a truth most of us are too frightened to face?»
Coll grunted. «I'm not the sharpest man you'll meet, Paran, and your thoughts are running a touch too deep for me. But if I understand you right, you're sitting there looking at a chopped-up old fool of a man and you're telling him he's alive. Right now. As alive as can be. And whatever he betrayed back then, it wasn't life, was it?»
«You tell me, Coll.»
The man grimaced and ran a hand through his thinning hair. «The thing is, I want it back. I want it all back.»
Paran burst out laughing, and continued to laugh until sharp pains cramped his stomach.
Coll sat watching him, then a low, rumbling chuckle rose from his chest. He reached back, retrieved a handful of sticks and tossed them into the fire, one at a time. «Well, dammit, Paran,» he said, amused lines crinkling around his eyes, «you've come out of the blue like a god-sent bolt of lightning. And I appreciate it. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.»
Paran wiped tears from his eyes. «Hood's Breath,» he said. «Just one War Mule talking to another, right?»
«I guess so, Paran. Now, if you'll look in that pack of mine, you'll find a jug of Worrytown wine. Its vintage is about a week.»
The captain rose. «Meaning?»
«Meaning it's running out of time.»
BOOK SIX THE CITY OF BLUE FIRE
Rumours like tattered flags wind-snapped and echoing in the streets below told the tale of the days upon us:
«Twas said an eel had slipped ashore or not one but a thousand under a jagged moon that might be dead, «twas whispered that a claw scraped slow on the city's cobbles, even as a dragon was seen sailing high silver and black in the nightsky.
«Twas heard, they say, a demon's death cry on the rooftops on a night of blood, even as the master's hundred hands lost a hundred daggers to the dark, and «twas rumoured then, a lady masked highborn had offered to unbidden guests a f?te to remember:
Rumour Born Fisher (b.?)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Few can see the dark hand holding aloft the splinter, or the notched chains fated to be heard before death's rattle, but hark the wheel of minions and victims who moan the lord's name in the dark heart of Moon's Spawn.
Silverfox Outrider Hurlochel, 6th Army
As rallick nom approached the phoenix inn from the alleyway, a large, beefy woman stepped out from a shadowed niche and conronted him. He raised an eyebrow. «You want something, Meese?»
«Never mind what I want.» She grinned invitingly. «You've known about that for years. Anyway, I come to tell ya something, Nom. So relax.»
He crossed his arms and waited.
s a Meese glanced back up the alley, then hunched close to the assassin.
«There's someone in the bar. Been asking for ya. By name.»
Startled, Rallick straightened. «What's he look like?» he asked casually.
«Like a soldier outa uniform,» Meese replied. «Never seen him around before. So what do ya think, Nom?»
He looked away. «Nothing. Where's he sitting?»
Meese grinned again. «At Kruppe's table. Home ground. Now ain't that fine?»
Rallick stepped past the woman and headed towards the inn. As she moved to follow he held out his hand. «A minute between us, Meese,» he said, without turning. «Where's Irilta?»
«Inside,» she said, behind him. «Good luck, Nom.»
«Luck's never free,» Rallick muttered, as he turned the corner and climbed the steps.
He stood still just within the door and surveyed the crowd. A few strangers, not enough to cause him concern, however. His gaze slid across to a man sitting at Kruppe's table. He almost had to take a second look, so nondescript was he. Then Rallick strode straight for him, the crowd parting as he went-something he'd never noticed before.
Amused, he held his eyes on the stranger until he was noticed. They locked gazes, though the man made no move other than to take a sip from his tankard then set it down carefully on the table.
Rallick pulled out a chair and dragged it opposite. «I'm Rallick Nom.»
There was something solid about this person, a kind of assurance that was calming. Rallick felt himself relaxing in spite of his habitual caution.
The man's first words changed that, however.
«The Eel has a message for you,» he said quietly. «Direct, by word of mouth only. Before I deliver it, though, I'm to give you some background-as only I can.» He paused to drink from the tankard, then resumed.
«Now, Turban Orr has hired another dozen hunters. What are they hunting? Well, me, for one. Your problem is that he's going to be harder to reach. The Eel approves of your effort's concerning Lady Sinital. Coll's return is desired by all who value integrity and honour within the Council. If you require anything, ask now and it's yours.»
Rallick's eyes had hardened. «Never knew Murillio had such a big mouth,» he said.
The man shook his head. «Your compatriot has revealed nothing. Nor have you. It is the Eel's business. Now, what do you require?»
«Nothing.»
