Smiling, Kruppe nodded. «Until the F?te, then, fare you well, Murillio, Kruppe's finest and dearest friend.»
«Goodnight,» Murillio replied, turning to retrace his steps. He lacked sleep. All these late nights were taking their toll. That was the problem.
«Of course,» he muttered, then began to walk.
His features darkening, Baruk studied the Tiste And? lounging in the chair across from him. «I don't think it's a very good idea, Rake.»
The Lord raised an eyebrow. «As I understand such things, the event includes the wearing of disguises,» he said, with a slight smile. «Do you fear I lack taste?»
«I've no doubt your attire will be suitable,» Baruk snapped. «Particularly if you choose the costume of a Tiste And? warlord. It's the Council that worries me. They're not all fools.»
«I would be surprised if they were,» Rake said. «Indeed, I would have you point out the cunning ones. I don't imagine you will refute my suspicion that there are those within the Council seeking to pave the way for the Empress-for a price, of course. Power comes to mind. Nobles delving in merchant trades no doubt drool at the prospect of Empire trade. Am I far off the mark, Baruk?»
«No,» the alchemist admitted sourly. «But we have that under control.»
«Ah, yes,» Rake said. «This brings to mind my other reason for wishing to attend this Lady Sinital's F?te. As you said, the city's power will be there. I assume this includes such mages as are in your T'orrud Cabal?»
«Some will attend,» Baruk conceded. «But I must tell you, Anomander Rake, your d6bicles with the Assassins» Guild has made a good number of them rue our alliance. They'll not appreciate your presence in the least.»
Rake's smile returned. «To the extent that they will reveal their community to cunning Council members? I think not.» He rose in a fluid motion. «No, I would like to attend this F?te. My own people hold little to such social affairs. There are times when I grow weary of their dour preoccupations.»
Baruk's gaze focused on the Tiste And?. «You suspect a convergence, don't you? A fell gathering of powers, like iron filings to a lodestone.»
«With so much power gathered in one place,» Rake admitted, «it's likely. I'd rather be on hand in such circumstances.» His eyes held Baruk's, their colour flowing from dun green to amber. «Also, if this event is as publicly known as you suggest, then the Empire's agents within the city will know of it. Should they wish to cut out Darujhistan's heart, they'll have no better opportunity.»
Baruk barely repressed a shiver. «Extra guards have been hired, of course. If an Empire Claw should strike, they will find their hands full with the T'orrud mages besides.» He thought for a time, then nodded wearily. «Very well, Rake. Sinital will accept you as my guest. You will wear an effective disguise?»
«Naturally.»
Baruk climbed to his feet and strode to the window. Beyond the sky had begun to pale. «And so it begins,» he whispered.
Rake joined him. «What begins?»
«The new year,» the alchemist replied. «Past is the Five Tusks. The dawn you see marks the birth of the Year of the Moon's Tears.»
Lord Anomander Rake stiffened.
Baruk noticed. «Indeed. An unusual coincidence, though I would put little weight upon it. The titles were devised over a millennium ago, by a visitor to these lands.»
When Rake spoke his voice was a ravaged whisper. «Icarium's gifts. I recognize the style. Five Tusks, Moon's Tears-the Wheel is his, correct?»
Eyes wide, Baruk hissed his surprise between his teeth. A dozen questions struggled to be uttered first, but the Lord continued. «In the future, I'd suggest you heed Icarium's gifts-all of them. A thousand years is not so long a time, Alchemist. Not so long a time. Icarium. last visited me eight hundred years ago, in the company of the Trell Mappo, and Osric-or Osserc, as the local worshippers call him.» Rake smiled bitterly. «Osric and I argued, as I recall, and it was all Brood could do to keep us apart. It was an old argument.
into grey. He fell silent, lost in memories.
There came a knock at the door and both turned to see Roald enter and bow.
«Master Baruk, Mammot has awakened and appears refreshed. More,» his almond eyes shaded, «your agent Kruppe has delivered a verbal message. He extends his regret that he cannot deliver it to you in person. Do you wish to receive it now?»
«Yes,» Baruk said.
Roald bowed again. «The Eel will contact you the eve of this day. At Lady Sinital's F?te. The Eel further finds the prospect of shared information and co-operation intriguing. That is all.»
Baruk brightened. «Excellent.»
«Shall I bring Mammot to you, Master?»
«If he's able.»
«He is. A moment, then.» Roald left.
The alchemist smiled. «As I said, «he laughed, «everyone will be there, and in this case, everyone is an appropriate term.» His smile broadened at Rake's blank look. «The Eel, Lord. Darujhistan's master-spy, a figure without a face.»
«A masked face,» the Tiste And? reminded him.
«If my suspicions are correct,» Baruk said, «the mask won't help the Eel one bit.»
The door opened again and there stood Mammot, looking fit and full of energy. He nodded to Baruk. «Withdrawal proved easier than I'd imagined,» he said, without preamble. His bright gaze fixed on Anomander Rake and he smiled, then bowed. «Greetings, Lord. I've looked forward to this meeting ever since Baruk brought to us the offer of alliance.»
Rake glanced at Baruk and raised an eyebrow.
The alchemist said, «Mammot numbers among the Vorrud Cabal.» He faced the old man again. «We were deeply worried, friend, given the Elder mageries at play around the barrow."
«I was snared for a time,» Mammot admitted, «but at the extreme edges of the Omtose Phellack influence. Quiescent regard proved the correct course, as the one stirring within did not sense me.»
«How much time do we have?» Baruk asked tightly.
«Two, perhaps three days. Even for a Jaghut Tyrant, it is an effort to make the return journey to life.» Mammot's eyes fell upon the mantelpiece. «Ah, your carafe of wine awaits as is usual. Excellent.» He strode over to the fireplace. «Have you word of my nephew, by any chance?»
Baruk frowned. «No, should I have? The last time I met the child was, what, five years ago?»
«Mmm,» Mammot said, raising his freshly filled goblet and taking a mouthful. «Well, Crokus has grown somewhat since then, I assure you. I hope the lad's all right. He was-»
Baruk threw up a hand and staggered-a step forward. «What?» he demanded in sudden fear. «What's his name? Crokus? Crokus!» The alchemist rapped his forehead. «Oh, what a fool I've been!»
Mammot's face crinkled into a wise smile. «Oh, you mean the matter of the Coin Bearer, do you?»
Shock registered in Baruk's face. «You knew?»
Standing to one side, his charcoal-grey eyes fixed intently on Mammot, Rake said, in a strangely flat tone, «Mammot, forgive me for interrupting. Will you be attending Lady Sinital's F?te?»
The old man nodded easily. «Of course.»
«Very good,» Rake said, with something like anticipation. He pulled his leather gloves from his belt. «We'll speak then.»
Baruk had no time to think about Rake's sudden departure. It was his first mistake of the day.
A woman with a shaved head and long flowing robes ran shrieking from the gates, a shred of brown fur streaming from one hand. Adjunct Lorn stepped back to let the priestess pass. She watched as the woman plunged into the crowd behind her. The festival had spilled out beyond Darujhistan's walls, and Worrytown's main street was a streaming mob she'd spent the last half-hour pushing through on her way to the gates.
Absently she rubbed the rapier wound in her shoulder. Her journey into the barrow seemed to have slowed the healing, and an ache had settled inside the puncture, cold as the ice in the barrow's tunnel. Eyeing the two guards stationed at the gate, she approached warily.