worrying thought-that Rallick Nom might not be right any more,
‘It’s confirmed,’ said Krute, setting down the burlap sack filled with the makings for supper. ‘One contract dissolved, a new one accepted. Stinks of desperation, doesn’t it? Gods, Seba’s even called me back and that’s an invitation no sane man would refuse.’ He paused, eyeing his friend, and then said, ‘So you may not be seeing much of me from now on. From what I’ve gathered, this new one’s pretty straightforward, but it’s the kind that’ll shake up the precious bloods.’
‘Is it now?’ Rallick asked, expressionless.
‘Listen,’ said Krute, knowing he was betraying his nerves, ‘I couldn’t say no, could I? It’s fine enough living off your coin, but that’s hard on a man’s pride. I’ve got a chance to get back into the middle of things again. I’ve got a chance to walk with the Guild again. Rallick, I got to take it, you understand?’
‘Is it that important to you, Krute?’
Krute nodded.
‘Then,’ said Rallick, ‘I had best leave your company.’
‘I’m sorry about that-it’s my being… what’s that word again?’
‘Compromised.’
‘Exactly. Now, if you’d made your move on Seba, well, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we? It’s the waiting that’s been so hard.’
‘There are no plans to replace Seba Krafar,’ said Rallick. ‘I am sorry if I have unintentionally misled you on that count. This is not to say we’re uninterested in the Guild.’ He hesitated. ‘Krute, listen carefully. I can leave you some coin-enough for a while, a half-year’s worth, in fact. Just decline Seba’s invitation-you don’t know what you’re getting into-’
‘And you do? No, Rallick, the point is, if I don’t know it’s because I’ve been pushed out of things.’
‘You should be thankful for that.’
‘I don’t need any patronizing shit from you, Rallick Nom. You’re all secrets now, nothing but secrets. But you’ll live here, with me, and eat what I cook, and what about me? Oh, right, on the outside again, this time with you. Well, I can’t live like that, so you’d better go. Don’t think ill of me-I won’t tell Seba about you.’
‘Can I not buy your retirement, Krute?’
‘No.’
Rallick nodded and then walked to the door. ‘Guard yourself well, Krute.’
‘You too, Rallick.’
Emerging from the tenement building’s narrow back door, Rallick Nom stepped out into the rank, rubbish-filled alley. His last venture into the world had seen him very nearly killed by Crokus Younghand, and of his time spent recovering at the Phoenix Inn, it was clear that no one who’d known of his presence had said a thing-not Kruppe, nor Coll, nor Murillio, nor Meese or Irilta; the Guild had notsniffed out his ignominious return. Even that wayward cousin of his, Torvald, had said nothing-although why that man had so vigorously avoided him was both baffling and somewhat hurtful.
Anyway, in a sense, Rallick remained invisible.
He paused in the alley. Still light, a ribbon of brightness directly above. It felt odd, to be outside in the day, and he knew it would not be long before someone caught sight of him, recognizing his face-eyes widening with astonishment-and word would race back to Seba Krafar. And then?
Well, the Master would probably send one of his lieutenants to sound Rallick out-what did he want? What did he expect from the Guild? There might be an invitation as well, the kind that was deadly either way. Accept it and walk into an ambush. Reject it and the hunt would begin. There were few who could take down Rallick one on one, but that wouldn’t be the preferred tactic in any case. No, it would be a quarrel to the back.
There were other places he could hide-he could probably walk right back into the Firmest House. But then, Krute was not the only one getting impatient. Besides, Rallick had never much liked subterfuge. He’d not used it when he’d been active in the Guild, after all-except when he was working, of course.
No, the time had come to stir things awake. And if Seba Krafar’s confidence had been rattled by a handful of rancorous Malazans, well, he was about to be sent reeling.
The notion brought a faint smile to Rallick’s lips. Yes, I am back.
He set out for the Phoenix Inn.
/ am back, so let’s get this started, shall we?
Echoing alarms at the blurred border between the Daru and Lakefront districts, a half-dozen streets behind them now as Barathol-holding Chaur’s hand as he would a child’s-dragged the giant man through the late afternoon crowds. They had passed a few patrols, but word had yet to outdistance the two fugitives, although it was likely that this flight would, ultimately, prove anything but surreptitious-guards and bystanders both could not help but recall the two huge foreigners, one onyx-skinned, the other the hue of stained rawhide, rushing past.
Barathol had no choice but to dispense with efforts at stealth and subterfuge. Chaur was bawling with all the indignant outrage of a toddler justly punished, astonished to discover that not all things were cute and to be indulged by adoring caregivers-that, say, shoving a sibling off a cliff was not quite acceptable behaviour.
He had tried calming Chaur down, but simple as Chaur was, he was quick to sense disapproval, and Barathol had been unthinking and careless in expressing that disapproval-well, rather, he had been shocked into carelessness-and now the huge child would wail unto eventual exhaustion, and that exhaustion was still a long way off.
Two streets away from the harbour, three guards thirty paces behind them suddenly raised shouts, and now the chase was on for real. To Barathol’s surprise, C haur fell silent, and the smith pulled him up along-side him us they hurried along. ‘Chaur, listen to me. Get back to the ship-do you understand? Back to the ship, to the lady,.yes? Back to Spite-she’ll hide you. To The ship, Chaur, understand?’
A tear-streaked face, cheeks blotchy, eyes red, Chaur nodded.
Barathol pushed him ahead. ‘Go. On your own-I’ll catch up with you. Go!’
And Chaur went, lumbering, knocking people off their feet until a path mirac-ulously opened before him.
Barathol turned about to give the three guards some trouble. Enough to pur-chase Chaur the time he needed, at least.
He managed that well enough, with fists and feet, with knees and elbows, and if not for the arrival of reinforcements, he might even have won clear. Six more guards, however, proved about five too many, and he was wrestled to the ground and beaten half senseless.
The occasional thought filtered weakly through the miasma of pain and confusion as he was roughly carried to the nearest gaol. He’d known a cell before. It wasn’t so bad, so long as the jailers weren’t into torture. Yes, he could make a tour of gaol cells, country to country, continent to continent. All he needed to do was start up a smithy without the local Guild’s approval.
Simple enough.
Then these fragmented notions went away, and the bliss of unconsciousness was unbroken, for a time.
xx
‘Tis the grand stupidity of our kind, dear Cutter, to see all the errors of our ways, yet find in ourselves the inability to do anything about them. We sit, dumb-founded by despair, and for all our ingenuity, our perceptivity, for all our extraor-dinary capacity to see the truth of things, we hunker down like snails in a flood, sucked tight to our precious pebble, fearing the moment it is dislodged beneath us. Until that terrible calamity, we do nothing but cling.
‘Can you even imagine a world where all crimes are punished, where justice is truly blind and holds out no hands happy to yield to the weight of coin and influence? Where one takes responsibility for his or her mistakes, acts of negligence, the deadly consequences of indifference or laziness? Nay, instead we slip and duck, dance and dodge, dance the dodge slip duck dance, feet ablur! Our selves transformed into shadows that flit in chaotic discord. We are indeed masters of evasion-no doubt originally a survival trait, at least in the physical sense, but to have such instincts applied to the soul is perhaps our most egregious crime against morality. What we will do so that we may continue living with ourselves. In this we might assert that a survival trait can ultimately prove its own
