The Complete Malazan Book of the Fallen (213 page)

‘The Malazans are seeking to do that very thing, Warlord. Much rests on their efforts. We must have faith in them. In Whiskeyjack, and in Captain Paran – the man who was once Tattersail’s lover.’

‘I have spoken with Whiskeyjack,’ Korlat said. ‘He possesses an unshakeable integrity, Warlord. An honourable man.’

‘I hear your heart in your words,’ Brood observed.

Korlat shrugged. ‘Less cause to doubt me, then, Caladan. I am not careless in such matters.’

The warlord grunted. ‘I dare not take another step in that direction,’ he said wryly. ‘Mhybe, hold close to your daughter. Should you begin to see the spirit of Nightchill rising and that of Tattersail setting, inform me at once.’

And should that occur, my telling you will see my daughter killed.

‘My thoughts,’ Brood continued, his thin eyes fixed on her, ‘are not settled on that matter. Rather, such an event may well lead to my more directly supporting the Malazans in their efforts on Tattersail’s behalf.’

The Mhybe raised her brows. ‘Precisely how, Warlord?’

‘Have faith in me,’ Brood said.

The Rhivi woman sighed, then nodded. ‘Very well, I shall so inform you.’

The tent flap was drawn back and Hurlochel, Brood’s standard-bearer, entered. ‘Warlord,’ he said, ‘the Darujhistan contingent approach our camp.’

‘Let us go to meet them, then.’

*   *   *

Since arriving, the hooded driver seemed to have fallen asleep. The huge, ornate carriage’s double doors opened from within and a regent-blue slippered foot emerged. Arrayed before the carriage and its train of six jewel-decked horses, in a crescent, were the representatives of the two allied armies: Dujek, Whiskeyjack, Twist and Captain Paran to the left, and Caladan Brood, Kallor, Korlat, Silverfox and the Mhybe to the right.

The Rhivi matron had been left exhausted by the events of the night just past, and her meeting with Brood had added yet more layers of weariness – the holding back on so much in the face of the warlord’s hard questions had been difficult, yet, she felt, necessary. Her daughter’s meeting with Paran had been far more strained and uncertain than the Mhybe had suggested to Brood. Nor had the intervening hours since then diminished the awkwardness of the situation. Worse, the reunion may have triggered something within Silverfox – the child had drawn heavily on the Mhybe since then, stripping away year after year from her mother’s failing life.
Is it Tattersail behind the fevered demand on my life-spirit? Or Nightchill?

This will end soon. I yearn for the release of the Hooded One’s embrace. Silverfox has allies, now. They will do what is necessary, I am certain of it – please, Spirits of the Rhivi, make me certain of it. The time for me is surely past, yet those around me continue to make demands of me. No, I cannot go on …

The slippered foot probed daintily downward, wavering until it touched ground. A rather plump calf, knee, and thigh followed. The short, round man who emerged was wearing silks of every colour; the effect one of clashing discord. A shimmering, crimson handkerchief was clutched in one pudgy hand, rising to dab a glittering forehead. Both feet finally on the ground, the Daru loosed a loud sigh. ‘Burn’s fiery heart, but it’s hot!’

Caladan Brood stepped forward. ‘Welcome, representative of the City of Darujhistan, to the armies of liberation. I am Caladan Brood, and this is Dujek Onearm…’

The short, round man blinked myopically, mopped his brow once again, then beamed a smile. ‘Representative of the City of Darujhistan? Indeed! None better, Kruppe says, though he be a lowly citizen, a curious commoner come to cast kindly eyes upon this momentous occasion! Kruppe is suitably honoured by your formal, nay, respectful welcome – what vast display, Kruppe wonders, will you formidable warriors unveil when greeting the Council of Darujhistan’s
official
representatives? The sheer escalation now imminent has Kruppe’s heart all apatter with anticipation! Look on, to the south – the councillors’ carriage even now approaches!’

A Great Raven’s cackle spilled into the silence following the man’s pronouncements.

Despite her fraught, worn emotions, the Mhybe smiled.
Oh yes, of course. I know this man.
She stepped forward, unable to resist herself as she said, ‘I have been in your dreams, sir.’

Kruppe’s eyes fixed on her and widened in alarm. He mopped his brow. ‘My dear, while all things are possible…’

Crone cackled a second time.

‘I was younger then,’ the Mhybe added. ‘And with child. We were in the company of a Bonecaster … and an Elder God.’

