanned the facesof his audience, even nowseeking some betrayal of

expression – he had friendswho were enemies, enemieswho would be friends, thegamewouldcontinuebeyondthis moment, but it couldprove a telling moment. Hewould recall every face later,andstudyitathisleisure.Turban Orr assumed his

stance. His opponent stoodten feet away, both handshiddenbeneathhis cloak.Helookedat ease, almostbored.

'What's this?' Orr demanded.'Whereisyourweapon?''I'mready,'Rallickreplied.Baruk placed himself

equidistant between the twoduellists, slightly off to oneside.His facewaspale, as ifhe had fallen ill. 'Commentsfrom the seconds?' he askedfaintly.Rakemadenoreply.Estraysian D'Arle cleared

his throat. 'I hereby make itknownthatIopposethisduelas facile and trite.' He staredat Turban Orr. 'I find thecouncilman'slifeirrelevantinthe best of times. Should hedie,' thetallmanlookedoverto Rallick, 'there will be novengeance pact from theHouseofD'Arle.You,sir,arefreedofthat.'Rallickbowed.Turban Orr's smile

tightened.The bastardwouldpay for that, he vowed. Helowered himself into acrouch, ready to launch anattack as soon as the duelbegan.Baruksaid, 'Youhavebeen

heard,EstraysianD'Arle.'Thealchemist raised ahandkerchiefbeforehim,thenreleasedit.TurbanOrrjumpedforward

and lunged in a single, fluid

motion, so fast he'd fullyextended his weapon beforethe handkerchief struck thepaving stones. He saw hisopponent's left hand dartunderhisblade,thentwistupand outward, a short, curvedknifeflashinginitsgrip.Theparry was a blur, yet Orrcaught it and deftlydisengaged, driving his pointlow and towards the man'smid-section. He had no time

even to notice the secondknife, as Rallick turned hisbody sideways, the blade inhisrighthandguidingTurbanOrr's sword past him. Theassassin stepped in then, hisleft hand moving in a highswing thatburied itsblade inthe councilman's neck.Rallick followed this bydriving his other knife intoOrr'schest.The councilman staggered

to one side, his swordclanging on the stones as heclutched at the gushingwound in his neck. Themotionwasreflex,forhewasalreadydeadfromthewoundinhisheart.Hetoppled.Rallick stepped back,

weapons once again hiddenbeneath his cloak. 'Athousand other deaths,' hewhispered, so low that onlyBaruk and Rake heard him,

'wouldnothave satisfiedme.ButI'llsettleforthisone.'Baruk stepped close and

made to speak,but then, at agesture fromRake,he turnedto see Estraysian D'Arleapproaching.The councilman's heavy

eyes held Rallick. 'I mightsuspect,' he said, 'given yourstyle, thatwehavewitnessedan assassination. Of course,not even the Guild of

Assassins is brash enough tocommit public murder.Therefore I've no choice butto keep such suspicions tomyself. And leave it at that.Good evening, gentlemen.'Hewhirledandstrodeaway.'I think,' Rake said, his

masked face swinging to theassassin, 'that that was aratherunevenmatch.'A rush of people closed in

around Turban Orr's body.

Voicesshoutedindismay.Baruk studied the cool

satisfaction onRallick's face.'It'sdone,Rallick.Gohome.'Alarge,roundedwomanin

a bright green, gold-trimmedrobe joined them.Unmasked,she smiled broadly at Baruk.'Greetings,' she said.'Interesting times, yes?' Apersonal servant stood at herside,bearingapaddedtrayonwhichsquattedawater-pipe.

Rallicksteppedbackwithaslightbow,thenleft.Baruk sighed. 'Greetings,

Derudan. Permit me tointroduce Lord AnomanderRake. Lord, the witchDerudan.''Forgive the mask,' Rake

said to her. 'It is best that itremainon,however.'Smokestreameddownfrom

Derudan's nose. 'My

compatriots share mygrowingunease,yes?Wefeelthe approaching storm, andwhile Baruk continues toreassure us, still themisgivings,yes?''Should it prove necessary,'

Rakesaid,'Iwillattendtothematter personally. I do notbelieve, however, that ourgreatest threat is the onebeyond the city's walls. Asuspicion,Witch,nomore.'

'I think,' Baruk saidtentatively, 'that we wouldlike to hear these suspicionsofyours,Rake.'The Tiste Andii hesitated,

thenshookhishead.'Unwise.The matter is presently toosensitive to be broached. Ishall remain here for now,however.'Derudan waved

dismissivelyatBaruk'sangrygrowl. 'True, the T'orrud

Cabal is unused to feelinghelpless, yes? True also,dangers abound, and anymight prove a feint, adiversion,yes?CunningistheEmpress.Formyself,Iaffirmthe trust between us, Lord.'She smiled at Baruk. 'Wemust speak, you and I,Alchemist,' she said, linkingarmswithhim.Rakebowed to thewoman.

'A pleasure meeting you,

Witch.'Hewatchedthewitchandthealchemistwalkaway,the servant scurrying atDerudan'sheel.Kruppe intercepted a servantburdened with delicious-looking savouries. Takingtwo handfuls at random, heturned back to resume hisconversationwithCrokus.Hestopped. The lad wasnowhereinsight.

The crowdmilled about onthe terrace, some upsetalthough the majorityappeared simply confused.WherewasLadySimtal?theyasked. Some, grinning,changed the question to:Who's she with? Already anewwaveofanticipationroseamong the nobles. Theycircled like vultures, waitingfortheirfalteringhostess.Smiling beatifically behind

the cherub mask, Krupperaised his eyes slowly to thebalcony overlooking thepatio, in time to see a figureappear as a dark, femininesilhouettebehindtheshutters.He licked sticky sugar fromhisfingers,smackinghislips.'There are times, Kruppemurmurs,whencelibacybornofsaddeprivationbecomesaboon, nay, a source of greatrelief. DearMurillio, prepare

forastorm.'Simtalpushedapart twoslatsof the shutters and lookeddown. 'You were right,' shesaid. 'They have indeedretired to the terrace. Odd,with that storm coming. Ishould get dressed.' Shereturnedtothebedandbegantocollectherclothing,whichlay scattered all around it.'And what about you,

Murillio?' she asked. 'Don'tyou think your companionbelow is wondering whereyouare,dearlover?'Murillio swung his legs

over the bedside and pulledonhis tights. 'I thinknot,' hesaid.Simtal shot him a curious

look. 'Who did you comewith?''Justafriend,'heanswered,

buttoning his shirt. 'I doubtyou'drecognizethename.'At that moment the door's

lock snapped and the dooritselfslammedinward.Dressed only in her

underclothes,Simtal loosedastartledcry.Hereyes flashedat the tall, cloaked manstanding in the doorway.'How dare you enter mybedroom? Leave at once, orI'llcall—'

'Both guards patrolling thishallwayhavedeparted,Lady,'Rallick Nom said, steppingintotheroomandclosingthedoor behind him. Theassassin glanced at Murillio.'Getdressed,'hesnapped.'Departed?'Simtalmovedto

placethebedbetweenherselfandRallick.'Their loyalty has been

purchased,' the assassin said.'The lesson shouldn't be lost

onyou.''I need only scream and

otherswillcome.''But you haven't,' Rallick

grinned, 'because you'recurious.''You don't dare harm me,'

Simtal said, straightening.'Turban Orr will hunt youdown.'The assassin took another

stepforward.'I'mhereonlyto

talk, Lady Simtal,' he said.'You won't be harmed, nomatterwhatyoudeserve.''Deserve?I'vedonenothing

–Idon'tevenknowyou.''Neither did Councilman

Lim,' Rallick said quietly.'And tonight the same couldbe said forTurbanOrr.Bothmenpaid for their ignorance,alas. Fortunate that youmissedtheduel,Lady.Itwasunpleasant, but necessary.'

Hiseyeshardenedonthepalewoman.'Allowmetoexplain.TurbanOrr'sofferofcontracttotheAssassins'Guildisnowofficially cancelled. Colllives, and now his return tothis house is assured. You'redone with, Lady Simtal.TurbanOrrisdead.'Heturnedandwalkedfrom

the room, closing the doorbehindhim.Murillio rose slowly. He

looked into Simtal's eyes,seeingthereagrowingterror.Undermined by the strippingaway of her links to power,her once secure defencescollapsed.Hewatchedassheseemed physically tocontract, her shouldersdrawing inward, her handsclaspedatherstomach,kneesbending. Then he could lookno longer. The Lady Simtalwas gone, and he dared not

studytoocloselythecreatureinherplace.He unsheathed his

ornamentaldaggerandtosseditonthebed.Withoutanotherword or gesture, he left theroom,knowingwithcertaintythat he would have been thelastmantoseeheralive.Out in the hallway he

paused. 'Mowri,' he saidsoftly. 'I'm not cut out forthis.' Planning to reach this

point was one thing; havingnow reached it was another.He hadn't considered howhe'd feel. Justice got in thewayof that, awhite firehe'dhadnoreasontolookbehind,or push aside. Justice hadseduced him and hewondered what he had justlost,hewonderedatthedeathhe felt spreadingwithin him.The regret following in thatdeath's wake, so

unanswerable it was,threatenedtooverwhelmhim.'Mowri,' he whispered asecond time, as close topraying as he'd ever been, 'Ithink I'm now lost. Am Ilost?'Crokusedgedroundamarblepillar, his eyes on the rathershort Barghast warmaidensitting on the fountain's rim.Damn those guards at the

wood'sedge,anyway.Hewasa thief, wasn't he? Besides,they all looked prettydistracted.He waited for his

opportunity, and when itcame he darted for theshadows between the firstline of trees. No shout ofalarmor call to halt soundedbehindhim.Slipping into thedarkness, Crokus turned andcrouched. Yes, she still sat

there,facinginhisdirection.Hedrewadeepbreath,then

stoodstraight,apebbleinonehand. Eyeing the guards, hewaited.Halfaminutelaterhefoundhischance.Hesteppedforwardand flung thepebbleintothefountain.Challice D'Arle jumped,

then looked round as shewipeddropletsofwater fromherpaintedface.

His heart sank as her gazepassed over him, then herheadwhippedback.Crokus gestured

desperately. This was it, thiswaswhenhe'dfindoutwhereshe stood as far as he wasconcerned.Heheldhisbreathandgesturedagain.With a backward glance

towards the patio, Challiceroseandrantohim.

As she came close shesquinted at him. 'Gorlas? Isthatyou?I'vebeenwaitingallnight!'Crokusfroze.Then,without

thinking, he lunged forwardand clasped a hand over hermouth, his other armencirclingherwaist.Challicesquealed, trying to bite hispalm, and struggled againsthim, but he dragged her intothe darkness of the garden.

Nowwhat?hewondered.CircleBreaker leanedagainstthe marble pillar just insidethe estate's main chamber.Behind him guests milledaround Turban Orr's body,arguing loudly and voicingempty threats. The air hungheavy over the garden,smellingofblood.Hewipedathiseyes,trying

to calm his heart. It's over.QueenofDreams,I'mdone.1canrestnow.Finallyrest.Hestraightened slowly, taking adeep breath, adjusted hissword belt and glancedaround. Captain Stillis wasnowhere in sight, and thechamber was almost emptyexcept for a knot of servantsoutside the kitchen entrance.LadySimtalwasstillmissing,and confusion now seeped

intothevoidofherabsence.Circle Breaker looked one

last time at the guests in thegarden,thenhemadehiswayto the doors. As he passed along table on which sat theremnants of pastries andpuddings, he heard faintsnoring.Anotherstepforwardbroughthimtothetable'sendandintoviewthesmallroundmanseatedinaplushantiquechair. The smeared cherub

mask hid theman's face, butCircle Breaker could see theclosed eyes, and the nasaldrone that matched the riseandfallofhischestwasloudandsteady.The guardsman hesitated.

Then, shaking his head, hemoved on. Beyond the gatesnow within sight waited thestreets of Darujhistan, andfreedom.Nowthathe'dbegunhisfirststepsonthatpath,he

wouldletnothingdeterhim.I've done my part. Just

another nameless strangerwho couldn't run from theface of tyranny. Dear Hood,taketheman'sshrivelledsoul–hisdreamsareover,endedbyanassassin'swhim.Asformy own soul, well, you shallhavetowaitawhilelonger.He passed through the

gates, welcoming at last thesmile that came unbidden to

hismouth.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Ravens! GreatRavens!Your damningcawlsderidehistories sweepingbeneathyour blackenedwings–Shattertheday

O flags ofnight,rend withshadowsthis innocentlight

Ravens! GreatRavens!Your drummingcloudsarriveswoop'd suddensheer,hissingtravails

fromnoplacet'theother–Shattertheday,O flags ofnight,rend withshadowsthis innocentlight

Ravens! GreatRavens!Your beaks clatteropen

disgorging thesweatofstrainingdismaytheclackofbonespromisedthisday–I'veseenthesheenof your eyes thelaughterthatrimesthelivingyourpassingbut anillusion–westop,westarewe curse your cold

windsin knowing yourflight'spathwheelingyouroundusagain, oh, for everagain!

RavensCollitt(b.978)

Raest had driven two of theblackdragonsfromthebattle.The remaining two now

circled high overhead whileSilanahRedwingsspeddownand out of sight beyond thehill. She was hurting, theJaghut Tyrant knew, thepower of her immenselifeforcebleedingaway.'Andnow,'hesaid, through

tattered lips, 'she will die.'Raest's flesh had been tornaway,ravagedbythevirulentpower of the dragons, powerthatburstfromtheirjawslike

breath of fire. His brittle,yellowed bones weresplintered, crushed andshattered. All that kept himupright and moving was hisOmtosePhellackWarren.OncetheFinnestwasinhis

hands, he would make hisbodyanew,fillingitwiththevigourofhealth.Andhewasnear his goal. One last ridgeof hills and the city's wallswould be visible, its

fortifications all that stoodbetweenRaestandhisgreaterpowers.Thebattlehadlaidwasteto

the hills, incineratingeverythinginthedeadlyclashof Warrens. And Raest haddrivenbackthedragons.He'dlistenedtotheircriesofpain.Laughing, he'd flung denseclouds of earth and stoneskyward to blind them. Heignited the air in the path of

their flight. He filled cloudswithfire.Itwas,hefelt,goodtobealiveagain.Ashewalked,hecontinued

to devastate the land aroundhim.Asinglejerkofhisheadhad shattered a stone bridgespanning a wide, shallowriver. There had been aguardhouse there, andsoldierswith ironweapons –odd creatures, taller thanImass,yethesensedthatthey

could be easily enslaved.These particular men,however, he destroyed lesttheydistracthiminhisbattlewith the dragons. He'd metanother man, similarly cladand riding a horse.He killedbothman and beast, irritatedattheirintrusion.Wreathed in the crackling

fire of his sorcery, Raestascended the side of the hillbehind which Silanah had

disappeared minutes earlier.Anticipatinganotherambush,the Jaghut Tyrant gatheredhis power, fists clenching.Yet he reached the crestunmolested.Hadshefled?Hecraned skyward.No, the twoblack dragons remained, andbetweenthemaGreatRaven.Raest crossed the hill's

summitandstoppedwhenthevalley beyond came intoview. Silanah waited there,

herredpebbledskinstreakedwith black, wet burns acrossher heaving chest. Wingsfolded,shewatchedhimfromherpositionatthebaseofthevalley,whereastreamwounda tortured cut through theearth, its jagged path chokedwithbramble.The Jaghut Tyrant laughed

harshly. Here she would die.Thefarsideofthevalleywasa low ridge, and beyond,

glowing in thedarkness,wasthecity thatheldhisFinnest.Raest paused at seeing it.EventhegreatJaghutcitiesoftheearly timesweredwarfedby comparison. Andwhat ofits strange blue and greenlight, fighting the darknesswith such steady, unfalteringdetermination?There weremysteries here.

He was eager to discoverthem. 'Silanah!' he cried.

'Eleint! I give you your life!Flee now, Silanah. I showmercy but once. Hear me,eleint!'The red dragon regarded

him steadily, her multi-faceted eyes glowing likebeacons. She did not move,nordidshereply.Raest strode towards her,

surprised to find herWarrengone. Was this surrender,then? He laughed a second

time.Asheneared,theskyabove

him changed, filling with asourceless mercurial glow.The city beyond vanished,replaced by wind-whippedmudflats. The distant jaggedline of mountains loomedmassive, uncarved by riversofice,brightandsavagewithyouth. Raest's steps slowed.This is an Elder vision, avisionbeforeeventheJaghut.

Whohasluredmehere?'Oh,my,oh,my...'The Tyrant's gaze snapped

down to find a mortalstanding before him. Raestcockedawitheredbrowattheman's peculiar clothing, thecoat tattered and faded redwithlarge,food-stainedcuffs,the baggy shimmeringpantaloons dyed anastonishing pink, and thebroad black leather boots

covering his small feet. Theman withdrew a cloth andpatted the sweat from hisbrow. 'Dear sir,' hewheezed,'you'venotagedwellatall!''ThereisImasswithinyou,'

Raest rasped. 'Even thelanguage you speak echoestheir guttural throats. Haveyou come forth to grovel atmy feet? Are you my firstacolyte, then, eager for myrewards?'

'Alas,'themanreplied,'youare mistaken, sir. Kruppe –this humble, weak mortalwho stands before you –bowstonoman,beheJaghutorgod.Suchare thenuancesof this new age that you arefelled by indifference, madeinsignificant in your mightystruggles by lowly Kruppeinto whose dream you haveignobly stumbled. Kruppestandsbeforeyousothatyou

may gaze upon his benigncountenance in the lastmomentsbeforeyourdemise.Magnanimous of Kruppe, allthingsconsidered.'Raest laughed. 'I have

walked in the dreams ofmortals before. You believeyou are the master here, butyou are mistaken.' TheTyrant's hand shot out,virulent power erupting fromit. The sorcery engulfed

Kruppe, blazing darkly, thenfaded, leaving not even aremnantoftheman.A voice spoke to Raest's

left:'Rude,Kruppeproclaims.Disappointing, thisprecipitateness.'The Jaghut swung around,

eyes narrowing. 'What gameisthis?'The man smiled. 'Why,

Kruppe'sgame,ofcourse.'

A sound behind Raestalerted him, but too late. Hespun–evenasamassiveflintsword crunched through hisleft shoulder, tearing a paththat snapped ribs, slicedthrough sternum and spine.Theblowdragged theTyrantdown and to one side. Raestsprawled, pieces of his bodystriking the ground aroundhim.HestaredupattheT'lanImass.

Kruppe's shadow movedover Raest's face and theTyrant met the mortal man'swateryeyes.'He is Clanless, of course.

Unbound and beyondbinding, yet the ancient callcommands him still – to hisdismay. Imagine his surpriseat being found out. OnosT'oolan, Sword of the FirstEmpire, is once more calledupon by the blood that once

warmed his limbs, his heart,hislifeofsoverylongago.'The T'lan Imass spoke.

'You have strange dreams,mortal.''Kruppe possesses many

surprises,evenuntohimself.''I sense,' Onos T'oolan

continued, 'a Bone Caster'shandinthissummoning.''Indeed. PranChole ofKig

Aven'sclanoftheKronT'lan

Imass, I believe he calledhimself.'Raest raised himself from

the ground, drawing hissorcery around his body tohold its shattered parts inplace. 'No T'lan Imass canwithstandme,'hehissed.'A dubious claim,' Kruppe

said. 'Evenso,heisjoinedinthisendeavour.'The Jaghut Tyrant

straightened to see a tall,black-shroudedfigureemergefrom the streambed. Hecocked his head as theapparition approached. 'Youremind me of Hood. Is theDeath Wanderer still alive?'Hescowled. 'But,no. Isensenothingfromyou.Youdonotexist.''Perhaps,'thefigurereplied,

inadeep,softtonethathintedofregret.'Ifso,'hecontinued,

'then neither do you.We arebothof thepast, Jaghut.'Thefigurehaltedfifteenfeetawayfrom Raest and swung hishooded head in the dragon'sdirection. 'Her master awaitsyour arrival, Jaghut, but hewaitsinvainandforthisyoushould thank us. He woulddeliver a kind of death fromwhich there is no escape,even by such a creature asyou.'Theheadturned,andthe

darkness within the hoodonce again regarded theTyrant. 'Here, within amortal's dream, we bring anendtoyourexistence.'Raest grunted. 'In this age

therearenonewhocandefeatme.'The figure laughed, a low

rumble. 'You are a fool,Raest. In this age even amortal can kill you. The tideof enslavement has reversed

itself. It isnowwegodswhoaretheslaves,andthemortalsour masters – though theyknowitnot.''You are a god, then?'

