«I sense its power,» Orfantal whispered. «Our lord could destroy it, now, while it's still young.»
«Yes,» agreed Korlat. «He could.» She was silent a moment, then she rose. «I am blood-kin to the fallen,» she said.
«You are blood-kin,» the others intoned.
«The quest for vengeance is ended,» Korlat said, the lines around her almond-shaped eyes tightening. «Our lord will not be summoned. Leave him to his recovery. The Azath will not be touched, for it is new, a child.»
Her eyes, soft brown, slowly regarded those of her companions. «The Queen of Darkness spoke thus of Light when it was first born: 'It is new, and what is new is innocent, and what is innocent is precious. Observe this child of wonder, and know respect.'»
Orfantal scowled. «Thus did Light survive, and so was Darkness destroyed, the purity vanquished-and now you would have us flawed as our Queen was flawed. Light became corrupted and destroyed our world, Korlat, or have you forgotten?»
Korlat's smile was a sad one. «Cherish such flaws, dear sister, for our Queen's was hope, and so is mine. Now we must leave.»
Kruppe's expression was benign as he watched Crokus approach, clearly exhausted by this night of endless running. He nudged Murillio and fluttered his fingers in the young thief's direction. «The lad returns with undue haste, yet I fear such sad tidings as Kruppe must bring.»
«He's had a rough night all around,» Murillio commented. He leaned against the gate's support wall outside the Sinital Estate. The streets remained empty, the citizens shocked numb with the night's horrors.
Kruppe gestured at Moon's Spawn, now a league to the west, well beyond the city's walls. «A remarkable contraption, that. However, Kruppe is pleased that it has chosen to depart. Imagine, even the stars blotted out, leaving naught but dread in this world.»
«I need a drink,» Murillio muttered.
«Excellent idea,» Kruppe said. «Shall we await the lad, however?»
The wait was not long. Crokus recognized them and slowed his frantic run. «Apsalar's been kidnapped by the Empire!» he shouted. «I need help!» He wobbled to a halt before Murillio. «And Rallick's still in the garden-»
«Tut, tut,» Kruppe said. «Easy, lad. Apsalar's location is known to Kruppe. As for Rallick, well:» He faced the street and waved his arms expansively. «Breathe the night air, Crokus! A new year has begun! Come, let us walk, the three of us, masters of Darujhistan!» He linked arms with his comrades and pulled them forward.
Murillio sighed. «Rallick's missing,» he explained. «There's some kind of extraordinary house in Coll's garden now.»
«Ah, so much unveiled in that single statement.» Kruppe leaned against Crokus. «While, no doubt, the lad's secret, overriding concern at the moment regards the fate of a fair young maiden, whose life was saved at the last moment by a nobleson named Gorlas, of all things. Saved, Kruppe says, from a ton of masonry shrugged off a wall. «Twas heroic, indeed. The lass near-swooned with satisfaction.»
«What are you talking about?» Crokus demanded. «Who was saved?»
Murillio snorted. «I think, dear Kruppe, Master of Darujhistan, you've got the wrong fair maiden in mind.»
«She's not fair, anyway,» Crokus asserted.
Kruppe's chest swelled slightly. «You need but ask the gods, lad, and they'll tell that life itself isn't fair. Now, are you interested in how Lady Sinital's estate has just this night become Coll's estate? Or is your mind so thoroughly enamoured of this new love of yours that even the fates of your dearest friends-Kruppe included-yield such lack of interest?»
Crokus bridled. «Of course I'm interested!»
«Then the story begins, as always, with Kruppe. .»
Murillio groaned. «Thus spake the Eel.»
EPILOGUE
I have seen a rumour born swathed in snug mystery left lying under the sun in the hills of the Gadrobi where the sheep have scattered on wolf-laden winds and the herds have fled a whispering of sands and it blinked in the glare a heart hardened into stone whilst the shadow of the Gates of Nowhere crept «cross the drifting dust of home. I have seen this rumor born a hundred thousand hunters of the heart in a city bathed in blue light.
Rumour Born (I. i-iv)-Fisher
When sun lit the morning mists into a shield of white over the lake. Down on the beach a fisher-boat rocked in the freshening waves. Unmoored, it was moments before pulling free of the pebbles.
Mallet helped Whiskeyjack to a dome of rock above the beach, where they sat. The healer's gaze hesitated on the figure of Quick Ben, standing with shoulders hunched and staring across the lake. He followed the wizard's gaze. Moon Spawn hung low on the horizon, a gold cast to its ravaged basalt. Mallet grunted. «It's heading south. I wonder what that means?»
