Sinital pulled back from the railing and crossed her arms. «Educate me, then.» Her words came sharp, tightly bridled.
Lim shrugged. «We have naught but suspicions, Lady. But it is the wise wolf that follows every spoor, no matter how slight. The alchemist would have people think as you do. A doddering old fool.» Lim paused, as if in thought, perhaps weighing how much he should reveal. «We have sources,» he continued cautiously, «among the magery. They inform us of one certain fact heavy with implications. A good many of the wizards in the city fear the alchemist, and they name him by a title-that alone suggests a secret cabal of some sort. A gathering of sorcerers, Lady, is a fell thing.»
Lady Sinital had returned to the councilman's side. Both now leaned on the railing studying the dark garden below. The woman was silent for a time, then she said, «He has Council ties?»
«If he has, the evidence is buried deep.» Lim flashed a grin. «And if he hasn't, then that might change-this very night.»
Politics, Rallick snarled silently. And power. The bitch spreads her legs to the Council, offering a vice few can ignore. Rallick's hands twitched.
He would kill this night. Not a contract: the Guild had no part in this.
The vendetta was personal. She was gathering power around her, insulating herself, and Rallick thought he understood why. The ghosts of betrayal would not leave her alone.
Patience, he reminded himself, as he took aim. For the last two years the life of Lady Sinital had been one of indolence, the riches she had stolen had served to whet her every greed, and the prestige as sole owner of the estate had done much to grease the hinges of her bedroom door.
The crime she'd committed had not been against Rallick but, unlike her victim, Rallick had no pride to halt vengeance.
Patience, Rallick repeated, his lips moving to the word as he sighted down the crossbow's length. A quality defined by its reward, and that reward was but moments away.
«A fine looking hound,» Councilman Turban Orr said, as he handed Roald his cloak.
In the room Baruk was the only one capable of discerning the aura of illusion surrounding the black hunting dog lying curled on the rug before the fireplace. The alchemist smiled and gestured to a chair. «Please be seated, Councilman.»
«I apologize for disturbing you so late at night,» Orr said, as he lowered himself into the plush chair. Baruk sat down opposite him, Crone between them. «It's said,» Orr continued, «that alchemy flowers best in deep darkness.»
«Hence you gambled on my being awake,» Baruk said. «A well-placed wager, Councilman. Now, what would you have of me?»
Orr reached down to pat Crone's head.
Baruk looked away to keep himself from laughing.
«The Council votes in two days,» Orr said. «With a proclamation of neutrality such as we seek, war with the Malazan Empire will be averted-so we believe, but there are those in the Council who do not. Pride has made them belligerent, unreasonable.»
«As it does us all,» murmured Baruk.
Orr leaned forward. «The support of Darujhistan's sorcerers would do much to favour our cause,» he said.
«Careful,» Crone rumbled. «This man now hunts in earnest.»
Orr glanced down at the dog.
«A bad leg,» Baruk said. «Pay it no mind.» The alchemist leaned back in his chair and plucked at a loose thread on his robe. «I admit to some confusion, Councilman. You appear to be assuming some things I cannot countenance.» Baruk spread his hands and met Orr's eyes. «Darujhistan's sorcerers, for one. You could travel the Ten Worlds and not find a more spiteful rabid collection of humanity. I don't suggest that they are all like this-there are those whose only interest, indeed, obsession, lies in the pursuit of their craft. Their noses have been buried in books so long they could not even tell you what century this is. The others find bickering their only true pleasure in life.»
A smile had come to Orr's thin lips as Baruk spoke. «But,» he said with a cunning gleam in his dark eyes, «there is one thing they all acknowledge.»
«Oh? What is that Councilman?»
«Power. We're all aware of your eminence among the city's mages, Baruk. Your word alone would bring others.»
«I'm flattered that you would think so,» Baruk replied. «Unfortunately, therein lies your second erroneous assumption. Even if I had such influence as you suggest,» Crone snorted and Baruk flicked a savage glare at her, then continued, «which I do not, for what possible reason would I support such a wilfully ignorant position as yours? A proclamation of neutrality? Might as well whistle against the wind, Councilman. What purpose would it serve?»
Orr's smile had tightened. «Surely, Lord,» he purred, «you have no wish to share the same fate as the wizards of Pale?»
Baruk frowned. «What do you mean?»
«Assassinated by an Empire Claw. Moon's Dawn was entirely on its own against the Emnire.»
«Your information contradicts mine,» Baruk said stiffly, then cursed himself.
«Lean not too heavily on this one,» Crone said smugly. «You are both wrong.»
Orr's eyebrows had risen at Baruk's words. «Indeed? Perhaps it might profit us both to share our information?»
«Unlikely,» Baruk said. «Throwing the threat of the Empire at me implies what? That if the proclamation is voted down, the city's sorcerers will all die at the Empire's hand. But if it wins, you're free to justify opening the gates to the Malazans in peaceful co-existence, and in such a scenario the city's magery lives on.
«Astute, Lord,» Crone said.
Baruk studied the anger now visible beneath Orr's expression.
«Neutrality? How you've managed to twist that word. Your proclamation serves the first step towards total annexation, Councilman. Fortunate for you that I cast no weight, no vote, no influence.» Baruk rose «Roald will see you out.»