Raest'sscowldeepened. 'Youareachildtomeifso.''I was once a god,' the

figurereplied.'WorshippedasK'rul, andmyaspectwas theObilisk. I am the Maker ofPaths – do you findsignificance in that ancient

title?'Raest took a step back,

raising his desiccated hands.'Impossible,' he breathed.'You passed into the Realmsof Chaos – returned to theplaceofyourbirth–youareamongusnomore—''As I said, things have

changed,' K'rul said quietly.'You have a choice, Raest.Onos T'oolan can destroyyou. You have no

understanding of what histitleofSwordsignifies–heiswithout equal in this world.Youcan fall ignoblybeneaththebladeofanImass,oryoucan accompany me – for inone thing we are the same,you and I. Our time haspassed, and the Gates ofChaos await us.What choicedoyoumake?''I make neither, Eldering

One.' With a soft, hollow

laugh, Raest's battered,witheredbodycollapsed.K'rulcockedhishead.'He's

found another body.' Kruppepulled out his handkerchief.'Oh,my,'hesaid.Kalamgesturedsharplyand

Paran ducked down. Thecaptain's mouth was dry.There was something verywrong with this garden. Hewonderedifitwassimplytheexhaustion he felt. The

garden's air itself rubbed hissenses raw. He thought hecould see thedarkness pulse,and the smell of decay hadthickenedtoastench.Kalamreachedforhisknives.Paran tensed, unable to seeanythingbeyondtheassassin.Too many trees, not enoughlight. Somewhere aheadflickered gas-lamps, andpeople were gathered on the

terrace. But civilizationseemed a thousand leaguesaway.Here,thecaptainfeltasifhewaswithinaprimordialpresence, breathing slowlyandheavilyonallsides.Kalam gestured that Paran

remain where he was, thenslipped into the shadows totheir right. Crouching low,the captain edged forward towhere the assassin had beenstanding moments earlier.

Therelookedtobeaglade,orclearing, just ahead. Hecouldn't be certain, however,nor could he see anythingamiss. Yet his feeling ofwrongness now ached in hisskull. He took another step.Something occupied theglade'scentre,blockish,likeadressedstone,oranaltar,andbefore it stood a smallwoman,almostwraith-like inthedarkness.Herbackwasto

Paran.One moment she stood

alone, the next Kalam rosebehind her, knivesglimmering in his hands. Hedrewbackhisarms.The woman moved in a

blur, one elbow drivingbackwards into the assassin'sstomach. She twisted roundand drove her knee into theman's crotch. A shout burstfromKalamashereeledback

astep,thenfelltothegroundwithaheavythump.Paran's sword was in his

hand. He dashed into theclearing.The woman saw him and

voicedasurprised,frightenedyelp.'No!'shecried.'Please!'The captain stopped at that

girlish voice. Kalam sat up.He groaned, then said,'Dammit, Sorry. Wasn't

expecting you. We figuredyouweredead,girl.'The woman eyed Paran

warily as he approachedcautiously. 'I should knowyou, shouldn't I?' she askedKalam. Then, as Paran camecloser,sheraisedafrightenedhand between them andstepped back. 'I – I killedyou!' With a soft moan shefelltoherknees. 'Yourbloodwasonmyhands.Iremember

it!'A fire of rage flared in

Paran. He raised his swordandmovedtostandoverher.'Wait!'Kalamhissed.'Wait,

Captain. Something's notrighthere.'With great difficulty, the

assassin climbed to his feet,then prepared to sit downonthestoneblock.'Don't!' the girl gasped.

'Can'tyoufeelit?''I can,' Paran growled. He

lowered his weapon. 'Don'ttouchthatthing,Corporal.'Kalam stepped away.

'Thought it was just me,' hemuttered.'It's not stone at all,' the

woman said, her face free oftheanguishthathadtwisteditamoment before. 'It'swood.'She rose and faced Kalam.

'Andit'sgrowing.'Asuspicioncame toParan.

'Girl, do you remember me?DoyouknowwhoIam?'She frowned at him, then

shook her head. 'I knowKalam,'shesaid. 'He'sanoldfriend,Ithink.'The assassin choked on

something, then coughedloudly,wagginghishead.The woman pointed at the

wooden block. 'See? It'sgrowingagain.'Both men looked. A haze

blurred the block's edges,swelling and shifting, thenvanished, yet it was clear toParan that the thingwasnowbigger.'It has roots,' the woman

added.Paran shook himself.

'Corporal? Remain here with

the girl. I won't be long.' Hesheathed his sword and leftthe glade. After windingthroughtheundergrowthforaminute, he came to its edgeand looked out on a terracecrowdedwith guests.A low-walledfountainrosefromthepaving stones to his left,encircled by marble pillarsspacedaboutayardapart.The captain saw that

Whiskeyjack and the squad

had arrayed themselves in arough line a dozen feet fromthe garden's edge, facing theterrace. They looked tense.Paran found a dead branchandsnappeditinhalf.At the sound all six men

turned.ThecaptainpointedatWhiskeyjackandMallet,thenstepped back between thetrees.Thesergeantwhisperedsomething to Quick Ben.Then he collected the healer

andtheycameover.Paran pulled Whiskeyjack

close. 'Kalam's found Sorry,and something else besides,'he said. 'The girl's not allthere, Sergeant, and I don'tthink it's an act. Oneminutesherememberskillingme,thenext she doesn't. And she'sgotitintoherheadrightnowthatKalam'sanoldfriend.'Malletgrunted.

Afterabriefglancebackattheparty,Whiskeyjackasked,'So what's this "somethingelse"?''I'mnotsure,butit'sugly.''All right.' The sergeant

sighed. 'Go with the captain,Mallet.Takea lookatSorry.Any contact from theAssassins' Guild yet?' heaskedParan.'No.'

'Then we move soon,'Whiskeyjack said. 'We letFiddler and Hedge loose.BringKalamwhenyoucomeback, Mallet. We need totalk.'Rallick found his pathunobstructed as he movedacross the central chambertowardsthefrontdoors.Facesturned to him andconversations fell away,

rising again as he passed. Abone-deep weariness grippedtheassassin,more thancouldbeaccountedforbythebloodlost to a wound alreadyhealed. Themalaise grippinghimwasemotional.HepausedatseeingKruppe

rising from a chair, maskdangling from one plumphand. The man's face wassheathed in sweat and therewasfearinhiseyes.

'You've a right to beterrified,' Rallick said,approaching him. 'If I'dknownyou'dbehere—''Silence!' Kruppe snapped.

'Kruppemustthink!'The assassin scowled but

said nothing. He'd neverbefore seen Kruppe withouthis usual affable façade, andthesightofhimsoperturbedmade Rallick profoundlyuneasy.

'Be on your way, friend,'Kruppe said then, his voicesounding strange. 'Yourdestiny awaits you. More, itseems thisnewworld iswellprepared for one such asRaest, no matter what fleshhewears.'Rallick's scowl deepened.

The man sounds drunk. Hesighed, then turnedaway,hismind returning once again towhat had been achieved this

night. He continued on hisway, leaving Kruppe behind.What now? hewondered. Somuchhadgone into reachingthismoment.Thesharpfocusofhisthoughtsseemeddullednow by success. Never thecrusader, Rallick's obsessionto right the wrong had been,in a sense, nomore than theassassin assuming the roleColl himself should havetaken. He'd played the

instrument of Coil's will,relying on a faith that theman'sownwillwouldreturn.And if it didn't? His scowl

deepening, Rallick crushedthat question before it couldlead his thought in search ofan answer. As Baruk hadsaid,thetimehadcometogohome.As he passed a silver-

masked woman touched hisarm. Startled by the contact,

heturnedtolookather.Longbrown hair surrounded thefeatureless mask, its eyeholeslits revealing nothing ofwhat lay behind it. Thewoman stepped close. 'I'vebeen curious,' she saidquietly, 'for some time.However, I seenow I shouldhave observed youpersonally, Rallick Nom.Ocelot's death could havebeenavoided.'

The assassin's gazedarkened.'Vorcan.'Herheadtiltedinafraction

ofanod.'Ocelotwas a fool,' Rallick

snapped. 'If Orr's contractwas sanctionedby theGuild,Iawaitpunishment.'Shedidnotreply.Rallickwaitedcalmly.'You'reamanoffewwords,

RallickNom.'

Hisanswerwassilence.Vorcanlaughedsoftly.'You

sayyouawaitpunishment,asif already resigned to yourown death.' Her gaze shiftedfrom him towards thecrowdedterrace.'CouncilmanTurban Orr possessedprotective magic, yet itavailedhimnaught.Curious.'Sheseemedtobeconsideringsomething, then she nodded.'Your skills are required,

Rallick Nom. Accompanyme.'He blinked, then, as she

strode towards the garden atthe rear of the house, hefollowed.Crokus held one hand overChallice's mouth as he layatop her. With his other heremovedhisthief'smask.Hereyes widened in recognition.

'If you scream,' Crokuswarned in a harsh voice,'you'llregretit.'He'd managed to drag her

perhaps ten yards into theundergrowth before shetripped him. They'd thrashedabout,buthe'dwonthebattle.'I just want to talk to you,'

Crokussaid.'Iwon'thurtyou,Challice, I swear it. Unlessyoutrysomething,ofcourse.Now,I'mgoingtoremovemy

hand. Please don't scream.'He tried to read theexpressioninhereyes,butallhesawwasfear.Ashamed,heraisedhishand.She didn't scream, and a

moment later Crokus foundhimself wishing she had.'Damn you, thief! When myfather catches you he'll haveyou skinned alive! That's ifGorlas doesn't find you first.Youtryanythingwithmeand

he'll have you boiled, slowly—'Crokus jammed his hand

over her mouth again.Skinned? Boiled? 'Who'sGorlas?' he demanded,glaring. 'Some amateur chef?Soyoudidbetrayme!'Shestaredupathim.Heliftedhishandagain.'I didn't betray you,' she

said. 'What are you talking

about?''That murdered house

guard.Ineverdidit,but—''Of course you didn't.

FatherhiredaSeer.Awomankilledthatguard,aservantofthe Rope's. The Seer wasterrified and didn't even stayto be paid! Now get off me,thief.'He let her go and sat back

ontheground.Hestaredinto

the trees. 'You didn't betrayme?WhataboutMeese?Theguards at Uncle Mammot's?Thebighunt?'Challiceclimbedtoherfeet

andbrusheddeadleavesfromherhidecloak.'Whatareyoubabblingabout?Ihavetogetback. Gorlas will be lookingfor me. He's the first son ofHouseTholius, in training tobeamasterduellist.Ifheseesyou with me, there'll be real

trouble.'He looked up at her

blankly. 'Wait!' He sprang tohis feet. 'Listen, Challice!Forget this Gorlas idiot.Withintheyearmyunclewillintroduce us formally.Mammotisafamouswriter.'Challice rolled her eyes.

'Get your feet back on theground. A writer? Some oldman with ink-stained handswho walks into walls – has

his house power? Influence?House Tholius has power,influence, everythingrequired. Besides, Gorlaslovesme.''But I—' He stopped,

looking away. Did he? No.Did that matter, though?What did he want from her,anyway?'What do you want from

me, anyway?' Challicedemanded.

Hestudiedhisfeet.Thenhemet her eyes. 'Company?' heasked diffidently.'Friendship? What am Isaying? I'm a thief! I robwomenlikeyou!''That's right,' she snapped.

'So why pretend otherwise?'Her expression softened.'Crokus,Iwon'tbetrayyou.Itwillbeoursecret.'Forthebriefestofmoments

he felt like a child being

stroked and consoled by akindly matron, and he foundhimselfenjoyingit.'Before you,' she added,

smiling, 'I'd nevermet a realthieffromthestreets.'His enjoyment ended in a

surge of anger. 'Hood'sBreath,no,'hesneered.'Real?You don't know what's real,Challice. You've never hadblood on your hands.You'venever seen a man die. But

that's the way it should be,isn't it? Leave the dirt to us,we'reusedtoit.''I saw a man die tonight,'

Challicesaidquietly. 'Ineverwant to again. If that's what"real" means, then I don'twantit.It'sallyours,Crokus.Goodbye.' She turned andwalkedaway.Crokus stared at her back,

herbraidedhair,asherwordsranginhishead.

Suddenly exhausted, heturned to the garden. Hehoped Apsalar had remainedwhere he'd left her. The lastthing he wanted now was tohave to track her down. Heslippedintotheshadows.Mallet recoiled with his firststep into the glade. Parangripped his arm. Their eyesmet.

The healer shook his head.'I'll not approach any closer,sir. Whatever lives there isanathema to my DenulWarren. And it ... it sensesme...withhunger.'Hewipedsweat from his brow, drew ashaky breath. 'Best bring thegirltomehere.'Paran released his arm and

darted into the clearing. Theblock of wood was now thesize of a table, veined in

thick, twisting roots andpocked on its sides withrough squared holes. Theeartharounditlookedsoakedin blood. 'Corporal,' hewhispered, chilled. 'Send thegirlovertoMallet.'Kalam laid a hand on her

shoulder. 'It's all right, lass,'he said, in the tone of akindly uncle, 'you go on,now.We'lljoinyoushortly.''Yes,' she smiled, and

moved to where the healerstoodattheglade'sedge.Kalam rubbed his bristly

jaw, eyes following her.'Never seen Sorry smilebefore,' he said, as Paranarrived.'Andthat'sashame.'They stood andwatched as

Mallet spoke quietly to thegirl,thensteppedforwardandlaidahandonherforehead.Parancockedhishead.'The

storm'sstopped,'hesaid.'Yeah.Hope itmeanswhat

we'dlikeittomean.''Someone's stopped it. I

share your hope, Corporal.'For the captain however, itwasasmallhope.Somethingwas building.He sighed. 'It'snot even the twelfth bell yet.Hardtobelieve.''Longnightaheadofus,'the

assassin said,making it clear

that he, too, found himselfsorely lacking in optimism.He grunted. Mallet hadvoiced an amazed cry thatreached them. The healerdrew back his hand andwaved at Paran and Kalam.'Yougo,'theassassinsaid.The captain frowned at the

blackman,confused.Thenhewentovertowherethehealerand Sorry waited. The girl'seyes were closed, and she

seemedinatrance.Mallet was direct. 'The

possession'sgone,'hesaid.'Guessed as much,' Paran

replied,eyeingthegirl.'There'smore to it, though,'

the healer continued. 'She'sgot someone else inside her,sir.'Paran'sbrowsrose.'Someonewhowasthereall

along. How it survived the

Rope's presence is beyondme. And now I've got achoice.''Explain.'Mallet crouched, found a

twig and began to scratchaimless patterns in the dirt.'That someone's beenprotecting the girl's mind,acting like an alchemist'sfilter. In the last two years,Sorry's done things thatwould drive her insane if

she'd remembered any of it.That presence is fightingthose memories right now,but it needs help, because itisn'tasstrongas itoncewas.It'sdying.'Paran squatted beside the

man. 'You're thinking ofofferingthathelp,then?''Not sure. You see, sir, I

don't know its plans. Don'tknow what it's up to, can'tread the pattern it's trying to

make. So let's say I help it,onlywhatitwantsisabsolutecontrol? Then the girl'spossessedalloveragain.''So you think the presence

wasprotectingSorryfromtheRope, only so it could nowjumpinandtakeover?''Put it that way,' Mallet

said, 'and it doesn't makesense.Whatgetsme, though,is why else would thatpresence commit itself so

thoroughly?Itsbody,itsfleshisgone.Ifitletsgoofthegirlit's got nowhere to go, sir.Now,maybe it'sa lovedone,a relative or something likethat. A person who waswilling to sacrifice herselfabsolutely. That's apossibility.''Herself?It'sawoman?''It was. Damned if I know

whatitisnow.AllIgetfromit is sadness.' The healermet

Paran's eyes. 'It's the saddestthingI'veeverknown,sir.'Paranstudiedtheman'sface

briefly, thenhe rose. 'I'mnotgoingtogiveyouanorderonwhattodo,Healer.''But?''But, for what it's worth, I

say do it. Give it what itneeds so it can do what itwantstodo.'Mallet puffed out his

cheeks, then tosseddown thetwig and straightened. 'Myinstinct,too,sir.Thanks.'Kalam spoke loudly from

theglade. 'Farenough.Showyourselves.'The two men spun around

toseeKalamlookingintothewoods to their left. Parangrasped Mallet's arm andpulled him into the shadows.The healer dragged Sorrywiththem.

Two figures entered theglade,awomanandaman.Crokussnakedcloserthroughthe vines and mulch of theforest floor.For anoff-limitsgarden,thiswasabusytangleof wood. The voices he'dheard in his search forApsalar now revealedthemselves as two men andone silver-masked woman.All three were looking at an

odd, blurry tree stump in thecentre of the glade. SlowlyCrokus let out a breath. OneofthemenwasRallickNom.'There is ill in this,' the

woman said, stepping back.'Ahunger.'The large black-skinned

man at her side grunted.'Wouldn't argue with you onthat,GuildMaster.Whateveritis,itain'tMalazan.'

The thief's eyes widened.Malazan spies? GuildMaster? Vorcan! Seeminglyimpervioustothestrangenessaround her, the woman nowturned to Rallick. 'How doesitaffectyou,Rallick?''Itdoesn't,'hesaid.'Approachit,then.'The assassin shrugged and

walked up to the writhing,knotted block. Its blurred

movementstopped.Vorcan relaxed. 'You seem

todamageitsefforts,Rallick.Curious.'The man grunted. 'Otataral

dust.''What?''Irubbeditintomyskin.'Vorcanstared.The other man's eyes

narrowed on Rallick. 'Irememberyou,Assassin.Our

quarry when we first soughttomakecontact.Thenightoftheambushfromabove.'Rallicknodded.'Well,' the Malazan

continued, 'I'm surprised yousurvived.''He is a man of many

surprises,'Vorcan said. 'Verywell, Corporal Kalam of theBridgeburners, your requestfor an audience reached me

and I have granted it.Beforewe begin, however, I wouldappreciate it if the rest ofyour party were to join us.'Sheturnedtothetreesonherright.Crokus's head was already

reeling – Bridgeburners! –but it felt moments awayfrom bursting when he sawtwo men emerge from theshadows, with Apsalarbetween them. She looked

drugged, and her eyes wereclosed.Oneofthemensaid,'Guild

Master,IamCaptainParanofthe Ninth Squad.' He drew adeep breath, then continued,'In this matter, however,KalamspeaksfortheEmpire.'Vorcan turned back to the

black man. 'Then theaudienceisbegun.''We both know, Guild

Master, that theCityCouncilis not Darujhistan's truepowerbase.Andsinceyou'renot, either, we've concludedthat the city's mages operatecovertly, keeping the statusquo intact being theiroverriding interest. Whoeverthey are, they're good athiding themselves. Now, wemightjustdecidetokilleverymage inDarujhistan,but thatwould take too long, and it

might prove messy. Instead,Guild Master, the MalazanEmpire has issued a contracton Darujhistan's true rulers.One hundred thousand goldjakatas. Each. More, theEmpress offers themantle ofthe city's control,accompanied with the titleHigh First and all theprivileges that come with it.'Hecrossedhisarms.Vorcanwassilent, thenshe

said, 'Empress Laseen iswilling to pay nine hundredthousandjakatastome?''If that's the number. Yes,'

Kalamagreed.'The T'orrud Cabal is a

powerfulforce,Corporal.Butbefore I answer, I wouldknow of the creature whoapproaches from the east.'Her face tightenedfractionally. 'Five dragonsopposed it for a time,

presumably hailing fromMoon'sSpawn.IassumethatMaster Baruk and his Cabalhave sealed an agreementwiththeSonofDarkness.'Kalamlookedstunned,then

recovered quickly. 'GuildMaster,theapproachingforcewasnotofourmaking.We'dwelcomeitsdestructionatthehandsoftheSonofDarkness.Asforyourhiddenquestion,Iwould assume that the

alliance between the TisteAndii and the Cabal willbecome void with the deathofthecabal'smembers.We'renot asking you to try to killtheLordofMoon'sSpawn.'Paran cleared his throat.

'GuildMaster,Moon'sSpawnandtheMalazanEmpirehaveclashed before. The patternindicates that the Son ofDarkness is likely to retreatrather than stand against us

alone.''Accurate,' Vorcan agreed.

'Corporal Kalam, I have nowishtowastethelivesofmyassassins on such an effort.Only an assassin who is aHigh Mage could hope tosucceed. Therefore, I acceptthe contract. I will conducttheassassinations.Now,astothematterofpayment...''Delivered byWarren upon

completion of the contract,'

Kalam said. 'You may knowthis already, Guild Master,but theEmpresswasonceanassassin. She abides by therules of conduct. The goldshall be paid. The title andrule of Darujhistan givenwithouthesitation.''Accepted, Corporal

Kalam.' Vorcan turned toRallick.'Ibeginimmediately.RallickNom, the task I nowgive you is vital. I have

considered your strangeabilitytonegatethegrowthofthis ... ill thing.My instinctsare such: it must not bepermitted to continuegrowing. You will remainhere,thusholdingitinstasis.''Forhowlong?'hegrowled.'Until my return. At that

time I will test its defences.Oh, and one more thing:Ocelot's actions were notsanctioned by the Guild.

