«Yes, Adjunct.»

And so, she realized, am I. «What,» she asked, «will stop the Tyrant? How do we control it?»

«We don't, Adjunct. That is the gamble we take.»

«And what does that mean?»

Tool shrugged, an audible lifting and dropping of bones beneath the rotted furs. «The Lord of Moon's Spawn, Adjunct. He will have no choice but to intervene.»

«He's capable of stopping the Tyrant?»

«Yes, Adjunct. He is, although it will cost him dearly, weaken him. More, he is capable of delivering the single punishment that a Jaghut Tyrant fears most.» A faint gleam of light rose in Tool's eye sockets as the Imass stared at Lorn. «Enslavement, Adjunct.»

Lorn stopped in her tracks. «You mean the Moon's lord will have the Tyrant working on his side?»

«No, Adjunct. The enslavement is by the lord's hand, but it is beyond him as well. You see, the Empress knows who the lord is, and what he possesses.»

Lorn nodded. «He's Tiste And? and a High Mage.»

A rasp of laughter came from Tool. «Adjunct, he is Anomander Rake, the Son of Darkness. Bearer of Dragnipur.»

Lorn frowned.

Tool seemed to have noticed her confusion, for the Imass elaborated.

«Dragnipur is a sword, born of the Age before Light. And Darkness, Adjunct, is the Goddess of the Tiste And?.»

A few minutes later, Lorn found her voice. «The Empress,» she said quietly, «knows how to pick her enemies.»

And then Tool hit her with another stunning revelation. «I am sure,» the Imass said, «the Tiste And? regret their coming to this world.»

«They came to this world? From where? How? Why?»

«The Tiste And? were of Kurald Galain, the Warren of Darkness. Kurald Galain stood alone, untouched. The Goddess, their mother, knew loneliness:» Tool hesitated. «There is probably little truth in this story, Adjunct.»

«Go on,» Lorn said quietly. «Please.»

«In her loneliness, the Goddess sought something outside herself. Thus was born Light. Her children the Tiste And? saw this as a betrayal. They rejected her. Some hold they were cast out, others that they departed their mother's embrace by choice. While Tiste And? mages still use the Warren of Kurald Galain they are no longer of it. And some have embraced another Warren, that of Starvald Demelain.»

«The First Warren.»

Tool nodded.

«Whose Warren did Starvald Demelain belong to?»

«It was the home of Dragons, Adjunct.»

Murillio turned in his saddle and brought the mule to a halt on the dusty road. He glanced ahead. Kruppe and Crokus had already reached the Worry Crossroads. He patted his brow with the soft satin of his burnous, then looked back again. Coll leaned hunched over in his saddle, losing the rest of his breakfast.

Murillio sighed. It was a wonder to see the man sober, but that he'd insisted on accompanying them bordered on miraculous. Murillio wondered if Coll suspected anything of Rallick's plans-but no, he would've brought a fist down on his and Rallick's head in short order if he'd so much as caught a hint of what they were doing.

It had been Coll's pride that had got him into his present mess, and drink did nothing to diminish it. To the contrary, in fact. Coll had even donned his brigandine armour, replete with arm and leg greaves. A bastard sword hung at the large man's hip and, with his mail coif and helmet, he looked every inch a noble knight. The only exception was the green tinge to his rounded face. He was also the only one of them to have found a horse instead of these damned mules Kruppe had scrounged.

Coll straightened in his saddle and smiled wanly at Murillio, then spurred his horse alongside. They resumed the journey without a word, nudging their mounts into a canter until they'd caught up with the others.

As usual, Kruppe was pontificating. «No more than a handful of days, assures Kruppe, wizened traveller of the wastes beyond glittering Darujhistan. No reason to be so glum, lad. Consider this a mighty adventure.»

Crokus looked to Murillio and threw up his hands. «Adventure? I don't even know what we're doing out here! Won't anybody tell me anything? I can't believe I agreed to this!»

Murillio grinned at the boy. «Come now, Crokus. How many times have you expressed curiosity about our constant travels outside the city? Well, here we are-all your questions are about to find answers.»

Crokus hunched down in his saddle. «You told me you all worked as agents for some merchant. What merchant? I don't see any merchant. And where's our horses? How come Coll's the only one with a horse? How come nobody gave me a sword or something? Why-?»

«All right!» Murillio laughed, holding up a hand. «Enough, please! We are agents for a merchant,» he explained. «But it's rather unusual merchandise we're acquiring.»

«A rather unusual merchant as well, Kruppe adds with a warm smile. «Lad, we are agents seeking information on behalf of our employer, who is none other than High Alchemist Baruk.» Crokus stared at Kruppe. «Baruk! And he can't afford to give us horses?»

Kruppe cleared his throat. «Ah, yes. Well. There was something of a misunderstanding between worthy, honest Kruppe and a conniving, deceitful stabler. None the less, Kruppe received full recompense, thus saving our kind master eleven silver coins.»

«Which he'll never see,» Murillio muttered.

Kruppe went on, «As for a sword, lad, what on earth for? Ignore blustery, pallid Coll there, with all his sweaty trappings of war. A mere affectation of his. And Murillio's rapier is no more than an ornamental trifle, though no doubt he would claim that the jewels and emeralds studding said item's hilt are towards achieving fine balance or some such martial detail.» Kruppe smiled beatifically at Murillio. «Nay, lad, the true masters at acquiring information need no such clumsy pieces of metal; indeed, we disdain them.»

«OK,» Crokus grumbled, «what kind of information are we looking for, then?»

«All that yon ravens overhead can see,» Kruppe said, waving a hand in the air. «Other travellers, other efforts within the Gadrobi Hills, all grist for Master Baruk's mill of news. We observe without being observed. We learn while remaining a mystery to all. We ascend to the-»

«Will you shut up?» Coll moaned. «Who brought the waterskins?»

Smiling, Murillio removed a clay jug webbed in twine from his saddlehorn and handed it to Coll.

«A sponge,» Kruppe said, «squeezed beneath the burden of armour. See the man down our precious water, see it immediately reappear salty and grimy on his weathered skin. What yon poisons have leaked forth? Kruppe shudders at the thought.»

Coll ignored him, handing the jug to Crokus. «Buck up, lad,» he said. «You're getting paid, and damn well. With luck there'll be no trouble. Believe me, in this kind of work, excitement is the last thing we're looking for. Still,» he glared at Murillio, «I'd feel a whole lot better if Rallick were with us.»

Crokus bristled. «And I'm an unworthy stand-in, right? You think I don't know that, Coll? You think — »

«Don't tell me what I think,» Coll rumbled. «I never said you were a stand-in, Crokus. You're a thief, and those kinds of skill come in a lot handier than anything I could manage. The same for Murillio.

«And as for Kruppe, well, his talents extend no further than his stomach and whatever he wants jammed in it. You and Rallick share a lot more than you think, and that's why you're the most qualified man here.»

«Barring the necessary brains, of course,» Kruppe said, «which is my true skill-though one such as Coll would never understand such abilities, alien as they are to him.»

Coll leaned towards Crokus. «You're wondering why I'm wearing all this armour,» he whispered loudly. «It's because Kruppe's in charge. When Kruppe's in charge I don't feel safe unless I'm prepared for war. If it comes to that, lad, I'll get us out alive.» He leaned back and stared straight ahead. «I've done it before. Right, Kruppe?»