warehouses. He drew off his floppy hat and wiped the grime from his brow. His black hair, while thinning from the front, hung in a long ponytail that had been tucked up beneath the hat but now fell to the small of his back. His forehead and face were seamed in scars, and most of his left ear was missing, slashed away some time past. Scratching a moment at his beard, he settled the hat back on, and headed off down the alley.
He was set upon less than ten paces later, as two figures closed on him from alcoves, one to either side. The one on his left jammed the point of a dagger against his ribs, while the other waved a short sword in front of his eyes, using it to direct the man against a grimy wall.
Mute, the man complied. In the gloom he squinted at the one with the sword, then scowled. ‘Leff.’
A stained grin. ‘Hey, old partner, fancy you showing up.’
The one with the knife snorted. ‘Thought we’d never spy you out wi’ that stupid hat, did you?’
‘Scorch! Why, I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you both. Gods below, I would’ve thought you two would have met grisly ends long ago. But this is a great discovery, friends! Had I any coin-any at all-why, I’d buy you both a drink-’
‘Enough of that,’ Leff said in a growl, still waving the sword in from of the man’s frits, ‘You’re’ on our list, Torvald Nom, Aye, way down on it since most people figured you were long gone and almost as long dead. But you ran out on a debt-a big one and bigger now, aye-not to mention running out on me and Scorch-’
‘Hardly, I seem to recall we formally absolved our partnership, after that night whim-’
Scorch hissed, ‘Quiet, damn you! Nobody knows nothing about none of that!’
‘My point was,’ Torvald hastily explained, ‘I never ran out on you two.’
‘Don’t matter,’ Leff said, ‘since that ain’t why you’re on the list now, is it?’
‘You two must be desperate, to take on one of those-’
‘Maybe we are,’ said Scorch, ‘and maybe we ain’t. Now, you saying you’re bloke is bad news, Torvald. For you more’n us, since we now got to deliver you. And my, won’t Lender Gareb be pleased.’
‘Wait! I can get that money-I can clear that debt. But I need time-’
‘No time to give ya,’ Leff said, shaking his head. ‘Sorry, old friend.’
‘One night, that’s all I’m asking.’
‘One night, for you to run as far as you can.’
‘No, l swear it. Gods, I’ve just returned! Here to honour all my debts!’
‘Really, and how are you planning to do that?’
‘Best leave the details to me, Scorch, just to keep you and Leff innocent. Now, I’m way down on that list-I’d have to be, since it’s been years. That means nobody’s expecting you to come up with me, right? Give me a night, just one, that’s all I’m asking. We can meet again right here, this time tomorrow. I won’t run out on you two, I promise.’
‘You must think we’re idiots,’ Leff said.
‘Listen, once I’ve cleared Gareb’s debt, I can help you. With that list. Who’s better than me at that kind of stuff?’
Scorch’s disbelieving expression stretched his face until it seemed his eyes would fall out of their sockets. He licked his lips, shot Leff a glance.
Torvald Nom saw all this and nodded. ‘Aye, you two are in trouble, all right. Those lists chew up whoever takes ’em on. I must tell you, I’m amazed and, well, deeply disappointed to find that you two have sunk that far since I left. Gods, if I’d known, well, I might’ve considered staying-’
Leff snorted. ‘Now that’s a damned lie.’
‘All right, perhaps an exaggeration. So-what is Gareb saying I’m owing him now?’
‘A thousand silver councils.’
Torvald Nom gaped, the colour leaving his face. ‘For Hood’s sake, he just bought me a supper and a pitcher or two! And even then, I figured he was simply being generous. Wanted me to do some work for him or something. I was insulted when he sent me a bill for that night-’
‘Interest, Torvald,’ said Leff. ‘You know how it is.’
‘Besides,’ added Scorch, ‘you just up and ran. Where ya been all this time?’
‘You’d never believe me.’
‘Is that shackle scars on your wrists?’
‘Aye, and worse. Nathii slave pens. Malazan slavers-all the way to Seven Cities. Beru fend, my friends, none of it was pretty. And as for the long journey back, why, if I was a bard I’d make a fortune spinning that tale!’
The sword hovering in front of his face had wavered, dipped, and now finally fell away, while the knife point jabbing his ribs eased back. Torvald looked quickly into both faces before him, and said, ‘One night, old friends, and all this will be cleared up. And I can start helping you with that list.’
‘We already got us help,’ Leff said, although he didn’t seem pleased by that admission.
‘Oh? Who?’
‘Kruppe. Remember him?’
‘That oily, fat fence always hanging out at the Phoenix Inn? Are you two mad?’
Scorch said, ‘It’s our new taproom, Torvald, ever since Bormen threw us out for-’
‘Don’t tell him stuff like that, Scorch!’
‘One night,’ Torvald said, nodding. ‘Agreed? Good, you won’t regret it.’
Stepping back, Leff sheathed his short sword. ‘I already do. Listen, Torvald. You run and we’ll chase you, no matter where you go. You can jump straight back into the Nathii slave pens and we’ll be there right beside you. You understanding me?’
Torvald frowned at the man for a moment, then nodded. ‘That I do, Leff. But I’m back, now, and I’m not going anywhere, not ever again.’
‘One night.’
‘Aye. Now, you two better head back to watching the quay-who knows who might be readying to flee on the next outbound ship.’
Both men suddenly looked nervous. Leff gave Torvald a push as he worked past, Scorch on his heels. Torvald watched them scurry to the alley mouth, then plunge into the crowd on Front Street.
‘How is it,’ he asked under his breath, of no one, ‘that complete idiots just live on, and on? And on?’
He adjusted his Moranth raincape, making certain that none of the items secreted in the underside pockets had been jostled loose or, gods forbid, broken. ‘ Nothing dripping. No burning sensations, no slithering presence of… whatever. Good. Tugging down his floppy hat, he set off once more.
This thing with Gareb was damned irritating. Well, he’d just have to do something about it, wouldn’t he? One night. Fine. So be it. The rest can wait.
I hope.
Born in the city of One Eye Cat twenty-seven years ago, Humble Measure was of mixed blood. A Rhivi woman, sold to a local merchant in exchange for a dozen bars of quenched iron, gave birth to a bastard son a year later. Adopted into his father’s household eight years on, the boy was apprenticed in the profession of iron¬mongery and would have inherited the enterprise if not for one terrible night when his sheltered, stable world ended.
A foreign army had arrived, investing the city in a siege. Days and nights of high excitement from the young man, then, with the streets aflame with rumours of the glory promised by the city’s membership in the great, rich Malazan Empire-if only the fools in the palace would capitulate. His father’s eyes had glowed with that Imagined promise, and no doubt it was on the rising tide of such visions that the elderly trader conspired with agents of the Empire to open the city gates one night-an attempt that ended in Catastrophic failure, with the merchant suffering arrest and then execution, and his estate invaded by city garrison soldiers with swords drawn.
That assault had left nightmare memories that would never leave Humble Measure. Witnessing his mother’s rape and murder, and that of his half-sisters. Screams, smoke and blood, everywhere blood, like the bitter gift of some dark god-oh, he would remember that blood. Beaten and in chains, he had been dragged into the st reet and would have suffered the same fate as the others if not for the presence of a mercenary company allied with the city. Its commander, a tall, fierce warrior named lorrick Sharplance, had taken command of the handful of surviving prisoners.
That company was subsequently driven from One Eye Cat by the city’s paranoid rulers, sailing out on ships across Old King Lake, shortly before yet another act of treachery proved more successful than the first attempt. Another night of slaughter, this time at the bloodied hands of Claw assassins, and One Eye Cat fell to the Malazan