«Good.» The stranger nodded, as if he'd expected that reply and was pleased. «Incidentally, Turban Orr's efforts to pass the proclamation have been: impeded. Indefinitely. The Eel wishes to thank you for your unwitting role in that. Nevertheless, the councilman explores other options. He has been watched closely. Hence our fortunate discovery that is at the heart of the Eel's message to you. Last night, beneath Despot's Barbican, Turban Orr met with a representative of the Assassins» Guild-how he managed that was quite a feat, considering how difficult your comrades have been to find. In any case, a contract was tendered by Turban Orr.» The man waited for the shock to wear off Rallick's face, then continued. «Tendered by Turban Orr, as I said, but not on his own behalf. Rather, Lady Sinital has decided that Coll's death should be a fact in the real world as it is on paper.»
«Who?» Rallick rasped. «Who was the contact?»
«I'm coming to that. First, it was accepted, for the payment was substantial. They are aware that Coll is presently outside Darujhistan. They simply await his return.»
«The assassin's name.»
«Ocelot.» The man rose. «The Eel wishes you success in all your ventures, Rallick Nom. Thus the message ends. Good evening.» He turned to leave.
«Wait.»
«Yes?»
«Thank you,» Rallick said.
The stranger smiled, then left.
The assassin took the man's seat, and leaned against the wall. He waved at Sulty, who had a pitcher of ale and a tankard waiting. She hurried over. Behind her strode, at a more leisurely pace, Irilta and Meese. They sat down without preamble, each with her own tankard.
«Everybody's still breathing,» Irilta said, raising her drink. «And here's t» that.»
Meese lifted hers as well and the two women drank deep. Then Meese bent forward. «Any word of Kruppe and the boy?»
Rallick shook his head. «I may not be here when they come back,» he said. «Tell Murillio to go ahead if I don't show, and if other: events occur. And, if that happens, tell him our man's eyes are open.» Rallick filled his tankard and drained it immediately. Then he rose. «Don't wish me luck,» he said.
«How about success?» Meese asked, a worried expression on her broad face.
Rallick jerked his head in a nod. Then he left the inn.
Anomander Rake was hiding something. Baruk was certain of it as he stared moodily into the fireplace. In his right hand was a goblet of goat's milk, and in his left a large fragment of Daru flatbread. Why had the Tiste And? permitted the Imass to enter the barrow? He'd asked that question already of the Lord sitting beside him, but an answer didn't seem forthcoming. Instead, all the alchemist got from Rake was that irritating smugness. Baruk took a bite from the flatbread, the crack loud between them.
Rake stretched out his legs and sighed. «An odd hour to dine,» he said.
«All my hours have been odd, lately,» Baruk said, around the bread. He drank a mouthful of milk.
«I'd no idea that both the Shadow Lord and Oponn had become involved in affairs,» Rake said.
Baruk felt the Lord's eyes on him, but he remained staring at the fire.
«I had an intimation of Oponn,» he said. «But nothing definite.»
Rake snorted in reply.
Baruk downed some more milk. «You hold your hunches close to your chest. I do the same.»
«This avails us nothing,» Rake snapped.
The alchemist turned in his chair to face the Tiste And?. «Your ravens watched that woman and the T'lan Imass enter the barrow. Do you still believe they will fail?»
«Do you?» Rake retorted. «I seem to recall that that was your position on the matter, Baruk. As far as I was and am concerned, I don't much care whether they succeed or not. Either way, there'll be a fight. I suspect you'd imagined there would be a way to avoid one. Obviously, your intelligence concerning the Malazan Empire is sorely lacking. Laseen knows only one thing, and that's force. She'll ignore power until it's unveiled, and then she'll hit you with everything at her disposal.»
«And you just wait for it to happen?» Baruk scowled. «That's how cities are destroyed. That's how thousands of people die. Does any of that matter to you, Anomander Rake? So long as you win in the end?»
A tight smile played on the Lord's thin lips. «An accurate assessment, Baruk. In this case, however, Laseen wants Darujhistan intact. I mean to prevent that. But destroying the city to defy her would be too easy. I could have managed that weeks ago. No, I want Darujhistan to remain as it is. Yet out of Laseen's reach. That, Alchemist, is victory.» His grey eyes were on Baruk. «I would not have sought an alliance with you otherwise.»
The alchemist frowned. «Unless you plan treachery.»
Rake was silent for a time, studying his hands clasped on his lap. «Baruk, he said soffly, «as any commander of long standing knows, treachery breeds its own. Once committed, whether against
