«What's that got to do with Vorcan and her gang of killers?»
Baruk grimaced. «Like any burdened wagon, the wheels require grease.
Without the option of assassination the noble families would have long since destroyed themselves, taking the city with them, through civil war.
Secondly, the Guild's efficiency provides a measure of control on vendettas, arguments and so forth. It is the guaranteed option of bloodshed, and bloodshed is messy. Usually too messy for the nobility's sensibilities.»
«Curious,» Rake said. «Nevertheless, don't you think that Vorcan would listen very carefully indeed to an offer from the Empress? After all, Laseen has the precedent of handing over the rule of a conquered city to an assassin. In fact, at least a third of her present High Fists come from that profession.»
«You are missing the point!» Baruk's face was dark. «You did not consult us, and that cannot be tolerated.»
«You haven't answered me,» Rake retorted, in a voice quiet and cold.
«Would Vorcan take the contract? Could she manage it? Is she that good, Baruk?»
The alchemist turned away. «I don't know. That's my answer, to all three questions.»
Rake stared hard at Baruk. «If you were indeed nothing more than an alchemist, I might believe you.»
Baruk's smile was wry. «Why would you think me anything but?»
Now it was Rake's turn to smile. «There are few who would argue with me without flinching. I am unused to be addressed as an equal.»
«There are many paths to Ascendancy, some more subtle than others.»
Baruk walked over to the mantel above the fireplace, took a carafe, then went to the shelf behind his desk and retrieved two crystal goblets. «She's a High Mage. We all have magical defences, but against her:» He filled the goblets with wine.
Rake joined the alchemist. He accepted the glass and raised it between them. «I apologize for not informing you. In truth, the thought hadn't crossed my mind as being especially important. Until tonight, I was acting on a theory, nothing more. I didn't consider the ripples a grounded Guild might cause.»
Baruk sipped his wine. «Anomander Rake, tell me something. There was a presence in our city tonight-a conjuring.»
«One of Tayschrenn's Korvalah demons,» Rake answered. «Released by a Claw wizard.» He took a mouthful of the tart liquid, let it roll for a moment, then swallowed with satisfaction. «It's gone.»
«Gone?» Baruk asked quietly. «Where?»
«Out of Tayschrenn's reach,» Rake said, a tight smile on his lips. «Out of anyone's reach.»
«Your sword,» Baruk said, repressing a shiver as the memory of that closing vision returned to him. The creak of wheels, the clank of chains, the groans of a thousand lost souls. And darkness.
«Oh, yes,» Rake said, refilling his goblet. «I received the two Pale wizards» heads. As you promised. I admire your efficiency, Baruk. Did they protest?»
Baruk paled. «I explained to them the options,» he said quietly. «No, they didn't protest.»
Rake's soft laugh chilled the blood in Baruk's veins.
At the distant sound Kruppe rose. The small fire flickered steadily before him, but its heat seemed less. «Ah,» he sighed, «Kruppe's hands are near numb, yet his ears are as sharp as ever. Listen to this faint sound in the very nether regions of his present dream. Does he know its source?»
«Perhaps,» K'rul said beside him.
Startled, Kruppe turned, his eyebrows rising. «Kruppe thought you long gone, Eldering One. None the less, he is thankful for your company.»
The hooded god nodded. «All is well with the child Tattersail. The Rhivi protect her, and she grows swiftly, as is the nature of Soletaken. A powerful warlord now shelters her.»
«Good,» Kruppe said, smiling. The noises in the distance drew his attention again. He stared out into the darkness, seeing nothing.
«Tell me, Kruppe,» K'rul said, «what do you hear?»
«The passing of a great wagon or some such thing,» he replied, with a frown. «I hear its wheels, and chains, and the groaning of slaves.»
«Its name is Dragnipur,» K'rul said. «And it is a sword.» Kruppe's frown deepened. «How can a wagon and slaves be a sword?»
«Forged in darkness, it chains souls to the world that existed before the coming of light. Kruppe, its wielder is among you.»
In Kruppe's mind his Deck of Dragons rose. He saw the image of half man, half dragon-the Knight of High House Darkness, also known as the Son of Darkness. The man held aloft a black sword trailing smoky chains. «The Knight is in Darujhistan?» he asked, fighting a shiver of fear.
«In Darujhistan,» K'rul replied. «Around Darujhistan. Above Darujhistan. His presence is a lodestone to power, and great is the danger.» The Elder God faced Kruppe. «He is in league with Master Baruk and the T'orrud Cabal-Darujhistan's secret rulers have found a two-edged ally. Dragnipur tasted a demon's soul this night, Kruppe, in your city. It is never thirsty for long, and it will feed on more blood before this is done.»
«Can anyone withstand it?» Kruppe asked.
K'rul shrugged. «None could when it was first forged, but that was long ago, before even my time. I cannot answer for the present. I have one other piece of information, Kruppe, a small piece, I'm afraid.»
«Kruppe hearkens.»
«The journey Master Baruk is sending you on to the Gadrobi Hills. Elder magic brews anew, after so long. It is Tellann-of the Imass-but what it touches is Omtose Phellack-Jaghut Elder magic. Kruppe, stay out of their way. Especially guard the Coin Bearer. What is about to come is a danger as grave as the Knight and his sword, and as ancient.
«Step carefully, Kruppe.»
«Kruppe always steps carefully, Eldering One.»
BOOK FIVE
Beyond these thin hide walls a child sits, before her on worn silk a Deck is arrayed.
She cannot yet speak and the scenes before her she's never before seen in this life.
The child gazes upon a lone card named Obelisk, the stone grey she can feel its roughness in her mind.
Obelisk stands buried in a grassy knoll like a knuckle protruded from the earth, past and future.
This child's eyes are wide with terror, for cracks have appeared in the stone of stones and she, knows the shattering is begun.
Silverfox Outrider Hurlochel, 6th Army la
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I saw them on the shores the deepening pits of their gaze vowed immortal war against the sighing calm of Jaghut seas:
Gothos» Folly Gothos (b.?)
907th Year in the Third Millennium The Season of Fanderay in the Year of the Five Tusks By Malazan reckoning, 1163rd Year of Burn's Sleep T'lan Imass reckoning, The Year of Gathering, Tellann Arise
As the days passed, adjunct lorn felt a sharpness return to her mind, the exhaustion and depression fading away. The thought that she could allow herself to slip into carelessness so easily had left her shaken, and that was not a feeling with which she was familiar. She did not know how to deal with it, and this kept her unbalanced, not quite sure of her own efficacy.
As the Gadrobi Hills appeared, first to the south and then to the west as well, she sensed a desperate urgency to regain her confidence. The mission approached a vital juncture. Success with the Jaghut barrow would almost ensure success with everything else.
Since this dawn she'd ridden hard, pushing to keep her schedule intact after travelling so slowly in the first few days. Both horses were in need of rest, so she now walked ahead of them, the reins tucked through her belt. And beside her walked Tool.
Though the Imass spoke often, at her prodding, of many fascinating things, he denied her efforts regarding matters important to the Empire, and to Laseen's continued power. All seemed to return to the vows he had had taken at the last Gathering. For the Imass, something was coming to a head. She wondered if it was somehow connected with freeing this Jaghut Tyrant. And that was a disturbing thought.