Executing him fulfilled theGuild's judgement as to fitpunishment. Thank you,Rallick Nom. The Guild ispleased.'Rallick walked over to the

strange stump and sat downonit.'Until later,' Vorcan said,

andstrodefromtheglade.Crokuswatchedasthethree

Malazan spies gathered for a

whispered discussion. Thenone of the men graspedApsalar's arm and gentlyguided her into the woods,makingfortherearwall.Theremainingtwo,CaptainParanandCorporalKalam,glancedoveratRallick.The assassin's head was in

his hands, his elbows on histhighs,staringgloomilyattheground.Kalam hissed a sigh

through his teeth and shookhis head. A moment laterbothmenleft,inthedirectionoftheterrace.Crokus hesitated, a part of

himwanting to rush into theglade and confront Rallick.Assassinate themages!HandDarujhistantotheMalazans?How could the man allowsuch a thing to happen? Hedidnotmove,however,afeargrowinginsidehimthathe,in

truth, knew nothing of thisman. Would the assassinlisten to him? Or would heanswerCrokuswithaknifeinthe throat?Crokusdidn't feelliketakingthechance.In the last minute Rallick

hadnotmoved.Thenherose,turned directly to whereCrokuslayhidden.Thethiefgroaned.Rallickbeckoned.

Slowly,Crokusapproached.'You hide well,' Rallick

said. 'And you were luckyVorcan kept her mask on –she couldn't seemuch out ofit.Youheard,then?'Crokus nodded, his eyes

drawn to what he'd called atreestumpinspiteofhimself.It looked more like a smallwoodenhouse.Thepocksonitssidescouldwellhavebeenwindows. Unlike Vorcan, he

sensednothungerbut akindof urgency, almostfrustration.'Before you condemn me,

listencarefully,Crokus.'The thief dragged his

attention from the woodenblock.'I'mlistening.''Baruk may yet be at the

party.Youmustfindhim,tellhimexactlywhat'shappened.Tell him Vorcan is a High

Mage – and she'll kill themall unless they gather todefend each other.' TheassassinreachedoutahandtoCrokus's shoulder. The boyflinched,hiseyeswary. 'AndifBarukhasgonehome,findMammot.Isawhimherenotlongago.Hewears themaskofatuskedbeast.''Uncle Mammot? But he's

—''He'saHighPriestofD'riss,

Crokus,andamemberof theT'orrud Cabal. Now, hurry.There'snotimetowaste.''You mean you're going to

stay here, Rallick? Just sitthereonthat...thatstump?'The assassin's grip

tightened.'Vorcanspoketrue,lad.Whatever this thing is, itseems I canhold it in check.Baruk needs to know of thisconjuring. I trust his sensesmore than I doVorcan's, but

for now I will obey her inthis.'For a moment Crokus

resisted, his thoughts onApsalar. They'd donesomething to her, he wascertain–andifthey'dharmedher,he'dmakethempay.But... Uncle Mammot? Vorcanwas planning to kill hisuncle? The thief's eyeshardened as he looked up atRallick. 'Consideritdone,'he

said.At that instant, a roar of

rageandagony,comingfromthe terrace, shook the trees.The block of wood behindthem responded with a burstofbrightyellowfire,itsrootswrithing and swelling likegropingfingers.RallickpushedCrokushard

thenwhirled anddivedon tothe block. The yellow firewinked out and cracks

openedintheearth,spreadingin all directions. 'Go!' yelledRallick.The thief, his heart

hammering, turned andsprinted for Lady Simtal'sestate.Baruk'shandsnappedoutandyanked savagely on the bellcord. Above him, he heardthe wagoner cry out. The

carriage skidded to a halt.'Something's happened,' hehissed to Rake. 'We left tooearly,dammit!'Hemovedonthe seat to the window andopeneditsshutters.'A moment, Alchemist,'

Rake said levelly, his browsknitted and his head cockedas if listening for something.'The Tyrant,' he pronounced.'But he is weakened, andenoughmagesremaintodeal

with him.' He opened hismouthtoaddsomething,thenshut it again. His eyesdeepened to azure as hestudiedthealchemist.'Baruk,'hesaidquietly,'returntoyourestate. Prepare for theEmpire's next move – we'llnothavelongtowait.'Baruk stared at the Tiste

Andii. 'Tell me what'shappening,' he said angrily.'Will you challenge the

Tyrantornot?'Raketossedhismaskonto

the floor between them andclasped the collar of hiscloak. 'If itprovesnecessary,Ishall.'Fists pounded on the

carriage and voices shoutedgood-naturedly. The crowdsaroundthempushedinonallsides, rocking the carriage.The festival approached theTwelfth Bell, the Hour of

Ascension as the Lady ofSpring took to the sky in thecomingofthemoon.Rake continued, 'In the

meantime the city's streetsmust be cleared,' he said. 'Iimagine it's your desire tominimizethelossoflife.''Andthisisallyougiveme,

Rake?' Baruk gesturedsharply. 'Clear the streets?How in Hood's name do wemanage that?There are three

hundred thousand people inDarujhistan,andthey'reallinthestreets!'TheTisteAndiiopened the

door beside him. 'Then leavethat to me. I need to find ahigh vantage-point,Alchemist.Suggestions?'Baruk's frustration was so

great that he had to fight thedesire to defy AnomanderRake.'K'rul'sBelfry,'hesaid.'A square tower near Worry

Gate.'Rake stepped out of the

carriage.'We'llspeakagainatyour estate, Alchemist,' hesaid, leaning back inside.'You and your fellow magesmust prepare yourselves.' Hefacedthecrowds,pausingfora moment as if smelling theair.'Howfartothisbelfry?''Three hundred paces –

surely you don't mean to goonfoot?'

'Ido. Iamnotyet ready tounveilmyWarren.''But how—?' Baruk fell

silent, as Anomander Rakeprovided the answer to hisquestion.Standing head and

shoulders above the jostlingcrowds, he unsheathed hissword. 'If you value yoursouls,' the Son of Darknessbellowed,'makeway!'Raisedhigh, the sword groaned

awake, chains of smokewrithing from the blade. Aterrible sound as of wheelscreaking filled the air andbehind it arose a chorus ofmoaning filled withhopelessness. Before LordAnomander Rake the crowdin the street shrank back, allthoughts of festivity sweptaway.'Gods forfend!' Baruk

whispered.

It had begun innocentlyenough. Quick Ben andWhiskeyjack stood togethernear the fountain. Servantsscurriedas,despitethenight'sbloodshed and the hostess'sabsence, the party's energyburgeoned anew as thetwelfthbellapproached.TheywerejoinedbyCaptainParan.'We have met with the

Guild Master,' he said. 'She

hasacceptedthecontract.'Whiskeyjack grunted.

'Where would we all bewithoutgreed?''I just noticed something,'

Quick Ben said. 'Myheadache'sgone. I'm temptedto access my Warren,Sergeant.SeewhatIcansee.'Whiskeyjack thought

briefly.'Goahead.'Quick Ben stepped back

into the shadow of a marblepillar.Before them, an old man

wearing a ghastly maskdrifted towardsWhiskeyjack's line of men.Then a large, buxomwomanwithawater-pipeapproachedthe old man. Her servantfollowed half a step behind.Trailing smoke as shewalked, she called to the oldman.

Thenextmoment thenightwas shattered as a wave ofenergy flowed like a streamof water betweenWhiskeyjack and Paran,striking the old man in thechest. The sergeant's swordwas in his hand as he turnedto find his wizard, magicswirling from him, pushinghimtoonesideandracingforthe woman. 'No!' Quick Benscreamed. 'Stay away from

him!'Paran, too, had unsheathed

his sword in his hand, thebladekeeningasiffilledwithterror.Hesprintedforward.Abestialroarofrageshook

the air as the old man, hismasktornaway,whirled.Hisburning eyes found thewoman and he flung a handtowards her. The surge ofpower that streamed fromhim was as grey as slate,

cracklingintheair.Whiskeyjack, frozen,

watchedindisbeliefasQuickBen's body hurled into thewoman's. Both collided withtheservantandallthreewentdowninaheap.Thewrithingstreamof energycut a swaththrough the stunned crowd,incinerating everyone ittouched. Where men andwomen had stood a momentearlier there was nothing but

white ash. The attackbranchedout,rippingthrougheverything in sight. Treesdisintegrated, stone andmarbleexploded incloudsofdust. People died, somewithparts of their body simplygone,bloodsprayinginblackflecks as they crumpled. Alance of energy shot wildlyskyward,flashinginthenightsky within a heavy cloud.Anotherstrucktheestatewith

a rattling boom. A thirdsnaked towards Paran as heclosed the gap between himand the old man. The powerstruck the sword, and it andParanvanished.The sergeant took a half-

step forward, then somethinghard and massive struck aglancingblowtohisshoulder.Hewas spun round,his rightknee buckling inward as hefell.

He felt the snap of bone,then the meaty tearing offlesh and skin as his weightbore him down. His swordclanged. Agony lancingthroughhim,herolledtofreehis pinned leg, and came upagainstatoppledpillar.An instant later hands

graspedhiscloak.'Igotyou!'Fiddlergrunted.Whiskeyjack bellowed in

pain as the saboteur dragged

himacrossthepaving-stones.Then darkness swept inaround him and he knew nomore.Quick Ben found himself

buried beneath flesh, and fora second he could notbreathe. Then the woman'shands pressed down on hisshoulders and she pushedherself off him. She shoutedattheoldman.'Mammot! Anikaleth

araest!'Quick Ben's eyes widened

as he sensed the wave ofpower rise throughher body.The air suddenly smelled ofdeepforestloam.'Araest!'sheyelled,andthe

power burst from her in avirulentpulse.QuickBenheardMammot's

screamofpain.'Attend, Wizard!' the

woman said. 'He is Jaghut-possessed.''Iknow,'hegrowled,rolling

on to his stomach thenclimbing to his hands andknees. A quick glanceshowed Mammot on theground, waving a feeblehand. The wizard's gazeflickedtowhereWhiskeyjackhad been. The pillars aroundthefountainhad toppled,andthe sergeant was nowhere in

sight. In fact, he realized,noneofthesquadwasvisible.On the terrace crumpledbodies lay ingrotesquepiles,none moving. Everyone elsehadfled.'Mammot recovers,' the

woman said desperately. 'Ihave nothing left, Wizard.Youmustdosomethingnow,yes?'Hestaredather.

Paran stumbled, slid acrossgreasy clay and rolled upagainstabankoftuftedreeds.Astormrackedtheskyabovehim.Hescrambledtohisfeet,the sword Chance hot andmoaning inhishand.Acalmshallowlakestretchedoutonhis left, ending in a distantridge of faintly luminescentgreen. To his right themarshes continued out to the

horizon. The air was cool,sweetwithdecay.Paran sighed shakily. He

studied the storm overhead.Jagged arcs of lightningwarred with each other, thecloudsdarkandtwistingasifin agony. A concussionsounded to his right and hespun.Athousandpacesaway,somethinghadappeared.Thecaptain squinted. It roseabove themarsh grasses like

ananimatedtree,gnarledandblack,pullingattherootsthatgripped it and flinging themaside. Another figureappeared, danced lithelyaround it, a brown-bladedjagged sword in its hands.This figure was clearly inretreat, as the gnarled man-shape lashed at it withmiasmic waves of power.They were approachingParan'sposition.

Heheardbubbling,suckingsounds behind him andturned.'Hood'sBreath!'A house was rising out of

the lake. Swamp grass andmud slid from its batteredstone walls. A huge stonedoorwaygapedblack,hissingwith steam.The second levelof the structure lookedmisshapen, scarred, the cutstonesmelted away here andthere, revealing a skeletal

woodenframe.Anotherexplosiondrewhis

attentionback to thefighters.Theyweremuch closer now,andParancouldseethefigurewith the two-handed swordclearly. A T'lan Imass.Despite its awesome skillwith the chalcedony weaponin its hands it was beingdriven back. Its attacker wasatall,leancreaturewithfleshlikeoak.Twogleamingtusks

rosefromitslowerjaw,anditwas shrieking with rage. Itstruck the T'lan Imass again,flinging the warrior fifteenpaces, to roll through themuckandcometorestalmostatParan'sfeet.The captain found himself

staring down into depthlesseyes.'TheAzathisnotyetready,

mortal,' the T'lan Imass said.'Too young, not yet of

strength to imprison thatwhich called it into being –theFinnest.When theTyrantfled,Isoughtoutitspower.'Ittried to rise, failed. 'Defendthe Azath, the Finnest seekstodestroyit.'Paran looked up to see the

apparition stalking towardshim. Defend? Against that?The choice was taken fromhim.TheFinnestroaredandasizzlingwaveofpowerrolled

towards him. He swungChanceintoitspath.The blade slid through the

energy. Unaffected, thepower swept over, then intoParan. Blinded, he screamedas bitter cold lanced throughhim, shattering his thoughts,hissenseofself.Aninvisiblehand closed around his soul.Mine! The word rang in hishead, triumphant and filledwith savage glee. You are

mine!Paran droppedChance, fell

to his knees.Thegrip onhissoul was absolute. He couldonly obey. Fragments ofawarenessreachedthrough.Atool,nothingmore.AllIhavedone, all I have survived, toreachbutthis.Deepwithinhimhehearda

sound, repeating again andagain, growing louder. Ahowl. The chill of his blood

that had seamlessly filledevery part of his body beganto break apart. Flashes ofheat, bestial and defiant,ripped through the cold. Hethrew back his head, thehowling reaching his throat.Asitbrokeloose,theFinneststaggeredback.Blood of a Hound! Blood

no one can enslave – Paranlaunched himself at theFinnest. His muscles filled

with pain as overwhelmingstrength flowed into them.You dare! He struck thecreature, driving it to theground,batteringitsoakfleshwith his fists, sinking histeethintothebarkofitsface.TheFinnesttriedtopushhimaway,andfailed.Itscreamed,flailingitslimbs.Paranbeganripping it methodically topieces.Ahandclosedonthecollar

ofhiscloak,pulledhimfromthe tattered body. Frenzied,Paran tried to twist round, torendthecreatureholdinghim.The T'lan Imass shook him.'Cease!'Thecaptainblinked.'Cease!Youcannotdestroy

the Finnest. But you haveheld it. Long enough. TheAzath will take it now. Doyouunderstand?'

Paran sagged, the fireswithin him ebbing. Glancingdown at the Finnest, he sawroots and fibrous tendrilsrising from the wet earth towrap themselves around thebattered apparition and begintopulltheircaptivedownintothe cloying mud. In amoment, the Finnest wasgone.The T'lan Imass released

Paran and stepped back. It

regarded him steadily for alongmoment.Paran spat blood and

splinters from his mouth,wiped his lips with the backofahand.Hebentdownandretrieved Chance. 'Damnedluck turned,' he mumbled,sheathing the weapon. 'Doyou have something to say,Imass?''You are a long way from

home,mortal.'

Paran reappeared a momentlater, staggering half-blindacross the terrace, thencollapsing in a heap. QuickBenscowled.WhatinHood'sBreathhappenedtohim?A Jaghut curse escaped

Mammot, fierce as if rippedfrom the soul. The old manregained his feet, tremblingwith rage. Then his hoodedeyeswereonthewizard.

'Awaken the Seven withinme!' Quick Ben roared, thenshrieked as seven Warrensopened within him. Hisagonized scream rode thecascadingwavesofpowerastheysweptacrosstheterrace.TheJaghutPossessedthrew

uphisarmsbeforehisfaceasthe waves struck. Mammot'sbody withered beneath theclambering, frenzied attack.Flesh was ripped away, fires

lancing,boringholes throughhim. He was driven to hisknees, a vortex swirling likemadness around him.Mammot howled, raising afist that was nothing butcharred bone. The fistspasmed and one of QuickBen'sWarrensslammedshut.Thefistjerkedagain.Quick Ben sagged. 'I'm

done.'Derudan grabbed a handful

of the wizard's cloak.'Wizard!Listentome!'AnotherWarrenwasdriven

away. Quick Ben shook hishead.'I'mdone.''Listen!Thatman–theone

overthere–what'shedoing?'Quick Ben looked up.

'Hood'sBreath!' he yelled, insudden terror.Adozenpacesaway crouched Hedge, onlyhis head and shoulders

showingbehindabench.Thesaboteur's eyes shone with amanic glaze that the wizardrecognized,andalarge,bulkyarbalest was in his hands,pointeddirectlyatMammot.Awordless,wailingscream

camefromHedge.The wizard shouted and

divedforthewomanasecondtime.As he flew through theair,heheard the thockof thesaboteur's crossbow. Quick

Ben closed his eyes beforecollidingonceagainwith thewoman.Crone flew tight circles overthe plain where the JaghutTyrant had been. He hadreached to within fifty pacesof Silanah, then vanished.Not a flight through aWarren,butavanishingmorecomplete, more absolute andall the more fascinating for

that.Ithadbeenagloriousnight,

a battle worthy ofremembrance, and its endproved no end at all.'Delicious mystery,' shecackled. Crone knew herpresence was demandedelsewhere, but she wasreluctant to leave. 'Suchterrible energies I havewitnessed.' She laughed. 'Imock the waste, the sheer

foolishness!Ah, and now allthat remains is questions,questions!'She craned her head

upward. Her lord's two TisteAndii Soletaken remainedoverhead. No one wanted toleave before the truth of theJaghut Tyrant's fate wasrevealed. They'd earned theright to witness it, thoughCrone was beginning tosuspect such answers would

nevercome.Silanah loosed a keening

cry, then rose from theground, the Warren thatbirthed her flight a strong,pungent exhalation. The reddragon's head swungwestward, and she voiced asecondcry.With a mad flap of wings,

Crone brought her descentundercontrol,thenskirtedthetattered ground. She climbed

skywardagain,andsawwhatSilanah had seen. Croneshrieked in joy andanticipation – and surprise.'Andnowitcomes!Itcomes!'As he shut his eyes, QuickBen collapsed the last of hisWarrens. The woman's armsclosed around him as hestruckher.Shegruntedloudlyand collapsed beneath hismomentum.

Thedetonationsnatchedtheairfromhislungs.Thestonesunder them jumped and aflash of fire and flyingmasonry filled theirworld totheexclusionofallelse.Theneverythingwasstill.Quick Ben sat up. He

lookedtowhereMammothadbeen standing. The pavingstonesweregone,andawide,deep, steaming hole nowyawned near the shattered

fountain. The old man wasnowhereinsight.'Dear wizard,' the woman

murmured beneath him. 'Welive?'QuickBenglanceddownat

her. 'You'd closed yourWarren.Veryclever.''Closed, yes, but not by

choice.Whyclever?''Moranth munitions are

mundane weapons, Witch.

Opened Warrens draw theirexplosive force. That Tyrantisdead.Obliterated.'AndthenHedgewasbeside

them, his leather cap halfblown away and flash-burnscoveringonesideofhisface.'Youallright?'hegasped.Thewizardreachedoutand

cuffed the man. 'You idiot!HowmanytimeshaveI—?''He'sdead,ain'the?'Hedge

retorted, hurt. 'Just asmouldering hole in theground – best way to dealwithmagesright?'They saw Captain Paran

rise shakily from the rubble-strewn terrace. He scannedthescene,hisgazefindingthewizard. 'Where isWhiskeyjack?'hedemanded.'In the woods,' Hedge

answered.

Paran stumbled in thatdirection.'Big help he was,' Hedge

muttered.'Quick!'The wizard turned to see

Kalam approach. Theassassin paused as he skirtedtheedgeofthecrater,thenhesaid. 'Something's movingdownthere.'Paling, Quick Ben rose,

then helped the witch to herfeet.Theyapproachedthecrater.

'Impossible,' the wizardbreathed.Aman-shapedformhad coalesced at the base ofthe pit. 'We're dead. Orworse.'Thrashing from the garden

drew their attention. Thethree froze as strangelyblurredrootsbrokefreeoftheundergrowth and snaked

hungrilytowardsthecrater.The Jaghut Possessed

straightened, spreading grey,swirlingarms.Therootsclosedaroundthe

creature.Itshriekedinsuddenterror.'Azathedieirmarn!No!You've taken my Firnnest —but leave me! Phase!'Tendrils clambered in afrenzy, entwining its limbs.The Omtose Phellack powerwrithed in a panicked effort

to escape, to no avail. Theroots pulled the apparitiondown, then dragged itscreamingintothegarden.'Azath?' Quick Ben

whispered.'Here?''None, I would swear,'

Derudansaid,herfacewhite.'It'ssaidtheyarise—''Where unchained power

threatens life,' the wizardfinished.

'I knowwhere it is,'Kalamsaid. 'Quick Ben, will thatJaghutescape?''No.''Sowe'redonewithit.What

oftheAzath?'QuickBenhuggedhimself.