Recognition lit his round, flushed face, followed swiftly by dismay. For once he seemed at a loss for words. His gaze held on hers a moment longer, then dropped to the child at her side. She noted his narrowing eyes.
He senses the way of things between us. Instantly. How? And why is it I know the truth of my conviction? How profound is this link?

Caladan Brood cleared his throat. ‘Welcome, citizen Kruppe. We are now aware of the events surrounding the birth of the child, Silverfox. You, then, are the mortal involved. The identity of this Elder God, however, remains unknown to us. Which one? The answer to that question may well do much to determine our … relationship with the girl.’

Kruppe blinked up at the warlord. He patted the soft flesh beneath his chin with the silk cloth. ‘Kruppe understands. Indeed he does. A sudden tension permeates this prestigious gathering, yes? The god in question. Yes, hmm. Ambivalence, uncertainty, all anathema to Kruppe of Darujhistan … possibly, then again possibly not.’ He glanced over a shoulder as the official delegation’s carriage approached, mopped his brow again. ‘Swift answers may well mislead, nay, give the wrong impression entirely. Oh my, what to do?’

‘Damn you!’ The cry came from the other carriage driver as the ornate contrivance arrived. ‘Kruppe! What in Hood’s name are you doing here?’

The silk-clad man pivoted and attempted a sweeping bow which, despite its meagre success, nevertheless managed to seem elegant. ‘Dear friend Murillio. Have you climbed in the world with this new profession, or perhaps sidled sideways? Kruppe was unaware of your obvious talents in leading mules—’

The driver scowled. ‘Seems the Council’s select train of horses inexplicably vanished moments before our departure. Horses decidedly similar to ones you and Meese seem to have acquired, might I add.’

‘Extraordinary coincidence, friend Murillio.’

The carriage doors opened and out climbed a broad-shouldered, balding man. His blunt-featured face was dark with anger as he strode towards Kruppe.

The small round citizen spread his arms wide even as he involuntarily stepped back. ‘Dearest friend and lifelong companion. Welcome, Councillor Coll. And who is that behind you? Why, none other than Councillor Estraysian D’Arle! In such fashion all the truly vital representatives of fair Darujhistan are thus gathered!’

‘Excluding you, Kruppe,’ Coll growled, still advancing on the man who was now back-pedalling to his own carriage.

‘Untrue, friend Coll! I am here as representative of Master Baruk—’

Coll halted. He crossed his burly arms. ‘Oh, indeed? The alchemist sent you on his behalf, did he?’

‘Well, not in so many words, of course. Baruk and I are of such closeness in friendship that words are often unnecessary—’

‘Enough, Kruppe.’ Coll turned to Caladan Brood. ‘My deepest apologies, Warlord. I am Coll, and this gentleman at my side is Estraysian D’Arle. We are here on behalf of the Ruling Council of Darujhistan. The presence of this … this Kruppe … was unintended, and indeed is unwelcome. If you can spare me a moment I will send him on his way.’

‘Alas, it seems we have need of him,’ Brood replied. ‘Rest assured I will explain. For now, however, perhaps we should reconvene in my command tent.’

Coll swung a glare on Kruppe. ‘What outrageous lies have you uttered now?’

The round man looked offended. ‘Kruppe and the truth are lifelong partners, friend Coll! Indeed, wedded bliss – we only yesterday celebrated out fortieth anniversary, the mistress of veracity and I. Kruppe is most certainly of need – in all things, at all times and in all places! It is a duty Kruppe must accept, howsoever humbly—’

With a low growl Coll raised a hand to cuff the man.

Estraysian D’Arle stepped forward and laid a hand on Coll’s shoulder. ‘Be at ease,’ the councillor murmured. ‘It appears to be obvious to all that Kruppe does not speak for anyone but Kruppe. We are not responsible for him. If in truth he is to prove useful, the task of impressing us falls upon him and him alone.’

‘And impress I shall!’ Kruppe cried, suddenly beaming again.

Crone bounded down to hop towards Kruppe. ‘You, sir, should have been a Great Raven!’

‘And you a dog!’ he shouted back.

Crone halted, teetered a moment, wings half spreading. She cocked her head, whispered, ‘A dog?’

‘Only so that I might ruffle you behind the ears, my dear!’

‘Ruffle?
Ruffle!
’

‘Very well, not a dog, then. A parrot?’

‘A parrot!’

‘Perfect!’

‘Enough!’ Brood roared. ‘All of you, follow me!’ He whirled and stomped towards the Tiste Andii encampment.

It took only a glance from the Mhybe to start Whiskeyjack laughing. Dujek joined him a moment later, then the others.

Silverfox squeezed her hand. ‘Kruppe has already revealed his value,’ she said in low voice, ‘don’t you think?’