WhiskeyJack squinted against the glare. He began to massage his temples.
«More headaches?» Mallet asked.
«Not so bad, lately,» the grizzled man said.
«It's the leg that worries me,» the healer muttered. «I need to work on it some more, and you need to stay off it awhile.»
Whiskeyjack grinned. «As soon as there's time,» he said.
Mallet sighed. «We'll work on it then.»
From the forested slope behind them Hedge called, «They're coming in!»
The healer helped Whiskeyjack stand. «Hell,» he whispered. «It could've been a lot worse, right, Sergeant?»
Whiskeyjack glared across the lake. «Three lost ain't that bad, considering.»
A pained expression crossed Mallet's face. He said nothing.
«Let's move,» Whiskeyjack growled. «Captain Paran hates tardiness. And maybe the Moranth have good news. Be a change, wouldn't it?»
From the beach, Quick Ben watched Mallet supporting his sergeant up the slope. Was it time? he wondered. To stay alive in this business, no one could afford to let up. The best plans work inside other plans, and when it's right to feint, feint big. Keeping the other hand hidden is the hard part.
The wizard felt a stab of regret. No, it wasn't time. Give the old man a chance to rest. He forced himself into motion. He wouldn't let himself look back-never a good idea. The scheme was hatched.
«Whiskeyjack's going to howl when he hears this one,» he whispered to himself.
Captain Paran listened to the others on the beach below, but made no move to join them. Not yet. His brush with Ascendants seemed to have left him with a new sensitivity-or perhaps it was the Otataral sword scabbarded at his side. But he could sense her, now, already in her adolescence, plump as he knew she'd be, smiling with her heavy-lidded eyes deceptively sleepy as she studied the morning sky.
I will come to you, he promised her. When this Pannion Seer and his cursed holy war is crushed, I will come to you then, Tattersail.
I know.
He stiffened. That voice in his head had not been his own. Or had it?
He waited, waited for more. Tattersail? Only silence answered him. Ah, my imagination, nothing more. To think you would call up enough of your old life, to find the feelings you once held for me, find them and feel them once again. I am a fool.
He rose from his crouch at Lorn's graveside-a mound of rocks-and brushed twigs and orange pine needles from his clothing. Look at me now. Agent for the Adjunct once, now a soldier. Finally, a soldier.
Smiling, he made his way down to his squad.
Then I shall await the coming of a soldier.
Paran stopped in his tracks, then, smiling, continued on. «Now that,» he whispered, «was not my imagination.»
The tradecraft hugged the southern shore, making for Dhavran and the river mouth. Kalam leaned on the gunwale, his gaze sweeping the north horizon's ragged, snow-capped mountains. Near him stood another passenger, hardly memorable and disinclined to talk.
The only voices reaching the assassin came from Apsalar and Crokus.
They sounded excited, each revolving around the other in a subtle dance that was yet to find its accompanying words. A slow, half smile quirked Kalam's mouth. It'd been a long time since he'd heard such innocence.
A moment later, Crokus appeared beside him, his uncle's demon familiar clutching his shoulder. «Coll says that the Empire's capital, Unta, is as big as Darujhistan. Is it?»
Kalam shrugged. «Maybe. A lot uglier. I don't expect we'll have a chance to visit it, though. Itko Kan lies on the south coast, while Unta is on Kartool Bay, the north-east coast. Miss Darujhistan already?»
An expression of regret came over Crokus's face. He stared down into the waves. «Just some people there,» he said.
The assassin grunted. «Know how you feel, Crokus. Hell, look at Fiddler back there, mooning away as if somebody had cut off one of his arms and one of his legs.»
«Apsalar still can't believe you'd go to all this trouble for her. She doesn't remember being much liked in your squad.»
«Wasn't her, though, was it? This woman here is a fishergirl from some two-copper village. And she's a long way from home.»
«She's more than that,» Crokus muttered. He had a coin in his hand and was playing with it absently.
Kalam threw the boy a sharp look. «Really,» he said, deadpan.
Crokus nodded affably. He held up the coin and examined the face on it. «Do you believe in luck, Kalam?»
«No,» the assassin growled.
Crokus grinned happily. «Me neither.» He flipped the coin into the air.
They watched it plummet into the sea, flash once, then vanish beneath the waves.
From near the bow, Circle Breaker slowly nodded to himself The Eel would be delighted with the news, not to mention greatly relieved. Then he returned his attention to the west, and wondered what it would be like, no longer anonymous to the world.
