Crokus grinned. These guards had all the luck when it came to noble ladies.
Circle Breaker accepted the scroll and slid from it the silk tie in. More than once he had sensed Turban Orr's eyes on him. First in the central chamber, when it looked as if the Councilman might accost him directly, and now, while others argued over who should referee the duel.
Circle Breaker prayed Rallick would kill Turban Orr. He felt his own fear racing through his body, and it was with trembling hands that he read the Eel's message.
The time has come for Circle Breaker to retire from active duty. The circle is mended, loyal friend. Though you have never seen the Eel, you have been his most trusted hand, and you have earned your rest.
Think not that the Eel simply discards you now. Such is not the Eel's way. The sigil at the bottom of this parchment will provide you passage to the city of Dhavran, where loyal servants of the Eel have prepared your arrival by purchasing an estate and a legitimate title on your behalf. You enter a different world soon, with its own games.
Trust your new servants, friend, in this and all other concerns.
Proceed, this very night, to the Dhavran trader's pier in Lakefront.
You seek the river longboat named Enskalader. Show the sigil to any crewman aboard-all are servants of the Eel. The time has come, Circle Breaker. The circle is mended. Fare you well.
Baruk threw up his hands in exasperation. «Enough of this!» he bellowed.
«I will referee this duel, and accept all responsibility. Judgement of victory is mine. Accepted by both parties?»
Turban Orr nodded. Even better than Estraysian being his second. Baruk's proclaiming him victor in the duel would be a coup in its own right. «I accept.»
«As do I,» Rallick said, his short cloak drawn about his body.
A sudden wind thrashed the treetops in the garden, sweeping down from the east. Thunder boomed from this side of the hills. A number of onlookers seemed to flinch. Turban Orr grinned, stepping into the cleared area. Leaves skirled past, clattering like tiny bones. «Before it rains,» he said.
His allies in the crowd laughed at this. «Of course,» Orr continued, «it might prove more entertaining to draw things out. A wound here, a wound there. Shall I cut him to pieces slowly?» He feigned dismay at the chorus of eager assent. «Too eager for blood, friends! Must the ladies dance on slick flagstones once darkness falls? We must consider our host:» And where was Sinital? His imagination conjured an image in answer and he frowned. «No indeed,» he said coldly, «it shall be quick.»
The councilman unsheathed his sword and fastened his glove's leather straps to the ornate grip behind the bell guard. He scanned the faces of his audience, even now seeking some betrayal of expression-he had friends who were enemies, enemies who would be friends, the game would continue beyond this moment, but it could prove a telling moment. He would recall every face later, and study it at his leisure.
Turban Orr assumed his stance. His opponent stood ten feet away, both hands hidden beneath his cloak. He looked at ease, almost bore «What's this?» Orr demanded. «Where is your weapon?»
«I'm ready,» Rallick replied.
Baruk placed himself equidistant between the two duellists, slightly to one side. His face was pale, as if he had fallen ill. «Comments from seconds?» he asked faintly.
Rake made no reply.
Estraysian D'Arle cleared his throat. «I hereby make it known that I oppose this duel as facile and trite.» He stared at Turban Orr. «I find the councilman's life irrelevant in the best of times. Should he die,» the man looked over to Rallick, «there will be no vengeance pact from the House of D'Arle. You, sir, are freed of that.»
Rallick bowed.
Turban Orr's smile tightened. The bastard would pay for that, he vowed. He lowered himself into a crouch, ready to launch an attack soon as the duel began.
Baruk said, «You have been heard, Estraysian D'Arle.» The alchemist raised a handkerchief before him, then released it.
Turban Orr jumped forward and lunged in a single, fluid motion, fast he'd fully extended his weapon before the handkerchief struck the paving stones. He saw his opponent's left hand dart under his blade, then twist up and outward, a short, curved knife flashing in its grip. The pa was a blur, yet Orr caught it and deftly disengaged, driving his point I and towards the man's mid-section. He had no time even to notice the second knife, as Rallick turned his body sideways, the blade in his right hand guiding Turban Orr's sword past him. The assassin stepped in th his left hand moving in a high swing that buried its blade in the councilman's neck. Rallick followed this by driving his other knife into Orr's chest.
The councilman staggered to one side, his sword clanging on stones as he clutched at the gushing wound in his neck. The motion was reflex, for he was already dead from the wound in his heart.
He toppled.
Rallick stepped back, weapons once again hidden beneath his cloak. «A thousand other deaths,» he whispered, so low that only Baruk and Rake heard him, «would not have satisfied me. But I'll settle for this one.» Baruk stepped close and made to speak, but then, at a gesture from Rake, he turned to see Estraysian D'Arle approaching.
The councilman's heavy eyes held Rallick. «I might suspect,» he said «given your style, that we have witnessed an assassination. Of course, even the Guild of Assassins is brash enough to commit public murder. Therefore I've no choice but to keep such suspicions to myself. And leave it at that. Good evening, gentlemen.» He whirled and strode away.
«I think,» Rake said, his masked face swinging to the assassin, «that that was a rather uneven match.»
A rush of people closed in around Turban Orr's body. Voices shouted in dismay.
Baruk studied the cool satisfaction on Rallick's face. «It's done, Rallick. Go home.»
A large, rounded woman in a bright green, gold-trimmed robe joined them. Unmasked, she smiled broadly at Baruk. «Greetings,» she said. «Interesting times, yes?» A personal servant stood at her side, bearing a padded tray on which squatted a water-pipe.
Rallick stepped back with a slight bow, then left.
Baruk sighed. «Greetings, Derudan. Permit me to introduce Lord Anomander Rake. Lord, the witch Derudan.»
«Forgive the mask,» Rake said to her. «It is best that it remain on, however.»
Smoke streamed down from Derudan's nose. «My compatriots share my growing unease, yes? We feel the approaching storm, and while Baruk continues to reassure us, still the misgivings, yes?»
«Should it prove necessary,» Rake said, «I will attend to the matter personally. I do not believe, however, that our greatest threat is the one beyond the city's walls. A suspicion, Witch, no more.»
«I think,» Baruk said tentatively, «that we would like to hear these suspicions of yours, Rake.»
The Tiste And? hesitated, then shook his head. «Unwise. The matter is presently too sensitive to be broached. I shall remain here for now, however.»
Derudan waved dismissively at Baruk's angry growl. «True, the T'orrud Cabal is unused to feeling helpless, yes? True also, dangers abound, and any might prove a feint, a diversion, yes? Cunning is the Empress. For myself, I affirm the trust between us, Lord.» She smiled at Baruk. «We must speak, you and I, Alchemist,» she said, linking arms with him.
Rake bowed to the woman. «A pleasure meeting you, Witch.» He watched the witch and the alchemist walk away, the servant scurrying at Derudan's heel.
Kruppe intercepted a servant burdened with delicious-looking savouries.Taking two handfuls at random, he turned back to resume his conversation with Crokus. He stopped. The lad was nowhere in sight.
The crowd milled about on the terrace, some upset although the majority appeared simply confused. Where was Lady Sinital? they asked.