Kruppe reined in his mount. «Oh, very well,» he said. «Mutiny in the ranks forces Kruppe's sly hand. Oponn has chosen Crokus, for whatever purposes the devious deity may devise. Baruk would have us keep an eye on the lad and, more, prevent any other powers from finding him.»

Murillio rubbed the bruise on his forehead and winced. «Damn you.» He sighed. «You should've explained all this from the start, Kruppe. Does Rallick know?»

«Of course not,» Kruppe replied tartly. «He's too busy, after all, unable to extricate himself from his various responsibilities. Hence,» Kruppe's expression turned crafty, «the assassin's absence on this journey. But why, pray tell, is Kruppe informing Murillio of such things? Clearly, Murillio knows more of Rallick's doings than poor, ignorant Kruppe.»

Murillio's look was blank. «What do you mean?»

Kruppe sniggered, then kicked his mule into motion once again.

Murillio followed.

«And as for our present mission,» Kruppe continued blithely, «what seems a vast failure, particularly on Coll's part, is in truth an astonishing success. Master Baruk must be made aware of the nefarious activities afoot in the Gadrobi Hills.»

«Success? What are you talking about?»

Kruppe waved a hand. «Dear man, though I was conscious but a moment during the fracas, clear it was that this woman warrior possessed an Otataral sword. Which means, as any child might guess, she's Malazan.»

Murillio hissed slowly between his teeth. «And we left Coll back there? Are you insane, Kruppe?»

«He'll mend enough to follow us shortly,» Kruppe said. «The need for haste overwhelms all other considerations.»

«Except cheap deals with a certain stabler,» Murillio growled. «So, there's some Malazan in the Gadrobi Hills. What's she up to? And don't try telling me you don't know. If you didn't suspect something we wouldn't be in such a hurry.»

«Suspicions, indeed.» Kruppe nodded, his shoulders hunching. «Recall Crokus uttering that perceptive comment as we left the crossroads? Hunting a rumour, or some such thing?»

«Wait a ininute.» Murillio groaned. «Not that barrow legend again? There's not a-»

Kruppe held up a finger and cut in smoothly, «What we believe is irrelevant, Murillio. The fact remains that the Malazans are seeking the truth of that rumour. And both Kruppe and Master Baruk suspect, being of equal intelligence, that they might well discover it. Hence this mission, my fluttery friend.» He waggled his brows. «Otataral in the hands of a swordmaster of the Empire. A T'lan Imass lurking in the vicinity-»

«What?» Murillio exploded, his eyes wide. He made to turn his mule around, but the beast complained and planted its hoofs. He struggled with it, cursing. «Coll's all cut up and he's got a Malazan killer out there and an Imass! You've lost your mind, Kruppe!»

«But, dear Murillio,» Kruppe crooned, «Kruppe would have thought you eager, nay, desperate to return to Darujhistan as quickly as possible!» That stopped the man. He rounded on Kruppe, face darkening. «Come on,» he gritted, «out with it, then.»

Kruppe's brows rose. «Out with what?»

«You've been hinting about something, poking me with it. So if you think you know something about whatever, let's hear it. Otherwise, we turn round right now and head back to Coll.» Seeing Kruppe's eyes dart, Murillio grinned. «Hah, you thought to distract me, didn't you? Well, it's not going to work.»

Kruppe raised his hands palm up. «No matter whose brain was responsible for your scheme to return Coll to his rightful title, Kruppe can do naught but eagerly applaud!»

Murillio's jaw dropped. How in Hood's name did Kruppe:?

The man continued, «But all that is inconsequential when faced with the fact of Crokus, and the grave danger he is presently in. More, if this young girl was indeed possessed, as Coll suspects, the risks are frightening to behold! Was she the only hunter for the lad's frail, unprotected life? What of the thousand gods and demons who would eagerly confound Oponn at the first opportunity? Thus, would Murillio, friend of long standing with Crokus, so callously abandon the child to the fates? Is Murillio a man to succumb to panic, to what-ifs, to a host of imagined nightmares slinking about within the shadows of his overwrought imagination-?»

«All right!» Murillio barked. «Now hold your tongue and let's ride.»

Kruppe gave a brusque nod at this wise remark.

An hour later, as dusk clambered up the hillsides and ever westward to the dying sun, Murillio started and threw Kruppe a furious glare that was lost in the gloom. «Damn him,» he whispered, «I said I wasn't about to let him distract me. So what's the first thing he does? Distract me.»

«Murillio murmurs something?» Kruppe asked.

Murillio massaged his forehead. «I'm having dizzy spells,» he said.

«Let's find a camp. Crokus and the girl won't make it to the city before tomorrow anyway. I doubt he's in any danger on the road, and we'll find him easily enough before tomorrow's sunset. They should be fine in the daytime-hell, they'll be with Mammot, right?»

«Kruppe admits to his own weariness. Indeed, a camp should be found, and Murillio can construct a small fire, perhaps, and so prepare dinner while Kruppe ponders vital thoughts and such.»

«Fine.» Murillio sighed. «Just fine.»

It came to Captain Paran a couple days after his encounter with the Tiste And? and the events within the lord's sword that Rake had not suspected him to be a Malazan soldier. Or he'd be dead. Oversights blessed him, it seemed. His assassin in Pale should have checked twice-and now the Son of Darkness, snatching him from the jaws of the Hounds, had in turn let him walk free. Was there a pattern to this? It had Oponn's flavour, yet Paran didn't doubt Rake's assertion.

Then did his luck indeed lie in his sword? And had these mercies of fortune marked pivotal moments-moments that would come back to haunt those who'd spared him? For his own well-being, he hoped not.

His was no longer the Empire's road. He'd walked that path of blood and treachery for too long. Never again. What lay before him, then, was the singular effort to save the lives of Whiskeyjack and the squad. If he managed that, he would not begrudge his own death as a consequence.

Some things went beyond a single man's life, and maybe justice existed outside the minds of humanity, beyond even the hungry eyes of gods and goddesses, a thing shining and pure and final. Some philosophers he'd read during his schooling in the Malazan capital, Unta, had asserted what seemed to him then an absurd position. Morality was not relative, they claimed, nor even existing solely in the realm of the human condition. No, they proclaimed morality as an imperative of all life, a natural law that was neither the brutal acts of beasts nor the lofty ambitions of humanity, but something other, something unassailable.

Just another hunt for certainty. Paran scowled and stiffened in his saddle, his eyes fixed on the trader track winding before him through low, rounded hills. He recalled discussing this with Adjunct Lorn, at a time when neither had been compelled by the outside world. Just another hunt for certainty, she'd said, in a voice brittle and cynical, putting an end to the discussion as clearly as if she'd driven a knife into the winestained table between them.

For such words to have come from a woman no older than him, Paran suspected then, as he did now, that her particular view had been no more than an easy, lazy mimicry of Empress Laseen's. But Laseen had a right to it and Lorn did not. At least, in Paran's mind. If anyone had a right to world-weary cynicism, it was the Empress of the Malazan Empire.

Truly had the Adjunct made herself Laseen's extension. But at what cost? He'd seen the young woman behind the mask just once-as they'd looked out over a road carpeted with dead soldiers then proceeded to pick their way through them. The pale, frightened girl that was Lorn had shown herself in a single frail moment. He couldn't remember what had triggered the return of the mask-likely it had been something he'd said, something he'd tossed off in his own guise as a hardened soldier.