'Leaveit,Kalam.''Imustleave,'Derudansaid

hastily. 'Again, my gratitudefortwicesavingmylife.'They watched her rush

away.Fiddler joined them,

looking distracted. 'Mallet'stending to the sergeant,' hesaid, closing the straps on abulky bag he carried. 'We'reoff, then.'He nudgedHedge.'Gotacitytoblow.''Whiskeyjack'shurt?'Quick

Benasked.'Broken leg,' Fiddler

answered.'Prettybad.'

At a surprised cry fromDerudan,whohadgonetotheopposite sideof the fountain,they all turned.She'dwalkedontoablack-cladyouth,whomust have been crouchingbehind the fountain's stonewall.Dartinglikearabbit,theboy leaped the fountain andracedtowardstheestate.'What do you think he

heard?'Fiddlerwondered.'Nothing that would mean

much to him,' said QuickBen, recalling theirconversation.'YouandHedgegoingtodothedeed?''Skyhigh.'Fiddlergrinned.The two saboteurs checked

theirequipmentonelasttime,thenturnedtothepatio.Meanwhile, Kalam stood

glowering into the pit.Ancient copper water-pipesstreamed water down its

raggedsides.Forsomereasona memory of the Greyfacesflashed into his head. Theassassincrouched,seeingonepipethatleakednowater.Hesniffedtheair,thenlayflatonthegroundandreacheddowntolayhishandoverthepipe'sbroken end. 'Assert,' hebreathed.He rolled and gained his

feet, then asked Quick Ben,'Wherearethey?'

The wizard's expressionwasblank.'Who?'Kalam roared, 'The

saboteurs,dammit!''Just left,' Quick Ben

replied, bemused. 'Throughtheestate.''To the back wall, soldier,'

the assassin snapped. 'Findthe others – Paran's takencommand. Tell him to pullout. Find a place I know. I'll

meetyouthere.''Whereareyougoing?''Afterthesaboteurs.'Kalam

wiped sweat from his face.'Pull out the city map whenyou can, Quick Ben.' Theassassin's eyes were tightwith fear. 'Check the legendonit.We'veplantedminesatevery major intersection. It'sthe main valves – don't yousee?'Hewaved an arm. 'TheGreyfaces! The gas, Quick

Ben!'Kalamwhirled and crossed

the patio.Amoment later hedisappeared into the estatehouse.QuickBenstaredafterhim.

The gas? His eyes widened.'We'll all go sky high,' hewhispered. 'The whole damncity!'

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

Itwassaidsheturnedthebladeonherselfthentostealthemagicoflife.CalltoShadow(IX.ii)

Felisin(b.1146)

Exhausted, Paran made his

way through theundergrowth. He duckedbeneath a tree into shadow–andtheworldshifted.Jaws closed on his left

shoulder, teeth grindingthroughchain, and liftedhimfrom the ground. A surge ofunseen muscle flung himthrough the air. He landedheavily, rolled to his kneesand looked up in time to seethe Hound close once again.

Paran'sleftarmwasnumb;hereached vainly for his swordastheHoundopeneditsmawandcloseditaroundhischest.Mail popped, flesh tore andblood sprayed as the HoundliftedParanonceagain.The captain hung in the

giant beast's mouth. He feltChance slide free of itsscabbard,itsweightpullingitaway from his twitchinghand.TheHoundshookhim.

Blood spattered the ground.Then it dropped him andstepped back, looking almostbaffled. It whined, began topace back and forth, eyesdartingagainandagaintothecaptain.Pain surged through Paran

in growing waves; his limbsshook uncontrollably, hecouldbarelydrawbreath.'It seems Rood must find

someone to blame,' a voice

said. Paran blinked, openedhiseyestoseeablack-cowledmanstandingabovehim.'Buthe was premature, and forthat I apologize. Evidently,someoldscoresneedsettlingbetweenyouandtheHounds.'The man frowned at Rood.'More, something hasconfused him about you ...Kinship? Now, how couldthatbe?''You were the one,' Paran

said, as numbness spreadthrough him, 'the one whopossessedthegirl—'Theman faced the captain.

'Yes, I am Cotillion.ShadowthroneregretsleavingyououtsideHood'sGates–atthe cost of two Hounds. Doyou realize that thoseprecious creatures had livedforathousandyears?Doyourealize that no man – mortalor Ascendant – has ever

beforekilledaHound?'Did I save their souls?

Wouldn't telling that storymatter? No, too much likebegging. Paran glanced atRood.Kinship?'Whatdoyouwant from me?' he askedCotillion. 'My death? Leaveme here, then, it's almostdone.''You shouldhave left us to

ourwork,Captain, since younowhatetheEmpressso.'

'Whatyoudidtothegirl—''What I didwasmerciful. I

usedher,yes,butsheknewitnot.Canthesamebesaidforyou? Tell me, is knowingyou're being used better thannotknowing?'Paransaidnothing.'I can release to thegirl all

those memories, if you like.Thememories ofwhat I did,what she did, when I

possessedher...''No.'Cotillionnodded.Paran could feel the pain

returning and it surprisedhim.He'dlostsomuchbloodthat he'd expected to befadingfromconsciousnessbynow. Instead, the pain wasback, incessant, throbbingamid unbearable itching. Hecoughed.'Nowwhat?'

'Now?' Cotillion seemedsurprised.'NowIstartagain.''Anothergirllikeher?''No,theplanwasflawed.''Youstoleherlife!'Cotillion's dark eyes

hardened. 'Now she has itback. I see you still carryChance, so the same cannotbesaidforyou.'Paran turned his head,

found the weapon an arm's

length away. 'Whenmy luckturns,' hemuttered.And turnit did. He found he couldmove his left arm, and thepain inhis chest seemed lessinsistentthanithad.Cotillion laughed drily at

Paran'swords. 'Itwill be toolate then, Captain. Yougamble that the Ladycontinues to look kindly onyou. You've surrenderedwhatever wisdom you may

haveoncepossessed.Such isthepoweroftheTwins.''Iamhealing,'Paransaid.'Soyouare.AsIsaid,Rood

waspremature.'The captain slowly,

cautiously, sat up. His chainarmour was in shreds, butbeneath he could see the redflame of newly healed flesh.'I – I don't understand you,Cotillion,orShadowthrone.'

'You are not alone in that.Now,astoChance...'Paran looked down at the

weapon. 'It's yours, if youwantit.''Ah.' Cotillion smiled,

stepping over to pick it up.'I'd suspected a change ofheart, Captain. The world issocomplex, isn't it?Tellme,do you pity the ones whousedyou?'

Paran closed his eyes. Aterrible burden seemed todrain from him. He recalledtheFinnest'sgriponhissoul.Heglanced up at theHound.In Rood's eyes he sawsomethingalmost...soft.'No.''Wisdom returns quickly,'

Cotillionsaid, 'oncethebondis severed. I will return younow, Captain, with this onelast warning: try not to benoticed. And when next you

seeaHound,run.'The air swirled into

darkness around Paran. Heblinked, saw the trees of theestate garden rising beforehim.Iwonder,willIrunfromit...orwithit?'Captain?' It was Mallet's

voice. 'Where in Hood'sNameareyou?'Paransatup.'NotinHood's

Name,Mallet.I'mhere,inthe

shadows.'Thehealerscrambledtohis

side. 'We've got troubleeverywhere.Youlook—''Deal with it,' the captain

barked,climbingtohisfeet.Mallet stared at Paran.

'Hood's Breath, you lookchewedtopieces...sir.''I'mgoingafterLorn.Ifwe

all live through this we willmeet at the Phoenix Inn.

Understood?'Malletblinked.'Yes,sir.'Paranturnedtoleave.'Captain?''What?''Don'ttreatherkindly,sir.'Paranmovedoff.

The images remained withCrokus, brutally sharp. Theyreturnedagainandagaineven

as he tried to move awayfrom them, his thoughtsdriven by panic anddesperation.Uncle Mammot was dead.

In the youth's head a distant,steadyvoicetoldhimthattheman who had borneMammot's face was not theman he'd known all his life,and that what had been ...claimed by the roots wassomething else, something

horrific. The voice repeatedthis, and he heard its clearstatement rising and fallingbeneath thestormofwhathehad seen with his own eyes:the images that would notleavehim.The central chamber of

Lady Simtal's estate wasabandoned, the fête'strappings scattered about onthe floor amid puddles andsmears of blood. The dead

and those whom Mammothad hurt had been carriedaway by the guards; theservantshadallfled.Crokus raced across the

roomtotheopenfrontdoors.Beyond, torchlight cast ahissingblueglowdownontothe walkway's paved stonesandthegates,whichhadbeenleft ajar. The thief leapeddown the steps and hurriedforthegate.Heslowedashe

approached it, for somethingwaswronginthestreet.Like Simtal's main floor,

the streetwas empty, litteredwith pennants, banners andfetishes. Eddies of dry windwhipped tatters of cloth andreed paper about in dancingcircles.Theairfeltheavyandclose.Crokus emerged on to the

street. In either direction, asfar as he could see, not a

single reveller was visible,andathicksilencehungoverall. The wind curled roundhim, first fromonedirection,then from another, as ifseeking escape. A charnelsmellfilledtheair.Mammot'sdeathreturnedto

him.Hefeltutterlyalone,yetRallick'swordsurgedhimon.Days ago, the assassin hadclosed angry hands on thethief'sshirt,pullinghimclose

– and he'd called Crokus adrinkerofthecity'sblood.Hewanted to refute that,especially now. Darujhistanmattered. It was his home,anditmattered.He turned in the direction

of Baruk's estate. At least,with the streets empty, thiswouldn't takelong.Hebegantorun.The gusting wind beat

against him, whipping his

hair into his face. Darknesshung low above the street'sgaslamps.Crokusskiddedtoahaltonacorner.He'dheardsomething.Cockinghishead,he held his breath andlistened.There,again.Birds–hundreds of them from thesound, murmuring, talking,clucking. And amid thecharnel smell he nowdetected the reek of birds'nests. Crokus frowned,

thinking. Then he lookeddirectlyoverhead.Ashoutbrokefromhislips

and he ducked instinctively.Above him, blotting out thenightsky'sstars,wasaceilingof jagged black stone,hanging so low as to seeminches from the highestbuildings. He stared up at it,then pulled awayhis gaze asa wave of dizziness spunthroughhim.Theceilingwas

revolving slowly. In itspocks,shelvesandcragshe'dseen the restless motion ofnesting ravens, oily blotsagainst the grainybackground.Moon'sSpawnhadarrived,

toclear the streets, to silencethe festival of rebirth. Whatcould itmean?Crokus didn'tknow, but Baruk would. Ofcourse.The thief resumed his run,

his moccasins a whisper onthecobbles.Kruppe took an expansivebreath, his eyes bright as hesurveyed the hastilyabandoned leavings in thekitchen. 'Always the way ofthings.'Hesighed,pattinghisstomach. 'Ever and anon,Kruppe's dreams come true.Granted,thepatternstillfindsshape,butKruppesensesthat

all is well with the world,symbolized by the vision ofbounty now arrayed beforehis renewed appetites.Rigours of the flesh demandreplenishment,afterall.'He drew another satisfied

breathof the steamyair. 'Wemustneedsawait, at theend,the spin of a coin. In themeantime, of course,wondrousfoodbeckons.'

InanalleyfacingthegatesofLadySimtal's estate,AdjunctLorn had watched the CoinBearer appear, and a slow,satisfied smile spread overher lips.Finding theboyhadbeenonething,butshe'dhadno desire to enter the gardenwhere she'd buried theFinnest.Minutesearliershe'dsensed

the death of the JaghutTyrant. Had the Lord of

Moon's Spawn been drawnintothebattle?Shehopedso.Ithadbeenherhope that theJaghut would reach the city,perhaps even retrieve theFirmest, thus challenging theSonofDarknessasanequal.In retrospect, however, sherealized that the Lord wouldneverhavepermittedthat.Which meant that

Whiskeyjackstilllived.Well,there'd be another time for

that,once thecitywas in thehands of the Empress andTayschrenn. Perhaps thenthey'd find no need todisguise their efforts: theycouldmakethearrestapublicspectacle. With this coupeven Dujek could notchallengethem.She'd watched the Coin

Bearer race down the street,seeming not even to havenoticed Moon's Spawn

hangingsocloseoverhead.Amoment later, she followed.With the Coin in her hands,the Empress would bringOponntoitsknees.Like a drowning voice,

deepwithinhermind,cameaquestion heavy with dismayand despair: What of yourdoubts? What of the womanwho'd once challengedTayschrenn, in Pale? Has somuchchanged?Hassomuch

beendestroyed?The Adjunct shook her

head, dispelling the plaintivecries.Shewasthearmof theEmpress. The woman calledLorn was dead, had beendead for years, and wouldremain forever dead. Andnow the Adjunct movedthrough these hollowshadows, in a city coweringin fear. The Adjunct was aweapon. Its edge could bite

deep,or it could snap,break.She might once have calledthelatter 'death'.Now,itwasno more than the misfortuneofwar,aflawintheweapon'sdesign.Shepaused andhid against

a wall as the Coin Bearerstopped on a corner andrealized for the first timewhathoveredabovehim.Sheconsidered attacking now,while he was so confused,

possiblyterrified.Butthenhecontinuedon.The Adjunct crouched

down.Time forTayschrenn'sgambit.Hopefully the JaghutTyranthadmanagedtoinflictdamage upon the Moon'slord. She removed a smallflask from her shirt and heldthe patinated glass up to theshine of gaslight. Thecontents swirled like trappedsmokeasshegaveitashake.

Sheroseandthrewitacrossthe street. The flask struck astone wall and shattered.Glowing red smoke curledupward,slowlytakingshape.The Adjunct spoke: 'You

know your task, Lord of theGalayn. Succeed, andfreedomwillbeyours.'She unsheathed her sword

and closed her eyes briefly,locating the Coin Bearer inher mind. He was fast, but

she was faster. The Adjunctsmiled again. Now, the Coinwouldbehers.Whenshemoved, itwasas

a blur, quicker than any eyecould follow, even that of aGalayn lord loose on thematerialplane.In his study, Baruk cradledhis head in his hands.Mammot's death had come

likeaknife tohisownheart,and he still felt its stabbingpain. He was alone in thechamber, having dismissedRoaldearlier.Rake had suspected. He'd

refused to speak of it,considering it too sensitive amatter. The alchemist hadwearilytoadmitthattheTisteAndii had been correct.WouldheevenhavebelievedRake? Undoubtedly, the

power possessing Mammothad shielded itself, defyingdetection. Rake hadanticipated Baruk's anger atsuch a suggestion, and had,wisely and with compassion,chosentosaynothing.And now Mammot was

dead, evenaswas the JaghutTyrant.HaditbeenRakewhohad killed his old friend? Ifso, he hadn't used his sword,yet another mercy granted

both Mammot and Baruk –the alchemist had sensed, ifanything, a kind of relief inMammot'sdeathcry.A soft cough at the door

alerted him. Baruk roseswiftlyandturned.Hisbrowsrose.'WitchDerudan!'Herfacewaspale,hersmile

wan. 'I thought of you, uponMammot'send.Iamhere,so.Alas,' she said, as she strodetoachairbythefireplaceand

set her water-pipe down onthe floor beside it, 'myservant has taken the rest oftheeveningoff.'Sheremovedthe ash-cup and tapped itscontents into theunlithearth.'Suchmundaneexertions,'shesaid,sighing.At first,Barukresentedher

intrusion. He preferred tomourn alone. But as hewatchedher,thesupplegraceof her movements, his

thoughts changed. HerWarren was Tennes, ancientand bound to the cycles ofseasons; and among thehandful of deities she couldcalluponwasTennerock,theBoar of Five Tusks.Derudan's greatest power –the one she shared, in anycase – was the Tusk namedLove. He chastised himself.Slow had the realizationcome that she was bringing

himagift.Derudan replaced the ash-

cupandpackeditwithleaves.She closed a hand around it,andthecontentsglowedwithsudden heat.Amoment laterthe witch sat heavily in thechair.Shedrewdeeplyonthemouthpiece.Baruk strode to the other

chair. 'Rake believes it isn'tyetover,'hesaid,sitting.

She nodded. 'Iwaswitnessto Mammot's end, yes? Hewasopposedbymyself...anda most remarkable wizard.The flesh that was Mammotwas destroyed by a Moranthincendiary. The Jaghut spiritsurvived butwas taken ... byan Azath.' Her heavy-liddedeyesappraisedhim.'Azath? Here, in

Darujhistan?''Indeed, such mysterious

conjurings, known for theirhunger for mages, willimpose upon our efforts ... acertaincaution,yes?''Wherehasitarisen?''In the garden of Simtal's

estate.DidInotalsomentiona Moranth incendiary? LadySimtal's Fête had someunusualguests,yes?''Malazans?''Twicemy life saved – the

wizardofwhomIspoke,whocommands within him sevenWarrens—''Seven.?' Baruk said,

flinching. 'Hood's Breath, isthatevenpossible?''Iftheymeanill,itshallfall

to the Son of Darkness tomeetthechallenge.'Both stiffened as power

surged into life somewherenearby.Thealchemistwason

his feet, fists clenched. 'Ademon is unleashed,' hehissed.'I feel it as well,' Derudan

said,herfacewhite.'Ofgreatpower.''A Demon Lord.' Baruk

nodded. 'This is what Rakeawaited.'Derudan's eyes widened

and she pulled on hermouthpiecebeforeasking, 'Is

hecapableofdefeatingsuchacreature?SonofDarknessheis, but feel this creature'spower,yes?''I don't know,' Baruk said

quietly.'Ifnot,thenthecityisdoomed.'At that point there came

another blow, followed byanother. The witch and thealchemiststaredateachotherin recognition. Two of theirCabal had just died violent

deaths.'Paral,' she whispered in

fear.'And Tholas,' Baruk said.

'It's begun, and damn Rakeforbeingsoright.'Shelookedathimblankly.Barukgrimaced.'Vorcan.'

Standing on the stained,pitted bronze tiles of thebelfry's roof, Anomander

Rake's head snapped around.His eyes deepened to black.Thewindclawedathis long,silverhairandhisgreycloak,itsmoanhollowand lost.Heraised his gaze momentarilytoMoon'sSpawnasitmovedwest. He could feel its pain,as if the wounds it hadreceived at Pale weresomehow echoed in his ownbody. A flash of regretcrossedhisleanfeatures.

Air buffeted him and heheard the heavy flap ofwings.Rakesmiled.'Silanah,'he said softly, knowing shewould hear him. The reddragon slipped between twotowers and banked, returningto his position. 'I know yousense the Demon Lord'spresence,Silanah.Youwouldhelp me in this. I know, Iknow.' He shook his head.'Return to Moon's Spawn,

dear friend. This battle ismine. Yours is done. Butknow this: if I fail, youmayseektoavengemydeath.'Silanahsweptoverheadand

loosedathinwail.'Gohome,'Rakewhispered.Thereddragoncriedagain,

then swung westward androsethroughthenightair.Hesensedapresenceathis

sideand turned to finda tall,

hoodedmansharinghisviewof the city below. 'Unwise,'Rake murmured, 'to appearunannounced.'The man sighed. 'The

stones beneath your feet,Lord, are newly sanctified. Iamreborn.''There is no place in the

world for an Eldering god,'Rakesaid.'Takemywordforit.'

K'rul nodded. 'I know. Ianticipated returning to theRealms of Chaos, with aJaghut Tyrant for company.Alas,heevadedme.''And found imprisonment

elsewhere.''Iamrelieved.'The two were silent for a

long minute, then K'rulsighed. 'I am lost. In thisworld.Inthistime.'

Rake grunted. 'You are notalone with those sentiments,ElderingOne.''Do I follow in your steps,

Lord? Do I seek out newbattles,newgamestoplayinthe company of Ascendants?Areyourewardedinspiritforyourefforts?''Sometimes,' Rake said

quietly. 'Butmostly,no,Iamnot.'

The hooded face turned totheTisteAndii.'Thenwhy?''I know no other way of

living.''I have no means of

assisting you this night,Anomander Rake. I ammanifest in this sanctifiedplace, andmanifest in a lonemortal'sdreams,butnowhereelse.''I will do my best, then,'

Rakesaid,'toavoiddamagingyourtemple.'K'rulbowed,thenvanished.Alone once again, Rake

turned his attention to thestreet below. An apparitionarrived. Itpaused to sniff theair, then began changing –veering. A Lord of theGalayn,andaSoletaken.'Well,' the Lord of Moon's

Spawn growled, 'so am I.'

The Tiste Andii spread hisarmswide,thenroseupward.KuraldGalainsorceryswirledaround him, blending hisclothing, his massive sword,drawing all inward to theshape he now climbedtowards. The veering wassmooth,eloquent,asjet-blackwings unfolded from hisshoulders. Flesh and bonesurged in size, changed inshape.