‘Aye, child, that he has. Come, we’d best lead the way in catching up with the warlord.’

*   *   *

As soon as all were within the command tent and the removal of cloaks and weapons had begun, Paran strode over to Councillor Coll. ‘It is good to see you again,’ the captain said, ‘though,’ he added in a low tone, ‘you wore a soldier’s armour with more ease, I think, than those robes.’

Coll grimaced. ‘You’re right enough in that. Do you know I at times think back on that night camped in the Gadrobi Hills with something like nostalgia? We weren’t anything but ourselves, then.’ He met Paran’s eyes with a flicker of worry at what he saw. They gripped hands. ‘Simpler times…’

‘An unlikely toast,’ a voice said and they turned as Whiskeyjack joined them, an earthenware jug in one hand. ‘There’s tankards there behind you, Councillor, on what passes for a table. Brood has no servants as such so I’ve elected myself to that worthy task.’

Pulling three tankards close, Paran frowned at the table. ‘This is the bed of a wagon – you can still see the straw.’

‘Which also explains this place smelling like a stable,’ the commander added, pouring the tankards full of Gredfallan ale. ‘Brood’s map table went missing last night.’

Coll raised an eyebrow. ‘Someone stole a
table
?’

‘Not someone,’ Whiskeyjack replied, glancing at Paran. ‘Your Bridgeburners, Captain. I’d lay a column on it.’

‘What in Hood’s name for?’

‘That’s something you’ll have to find out. Fortunately, the warlord’s only complaint was at the inconvenience.’

Caladan Brood’s deep voice rose then. ‘If one and all will find seats, we can get to the business of supply and matériel.’

Kruppe was the first to lower himself into a chair – at the head of the makeshift table. He held a tankard and a handful of Rhivi sweet-cakes. ‘Such rustic environs!’ he sighed, round face flushed with pleasure. ‘And traditional pastries of the plains to lure the palate. More, this ale is most delicious, perfectly cooled—’

‘Be quiet, damn you,’ Coll growled. ‘And what are you doing in that chair?’

‘Why, sitting, friend Coll. Our mutual friend the alchemist—’

‘Would skin you alive if he knew you were here, claiming to represent him.’

Kruppe’s brows rose and he nearly choked on a mouthful of sweetcake, spraying crumbs as he coughed. He quickly drank down his ale, then belched. ‘By the Abyss, what a distasteful notion. And entirely in error, Kruppe assures everyone. Baruk has a keen interest in the smooth conduct of this prestigious gathering of legendary persons. The success of the venture impending is uppermost in his mind, and he pledges to do all that is within his – and his servant Kruppe’s – formidable abilities.’

‘Has your master specific suggestions?’ Brood asked.

‘Innumerable suggestions of a specific nature, sir Warlord. So many that, when combined, they can only be seen or understood in the most general terms!’ He then lowered his tone. ‘Vague and seemingly vacuous generalities are proof of Master Baruk’s all-embracing endeavours, Kruppe sagely points out.’ He offered everyone a broad, crumb-flecked smile. ‘But please, let us get under way lest this meeting stretch on, forcing the delivery of a sumptuous supper replete with the dryest of wines to whet the gullet and such a selection of sweets as to leave Kruppe groaning in fullest pleasure!’

‘Gods forbid,’ Coll muttered.

Estraysian D’Arle cleared his throat. ‘We are faced with only minor difficulties in maintaining a supply route to your combined armies, Warlord and Dujek Onearm. The most pressing of these centres on the destroyed bridge west of Darujhistan. There are but few manageable crossings on the Catlin River, and the destruction of that stone bridge by the Jaghut Tyrant has created an inordinate amount of difficulty—’

‘Ah,’ Kruppe interjected, raising a pudgy finger, ‘but are not bridges naught but a means of travelling from one side of a river to another? Does this not assume certain prerequisites regarding the projected plans of movement as directed by the leaders of the armies? Kruppe is left wondering…’ He reached for another sweet-cake.

‘As are we all,’ D’Arle drawled after a moment.

Dujek, his eyes narrowed on Kruppe, cleared his throat ‘Well, much as I hate to admit it, there’s something in that.’ He swung his gaze to Estraysian. ‘Catlin River only presents a problem if we look to employing the south routes. And we’d only want those if the armies seek to cross early in the march.’

Both councillors frowned.

‘It is our intent,’ Brood explained, ‘to remain north of the river, to march directly towards Capustan. Our route will take us north of Saltoan … well north. Then proceed in a southeast direction.’