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Anguish flooded Baruk. With a wordless roar he launched himself at Vorcan. She laughed and ducked to one side, throwing out her glowing hand. The alchemist twisted, off-balance, narrowly avoiding the killing touch, then staggered past. He heard her laughter again, as she moved in. A dozen feet in front of Baruk was the door. The alchemist's eyes widened to find it open. A youth crouched there, holding bricks. Expecting at any moment to feel Vorcan's touch, Baruk threw himself forward. He saw the boy straighten at the same time and thrust forward first his right arm, then his left. As the alchemist fell towards the floor, two bricks flew over him. He heard them strike the woman behind him, one making a crunching sound, the other crackling. A flash of red. As he struck the floor, the breath was hammered from Baruk's lungs.
Agonized seconds passed as he struggled to draw air into his tortured chest He rolled on to his back. Vorcan, he saw, lay motionless almost against his feet. The boy's face came into view, streaked with sweat, brow e boy sighed, then gri
«Poison,» the alchemist said, climbing to his feet. «Help me to her, quickly.» A moment later he knelt beside Derudan. A quick glance at the sap-like substance coating the blade confirmed his suspicion. While Baruk laid a hand on Derudan. «Your knowledge surprises me, boy,» he said. «Fortunately, she's in the home of the one man who possesses its antidote.» He muttered something and a phial appeared in his hand «Rallick said there was no antidote to white paralt.»
«It's not something I'm likely to a
«Crokus. Mammot was my uncle, sir. I saw him die.»
Derudan's eyelids flickered, then opened. She smiled lazily. «What I see pleases me,» she said weakly. «Yes?»
Baruk returned the smile. «Yes, my friend. But I make no claim for defeating Vorcan. That falls to Crokus, nephew of Mammot.»
Derudan's gaze swung to the youth. «Ah, the one I came near to treading on earlier this evening.» The amusement left her expression. «I am sorry for Mammot, child.»
«So am I,» he replied.
Baruk rose and turned. He hissed a vehement curse. Vorcan's body was gone. «She's fled.» He hurried over to the Tiste And? woman, he bent down and examined her. She was dead. «I will soon know your name,» he whispered, «and I will remember it.»
«I have to go!» Crokus a
Baruk wondered at the sudden panic in the boy's face.
«I mean,» Crokus continued, «if everything's over here, that is.»
«I believe it is,» the alchemist answered. «I thank you, Crokus, for your skill at throwing bricks.»
The boy went to the door. He paused, then tossed a coin into the air. He caught it, and gri
Captain Paran crouched beside Coll's bed. «Still asleep,» he said, rising, and facing Whiskeyjack. «Go ahead.»
Kalam and the two saboteurs had arrived minutes earlier. So far, the sergeant mused, no losses, though the captain's armour had taken a beating and the look in his face when he'd entered the room with Lorn's body in his arms warned Whiskeyjack away from probing Paran's state of mind too deeply. The Adjunct's body now occupied a second bed, motionless and pale, a strange ironic smile curving her bloodless lips.
The sergeant studied everyone in the small room, the faces he knew so well all watching him, waiting. His gaze held on Sorry, or Apsalar as she now called herself. Whatever Mallet had done to her, she was a changed woman from the one he'd known. Less, and somehow more as well.
Even Mallet was unsure of what he'd done. Certain memories, skills had been freed, and with them a brutal knowledge. The pain was there in the woman's eyes, a pain layered in years of horror-yet it seemed that she had it under control, that she'd found a way, a strength, to live with what she'd been. Her only words upon meeting him had been: «I wish to return home, Sergeant.»
He had no objection, though he wondered how she pla
The hot sweaty air in the room thickened with tension. Whiskeyjack hesitated. There'd been a battle in Darujhistan's streets, and Quick Ben had confirmed the Galayn lord's death. In fact, the black wizard seemed still in shock. The sergeant sighed under his breath and massaged his newly healed leg, then drove the forearm's blade into the tabletop.
Contact was immediate. High Fist Dujek's gravelly voice filled the room. «About time, Whiskeyjack! Don't bother telling me about the Galayn lord-Tayschre
«What else?»
Whiskeyjack glanced at Paran, who nodded deferentially. «Adjunct Lorn's gambit failed,» the sergeant said. «She's dead. We have her body with us. The intersections remain mined-we're not detonating them, High Fist, since they're likely to open the gas caverns beneath the city and turn us all into ash. So.» He drew a deep breath, feeling a twinge from his leg-Mallet had done what he could, and that'd been a lot, but some damage remained, and it made him feel fragile. «So,» he repeated softly, «we're pulling out, High Fist.»
Dujek was silent, then he grunted. «Problems, Whiskeyjack. One, we're about to lose Pale. As I suspected, Caladan Brood left the Crimson Guard to handle things up north, and marched down here with his Tiste And?. He's also got Rhivi with him, and Jorrick's Barghast, who've just finished chewing up Gold Moranth. Two, it gets worse.» The High Fist swallowed audibly. «Seven Cities is maybe a week away from open rebellion. The Empress knows it. Some Claw from Genabaris arrived half an hour ago, looking for Tayschre
«Whiskeyjack, he was carrying a handwritten message from the Empress to Tayschre
The room was silent. Whiskeyjack closed his eyes briefly. «Understood, High Fist. So, when do you march?»
«Seems the Black Moranth are with us-don't ask why. Anyway, I have a parley at dawn tomorrow with Caladan Brood and Kallor. That will decide matters, I suspect. Either he lets us walk, or he kills us taking Pale. Everything's riding on what he knows about the Pa
Whiskeyjack said, «We're rendezvousing with some Black Moranth in a couple of days, High Fist. Makes me wonder how much they'd guessed when that arrangement was made. Anyway, they'll take us to you, wherever you are.»
«No,» Dujek replied. «We may be under siege here. The Black will drop you off on the Catlin Plain. Their orders are clear on this, but you're welcome to try overruling them.»
The sergeant grimaced. Not likely. «Catlin Plain it is. just means it'll take us longer to get to you, sir.»
The glow surrounding the bones flickered briefly and they heard an echoing thump. Fiddler chuckled. Dujek had just pounded a fist on the table at his end of the conversation.
Whiskeyjack shot the saboteur a ferocious look.
«Captain Paran?» Dujek bellowed.
«Here, High Fist,» Paran replied, stepping forward.