Turban Orr also rose. «You've made a grave error,» he said.
«The proclamation's wording is not yet complete. It seems we would do well to remove any consideration regarding Darujhistan's magery.»
«Too bold,» Crone observed. «Prod him and see what more comes forth.»
Baruk strode towards the window. «One may only hope,» he said drily over a shoulder,» that your vote fails to win the day.»
Orr's reply was hot and rushed. «By my count we've reached a majority this very night, Alchemist. You could have provided the honey on the cream. Alas,» he sneered, «we'll win by only one vote. But that will suffice.»
Baruk turned to face Orr as Roald quietly entered the room, bearing the councilman's cloak.
Crone stretched out on the rug. «On this night of all nights,» she said, in mock dismay, «to tempt myriad fates with such words.» The Great Raven cocked her head. Faintly, as from a great distance, she thought she could hear the spinning of a coin.
There was a tremble of power coming from somewhere within the city, and Crone shivered.
Rallick Nom waited. No more indolence for the Lady Sinital. The end of such luxuries came this night. The two figures moved away from the railing and faced the glass door. Rallick's finger tightened on the trigger.
He froze. A whirring, spinning sound filled his head, whispering words that left him bathed in sudden sweat. All at once everything shifted, turned over in his mind. His plan for quick vengeance tumbled into disarray, and from the ruins arose something far more: elaborate.
All this had come between breaths. Rallick's gaze cleared. Lady Sinital and Councilman Lim stood at the door. The woman reached out to slide the panel to one side. Rallick swerved his crossbow an inch to the left, then squeezed the trigger. The blackened iron rib of the bow bucked with the release of tension. The quarrel sped outward, so fast as to be invisible until it hit home.
A figure on the balcony spun with the quarrel's impact, arms thrown out as it stumbled. The glass door shattered as the figure fell through it.
Lady Sinital screamed in horror.
Rallick waited no longer. Rolling on to his back he reached up and slid the crossbow into the narrow ledge between the cornice and the roof.
Then he slipped down the outside of the wall, hung with his hands briefly as shouts of alarm filled the estate. A moment later he dropped, spinning as he fell, and landed cat-like in the alley.
The assassin straightened, adjusted his cloak, then calmly walked into the side-street, away from the estate. No more indolence for the Lady Sinital. But no quick demise, either. A very powerful, very well-respected member of the City Council had just been assassinated on her balcony.
Lim's wife-now widow-would certainly have something to say about this. The first phase, Rallick told himself as he strode through Osserc's Gate and descended the wide ramp leading down into the Daru District, just the first phase, an opening gambit, a hint to Lady Sinital that a hunt has begun, with the eminent mistress herself as the quarry. It won't be easy: the woman's no slouch in the intrigue game.
«There'll be more blood,» he whispered aloud, as he turned a corner and approached the poorly lit entrance to the Phoenix Inn. «But in the end she'll fall, and with that fall an old friend will rise.» As he neared the inn a figure stepped from the shadows of an adjacent alleyway. Raffick stopped. The figure gestured, then stepped back into the darkness.
Rallick followed. In the alley he waited for his eyes to adjust.
The man in front of him sighed. «Your vendetta probably saved your life tonight,» he said, his tone bitter.
Rallick leaned against a wall and crossed his arms. «Oh?»
Clan Leader Ocelot stepped close, his narrow, pitted face twisted into its habitual scowl. «The night's been a shambles, Nom. You've heard nothing?»
«No.
Ocelot's thin lips curled into a humourless smile. «A war has begun on the rooftops. Someone is killing us. We lost five Roamers in less than an hour, meaning there's more than one killer out there.»
«Undoubtedly,» Rallick replied, fidgeting as the damp stones of the inn's wall reached through his cloak and touched his flesh with chill. As always, Guild affairs bored him.
Ocelot continued, «We lost that bull of a man, Talo Krafar, and a Clan Leader.» The man snapped a glance over his shoulder as if expecting a sudden dagger to come flashing at his own back.
Despite his lack of interest Rallick's eyebrows lifted at this last bit of news. «They must be good.»
«Good? All of our eye-witnesses are dead, goes the sour joke this night. They don't make mistakes, the bastards.»
«Everyone makes mistakes,» Rallick muttered. «Has Vorcan gone out?»
Ocelot shook his head. «Not yet. She's too busy recalling all the Clans.»
Rallick frowned, curious in spite of himself. «Could this be a challenge to her Guild mastery? Perhaps an inside thing, a faction-»
«You think we're all fools, don't you, Nom? That was Vorcan's first suspicion. No, it's not internal. Whoever's killing our people is from outside the Guild, outside the city.»
To Rallick the answer seemed obvious suddenly, and he shrugged. «An Empire Claw, then.»
Though his expression bore reluctance, Ocelot nevertheless acknowledged agreement. «Likely,» he grated. «They're supposed to be the best, aren't they? But why go after the Guild? You'd think they'd be taking out the nobles.»
«Are you asking me to guess the Empire's intentions, Ocelot?»
The Clan Leader blinked, then his scowl deepened. «I came to warn you. And that's a favour, Nom. With you wrapped up in this vendetta thing, the Guild's not obliged to spread its wing over