As he flew higher, eyesfixedonthestars,AnomanderRakebecameablackdragon,silver-maned and dwarfingeven Silanah. His eyesgleamed silver, the verticalslitsofthepupilsdilating.Hisbreathgustedinheavygrunts,the snap of his wings loudamid the deep groan ofmuscle on bone. His chestswelled to draw in the cold,dry air, and power filled his

being.Rake climbed ever higher,

slippingthroughastraycloudthatscuddedindarknessoverthe city. When he finallytilted his wings forward andcaressed the surface of awayward wind, he lookeddown on a city thatglimmered like a mottledcoppercoinatthebottomofapellucidpond.Sorceryflaredoccasionally,

centred mostly in the EstateDistrict, and Rake senseddeath within thoseemanations. He consideredthe message delivered bySerrat, courtesy of a foulmagehe'dthoughtathousandleagues away. Was thesorcery the work of theseunwelcome intruders? Herumbled in frustration – hewould deal with them later.Beforehimnowwasabattle.

TheEmpressandherEmpirehadchallengedhimagainandagain, wilful in the desire totest his strength. Each timehe'd withdrawn, unwilling tocommit himself. Very well,Empress,mypatienceisatanend.Themembraneofhiswings

tautened, the joints creaking,as he grunted a strainingbreath. He hung almostmotionless for a second

studying the great citybeneathhim.Then,tuckinginhis wings, Anomander Rake,theSonofDarknessandLordof Moon's Spawn,plummeted.Kalam knew the pattern ofdetonation the saboteurswouldfollow.Heskirtedonesideofthestreetasheran.Sowhat if Moon's Spawn hungover them as if ready to

descendonthecityandcrushthe life from it like a god'sheel – Fiddler and Hedgewouldn't give a damn. Theyhadajobtodo.The assassin cursed every

stubbornbone in their heads.Whydidn'ttheyrunawaylikenormal, sane people? Hecametoacornerandcrossedthe intersection diagonally.Ahead, at the far end of thestreet, rose Majesty Hill. As

he reached the corner healmost collided with the twosaboteurs. Fiddler darted toonesideofhim,Hedgetotheother, running as if not evenrecognizing him, terror plainontheirfaces.Kalam reached back and

with each hand grasped acloak'shood.Thenhegruntedinpainasthetwomenjerkedhim backward and off hisfeet. 'Damnyoubastards!'he

yelled.'Holdit!''It'sKal!'Hedgeyelled.Kalam twisted around to

findarustyshortswordinchesfrom his face, with Fiddler'swhite face and wide eyesimmediately behind it. 'Putthat piece of junk away,' theassassin snapped. 'You wanttogivemeaninfection?''We're getting out of here!'

Hedge hissed. 'Forget the

damn mines! Forgeteverything!'Still gripping their cloaks,

Kalam shook them both.'Calm down. What'shappened?'Fiddlermoanedandpointed

upthestreet.Turning,Kalamstiffened.A twelve-foot-tall creature

shambleddownthemiddleofthe road, hunched shoulders

wrapped in a glittering capewith a high cowl. A two-bladed axe was slung in itswide dragon-hide belt, itshandleas longasKalamwastall. The creature's wide,squat face held two slittedeyes.'Oh, Hood's Gates and

back,' the assassin muttered.'That's Tayschrenn's preciouslord.' He pushed the twosaboteurs around the corner.

'Getmoving.BacktoSimtal'sestate.' Neither objected, andmoments later were runningasfastastheycoulddownthestreet.Kalamcrouchedat thecorner and waited for theGalayn lord to come intoview. When it did, heblanched.'Soletaken.'TheGalaynwasassuminga

form better suited towholesale destruction. Thedun-browndragonpaused,its

wingtips brushing thebuildings on either side. Itsrumbletrembledthecobbles.Kalam watched as the

creaturetenseditslimbs,thenrose upward on a wave ofpower. The darknessswallowedit.'Hood'sBreath,'he said. 'Now things aregoing to get messy.' Hewhirled and ran to catch upwiththesaboteurs.

The Coin Bearer came to astreet lined with walledestates. He slowed his pace,studying each structure hepassed.The time had come, the

Adjunctknew.Beforetheboyhadachancetogetinsideoneof those places, where hemight find protection. Sheadjusted her grip on thesword,paddinginsilencenotfifteenfeetbehindhim.

She drew a long, deepbreath, then surged forward,sword'spointextended.Atthesharp,ringingclangofmetal immediately behindhim, Crokus dived forward.He dipped a shoulder androlled, regaining his feet. Hecried out in shock. Thewoman who had attackedColl in the hills was in awhirlwind exchange with a

tall, round-shouldered manwithtwoscimitars.The thief's jaw dropped as

hewatchedthefight.Asgoodas the woman had shownherself against Coll, she wasnow being driven back as aflurryofattackssweptaroundher. They both moved soquicklythatCrokuscouldnoteven see the parries, or theblades themselves, but as hewatched, he saw the

blossomingofwoundsonthewoman – her arms, legs,chest. Her expression heldcompletedisbelief.Then a voice chuckled

beside him, 'He's good, ain'the?'Crokuswhirledtoseeatall,

thinman,wearingagreyandcrimson longcoat, his handsin its pockets. He swung anarrow hatchet face to thethief and grinned. 'You

headin' somewhere, boy?Somewheresafe?'Crokusnoddednumbly.Theman'sgrinwidened.'I'll

escort you, then. And don'tworry, you're covered fromthe roofs, too. Cowl's upthere, damn his snakeskinhide. But he's a powerfulmage, anyway. Serrat wasfurious, I hear. Let's walk,then.'

Crokusletthemantakehisarmand leadhimaway fromthe duel. The thief cast aglanceoverhisshoulder.Thewoman was trying todisengage now, her left armhanging useless andglisteninginthegaslight.Heropponent continued pressing,silentasaghost.'Don't worry,' the man

beside him said, pulling himalong.'That'sCorporalBlues.

Helivesforthisstuff.''C-Corporal?''We've been covering your

back,CoinBearer.'Theman'sother hand reached up to hiscollar, which he turned backto reveal a brooch. 'Thename's Fingers, Sixth Blade,CrimsonGuard.You'rebeingprotected, boy, complimentsof Prince K'azz and CaladanBrood.'

Crokus stared, then hescowled. 'Coin Bearer?What's that mean? I thinkyou'vegotthewrongperson.'Fingers laughed drily. 'We

figured you was walkingblind and dumb, boy. Theonly explanation. You've gototherpeople trying toprotectyou,too,youknow.There'sacoininyourpocket,probablytwo-headed, right?' Hegrinned at the thief's stunned

expression.'It'sOponn'sown.You've been serving a godandyoudidn't even know it!How'syourluckbeen,lately?'Helaughedagain.Crokusstoppedatagate.'This is the place, then?'

Fingersasked,glancingattheestate rising behind thecompoundwall.'Well,there'sa powerful mage living inthere, ain't there? Well,' hereleased the thief's arm, 'you

shouldbesafeenoughinside.Good luck, boy, and I meanthat.Butlisten,'Fingers'eyeshardened, 'if your luck goessour, you dump that coin, y'hear?'Confusion flickered across

Crokus's face. 'Thank you,sir.''Ourpleasure,'Fingerssaid,

as heplacedhis hands in hispockets again. 'Get a moveon,then.'

The Adjunct broke away,taking a cut across her rightshoulder blade as she did so.She ran, blood sprayingwiththe effort, and the man didnotpursue.What a fool she'd been!

ThinkingthattheCoinBearerwasn't protected! But whowas that man? Never beforehad she faced such aswordsman, and the most

appalling thing was that hehadfoughtwithout theaidofsorcery. For once, herOtataral blade and her skillhadnotbeenenough.She staggered, half blind,

downthestreet,thenwheeledround a corner. Out of thecorner of her eye she saw aflash of movement. TheAdjunct threw her back to awall and raised her swordagain.

A large woman stoodbefore her, regarding herquizzically.'Lookstome,'shedrawled, 'like you're alreadydone.''Leavemebe,'Lorngasped.'Can't do it,' Meese said.

'WebeenonyousinceCircleBreakerpickedyouupat thegate.TheEelsaysyou'vegotsome things t' pay for, lady.Andwe'reheretocollect.'

Assoonasthewomansaidthat, the Adjunct sensedanother presence,immediately on her left. Shecried out as she tried to spininto a defensive crouch, andin the cry was anoverwhelming sense offrustration and despair.Whata waste! she cursed.No, notlikethis!Even as that thought

thundered through her head,

both women attacked. Sheparried the blade coming ather from the left, but couldonly watch in horror as thewoman who'd spokenrevealed two blades, bothdrivingforherchest.The Adjunct screamed in

rageas theweaponspunchedinto her. Her sword clangedand bounded as it struck thecobbles.Handsgroping,Lornslid down the wall. 'Who?'

she managed, a blind needbehindtheword.'Who?'Oneofthewomenbentlow

overher.'What'sthat?'Anguish filled Lorn's face,

the corners of her mouthdrooping as her eyes closed.'Who?'sheaskedagain.'WhoisthisEel?''Let's go, Meese,' the

woman said, ignoring thebodyatherfeet.

Paran found her sprawled onthegrimycobblesofanalley-mouth.Somethinghaddrawnhim toherunerringly,a finalclosingofthemysteriouslinkbetweenthem.Herswordwasbesideher,thegripslickwithblood, its edges gouged andnicked.Thecaptaincrouchedbesideher.'You made it a hard fight,'

hewhispered,'forwhatthatis

worth.'Hewatchedhereyesflicker

open.Shestaredupathimasrecognition arrived. 'Captain.Ganoes.''Adjunct.''Theyhavekilledme.''Who?'She managed a stained

smile. 'I don't know. Twowomen. Looked like ...thieves.Thugs.Doyousee...

theirony,GanoesParan?'Thin-lipped,henodded.'No ... glorious end ... for

theAdjunct.Ifyou'dcome...afewminutessooner...'The captain said nothing.

He watched the life leaveLorn,feelingnothing.Illluck,knowing me, Adjunct. I'msorry for that. Then hecollected the Otataral swordand slipped it into his

scabbard.Above him two voices

spoke in unison. 'You gavehimoursword.'He straightened to find

himself facing Oponn. 'TheRope took it fromme, to bemoreprecise.'The Twins could not

conceal their fear. Theylooked upon Paran withsomething akin to pleading.

'Cotillion spared you,' thesistersaid,'theHoundssparedyou.Why?'Paran shrugged. 'Do you

blame the knife, or the handwieldingit?''Shadowthrone never plays

fair,' the brother whined,hugginghimself.'You and Cotillion both

used mortals,' the captainsaid, baring his teeth, 'and

paidforit.Whatdoyouwantfromme?Sympathy?Help?''That Otataral blade—' the

sistersaid.'Willnotbeusedtodoyour

dirty work,' Paran finished.'You'd best flee, Oponn. Iimagine even now Cotillionhas given Shadowthrone thesword Chance, and the twoare putting their headstogether to plan how best touseit.'

TheTwinJestersflinched.Paran laid a hand over the

sword's sticky grip. 'Now.Else I return Cotillion'sfavour.'Thegodsvanished.The captain drew a deep

breath.He turned once againtoLorn.Her armour removed, she

provedlightinhisarms.

The air roared aroundAnomander Rake as heplummeted, but he made noother sound, his Warrendrawn in tight around him.Below, now sweeping lazycircles overDarujhistan,wasthedundragon–Rake'sequalin size, with the power tomatch.But it was a fool, hunting

forhiminthestreetsbelow.Rake carefully spread his

wings, angling towards theGalayn lord. His hind limbsreached down, talonsspreading.Hedrewintheairaround him, preparing for aburst of power. He wasKurald Galain, Tiste Andii,anddarknesswashishome.The Galayn lord was

immediately beneath himnow, growing larger withincredible speed. Rakeopened his mouth, head

snappingbackashebitintoawall of air. This soundbroughtthedundragon'sgazeupward, but it was alreadytoolate.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

IamtheHouseimprisoning in mybirthdemonichearts,so locked in eachchambersome tremblingenragedantiquity.

And these roots ofstonespread the deepestcracksinparchedgroundholdingforeverthedreamoffruit,ah,pilgrimscometomydoorandstarve...

Azath(ii.iii)Adaephon(b.?)

The compound beyond thegate was empty. Crokus ranacrossit,wonderingifhewastoo late. He bounded up thestepsandreachedforthedoorlatch.Aburstofenergyflunghimbackwards.Dazed, the thief found

himself sitting on the pavingstones before the steps, hisflesh tingling. At the door adeep crimson glow slowlyfaded. A ward. 'Hood!' he

hissed, climbing to his feet.He'd run into barriers likethese before, in the HigherEstates.Therewasnowaytogetthroughthem.Cursing again, Crokus

whirledandracedtothegate.He emerged on to the streetandlookedaround,seeingnoone. If those CrimsonGuardstill protected him, theyweren'tshowingthemselves.There was a slight chance

that the garden entrance toBaruk'sestatewasunguardedby magic – a very slightchance. He ran down thestreetandturnedintothefirstalleytohisright.There'dbeawall to scale, but he did notconsider that much of anobstacle.He came to the alley's end

and skidded to a halt on thestreet beyond. The wall washigh, he saw. He'd need a

running start. Crokus trottedacross the street, trying tocatch his breath. What wasthepointofall this?Couldn'tBaruk take care of himself,after all? Wasn't he a HighMage, and hadn't evenFingers commented on thealchemist's sorcerousdefences?He hesitated, scowling at

thewalloppositehim.At thatmoment a piercing,

earth-shaking scream wasloosed directly above thestreet. Crokus threw himselfagainst the wall behind himas an enormous shapedescended into the gaslight.Fillingthestreet,itstruckthegroundlessthantwentyyardsto the thief's left. He wasthrown from his feet by theimpact.Stonesshattered.Heduckedbeneath thehail

ofbricksandcobbles,then,as

the scatter of rubblediminished, he jumped to hisfeet.Adragon,itswingstattered

and streaked with blood,slowlyregaineditsfeetinthestreet, wagging its massivewedge-shapedheadfromsideto side. Along its brownflanks, scales had been tornaway, revealing deeppuncture wounds. Its neckand shoulders glistened with

blood.Crokus saw that the wall

beyond it – Baruk's – hadbeen obliterated, opening thegarden to his view. Snappedtree trunks rose amidsteamingearth.Araisedpatiomarked the approach of theestate's back entrance. Twotoppled statues lay in piecesbeforethedoors.Thedragonlookedstunned.

Crokus tensed. Nowwas the

time to move. Almostdisbelieving his owntemerity, the thiefdarted intothestreetbehindthecreature,hoping to reach the cover ofthe garden. His gazeremainedonthedragonasheran, his thoughts on the coinofluckinhispocket.Then, before his eyes, the

creature's shape changed,drawing into itself in ashimmering haze. Crokus

slowed, then stopped, unabletopullawayhisattention.Hisheart hammered against hisribs, as if seeking escape.Each drawn breath was apainfulgasp.Hisluck,hetoldhimself in terror, had justended.The shimmering faded, and

agiantman-shapedapparitionnow stood on the street,cloakedandcowled.Crokustriedtowillhimself

tomove,buthisbodyrefusedto obey. He stared, eyeswidening, as the demonturned to him. It snarled andremoved an enormous axefrom its belt. Hefting theweapon, it spoke in a deep,soft voice. 'What reason tocontinue this?' it askedreasonably. 'The Empresspermits your escape, Lord.Once again she grants youmercy.Acceptit,andleave.'

'Good idea,' the thiefwhispered.Then he frowned,for the demon's attention, henow saw, was directed pasthim.A man spoke behind him.

'Werunnofurther,Galayn.'A hand fell on the thief's

shoulder, breaking the spellofimmobility.Crokusduckedand spun to one side, thenlooked up into shifting,indigo eyes set in a black,

narrowface.'Flee, mortal,' the silver-

haired man said, drawing atwo-handed sword from thescabbard slung between hisshoulder-blades. The blackweapon seemed almostinvisible, as if it swallowedalllightthatfoundit.'You were at the fête!'

Crokusblurted.Theman'seyesflickered,as

if seeing him for the firsttime. 'Coin Bearer,' he said,with a wry smile, 'fear not.Brood has convinced me tospare you, at least for themoment. Begone, child.' Hisgaze returned to the Galaynlord. 'This will be a closething.''I know that weapon,' the

demon snarled.'Dragnipurake. And I smellthe reek of Tiama in you,

Lord.ThereismoreofherinyouthanTisteAndiiblood.'Crokusbackedagainstwhat

remainedofBaruk'swall.The Galayn lord grinned,

revealing long, curvedcanines. 'TheEmpresswouldreward your services, Lord.You've only to say yes, andthisbattlecanbeavoided.'Anomander Rake stepped

forward.'Attend,Galayn.'

With a roar the demonattacked, axe whistlingthroughtheairandstreamingblueflames.Rakewhirledhisswordina

circle, catching the axe andadding to its momentum. Asthedouble-bladessweptpast,the Tiste Andii stepped inclose, sword drawn back,pommel against his left hip.In a blur of motion heextended the blade. The

demonducked and, releasingone hand from the axe haft,reachedforRake'sthroat.TheTiste Andii twisted his rightshoulderandcaughttheblow.Thrown backwards, Rake

landed heavily on thecobbles.The demon pounced,

flaming weapon above itshead.Rake regained his feet in

timetocatchtheaxewithhissword.Theclashofweaponssentajoltthroughtheairandground. The demon's axeflaredbrightwhite,cascadinglightlikeliquid.Rake'sswordwas swallowed in darkness,devouring the lashing wavesoflightthatstruckit.The flagstones beneath

Crokus's feet tiltedsickeningly, as if the stonesthemselveshadturnedtosoft

clay. Overhead the starsswam wildly. Gripped bynausea, Crokus fell to hisknees.Rake began to launch

attacks, savage swings of hisblack weapon. At first thedemon held its ground,delivering fierce ripostes,then staggered back a step,then another. Relentless,Rake pressed his attack. 'Tothe Mother's regret,' he

grated between blows, 'wasLight granted birth. To herdismay ... shesawtoo late ...its corruption.Galayn ... youare the unintended victim ...to punishment ... longoverdue.'The demon reeled beneath

the blows, desperatelyparrying every attack, nolongercounter-attacking.Thelight bleeding from the axeflickered, dimmed, flared

fitfully as darkness closed inaround the blade. Shrieking,the demon launched itself atRake. As it descended overtheTisteAndii,Crokussawastreakofblackburstfromthedemon'sback,slicingthroughthecloak.Theaxe flewfromthe creature's hands, its firedying as it clattered on theground.Squealing in horror, the

demon clawed at the sword

impaling it. Black smokespread in swift tendrils fromthe weapon, engulfing thedemon. The smoke twisted,became chains, drawing taut.The Galayn screamed inearnest.Rake regained his feet and

pushedtheswordthroughthedemon's chest until the hiltjammed against bone. Thedemon sank to its knees, itsblack eyes locking with

Rake'sown.Theswimmingstarssettled,

the flagstones beneath thethief became solid onceagain, though warped andtwisted. Crokus swallowedbile, his eyes fixed on thedemon. It seemed tocollapsein on itself, the chains ofblack smoke ever tightening,pulling the creature into thesword. It toppled backwardsandRakedrove theweapon's

point into the cobbled street,pinning the demon.Then theTisteAndiileanedheavilyonthe hilt, and Crokus nownoticed the blood-soakedcloth surrounding Rake'sshoulder, where the demon'shandhadstruck.Wearily,theTisteAndiiswunghisgazetothethief.'Move quickly,' he rasped.

'Thealchemist is indanger. Icannot protect him now.

Hurry,CoinBearer.'Crokuswhirledandran.

ThedeathofTravale,thirdintheCabal,stillechoedintheirthoughts.ThewitchDerudanhadinscribedanashcircleonthe floor in the centre of thechamber. With Baruk's help,she placed the two plushchairswithin it, andnowsat,smoking steadily, her dark

eyes following the alchemistashepaced.Baruk found himself

reluctant to enter theprotective circle. While theywould be safe there,surrounded by High Tennessorcery, they would not beabletocounter-attack,shouldVorcan arrive. More, somethings could penetrate thedefences of magic. Otataral,thatstrangerust-likeorefrom

the Tanno Hills of SevenCities, immediately came tomind. It was unlikely thatVorcan would possess suchmaterial,giventhatshewasaHigh Mage, yet still Barukfeltreluctanttoplacehimselfin a positionwhere he couldnotusehisWarrenagainsttheassassin.'Those of the Cabal,'

Derudansaidslowly,'whoarenow dead, yes? Stubborn,

convinced of their owninvincibility. No doubt theypaced restless steps, awaitingthe assassin's imminentarrival.'Baruk paused to reply, but

was interrupted by a loud,inhuman scream fromoutside. This was followedimmediately by a concussionthat rattled the walls. Thealchemist made a movetowardsthedoor.

'Wait!'Derudancalledfromthe circle. 'Appease not thiscuriosity, Baruk, for Vorcanwill surely take advantage,yes?''A ward was shattered,'

Baruk said. 'Mydefences arebreached.''More the reason for

caution,' Derudanadmonished. 'Friend, I pleadwithyou,joinmehere.'

