Orb Sceptre Throne

yours?’

He slid in around her. ‘Ah … odd you should mention that. In fact it does.’

She shut the door and brushed drying clay from her hands. ‘Well then. It’s a good thing that I’m owed for a great many pots.’

Councillor Coll walked the empty rooms of his manor house. Reaching the wide base of the ornate curved staircase he paused to rest a hand on the balustrade. After a time he set a booted foot on the first stair. Jaws tight, he leaned forward until he had to raise his rear foot to place it upon the second. He eased a breath out between clenched teeth, then continued on.

The bedroom door was open. He entered to stand by the low dresser. Thick curtains hung closed before the terrace doors, holding the room in a dim murky light. The air smelled of dust and stale perfume. He crossed to the curtains and parted them. A shaft of light played across the room: dust motes spun and danced.

He yanked the thick cloths to the sides and then pulled the double doors open. A gust of wind sent the dust swirling from the bedcovers. Taking a deep breath of the air, he turned to the door. Passing the dresser cluttered with its tiny glass bottles he ran a finger through the thick grey layer upon it. He examined his finger, then dusted his hands together and left.

Outside, his carriage-driver asked, ‘Destination, Councillor?’

‘Destination?’ Coll answered, outraged. ‘Why, Majesty Hall of course!’

The carriage-driver rolled his eyes to the sky as he gave the reins a tug.

Far outside Darujhistan, on the western edge of Maiten town, an old woman staggered from her straw-roofed shack. She held her head, groaning and blinking in the light. She wrenched at her great mane of matted frizzy hair to examine a handful. She let out a great yelp of horror and batted at the curled mass, raising a cloud of dust and dirt.

Then she worked her mouth as if having tasted something vile. She spat in the street, wiped her mouth and grimaced her disgust. She caught sight now of her mud-caked tatters of skirts and grabbed fists of them, twisting them back and forth. ‘May the gods die of crotch-rot! What’s happened to my dress?’

‘Watch yer mouth, y’ damned drunken witch,’ a passer-by growled.

‘How would you like-’ She held her head and groaned anew. ‘Oh gods! Wait till I get my hands on that slimy toad!’ She reached for the wall of her shack. ‘Oh, my head. My poor head. Where’s Derudan’s hookah off to?’ She stumbled inside and began searching amid the rubbish.

*

West of the Maiten River the Malazan army broke camp to march. Fist K’ess was packing his travel panniers with orders and records when Ambassador Aragan entered. The Fist saluted, then motioned an invitation to a stool where a tray of tea waited.

Aragan waved a negative. ‘I’m off for the city.’

K’ess paused in his packing. ‘With respect, Ambassador. Perhaps you should wait …’

The big man tucked his hands into his tight weapon belt. ‘No, no. I’ll have my honour guard, of course.’

‘Come to Pale with the Fifth.’

The Ambassador tilted his balding head. ‘Generous offer, Fist, but the embassy hasn’t been formally closed. We’ll see what the final decision is from whoever ends up in control there.’

‘Very well.’ K’ess saluted once more. ‘A pleasure, Ambassador.’

Aragan seemed almost embarrassed as he turned away, clearing his throat. ‘You’re too kind, Fist.’ He walked off with his splay-legged rolling gait.

K’ess watched him go. A soldier who just wanted to be a soldier but ended up a politician.

Captain Fal-ej paused at the open tent flaps to salute.

‘Yes?’

‘Outriders ready.’

‘Send them off.’

‘At once.’ She turned to go.

‘Captain,’ K’ess called quickly.

She turned back, blinking. ‘Yes?’

‘We’ll stay close to the lake shore, Captain.’

‘Very good, Fist.’

K’ess pulled a hand down his unshaven chin. ‘And perhaps — as we ride — you might tell me all about Seven Cities. I never did make it there.’

Captain Fal-ej’s thick dark brows rose very high and she smiled broadly. ‘That would please me a great deal, Fist.’

*

That evening Kruppe sat once more at his usual table near the back of the Phoenix Inn. Jess was on duty that night and when she caught sight of him she marched right over. ‘You again! You’ve some nerve showing your oily self here. I’ve half a mind to call Scurve to toss you out right now.’

Kruppe threw up his hands. ‘Good Jess! What ire! What passion! I am overcome. Indeed, I am overcome with famishment. A bottle of red if you would be so kind. With two glasses, for Kruppe is in a bountiful munificent mood. And a touch of that gorgeous mutton I smell. And the pear tart for afters.’

Jess set her fists on her wide hips. ‘And how are you going to pay for all this?’

Kruppe pointed past her. ‘Oh, look! ’Tis Meese herself there at the bar. She’ll speak for me, I’m certain.’

‘Oh, I’ll have a word with her about you all right, you can be sure of that.’

Jess crossed to the bar and spoke with Meese. Kruppe watched, eyes narrowed, nervously tapping his fingertips together. The older woman waved Jess close and whispered something in her ear. Jess’s eyes widened in surprise and she appeared to mouth Really?

The older woman gave a serious nod.

Jess straightened. Her wondering frown seemed to say: who would have thought it?

She returned to Kruppe’s table. Here she bent down to him with a wide smile, and pushed back her hair. ‘Was that two glasses you asked for, sir?’

Kruppe’s gaze darted left and right. His fingertips halted their tapping. ‘Why … yes, good Jess. If you would be amenable?’

‘Certainly, sir. Right away.’ She turned to go but paused for a moment to adjust the lie of her skirt over one broad hip. Then she walked off, swinging those hips like two great warships.

Kruppe’s brows climbed very high indeed and his gaze shifted to Meese at the bar. An evil smirk raised the corners of her mouth and she winked.

Great anxious gods! Whatever did the evil Meese tell the poor woman!

Later that night Kruppe sat back to wipe his enormous handkerchief across his mouth and survey the conquered plates, crusts and bones scattered before him. Most restorative struggle to the death! Kruppe is … satisfied.

Yet the second glass remained untouched opposite and he regarded it for a moment, then poured himself more of the — slightly disappointing — red.

Two cloaked and hooded figures pulled up chairs to either side of him and leaned close.

Kruppe set his glass back down. ‘Gentlemen … Kruppe was expecting company this night, but not you two.’ He gestured to the empty glass. ‘Alas, perhaps my friend’s days of bachelor conviviality are done. The chains of domesticity have closed upon him and gone are the times of carefree bonhomie … Out of the window, as it were.’

‘Whatever in the Abyss are you going on about, ya fat fool?’ Leff growled. ‘We’re in real trouble here and we need your help!’

‘My help? How can poor Kruppe be of any service to you?’

‘We need to get out of town,’ Scorch added urgently from the other side.

Kruppe’s expressive thick brows climbed again; he clamped his handkerchief to his mouth and coughed behind it for a time. Fit over, he stuffed the cloth back into a frilly sleeve and thoughtfully stroked the tiny rat’s tail braided beard at his chin. ‘Really?’ he managed after a time. ‘Kruppe hardly dares ask what for …?’