began unwrapping the leaves protecting the food.
'How was your meeting with Tavore?' Kalam asked, joining him.
'Your guess is as good as mine,' Quick Ben replied. 'I've seen people under siege before, but she's raised walls so thick and so high I doubt a dozen irate dragons would get through… and not an enemy in sight, either.'
'You might be wrong there,' the assassin said. 'Was Pearl around?'
'Well, one curtain moved a bit.'
Fiddler snorted. 'He ain't that obvious. Was probably T'amber.'
'I wasn't being literal, Fid. Somebody in a warren, close and watchful.'
'Tavore wasn't wearing her sword, then,' Kalam said.
'No, she never does when talking with me, thank the gods.'
'Ah, considerate, then!'
The wizard shot a dark glare at Kalam. 'Doesn't want to suck everything out of her High Mage, you mean.'
'Stop,' Fiddler said. 'I don't like the images popping into my head.
Hand me a chunk of that sepah bread – no, not the one you've taken a bite out of, Quick, thanks anyway. There – oh, never mind.' He reached across.
'Hey, you're raining sand on my food!'
Kalam settled back on his haunches. Fiddler was looking younger by the minute. Especially with that scowl. This break away from the army and all that went with it was long overdue.
'What?' Fiddler demanded. 'Worried you'll wear your teeth down? Better stop chewing on that bread, then.'
'It's not that hard,' the wizard replied in a mouth-full muffle.
'No, but it's full of grit, Quick Ben. From the millstones. Anyway, I' m always raining sand these days. I got sand in places you wouldn't imagine-'
'Stop, images popping into my head and all that.'
'After this,' Fiddler continued remorselessly, 'a year's worth of sitting sweet in Darujhistan and I'll still be shitting gritty bricks-'
'Stop, I said!'
Kalam's eyes narrowed on the sapper. 'Darujhistan? Planning on joining the others, then?'
The sapper's gaze shied away. 'Some day…'
'Some day soon?'
'I ain't planning on running, Kalam.'
The assassin met Quick Ben's eyes, just a flicker of contact, and Kalam cleared his throat. 'Well… maybe you should, Fid. If I was giving advice-'
'If you're giving advice then I know we're all doomed. Thanks for ruining my day. Here, Quick, some more of that ale, please, I'm parched.'
Kalam subsided. All right, at least that's cleared up.
Quick Ben brushed crumbs from his long-fingered hands and sat back. '
She has ideas about you, Kalam…'
'I've got one wife too many as it is.'
'Maybe she wants you to put together a squad of assassins?'
'A what? From this lot?'
'Hey,' Fiddler growled, 'I know this lot.'
'And?'
'And you're right, is all. They're a mess.'
'Even so,' the wizard said, shrugging. 'And she probably wants you to do it on the sly-'
'With Pearl listening in on your conversation, right.'
'No, that was later. The second half of our meetings is for our audience. The first half, before Pearl and whoever else arrives, is when we talk privately. She makes these meetings as impromptu as possible. Uses Grub as a messenger.' The wizard made a warding gesture.
'Just a foundling,' Fiddler said.
But Quick Ben simply shook his head.
'So she wants her own cadre of assassins,' Kalam said. 'Unknown to the Claw. Oh, I don't like where this is going, Quick.'
'Whoever is hiding behind those walls might be scared, Kal, but stupid it ain't.'
'This whole thing is stupid,' Fiddler pronounced.
'She crushed the rebellion – what more does Laseen want?'
'Strong, when it comes to dealing with our enemies,' Kalam said. 'And weak when it comes to popularity.'
'Tavore ain't the popular sort of person, so what's the problem?'
'She might get popular. A few more successes – ones where it's clear it's not dumb luck. Come on, Fid, you know how fast an army can turn round.'
'Not this army,' the sapper said. 'It barely got up off the ground to start with. We're a damned shaky bunch – Quick Ben, does she have any idea of that?'
The wizard considered for a time, then he nodded. 'I think so. But she doesn't know what to do about it, beyond catching Leoman of the Flails and obliterating him and his army. Thoroughly.'
Fiddler grunted. 'That's what Cuttle is afraid of. He's convinced we' re all going to end up wearing Ranal before this is done.'
'Ranal? Oh, right.'
'He's being a right pain about it, too,' Fiddler went on. 'Keeps talking about the cusser he's holding back, the one he'll sit on when the doom descends on us all. You should see the look on the recruits' faces when he goes on like that.'
'Sounds like Cuttle needs a talking to.'
'He needs a fist in the face, Kal. Believe me, I've been tempted…'
'But sappers don't do that to each other.'
'I'm a sergeant, too.'
'But you need him still on your side.'
Glumly, 'Aye.'
'All right,' Kalam said, 'I'll put him right.'
'Careful, he might toss a sharper at your feet. He don't like assassins.'
'Who does?' Quick Ben commented.
Kalam frowned. 'And here I thought I was popular… at least with my friends.'
'We're only playing it safe, Kalam.'
'Thanks, Quick, I'll remember that.'
The wizard rose suddenly. 'Our guests are about to arrive…'
Fiddler and Kalam stood as well, turning to see the imperial warren open once more. Four figures strode out.
The assassin recognized two of them, and felt both tension and pleasure rising within him; the sudden hackles for High Mage Tayschrenn, and the genuine pleasure at seeing Dujek Onearm. Flanking Tayschrenn were two bodyguards, one an aged Seti with a waxed moustache – vaguely familiar in some distant way, as if Kalam had perhaps seen him once before, long ago. The other was a woman somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five, lithe and athletic beneath tight silks. The eyes were soft and dark brown, watchful; her hair was cut short in the imperial fashion around her heart-shaped face.
'Relax,' Quick Ben murmured low beside Kalam. 'Like I said before, Tayschrenn's role in… things past… was misunderstood.'
'So you say.'
'And he did try to protect Whiskeyjack.'
'But was too late.'
'Kalam…'
'All right, I'll be civil. Is that Seti his old bodyguard – from the days of the Emperor?'
'Aye.'