'Very well,' Baruk sighed,moving towards her. A gustofairbrushedtheleftsideofhis face.Derudancriedout awarningevenasthealchemistturned.Vorcan, her gloved hands

glowing red, surged towardsBaruk. He raised his arms,knowing full well that hewould be too late. At thatmoment, however, anotherfigure appeared, emerging

fromdarknesstointercepttheMasterAssassinwithaflurryofblows.Vorcanreeledback,then lashed out with a hand,catching her attacker aglancingblow.An agonized shriek rang

through the chamber. Barukstared, only now realizingthathisprotectorwasaTisteAndii woman. He steppedaside lithely as she flewpasthim to strike the floor then

the wall, where she layunmoving. The alchemistpulled his gaze back toVorcan,seeingthatoneofherhandsnolongerglowed.He gestured, and virulent

sorceryeruptedfromhisarm,arcing yellow lightning.Vorcanhissedacounter-spelland the lightning wasswallowed by a red hazebefore her that dimmedquickly, then disappeared.

Sheadvanced.Vaguely, Baruk heard the

witch Derudan shouting athim. Yet it was theMistressof the Assassins' death-filledeyes that held him. The easewithwhichshe'ddispelledhispower made it clear that shewashismasterinsorcery.Allhe could do now, heunderstood with clarity, wasawaithisdeath.But Baruk heard a grunt

behind him, then Vorcangasped. The hilt of a daggerprotruded from the assassin'schest. Frowning, she reachedfor it, then pulled it out andtosseditaside.'All ...' the alchemist heard

the Tiste Andii woman gaspfromthefloorbehindhim '...all I can do. My apologies,Lord.'Derudan appeared behind

Vorcan. As she raised her

hands and began anincantation, Vorcan whirledandsomethingspedfromherhand.Thewitchgrunted,thencrumpled.Anguish flooded Baruk.

With a wordless roar helaunched himself at Vorcan.She laughed and ducked toone side, throwing out herglowing hand. The alchemisttwisted,off-balance,narrowlyavoiding the killing touch,

thenstaggeredpast.Heheardher laughter again, as shemovedinbehindhim.A dozen feet in front of

Baruk was the door. Thealchemist's eyes widened tofind it open. A youthcrouched there, holdingblockishobjectsineachhand.Expectingatanymomentto

feel Vorcan's touch, Barukthrew himself forward. Hesaw the boy straighten at the

sametimeandthrustforwardfirst his right arm, then hisleft. As the alchemist felltowards the floor, two bricksflewoverhim.Heheardthemstrikethewomanbehindhim,one making a crunchingsound, theothercrackling.Aflash of red accompanied thecrackle.As he struck the floor, the

breath was hammered fromBaruk's lungs. Agonized

seconds passed as hestruggled todrawair intohistorturedchest.Herolledontohisback.Vorcan,hesaw,laymotionless almost againsthisfeet.Theboy'sfacecameintoview, streaked with sweat,browfurrowedwithconcern.'Alchemist Baruk?' he

asked.Themannodded.The boy sighed, then

grinned. 'You're alive. Good.Rallicksentmetowarnyou.'Baruk sat up. 'The witch,'

he saidhoarsely.Hepointed.'Tendtoher,please.'He felt his strength

returning as he watched theboycrouchbesideDerudan.'She's breathing,' Crokus

announced. 'There's somekind of knife in her, lookslike it's covered in sap.' He

reacheddowntotouchit.'No!'Barukshouted.Crokus jumped back in

alarm.'Poison,' thealchemist said,

climbingtohisfeet.'Helpmeto her, quickly.' A momentlaterhekneltbesideDerudan.Aquickglanceatthesap-likesubstance coating the bladeconfirmed his suspicion.'Whiteparalt,'hesaid.

'That'saspider,isn'tit?'Baruk laid a hand on

Derudan. 'Your knowledgesurprises me, boy,' he said.'Fortunately, she's in thehome of the one man whopossesses its antidote.' Hemuttered something and aphialappearedinhishand.'Rallick said there was no

antidotetowhiteparalt.''It's not something I'm

likely to announce.' Barukunstoppered the phial andpouredthecontentsdownthewitch's throat, triggering acoughing fit. As Derudan'sbreathing became even,Baruk leaned back and eyedCrokus. 'You seem wellacquainted with Rallick.What'syourname?''Crokus. Mammot was my

uncle,sir.Isawhimdie.'Derudan'seyelids flickered,

then opened. She smiledlazily. 'What I see pleasesme,'shesaidweakly.'Yes?'Baruk returned the smile.

'Yes, my friend. But I makeno claim for defeatingVorcan.That falls toCrokus,nephewofMammot.'Derudan's gaze swung to

theyouth.'Ah,theoneIcameneartotreadingonearlierthisevening.'Theamusement leftherexpression.'Iamsorryfor

Mammot,child.''SoamI,'hereplied.Baruk rose and turned. He

hissed a vehement curse.Vorcan's body was gone.'She'sfled.'Hehurriedovertothe Tiste Andii woman, hebentdownandexaminedher.She was dead. 'I will soonknow your name,' hewhispered, 'and I willrememberit.'

'I have to go!' Crokusannounced.Baruk wondered at the

sudden panic in the boy'sface.'Imean,'Crokus continued,

'ifeverything'soverhere,thatis.''I believe it is,' the

alchemist answered. 'I thankyou,Crokus, foryourskillatthrowingbricks.'

The boy went to the door.Hepaused,thentossedacoinintotheair.Hecaughtit,andgrinned tightly. 'Just lucky, Isuppose.'Thenhewasgone.Captain Paran crouchedbeside Coil's bed. 'Stillasleep,' he said, rising andfacing Whiskeyjack. 'Goahead.'Kalam and the two

saboteurshadarrivedminutesearlier. So far, the sergeantmused, no losses, though thecaptain's armour had taken abeating and the look in hisface when he'd entered theroomwithLorn'sbody inhisarms warned Whiskeyjackaway from probing Paran'sstateofmindtoodeeply.TheAdjunct'sbodynowoccupiedasecondbed,motionlessandpale, a strange ironic smile

curvingherbloodlesslips.The sergeant studied

everyone in the small room,thefacesheknewsowellallwatching him, waiting. Hisgaze held on Sorry, orApsalar as she now calledherself.WhateverMallet haddone to her, she was achangedwomanfromtheonehe'd known. Less, andsomehowmoreaswell.EvenMallet was unsure of what

he'd done.Certainmemories,skills had been freed, andwith them a brutalknowledge. The pain wasthere in the woman's eyes, apain layered in years ofhorror – yet it seemed thatshe had it under control, thatshe'dfoundaway,astrength,to livewithwhat she'd been.Heronlywordsuponmeetinghim had been: 'I wish toreturnhome,Sergeant.'

He had no objection,thoughhewonderedhowsheplanned to cross twocontinents and the oceanbetween them. Whiskeyjackreached for the wrappedforearm bones lying on thetable. 'Yes, sir,' he said, inanswertoParan'scommand.The hot sweaty air in the

room thickenedwith tension.Whiskeyjack hesitated.There'd been a battle in

Darujhistan's streets, andQuickBenhadconfirmedtheGalayn lord's death. In fact,theblackwizard seemedstillinshock.Thesergeantsighedunder his breath andmassaged his newly healedleg, then drove the forearm'sbladeintothetabletop.Contact was immediate.

High Fist Dujek's gravellyvoice filled the room. 'Abouttime, Whiskeyjack! Don't

bother telling me about theGalaynlord–Tayschrenn'sina coma or something.Everyone in Headquartersheard his scream. SoAnomanderRaketookoutthebeast.Whatelse?'Whiskeyjack glanced at

Paran, who noddeddeferentially. 'Adjunct Lorn'sgambit failed,' the sergeantsaid.'She'sdead.Wehaveherbody with us. The

intersections remainmined –we're not detonating them,HighFist,sincethey'relikelyto open the gas cavernsbeneath the city and turn usall into ash. So.' He drew adeepbreath, feeling a twingefrom his leg – Mallet haddone what he could, andthat'd been a lot, but somedamage remained, and itmadehimfeelfragile.'So,'herepeatedsoftly, 'we'repulling

out,HighFist.'Dujek was silent, then he

grunted. 'Problems,Whiskeyjack. One, we'reabout to lose Pale. As Isuspected,CaladanBroodlefttheCrimsonGuard tohandlethingsupnorth,andmarcheddown here with his TisteAndii. He's also got Rhiviwith him, and Jorrick'sBarghast,who'vejustfinishedchewing up Gold Moranth.

Two,itgetsworse.'TheHighFist swallowed audibly.'SevenCitiesismaybeaweekaway from open rebellion.TheEmpressknows it.SomeClaw fromGenabaris arrivedhalf anhour ago, looking forTayschrenn.Mypeoplegottohim first. Whiskeyjack, hewas carrying a handwrittenmessagefromtheEmpresstoTayschrenn. I've just beenoutlawed by the Empire. It's

official, and Tayschrenn wastohaveeffectedmyarrestandexecution.We'reonourown,friend.'The room was silent.

Whiskeyjack closed his eyesbriefly. 'Understood, HighFist.So,whendoyoumarch?''Seems the Black Moranth

arewith us – don't askwhy.Anyway, I have a parley atdawntomorrowwithCaladanBrood and Kallor. That will

decide matters, I suspect.Either he lets us walk, or hekills us taking Pale.Everything's riding on whathe knows about the PannionSeer.'Whiskeyjack said, 'We're

rendezvousing with someBlackMoranthinacoupleofdays, High Fist. Makes mewonder how much they'dguessed when thatarrangement was made.

Anyway, they'll take us toyou,whereveryouare.''No,' Dujek replied. 'We

maybeundersiegehere.TheBlack will drop you off ontheCatlinPlain.Theirordersare clear on this, but you'rewelcome to try overrulingthem.'Thesergeantgrimaced.Not

likely. 'CatlinPlain it is. Justmeans it'll take us longer togettoyou,sir.'

The glow surrounding thebones flickered briefly andtheyheardanechoingthump.Fiddler chuckled. Dujek hadjust pounded a fist on thetable at his end of theconversation.Whiskeyjack shot the

saboteuraferociouslook.'Captain Paran?' Dujek

bellowed.'Here, High Fist,' Paran

replied,steppingforward.'WhatI'mabouttosayisto

Whiskeyjack, but Iwant youtohearit,Captain.''I'mlistening.''Sergeant,ifyouwanttobe

inmy army, you'd better getused to the new order. First,I'mplacingtheBridgeburnersunder Captain Paran'scommand.Second,you'renota sergeant any more,

Whiskeyjack. You are mysecond-in-command,and thatmeansresponsibilities.Idon'twantyouanywherenearPale.And you know I'm right,dammit.CaptainParan?''Yes?''Whiskeyjack's squad has

earned the right to walk.Understood? If any of themelect to rejoin theBridgeburners, fine. But Idon'twantanyrecriminations

if they decide otherwise. Itrustthat'sclear.''Yes,HighFist.''And with Whiskeyjack

betweencommissions,'Dujekcontinued inexorably, 'he'sjust coming along for theride, if you follow me,Captain.'Parangrinned.'Ido.''Now, the Black Moranth

will know the story by the

time theypickyouup, sogowiththem.''Yes,HighFist.'Dujek growled, 'Questions,

Whiskeyjack?''No,' the grizzled veteran

answeredglumly.'All right. Hopefully, we'll

talklater.'Thebones'glowdied.Captain Paran rounded on

the soldiers.He studied each

face.Theywere tohavebeenmy command. I could nothave done better anywhere.'Very well,' he said gruffly.'Whoisreadytobeoutlawedand counted among Dujek'srebels?'Trotts was the first to rise,

his teeth bared. He wasfollowed by Quick Ben,HedgeandMallet.There was a shocked

silence,thenKalamnoddedat

Fiddlerandclearedhisthroat.'We're with you, only we'renot going with you. Me andFiddler,thatis.''Can you explain that?'

Paranaskedquietly.Apsalar spoke up,

surprising everyone. 'They'llfind thathard todo,Captain.And, I admit, I'm not surewhatthey'reupto,butthey'recomingwithme.Back to theEmpire.Home.'

With an uneasy shrug,Fiddler rose and facedWhiskeyjack. 'We feel weoweittoher,sir,'hesaid.Helooked to the captain. 'Andwe're settled on it, sir. Butwe're coming back, if wecan.'Bemused, Whiskeyjack

pushed himself painfully tohis feet.Ashe turned to faceParan, he froze. Behind thecaptain, Coll sat upright on

the bed. 'Urn,' Whiskeyjacksaid,gesturing.Tension burgeoned in the

roomonceagainaseveryoneswung toColl.Paransteppedforwardingenuinerelief.'Coll! I'm—' He stopped

abruptly,thensaidtonelessly,'You'vebeenawakeforsometime,Isee.'Coil's eyes flicked to the

bones stuck in the tabletop,

thenreturnedtoParan.'Heardit all,' he said. 'So tell me,Paran, do you soldiers needany help getting out ofDarujhistan?'Rallick stood in the darknessbeneath the trees at the edgeof the glade. It seemed thathis magic-deadening powershad proved insufficient afterall.He'dbeendrivenfromhisseat by what had felt like a

giant hand – a god's hand,sure and powerful andunyielding. He'd watched inastonishment as a maze ofroots clambered swiftlyacross the clearing, headedtowards the terrace. He'dhearda shriek, then the rootsreturned, wrapped around aman-shaped ... apparition,which the roots pulledunceremoniously into theearth.

Rallick had been filledsuddenly with near-euphoria.He knewwith unaccountablecertainty,thatwhatgrewherewasright,andjust.It was new, young. Even

now, as he continuedwatching it, he saw tremblesof shaping ripple beneath itsangular, geometric surfaces.Whathadbeennomore thanatreestumplessthananhourago was now a house. A

massive door lay half buriedin shadows beneath anarching branch.Vines barredshuttered windows. Abalcony hung above and totheleftofthedoor,festoonedwith leaves and creepers. Itled into a kind of tower,turreted above the secondstorey and shingled to agnarled peak. Another towermarkedthehouse'sfrontrightflank, this one stockier and

windowless, its roof flatwithjagged merlons lining theedge. He suspected that thisroof was a platform, withaccess througha trap-doorofsomekind.The glade around the

structure had changed, too,becomingmounded here andthere as if the house's yardwas a burial ground. Young,scraggly trees ringed eachoblongmound, eachgrowing

asifaninvisiblewindtwistedthemawayfromthehumped,grassy earth. The roots haddragged the apparition intoonesuchmound.Itfeltright,andjust.These

two words echoed in theassassin's head, with anappeal that wrapped calmaround his heart. He almostimagined he felt an affinitywiththischild-house–asifitknew of him and accepted

him.He knew the house to be

empty. Another sourcelesscertainty.Rallickcontinuedwatching,

asthelinesofthehousegrewfirm, sharply defined. Amusty smell pervaded thearea, as of freshly turnedearth. The assassin felt atpeace.A moment later he heard

thrashing behind him, andwhirledtoseeVorcanstaggerthroughtheundergrowth.Herface was covered in bloodfromagashtoherbrow,andshe nearly collapsed intoRallick'sarms.'Tiste Andii,' she gasped.

'After me. Hunting. Theyseektoavengeamurder!'Rallicklookedpasther,and

his eyes, long accustomed tothe surrounding darkness,

detected silent movementamong the trees, closing in.He hesitated, gripping thenow unconscious woman inhisarms.Thenhebentdown,threw Vorcan over oneshoulder, turned and rantowardsthehouse.He knew that the door

would open for him, and itdid. Beyond was a darkantechamber and an archwayleading into a hallway

running from side to side. Agust of warm, sweet airflowed over Rallick, and heenteredwithoutpause.Korlat, blood-kin to Serrat,slowedassheapproachedthestrange house. The door hadclosed behind their quarry.She came to the edge of theclearing,thensquattedonherhaunches.Her fellowhuntersgatheredslowlyaroundher.

Horult hissed angrily, thensaid, 'Have you summonedourlord,Korlat?'Thewomanshookherhead.

'I know of such creationsfrom old,' she said. 'TheDeadhouseofMalazCity,theOdhanhouse of SevenCities... Azath edieimarn,Pillars of Innocence – thisdoorwillnotopentous.''Yet it opened to them,'

Horultsaid.

'There is precedence. TheAzath choose their own. Itwas so with the Deadhouse.Two men were chosen: onewho would be Emperor, theother who would accompanyhim.KellanvedandDancer.''I sense itspower,'Orfantal

whispered. 'Our lord coulddestroyit,now,whileit'sstillyoung.''Yes,' agreed Korlat. 'He

could.' She was silent a

moment, then she rose. 'I amblood-kin to the fallen,' shesaid.'You are blood-kin,' the

othersintoned.'Thequest forvengeance is

ended,' Korlat said, the linesaround her almond-shapedeyestightening.'Ourlordwillnotbesummoned.Leavehimto his recovery. The Azathwill not be touched, for it isnew, a child.' Her eyes, soft

brown,slowlyregardedthoseof her companions. 'TheQueen of Darkness spokethusofLightwhenitwasfirstborn: "It is new, andwhat isnew is innocent, andwhat isinnocentisprecious.Observethis child of wonder, andknowrespect."'Orfantalscowled. 'Thusdid

Light survive, and so wasDarkness destroyed, thepurityvanquished–andnow

youwouldhaveus flawedasourQueenwas flawed.Lightbecame corrupted anddestroyed our world, Korlat,orhaveyouforgotten?'Korlat's smile was a sad

one.'Cherishsuchflaws,dearsister, for our Queen's washope,andsoismine.Nowwemustleave.'Kruppe's expression was

benignashewatchedCrokusapproach, clearly exhaustedby this night of endlessrunning. He nudgedMurillioandflutteredhisfingersintheyoung thief's direction. 'Thelad returnswith undue haste,yet I fear such sad tidings asKruppemustbring.''He's had a rough night all

around,'Murilliocommented.He leaned against the gate'ssupport wall outside the

Simtal Estate. The streetsremained empty, the citizensshocked numb with thenight'shorrors.Kruppe gestured atMoon's

Spawn, now a league to thewest, well beyond the city'swalls. 'A remarkablecontraption, that. However,Kruppe is pleased that it haschosen to depart. Imagine,even the stars blotted out,leaving naught but dread in

thisworld.''I need a drink,' Murillio

muttered.'Excellent idea,' Kruppe

said. 'Shallwe await the lad,however?'The wait was not long.

Crokus recognized them andslowed his frantic run.'Apsalar's been kidnapped bythe Empire!' he shouted. 'Ineed help!' He wobbled to a

halt before Murillio. 'AndRallick'sstillinthegarden—''Tut, tut,' Kruppe said.

'Easy, lad. Apsalar's locationis known to Kruppe. As forRallick, well...' He faced thestreet and waved his armsexpansively. 'Breathe thenightair,Crokus!Anewyearhasbegun!Come,letuswalk,the three of us, masters ofDarujhistan!' He linked armswithhiscomradesandpulled

themforward.Murillio sighed. 'Rallick's

missing,' he explained.'There's some kind ofextraordinary house in Coil'sgardennow.''Ah, so much unveiled in

thatsinglestatement!'Kruppeleaned against Crokus.'While, no doubt, the lad'ssecret, overriding concern atthe moment regards the fateof a fair young maiden,

whose life was saved at thelast moment by a noblesonnamed Gorlas, of all things.Saved, Kruppe says, from atonofmasonryshruggedoffawall. 'Twas heroic, indeed.The lass near-swooned withsatisfaction.''What are you talking

about?' Crokus demanded.'Whowassaved?'Murillio snorted. 'I think,

dear Kruppe, Master of

Darujhistan, you've got thewrongfairmaideninmind.''She's not fair, anyway,'

Crokusasserted.Kruppe's chest swelled

slightly. 'You need but askthe gods, lad, and they'll tellthat life itself isn't fair.Now,are you interested in howLady Simtal's estate has justthis night become Coil'sestate? Or is your mind sothoroughlyenamouredofthis

new love of yours that eventhe fates of your dearestfriends – Kruppe included –yieldsuchlackofinterest?'Crokus bridled. 'Of course

I'minterested!''Then the story begins, as

always,withKruppe...'Murillio groaned. 'Thus

spaketheEel.'

EPILOGUE

I have seen a rumourbornswathedinsnugmysteryleftlyingunderthesun

in the hills of theGadrobiwhere the sheep havescatteredonwolf-ladenwindsand the shepherds havefledawhisperingofsandsand it blinked in theglarea heart hardened intostonewhilst theshadowofthe

GatesofNowherecrept 'cross the driftingdustofhomeI have seen this rumourborna hundred thousandhuntersoftheheartin a city bathed in bluelight...

RumourBorn(I.i-iv)Fisher(b.?)

