«Now, Turban Orr has hired another dozen hunters. What are they hunting? Well, me, for one. Your problem is that he's going to be harder to reach. The Eel approves of your effort's concerning Lady Sinital. Coll's return is desired by all who value integrity and honour within the Council. If you require anything, ask now and it's yours.»

Rallick's eyes had hardened. «Never knew Murillio had such a big mouth,» he said.

The man shook his head. «Your compatriot has revealed nothing. Nor have you. It is the Eel's business. Now, what do you require?»

«Nothing.»

«Good.» The stranger nodded, as if he'd expected that reply and was pleased. «Incidentally, Turban Orr's efforts to pass the proclamation have been: impeded. Indefinitely. The Eel wishes to thank you for your unwitting role in that. Nevertheless, the councilman explores other options. He has been watched closely. Hence our fortunate discovery that is at the heart of the Eel's message to you. Last night, beneath Despot's Barbican, Turban Orr met with a representative of the Assassins» Guild-how he managed that was quite a feat, considering how difficult your comrades have been to find. In any case, a contract was tendered by Turban Orr.» The man waited for the shock to wear off Rallick's face, then continued. «Tendered by Turban Orr, as I said, but not on his own behalf. Rather, Lady Sinital has decided that Coll's death should be a fact in the real world as it is on paper.»

«Who?» Rallick rasped. «Who was the contact?»

«I'm coming to that. First, it was accepted, for the payment was substantial. They are aware that Coll is presently outside Darujhistan. They simply await his return.»

«The assassin's name.»

«Ocelot.» The man rose. «The Eel wishes you success in all your ventures, Rallick Nom. Thus the message ends. Good evening.» He turned to leave.

«Wait.»

«Yes?»

«Thank you,» Rallick said.

The stranger smiled, then left.

The assassin took the man's seat, and leaned against the wall. He waved at Sulty, who had a pitcher of ale and a tankard waiting. She hurried over. Behind her strode, at a more leisurely pace, Irilta and Meese. They sat down without preamble, each with her own tankard.

«Everybody's still breathing,» Irilta said, raising her drink. «And here's t» that.»

Meese lifted hers as well and the two women drank deep. Then Meese bent forward. «Any word of Kruppe and the boy?»

Rallick shook his head. «I may not be here when they come back,» he said. «Tell Murillio to go ahead if I don't show, and if other: events occur. And, if that happens, tell him our man's eyes are open.» Rallick filled his tankard and drained it immediately. Then he rose. «Don't wish me luck,» he said.

«How about success?» Meese asked, a worried expression on her broad face.

Rallick jerked his head in a nod. Then he left the inn.

Anomander Rake was hiding something. Baruk was certain of it as he stared moodily into the fireplace. In his right hand was a goblet of goat's milk, and in his left a large fragment of Daru flatbread. Why had the Tiste And? permitted the Imass to enter the barrow? He'd asked that question already of the Lord sitting beside him, but an answer didn't seem forthcoming. Instead, all the alchemist got from Rake was that irritating smugness. Baruk took a bite from the flatbread, the crack loud between them.

Rake stretched out his legs and sighed. «An odd hour to dine,» he said.

«All my hours have been odd, lately,» Baruk said, around the bread. He drank a mouthful of milk.

«I'd no idea that both the Shadow Lord and Oponn had become involved in affairs,» Rake said.

Baruk felt the Lord's eyes on him, but he remained staring at the fire.

«I had an intimation of Oponn,» he said. «But nothing definite.»

Rake snorted in reply.

Baruk downed some more milk. «You hold your hunches close to your chest. I do the same.»

«This avails us nothing,» Rake snapped.

The alchemist turned in his chair to face the Tiste And?. «Your ravens watched that woman and the T'lan Imass enter the barrow. Do you still believe they will fail?»

«Do you?» Rake retorted. «I seem to recall that that was your position on the matter, Baruk. As far as I was and am concerned, I don't much care whether they succeed or not. Either way, there'll be a fight. I suspect you'd imagined there would be a way to avoid one. Obviously, your intelligence concerning the Malazan Empire is sorely lacking. Laseen knows only one thing, and that's force. She'll ignore power until it's unveiled, and then she'll hit you with everything at her disposal.»

«And you just wait for it to happen?» Baruk scowled. «That's how cities are destroyed. That's how thousands of people die. Does any of that matter to you, Anomander Rake? So long as you win in the end?»

A tight smile played on the Lord's thin lips. «An accurate assessment, Baruk. In this case, however, Laseen wants Darujhistan intact. I mean to prevent that. But destroying the city to defy her would be too easy. I could have managed that weeks ago. No, I want Darujhistan to remain as it is. Yet out of Laseen's reach. That, Alchemist, is victory.» His grey eyes were on Baruk. «I would not have sought an alliance with you otherwise.»

The alchemist frowned. «Unless you plan treachery.»

Rake was silent for a time, studying his hands clasped on his lap. «Baruk, he said soffly, «as any commander of long standing knows, treachery breeds its own. Once committed, whether against an enemy or an ally, it become a legitimate choice for everyone in your command, from the lowest private seeking promotion, to your personal aides, bodyguards and officers. My people know of our alliance with you, Alchemist. If I were to betray it, would not long remain the Lord of Moon's Spawn. And rightly so Baruk smiled.

«And who could challenge your power, Rake?»

«Caladan Brood, for one,» Rake replied immediately. «And then there's my four assassin mages. Even Silanah, the dweller within the Moon's caverns, might take it upon herself to exact judgement on me. I can thint

«So fear holds you in check, Son of Darkness?»

Rake scowled. «That title is held by those fools who think me worthy of worship. I dislike it, Baruk, and would not hear it again from you. Does fear hold me in check? No. As powerful as fear is, it is no match for what compels me. Duty.» The Lord's eyes had shifted into a dun tone as they remained fixed on his hands, which he now turned palms up.

«You have a duty to your city, Baruk. It drives you, shapes you. I'm no stranger to such a thing. Within Moon's Spawn are the last of the Tiste And? on this world. We are dying, Alchemist. No cause seems great enough to return to my people the zest for life. I try, but inspiration has never been a great talent of mine. Even this Malazan Empire could not make us rise to defend ourselves-until we ran out of places to run to.»

«We still die on this continent. Better that it be by the sword.» He let his hands slip from his lap. «Imagine your spirit dying while your body lives on. Not for ten years, not for fifty. But a body that lives on for fifteen, twenty thousand years.»

Rake rose swiftly. He looked down upon a silent Baruk, and smiled a smile that launched a dagger of pain into the alchemist's heart. «Thus duty holds me, yet a duty that is in itself hollow. Is it enough to preserve the Tiste And?? Simply preserve them? Do I raise Moon's Spawn into the heavens, where we live on, beyond any risk, any threat? What, then, will I be preserving? A history, a particular point of view.» He shrugged. «The history is done, Baruk, and the Tiste And? point of view is one of disinterest, stoicism and quiet, empty despair. Are these gifts to the world worthy of preservation? I think not.»

Baruk had no immediate response. What Anomander Rake had described was almost beyond comprehension, yet its anguished cry reached through to the alchemist. «And yet,» he said, «here you are. Allied with the Empire's victims. Do you stand alone in this, Anomander Rake? Do your people approve?»