Thesunlitthemorningmistsintoashieldofwhiteoverthelake. Down on the beach afisher-boat rocked in thefresheningwaves.Unmoored,it was moments beforepullingfreeofthepebbles.Mallet helpedWhiskeyjack

to a dome of rock above thebeach, where they sat. Thehealer'sgazehesitatedon thefigureofQuickBen,standingwith shoulders hunched and

staring across the lake. Hefollowed the wizard's gaze.Moon's Spawn hung low onthehorizon,agoldcast to itsravaged basalt. Malletgrunted. 'It's heading south. Iwonderwhatthatmeans?'Whiskeyjack squinted

againsttheglare.Hebegantomassagehistemples.'More headaches?' Mallet

asked.

'Not so bad, lately,' thegrizzledmansaid.'It'sthelegthatworriesme,'

thehealermuttered.'Ineedtowork on it some more, andyouneedtostayoffitawhile.'Whiskeyjack grinned. 'As

soonasthere'stime,'hesaid.Mallet sighed. 'We'll work

onitthen.'From the forested slope

behind them Hedge called,

'They'recomingin!'The healer helped

Whiskeyjack stand. 'Hell,' hewhispered.'Itcould'vebeenalotworse,right,Sergeant?'Whiskeyjack glared across

the lake. 'Three lostain't thatbad,considering.'A pained expression

crossedMallet'sface.Hesaidnothing.'Let's move,' Whiskeyjack

growled.'CaptainParanhatestardiness. And maybe theMoranthhavegoodnews.Beachange,wouldn'tit?'Fromthebeach,QuickBen

watched Mallet supportinghis sergeant up the slope.Wasittime?hewondered.Tostayaliveinthisbusiness,noone could afford to let up.The best plans work insideother plans, and when it'sright to feint, feint big.

Keeping the other handhiddenisthehardpart.The wizard felt a stab of

regret. No, it wasn't time.Givetheoldmanachancetorest. He forced himself intomotion. He wouldn't lethimself look back – never agood idea. The scheme washatched.'Whiskeyjack's going to

howlwhenhehearsthisone,'hewhisperedtohimself.

Captain Paran listened to theothers on the beach below,but made no move to jointhem.Notyet.HisbrushwithAscendants seemed to haveleft him with a newsensitivity–orperhapsitwasthe Otataral swordscabbardedathisside.Buthecouldsenseher,now,alreadyin her adolescence, plump ashe knew she'd be, smiling

with her heavy-lidded eyesdeceptively sleepy as shestudiedthemorningsky.I will come to you, he

promised her. When thisPannion Seer and his cursedholy war is crushed, I willcometoyouthen,Tattersail.Iknow.He stiffened. That voice in

his head had not been hisown. Or had it? He waited,

waited for more. Tattersail?Only silence answered him.Ah, my imagination, nothingmore.Tothinkyouwouldcallupenoughofyouroldlife,tofind the feelings you onceheld for me, find them andfeel themonceagain. Iamafool.He rose from his crouch at

Lorn's graveside – a moundof rocks–andbrushed twigsandorangepineneedlesfrom

hisclothing.Lookatmenow.Agent for the Adjunct once,now a soldier. Finally, asoldier.Smiling,hemadehiswaydowntohissquad.Then I shall await the

comingofasoldier.Paranstoppedinhistracks,

then, smiling, continued on.'Nowthat,'hewhispered,'wasnotmyimagination.'

The tradecraft hugged thesouthern shore, making forDhavranandtherivermouth.Kalam leaned on thegunwale, his gaze sweepingthe north horizon's ragged,snow-capped mountains.Near him stood anotherpassenger, hardly memorableanddisinclinedtotalk.The only voices reaching

the assassin came fromApsalar and Crokus. They

sounded excited, eachrevolvingaround theother inasubtledancethatwasyettofinditsaccompanyingwords.A slow, half smile quirkedKalam's mouth. It'd been along time since he'd heardsuchinnocence.A moment later, Crokus

appeared beside him, hisuncle's demon familiarclutching his shoulder. 'CollsaysthattheEmpire'scapital,

Unta,isasbigasDarujhistan.Isit?'Kalamshrugged.'Maybe.A

lotuglier.Idon'texpectwe'llhave a chance to visit it,though. Itko Kan lies on thesouthcoast,whileUnta isonKartool Bay, the north-eastcoast. Miss Darujhistanalready?'An expression of regret

came over Crokus's face. Hestared down into the waves.

'Just some people there,' hesaid.The assassin grunted.

'Knowhowyoufeel,Crokus.Hell, look at Fiddler backthere, mooning away as ifsomebodyhadcutoff oneofhisarmsandoneofhislegs.''Apsalar still can't believe

you'dgotoallthistroubleforher. She doesn't rememberbeing much liked in yoursquad.'

'Wasn'ther,though,wasit?This woman here is afishergirl from some two-copper village. And she's alongwayfromhome.''She's more than that,'

Crokus muttered. He had acoin in his hand and wasplayingwithitabsently.Kalam threw the boy a

sharp look. 'Really,' he said,deadpan.

Crokus nodded affably. Heheld up the coin andexamined the face on it. 'Doyoubelieveinluck,Kalam?''No,'theassassingrowled.Crokus grinned happily.

'Me neither.' He flipped thecoinintotheair.They watched it plummet

into the sea, flash once, thenvanishbeneaththewaves.From near the bow, Circle

Breaker slowly nodded tohimself. The Eel would bedelighted with the news, notto mention greatly relieved.Thenhereturnedhisattentionto the west, and wonderedwhat it would be like, nolonger anonymous to theworld.

Thisendsthefirsttaleofthe

MalazanBookoftheFallen

GLOSSARY

TITLES ANDGROUPS

First Sword of Empire:Malazan and T'lan Imass, atitledenoting an ImperialchampionFist: a military governor intheMalazanEmpireHigh Fist: a commander ofarmies in a MalazanCampaignKronT'lanImass:thenameoftheclansunderthe

commandofKronLogros T'lan Imass: thenameoftheclansunderthecommandofLogrosThe Bridgeburners: alegendaryelitedivisionintheMalaz2ndArmyThe Crimson Guard: afamousmercenarycompanycommanded by a deposedprince

The Pannion Seer: amysteriousprophet ruling thelandssouthofDarujhistanTheWarlord: the name forCaladanBroodThe Claw: the covertorganization of the MalazanEmpire

PEOPLES

(HUMAN ANDNON-HUMAN)

Barghast (non-human):pastoral nomadic warriorsocietyDaru: cultural group sharingcitizenryincitiesinnorthernGenabackisGadrobi: indigenousculturalgroupincentralGenabackisGenabarii: cultural group

(andlanguage)innorth-westGenabackisForkrulAssail (non-human):extinctmythicalpeople(oneoftheFourFoundingRaces)Jaghut (non-human): extinctmythicalpeople(oneoftheFourFoundingRaces)K'Chain Che'Malle (non-human): extinct mythicalpeople(one of the Four Founding

Races)Moranth (non-human):highlyregimentedcivilizationcentredinCloudForestRhivi: pastoral nomadicsocietyincentralplainsofGenabackisT'lanImass:oneoftheFourFounding Races, nowimmortalTisteAndii (non-human): anElderRace

Trell (non-human): pastoralnomadicwarriorsocietyintransitiontosedentarianism

ASCENDANTS

Apsalar,LadyofThievesBeru,LordofStormsBurn,Ladyof theEarth, theSleepingGoddessCaladanBrood,theWarlord

Cotillion/The Rope (theAssassin of High HouseShadow)Dessembrae, Lord ofTragedyD'rek, theWormofAutumn(sometimestheQueenofDisease,seePoliel)Fanderay, She-Wolf ofWinterFener, the Boar (see alsoTennerock)

Gedderone, Lady of SpringandRebirthGreat Ravens, ravenssustainedbymagicHood (King of High HouseDeath)Jhess,QueenofWeavingKallor,theHighKingK'rul,ElderGodMowri, Lady of Beggars,SlavesandSerfsNerruse,LadyofCalmSeas

andFairWindOponn, Twin Jesters ofChanceOsserc,LordoftheSkyPoliel,MistressofPestilenceQueenofDreams (QueenofHighHouseLife)Shadowthrone/Ammanas(King of High HouseShadow)Shedenul/Soliel, Lady ofHealth

Soliel,MistressofHealingTennerock/Fener, the BoarofFiveTusksTheCrippledGod, King ofChainsTheHounds (ofHighHouseShadow)Togg (see Fanderay), theWolfofWinterTrake/Treach, the Tiger ofSummerandBattleSon of Darkness/Moon's

Lord/Anomander Rake(KnightofHighHouseDark)Treach,FirstHero

THE WORLD OFSORCERY

The Warrens: (the Paths –those Warrens accessible tohumans)

Denul:thePathofHealingD'riss:thePathofStoneHood's Path: the Path ofDeathMeanas: thePathofShadowandIllusionRuse:thePathoftheSeaRashan: the Path ofDarknessSerc:thePathoftheSkyTennes:thePathoftheLand

Thyr:thePathofLightTHEELDERWARRENS:Kurald Galain: the TisteAndiiWarrenofDarknessTellann: the T'lan ImassWarrenOmtosePhellack:theJaghutWarrenStarvald Demelain: theTiam Warren, the FirstWarren

THE DECK OFDRAGONS: – TheFatid (andassociatedAscendants)

HighHouseLifeKingQueen(QueenofDreams)

ChampionPriestHeraldSoldierWeaverMasonVirginHighHouseDeathKing(Hood)QueenKnight(onceDassemUltor)

MagiHeraldSoldierSpinnerMasonVirginHighHouseLightKingQueenChampionPriest

CaptainSoldierSeamstressBuilderMaidenHighHouseDarkKingQueenKnight(SonofDarkness)MagiCaptain

SoldierWeaverMasonWifeHighHouseShadowKing(Shadowthrone/Ammanas)QueenAssassin(theRope/Cotillion)MagiHound

UnalignedOponn (the Jesters ofChance)Obilisk(Burn)CrownSceptreOrbThroneBonecaster: a shamanof theT'lanImass

Chance:asworddedicatedtoOponnD'ivers: a higher order ofshape-shiftingDragnipur: a swordusedbyAnomanderRakeFinnest: an object used as arepository of power by aJaghutOtataral: a magic-negatingreddishoreminedfromtheTannoHills,SevenCities

Soletaken:anorderofshape-shiftingThe T'orrud Cabal: theCabalofDarujhistanThe Tyrant Kings: theancientrulersofDarujhistanWarrens of Chaos: themiasmic paths between theWarrens

PLACENAMES:

Apple AGenabackanFreeCity

BlackdogForest

OnthecontinentofGenabackis,largeborealforestonshieldbedrock,siteofmajorbattlesbetweentheMalazanEmpireandthearmiesof

CaladanBroodandtheCrimsonGuardduringtheFirstCampaigns

CloudForest

HomeoftheMoranth,situatedonthenorth-westcoastofGenabackis

Legendarycity

Darujhistan

onGenabackis,largestandmostinfluentialoftheFreeCities,situatedonthesouthshoreofLakeAzurandpeopledmainlybyDaruandGadrobipopulations;

theonlyknowncitytousenaturalgasasanenergysource

Dhavran AcitywestofDarujhistanMercantileallianceofcity-statesinnorthernGenabackis,all

FreeCities butoneofwhichhassincebeenconqueredbytheMalazanEmpire

GadrobiHills

HillrangeeastofDarujhistan,sparselyinhabitedatpresentalthoughoncethe

homelandoftheGadrobipeople

Garalt AGenabackanFreeCity

Genabaris

LargeMalazan-heldcityonnorthwestcoastofGenabackisandprincipaldebarkationpointduring

thecampaigns

GerromAsmallruraltowninItkoKan

Greydog AGenabackancity

ItkoKan

ProvinceonthecontinentofQuonTali,withintheMalazanEmpire

Thecapitalcity

Kan ofItkoKan

LaederonPlateau

NortherntundraofGenabackis

LestCity-statetotheeastofDarujhistan

MalazCity

IslandcityandhomeofthefoundingEmperoroftheMalazan

EmpireAnempireoriginatingonMalazIslandoffthecoastoftheQuonTalicontinent.TheoriginalfounderwastheEmperorKellanvedandhiscohort

MalazanEmpire

Dancer,bothofwhomwereassassinatedbyLaseen,thepresentEmpress.TheEmpirespansQuonTali,thesubcontinentofFalar,SevenCities,andthecoastsof

northGenabackisAdditionalforaysincludethecontinentsofStratemandKorel

MeningalleOcean

GenabackannameforSeeker'sDeepAKeepoverlooking

Mock'sHold

MalazCitywheretheEmperorandDancerwereassassinated

Moon'sSpawn

Afloatingmountainofblackbasaltinsidewhichisacity,homeoftheSonof

DarknessandtheTisteAndii

MoranthMountains

ThemountainrangeencirclingCloudForest

Mott AGenabackancity

MouseQuarter

Anill-fateddistrictinMalazCityMalazan-held

Nathilog cityinnorth-westGenabackis

Nisst AGenabackanFreeCity

OneEyeCat

AGenabackanFreeCity

Pale

FreeCityonGenabackis,recentlyconqueredbytheMalazan

Empire

PannionDomin

Emergingempireinsouth-eastGenabackis,ruledbythePannionSeer

PoruleAGenabackanFreeCity

QuonTali

HomecontinentoftheMalazan

Empire

RhiviPlainCentralplain,northGenabackis

Seeker'sDeep

MalazannameforMeningalleOcean

SettaCityoneasterncoastofGenabackis

TahlynMountains

MountainrangeonnorthsideofLakeAzur

Tulips AGenabackanFreeCity

Unta

CapitaloftheMalazanEmpire,onQuonTali

DARUJISTANANDENVIRONS

Despot's Barbican: anancient edifice and remnantoftheAgeofTyrantsHinter's Tower: anabandonedsorcerer'stowerintheNobleDistrictJammit's Worry: the eastroadK'rul's Belfry/Temple: anabandoned temple in the

NobleDistrictPhoenixInn:apopularhauntintheDaruDistrictQuip'sBar:aramshacklebarintheLakefrontDistrictTheEstates(theHouses)The Old Palace (MajestyHall): present site of theCouncilWorrytown: the slumoutside the wall on Jammit's

Worry

StevenErikson'sepicfantasysequence,

TheMalazanBookoftheFallen,continues

inDeadhouseGates.Towhetyourappetite,hereisthe

Prologue...

1163rdYearofBurn'sSleep9th Year of the Rule ofEmpressLaseenYearoftheCullHe came shambling intoJudgement's Round from theAvenueofSouls,amisshapen

massofflies.Seethinglumpscrawled on his body inmindlessmigration,blackandglittering and occasionallyfalling away in frenziedclumps that exploded intofragmented flight as theystruckthecobbles.The Thirsting Hour was

coming to a close and thepriest staggered in its wake,blind, deaf and silent.Honouring his god on this

daytheservantofHoodLordof Death had joined hiscompanions in strippingnaked and smearing himselfin the blood of executedmurderers, blood that wasstored in giant amphoraelining the walls of thetemple's nave. The brothershadthenmovedinprocessionoutontothestreetsofUntatogreet the god's sprites,enjoining the mortal dance

that marked the Season ofRot'slastday.The guards lining the

Roundpartedtolet thepriestpass, then parted wider forthe spinning, buzzing cloudthattrailedhim.TheskyoverUntawasstillmoregreythanblue as the flies that hadsweptatdawnintothecapitalof the Malazan Empire nowrose,slowlywingingoutoverthe bay toward the salt

marches and sunken islandsbeyond the reef. PestilencecamewiththeSeasonofRot,and the Season had come anunprecedented three times inthepasttenyears.The air of the Round still

buzzed,was still speckled asif filled with flying grit.Somewhere in the streetsbeyond a dog yelped like athingneardeath,butnotnearenough, and close to the

Round's central fountain theabandoned mule that hadcollapsed earlier still kickedfeebly in the air. Flies hadcrawled into the beastthrough every orifice and itwas bloated with gases. Theanimal was stubborn by itsbreed and was now over anhour in dying. As the prieststaggered sightlessly past,flies rose from it in a swiftcurtain to join those already

enshroudinghim.Itwasclear toFelisin from

where she and the otherswaitedthatthepriestofHoodwas striding directly towardsher. His eyes were tenthousand eyes, but she wascertaintheywereallfixedonher. Yet even this growinghorror did little to stir thenumbness that lay like asmothering blanket over hermind; she was aware of it

rising inside but theawareness seemed more amemoryoffearthanfearnowalivewithinher.Shebarelyrecalledthefirst

Season of Rot she'd livedthrough, but had clearmemories of the second one.Just under three years ago,she had witnessed this daysecureinthefamilyestate,ina solid house with itswindowsshutteredandcloth-

sealed, the braziers setoutside the doors and on thecourtyard'shighbrokenglass-rimmed walls billowing theacrid smokeof istaarl leaves.The last day of the Seasonand its Thirsting Hour hadbeen a time of remoterevulsion for her, irritatingand inconvenient but nothingmore. Back then she'd givenlittle thought to the city'scountless beggars and the

stray animals bereft ofshelter,orevenof thepoorerresidents who weresubsequently press-gangedinto clean-up crews for daysafterward.The same city, but a

differentworld.Felisin wondered if the

guardswouldmakeanymovetoward the priest as he camecloser to the Cull's victims.Sheandtheothersintheline

were the charges of theEmpress now – Laseen'sresponsibility – and thepriest'spathcouldbe seenasblind and random, theimminent collision one ofchance rather than design,although inherbonesFelisinknew different. Would thehelmed guards step forward,seektoguidethepriesttooneside, leadhim safely throughtheRound?

'I think not,' said the mansquatting on her right. Hishalf-closed eyes, buried deepin their orbits, flashed withsomething that might havebeen amusement. 'Seen youflicking your gaze, guards topriest,priesttoguards.'The big, silent man on her

left slowly rose to his feet,pulling the chain with him.Felisinwincedas theshackleyanked at her when the man

folded his arms across hisbare,scarredchest.Heglaredat the approaching priest butsaidnothing.'What does he want with

me?' Felisin asked in awhisper.'WhathaveIdonetoearn a priest of Hood'sattention?'The squatting man rocked

back on his heels, tilting hisface into the late afternoonsun.'QueenofDreams,isthis

self-centredyouthIhearfromthosefull,sweetlips?Orjustthe usual stance of nobleblood around which theuniverse revolves? Answerme,Ipray,fickleQueen!'Felisin scowled. 'I felt

better when I thought youasleep–ordead.''Dead men do not squat,

lass, they sprawl. Hood'spriest comes not for you butforme.'

She faced him then, thechain rattling between them.He looked more a sunken-eyedtoadthanaman.Hewasbald, his face webbed intattooing, minute, black,square-etched symbolshidden within an overallpattern covering skin like awrinkled scroll. He wasnaked but for a raggedloincloth, itsdyeafadedred.Flies crawled all over him;

reluctant to leave their satedthirst they danced on – butnot, Felisin realized, toHood's bleak orchestration.The tattooed pattern coveredthe man – the boar's faceoverlying his own, theintricate maze of script-threaded, curled fur windingdown his arms, covering hisexposed thighsandshins, thedetailedhoofsetchedintotheskin of his feet. Felisin had

until now been too self-absorbed, too numb withshock topayanyattention tohercompanions in thechain-line: thismanwasapriestofFener, the Boar of Summer,andthefliesseemedtoknowit, understand it enough toalter their frenzied motion.She watched with morbidfascination as they gatheredat the stumps at the ends oftheman'swrists, theold scar

tissue the only place on himunclaimed by Fener, but thepathsthespritestooktothosestumps touched not a singletattooedline.Thefliesdanceda dance of avoidance – butforallthat,theywereeagertodance.The priest of Fener had

been ankle-shackled last inthe line. Everyone else hadthe narrow iron bandsfastened around their wrists.

Hisfeetwerewetwithbloodand the flies hovered therebutdidnot land.Shesawhiseyes flick open as the sun'slightwassuddenlyblocked.Hood's priest had arrived.

Chain stirred as the man onFelisin'sleftdrewbackasfarasthelinksallowed.Thewallat her back felt hot, the tilespainted with scenes ofimperial pageantry now slickthroughthethinweaveofher

slave tunic. Felisin stared atthe fly-shrouded creaturestanding wordless before thesquattingpriestofFener.Shecouldseenothingofexposedflesh, nothing of the manhimself – the flies hadclaimed all of him andbeneath them he lived indarknesswhereeventhesun'sheatcouldnottouchhim.Thecloud around him spread outnow and Felisin shrank back

as countless cold insect legstouched her legs, crawledswiftly up her thighs. Shepulled her tunic's hem closearoundher,clampingherlegstight.The priest of Fener spoke,

his wide face split into ahumourless grin. 'TheThirsting Hour's well past,acolyte. Go back to yourtemple.'Hood's servant made no

reply but it seemed thebuzzing changed pitch untilthe music of the wingsvibratedinFelisin'sbones.The priest's deep eyes

narrowedandhistoneshifted.'Ah, well now. Indeed I wasonce a servant of Fener butno longer, not for years –Fener's touch cannot bescrubbedfrommyskin.Yetitseems thatwhile theBoar ofSummer has no love forme,

hehasevenlessforyou.'Felisin felt something

shiver in her soul as thebuzzing rapidly shifted,formed words that she couldunderstand.Secret ... toshow...now...'Go on then,' the once-

servant of Fener growled.'Showme.'Perhaps Fener acted then,

theswattinghandofafurious

god – Felisin wouldremember the moment andthink on it often – or thesecret was the mocking ofimmortals, a joke far beyondherunderstanding,butat thatmoment the rising tide ofhorror within her broke free,the numbness of her soulseared away as the fliesexploded outward, dispersingin all directions to reveal...no-one.

The once-priest of Fenerflinchedasifstruck,hiseyeswide.FromacrosstheRoundahalf-dozenguardscriedout,wordless sounds punchedfrom their throats. Chainssnapped as others in the linejolted as if to flee, the ironloopssetinthewallsnatchedtaut,buttheloopsheldasdidthechains.Theguardsrushedforward and the line shrankbackintosubmission.

'Nowthat,'thetattooedmanshakily muttered, 'wasuncalledfor.'An hour passed, an hour inwhichthemystery,shockandhorror of Hood's priest sankdown within Felisin tobecome but one more layer,the latest but not the last inwhat had become anunending nightmare. Anacolyte of Hood ... who wasnot there. The buzzing of

wings that formed words.Was thatHoodhimself?Hadthe Lord of Death come towalk among mortals? Andwhy stand before a once-priest of Fener – what wasthe message behind therevelation?But slowly the questions

faded in her mind, thenumbness seeping back, thereturn of cold despair. TheEmpress had culled the

Nobility, stripped theHousesand families of their wealth,followed by a summaryaccusation and conviction oftreason that had ended inchains.And yet the ex-prieston her right and the huge,bestial man with all themakings of a commoncriminal on her left – clearlyneitheronecouldclaimnobleblood. She laughed softly,startlingbothmen.

'HasHood's secret revealeditself to you, then, lass?' theex-priestasked.'No.''What do you find so

amusing?'She shook her head. I had

expected to find myself ingoodcompany,how'sthatforan upturned thought? Thereyou have it, the very attitudethepeasantshungeredtotear

down, the very same fuel theEmpresshastouchedtoflame—'Child!'The voice was that of an

agedwoman,stillhaughtybutwith an air of desperateyearning. Felisin closed hereyesbriefly,thenstraightenedand looked along the line tothegauntoldwomanbeyondthe thug. The woman waswearinghernightclothes,torn

and smeared. With nobleblood,noless.'LadyGaesen.'Theoldwomanreachedout

ashakinghand.'Yes!WifetoLord Hilrac! I am LadyGaesen...'Thewordscameasif she'd forgotten who shewas, and now she frownedthrough the crackedmake-upcoveringherwrinklesandherred-shoteyesfixedonFelisin.'I know you,' she hissed.

'House of Paran. Youngestdaughter.Felisin!'Felisin went cold. She

turned away, stared straightaheadout into thecompoundwhere the guards stoodleaning on pikes passingflasks of ale between themand waving away the last ofthe flies. A cart had arrivedfor the mule, four ash-smeared men clamberingdownfromitsbedwithropes

and gaffs. Beyond the wallsencircling the Round roseUnta's painted spires anddomes. She longed for theshadowed streets betweenthem, longed for thepamperedlifeofaweekago,Sebry barking harshcommands at her as she ledher favourite mare throughthe paces. And she wouldlook up, as she guided themare in a delicate, precise

turn,toseetherowofgreen-leafed leadwoods separatingthe riding ground from thefamilyvineyards.Besideherthethuggrunted.

'Hood's feet, the bitch hassomesenseofhumour.'Which bitch? Felisin

wondered, but she managedtoholdherexpressionevenasshe lost the comfort of hermemories.

The ex-priest stirred.'Sisterly spat, is it?' Hepaused, then dryly added,'Seemsabitextreme.'Thethuggruntedagainand

leaned forward, his shadowdraping Felisin. 'Defrockedpriest, are you? Not like theEmpress todoany temples afavour.''Shedidn't.Mylossofpiety

was long ago. I'm sure theEmpress would rather I'd

stayedinthecloister.''As if she'd care,' the thug

said derisively as he settledbackintohispose.Lady Gaesen rattled, 'You

must speakwithher,Felisin!Anappeal!Ihaverichfriends—'Thethug'sgruntturnedinto

a bark. 'Farther up the line,hag, that's where you'll findyourrichfriends!'

Felisinjustshookherhead.Speak with her? It's beenmonths. Not even whenFatherdied.A silence followed,

draggingon, approaching thesilence that had existedbefore this spate of babble,but then theex-priest clearedhis throat, spat andmuttered,'Not worth looking forsalvation in a woman who'sjust following orders, Lady,

never mind that one beingthisgirl'ssister—'Felisin winced then

snapped a glare on the ex-priest.'Youpresume—''He ain't presuming

nothing,' growled the thug.'Forget what's in the blood,what'ssupposedtobeinitbyyour slant on things. This isthe work of the Empress.Maybeyouthinkit'spersonal,maybeyouhavetothinkthat,

beingwhatyouare—''What I am?' Felisin

laughedharshly.'WhatHouseclaimsyouaskin?'The thug grinned. 'The

HouseofShame.Whatof it?Yours ain't looking any lessshabby.''As I thought,' Felisin said,

ignoring the truth of his lastobservation with difficulty.She glowered at the guards.

'What's happening? Why arewejustsittinghere?'The ex-priest spat again.

'The Thirsting Hour's past.The mob outside needsorganizing.'Heglancedupather from under the shelf ofhisbrows.'Thepeasantsneedto be roused.We're the first,girl,and theexample'sgot tobeestablished.WhathappenshereinUntaisgoingtorattleevery noble-born in the

Empire.''Nonsense!' Lady Gaesen

snapped. 'We shall be well-treated. The Empress shallhavetotreatuswell—'The thug grunted a third

time – what passed forlaughter, Felisin realized –and said, 'If stupidity was acrime, lady, you would'vebeen arrested years ago. Theogre's right. Not many of usare going to make it to the

slaveships.ThisparadedownColonnade Avenue is goingto be one long bloodbath.Mind you,' he added, eyesnarrowingontheguards, 'oldBaudin ain't going to be tornapart by any mob ofpeasants...'Felisinfeltrealfearstirring

in her stomach. She foughtoffashiver.'MindifIstayinyourshadow,Baudin?'The man looked down at

her. 'You're a bit plump formy tastes.' He turned away,thenadded, 'Butyoudowhatyoulike.'The ex-priest leaned close.

'Thinking on it, girl, thisrivalry of yours ain't in theleague of tattle-tails andscratch-fights. Likely yoursisterwantstobesureyou—''She's Adjunct Tavore,'

Felisin cut in. 'She's not mysister anymore. She

renounced our House at thecalloftheEmpress.''Evenso,I'veaninklingit's

stillpersonal.'Felisin scowled. 'How

would you know anythingaboutit?'The man made a slight,

ironic bow. 'Thief once, thenpriest, now historian. I wellknow the tense position thenobilityfindsitselfin.'

Felisin's eyes slowlywidened and she cursedherselfforherstupidity.EvenBaudin–whocouldnothavehelped but overhear – leanedforwardforasearchingstare.'Heboric,' he said. 'HeboricLightTouch.'Heboricraisedhisarms.'As

lightasever,son.''You wrote that revised

history,' Felisin said.'Committedtreason—'

Heboric's wiry brows roseinmock alarm. 'Gods forbid!A philosophic divergence ofopinions, nothing more!Duiker's own words at thetrial – in my defence, Fenerblesshim.''But the Empress wasn't

listening,' Baudin said,grinning.'Afterall,youcalledher amurderer, and thenhadthe gall to say she bungledthejob!'

'Found an illicit copy, didyou?'Baudinblinked.'In any case,' Heboric

continued to Felisin, 'it's myguessyour sister theAdjunctplans on you getting to theslaveshipsinonepiece.Yourbrother disappearing onGenabackis took the life outof your father ... so I'veheard,' he added, grinning.'But it was the rumours of

treasonthatputspurstoyoursister,wasn't it?Clearing thefamilynameandallthat—''You make it sound

reasonable, Heboric,' Felisinsaid,hearing thebitterness inher voice but not caringanymore. 'Wediffered in ouropinions, Tavore and I, andnowyouseetheresult.''Your opinions of what,

precisely?'

Shedidnotreply.Therewasasuddenstirring

in the line. The guardsstraightened and swung toface the Round'sWest Gate.Felisin paled as she saw hersister–AdjunctTavore,now,heir to Lorn who'd died inDarujhistan – ride up on herstallion, a beast bred out ofParanstables,noless.Besideher was the ever-presentT'amber, a beautiful young

woman whose long tawnymane gave substance to hername. Where she'd comefromwasanyone'sguess,butshe was now Tavore'spersonal aide. Behind thesetwo rode a score of officersand a company of heavycavalry, the soldiers lookingexotic,foreign.'Touch of irony,' Heboric

muttered, eyeing the horse-soldiers.

Baudin jutted his headforward and spat. 'RedSwords, the bloodlessbastards.'Thehistorianthrewtheman

an amused glance. 'Travelledwell in your profession,Baudin?SeentheseawallsofAren,haveyou?'The man shifted uneasily,

then shrugged. 'Stood a deckor two in my time, ogre.Besides,' he added, 'the

rumourof them'sbeen in thecityaweekormore.'There was a stirring from

the Red Sword troop, andFelisin saw mailed handsclose on weapon-grips,peaked helms turning as onetoward the Adjunct. SisterTavore, did our brother'sdisappearance cut you sodeep? How great his failingyoumustimagine,toseekthisrecompense ... and then, to

make your loyalty absolute,you chose between me andMother for the symbolicsacrifice. Didn't you realizethatHoodstoodonthesideofbothchoices?AtleastMotheris with, her beloved husbandnow ... She watched asTavore scanned her guardbriefly,thensaysomethingtoT'amber,whoedgedherownmounttowardstheEastGate.Baudin grunted one more

time.'Looklively,theendlesshour'sabouttobegin.'It was one thing to accuse

theEmpressofmurder;itwasquite another to predict hernext move. If only they'dheeded my warning. Heboricwinced as they shuffledforward, the shackles cuttinghardagainsthisankles.People of civilized

countenance made much ofexposingthesoftunderbellies

of their psyche – effete andsensitive were the brands offinerbreeding.Itwaseasyforthem, safe, and that was thewhole point, after all: astatement of coddledopulence that burned thethroatsof thepoormorethanany ostentatious show ofwealth.Heboric had said as much

inhistreatise,andcouldnowadmit a bitter admiration for

the Empress and forAdjunctTavore, Laseen's instrumentin this. The excessivebrutality of the midnightarrests–doorsbattereddown,families dragged from theirbeds amidst wailing servants– provided the first layer ofshock. Dazed by sleepdeprivation, the nobles weretrussed up and decked inshackles to stand before adrunkenmagistrateandajury

of beggars dragged in fromthe streets. A sour andobvious mockery of justicethat stripped away the fewremaining expectations ofcivil behaviour – strippedaway civilization itself,leavingnothingbutthechaosofsavagery.Shock layered on shock, a

rending of those fineunderbellies. Tavore knewher own kind, knew their

weaknesses and was ruthlessin exploiting them. Whatcould drive a person to suchviciousness?The poor folk mobbed the

streets when they heard thedetails, screaming adorationfor their Empress. Carefullytriggered riots, looting andslaughter followed, ragingthrough the Noble District,and hunting down those fewselectedhighbornswhohadn't

been arrested – enough towhet the mob's bloodlust,faces to focus on with rageand hate, then the re-imposition of order, lest thecitytakeflame.The Empress made few

mistakes. She'd used theopportunity to round upmalcontents and unalignedacademics,toclosethefistofmilitary presence on thecapital, drumming the need

for more troops, morerecruits, more protectionagainst the treasonousscheming of the noble class.Theseizedassetspaidforthismartial burgeoning. Anexquisite move even ifforewarned, ripplingoutwiththe force of Imperial DecreethroughtheEmpire, thecruelrage now sweeping througheachcity.Bitter admiration. Heboric

kept finding the need to spit,something he hadn't donesincehiscut-pursedaysintheMouseQuarterofMalazCity.He could see those layers ofshockwritten onmost of thefaces in the chain-line.Facesabove nightclothes mostly,grimy and filthy from thepits, leaving their wearersbereft: of even the moralarmour of regular clothing.Dishevelled hair, stunned

expressions, broken poses –everything the mob beyondthe Round lusted to see,hungeredtoflail—Welcome to the streets,

Heboricthoughttohimselfasthe guards prodded the lineinto motion, the Adjunctlooking on, straight in herhigh saddle and thin facedrawn in until nothing butlines remained – the slit ofhereyes, thebracketsaround

her uncurved, almost liplessmouth.Damn, but shewasn'tborn with much, was she?The lookswent toheryoungsister, to the lass stumblingastepaheadofhim.Heboric's eyes fixed on

Adjunct Tavore. Curious,seekingsomething–aflickerofmaliciouspleasure,maybe–her icygaze swept the lineand lingered for the briefestofmomentsonhersister.But

the pause was all sherevealed, a recognitionacknowledged,nothingmore.Thegazeswepton.TheguardsopenedtheEast

Gate two hundred pacesahead, near the front of thechained line. A roar pouredthrough that ancient archedpassageway,awaveofsoundthat buffeted soldier andprisoner alike, bouncing offthe high walls and rising up

amidst an explosion ofterrified pigeons from theupper eaves. The sound ofchaoticflappingwingsdrifteddown like polite applause,althoughtoHeboricitseemedthathealoneappreciatedthatironic touchof thegods.Notto be denied a gesture, hemanagedaslightbow.Hood keep his damned

secrets. Here, Fener you oldsow, it's that itch I could

never scratch.Lookon, now,closely, seewhat becomes ofyourwaywardson...Some part of Felisin's mindheld onto sanity, heldwith abrutal grip in the face of achaotic maelstrom. Soldierslined Colonnade Avenue inranks three deep, but againandagainthemobseemedtofind weak spots in thatbristling line. She foundherself observing, clinically

even, as hands tore at her,fists pummelled her, blurredfaceslungedatherwithgobsof spit. And even as sanityheldwithinher,so tooapairofsteadyarmsencircledher–armswithouthands, theendsscarredandsuppurating,armsthatpushedherforward,everforward. No-one touched thepriest. No-one dared. Whileahead was Baudin – morehorrifyingthanthemobitself.

He killed effortlessly. Hetossed bodies aside withcontempt, roaring, gesturing,beckoning. Even the soldiersstared beneath their ridgedhelmets, heads turning at histaunts, hands tightening onpikeorswordhilt.Baudin, laughing Baudin,

his nose smashed by a well-flung brick, stones bouncingfrom him, his slave tunic inrags and soaked with blood

and spit. Every body thatdarted within his reach hegrasped, twisted, bent andbroke. The only pause in hisstride came when somethinghappenedahead,somebreachin the soldiery – or whenLady Gaesen faltered. He'dgrasp her arms under theshoulders, none too gently,then propel her forward,swearingallthewhile.Some wave of fear swept

ahead of him, a touch of theterror inflicted turning backon the mob. The number ofattackers diminished,although the bricks flew in aconstant barrage, somehitting,mostmissing.Themarch through thecity

continued. Felisin's ears rangpainfully. She heardeverything through a daze ofsound, but her eyes sawclearly,seekingandfinding–

all too often – images shewouldneverforget.The gates were in sight

whenthemostsavagebreachoccurred. The soldiersseemed tomeltawayand thetide of fierce hunger sweptinto the street, engulfing theprisoners.Felisin caught Heboric's

grunting words close behindherasheshovedhard:'Thisistheone,then.'

Baudin roared. Bodiescrowded in, hands tearing,nails clawing. Felisin's lastshreds of clothing were tornaway. A hand closed on afistful of her hair, yankedsavagely, twisting her headaround, seeking the crack ofvertebrae. She heardscreaming, realized it camefrom her own throat. Abestial snarl sounded behindher and she felt the hand

clench spasmodically, then itwas gone. More screamingfilledherears.Astrongmomentumcaught

them, pulling or pushing –she couldn't tell – andHeboric's face came intoview, his mouth spittingbloody skin. All at once aspaceclearedaroundBaudin.He crouched, a torrent ofdock curses bellowing fromhismashedlips.Hisrightear

hadbeentornoff,takingwithit hair, skin and flesh. Thebone of his temple glistenedwetly. Broken bodies layaround him, fewmoving. Athis feet was Lady Gaesen.Baudin held her by the hair,pulling her face into view.The moment seemed tofreeze,theworldclosingintothissingleplace.Baudin bared his teeth and

laughed. 'I'm no whimpering

noble,'hegrowled,facingthecrowd. 'What do you want?You want the blood of anoblewoman?'The mob screamed,

reaching out eager hands.Baudin laughed again. 'Wepass through, you hear me?'He straightened, draggingLadyGaesen'sheadupward.Felisin couldn't tell if the

old woman was conscious.Her eyes were closed, the

expression peaceful – almostyouthful – beneath thesmeared dirt and bruises.Perhapsshewasdead.Felisinprayed that it was so.Something was about tohappen, something tocondense this nightmare intoa single image. Tension heldtheair.'She's yours!' Baudin

screamed, his other handgrasping the Lady's chin. He

twistedherheadaround.Theneck snapped, the bodysagged, twitching. Baudinwrapped a length of chainaroundherneck.Hepulledittaut, then began sawing.Blood showed, making thechain look like a mangledscarf.Felisinstaredinhorror.'Fenerhavemercy,'Heboric

breathed.

The crowd was stunnedsilent, withdrawing even intheir bloodlust, shrinkingback. A soldier appeared,helmetless, his young facewhite, his eyes fixed onBaudin, his steps ceasing.Beyond him the glisteningpeaked helms and broadblades of the Red Swordsflashed above the crowd asthe horsemen slowly pushedtheirwaytowardsthescene.

No movement save thesawingchain.NobreathsaveBaudin's grunting snorts.Whatever riot continued torage beyond this place, itseemed a thousand leaguesaway.Felisin watched the

woman's head jerk back andforth, a mockery of life'sanimation. She rememberedLady Gaesen, haughty,imperious, beyond her years

ofbeautyandseekingstaturein its stead. What otherchoice? Many, but it didn'tmatter now. Had she been agentle,kindlygrandmother,itwould not have mattered,would not have changed themind-numbing horror of thismoment.Theheadcameawaywitha

sobbingsound.Baudin'steethglimmeredashestaredatthecrowd. 'We had a deal,' he

grated.'Here'swhatyouwant,something to remember thisday by.' He flung LadyGaesen'sheadintothemob,awhirl of hair and threads ofblood. Screams answered itsunseenlanding.More soldiers appeared –

backedby theRedSwords –movingslowly,pushingatthestill silent onlookers. Peacewas being restored, all alongthe line in all places but this

one, violently, withoutquarter. As people began todie under sword strokes, therestfled.Theprisonerswhohadfiled

out of the arena hadnumbered around threehundred. Felisin looked uptheline,herfirstsightofwhatremained. Some shacklesheld only forearms, otherswere completely empty.Under a hundred prisoners

remainedon their feet.Manyonthepavingstoneswrithed,screaminginpain;therestdidnotmoveatall.Baudinglaredatthenearest

knot of soldiers. 'Likelytiming,tin-heads.'Heboric spat heavily, his

face twisting as he glared atthethug.'Imaginedyou'dbuyyour way out, did you,Baudin?Givethemwhattheywant. But it was wasted,

wasn't it? The soldiers werecoming.Shecouldhavelived—'Baudin slowly turned, his

face a sheet of blood. 'Towhatend,priest?''Was that your line of

reasoning?Shewould'vediedintheholdanyway?'Baudin showed his teeth,

and said slowly, 'I just hatemakingdealswithbastards.'

Felisin stared at the three-foot length of chain betweenherself and Baudin. Athousandthoughtscouldhavefollowed, linkbylink–whatshe had been, what she wasnow; the prison she'ddiscovered, inside and out,merged as vivid memory –but all she thought, all shesaid, was: 'Don't make anymoredeals,Baudin.'His eyes narrowed on her,

her words and tone reachinghim,somehow,someway.Heboricstraightened,ahard

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– having cleared the line ofthe dead – pushed themalong, out through the gate,onto the East Road towardsthe pier town of Luckless.Where Adjunct Tavore and

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NIGHTOFKNIVESA Novel of the MalazanEmpireByIanC.Esslemont'The first instalment of theshared world that we hadbothenvisioned'STEVENERIKSONMalazgaveagreatempireitsname,butnowthisislandandits city amount to littlemore

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