A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

then.'
    'Please, do not,' Kruppe said, eyes widening. 'Luck is such a dreadful companion these days, with all awry as all happens to be. But thank you for understanding Kruppe's need for circumspection.'
    'Not at all,' Mammot said, waving one hand. 'I didn't mean to – well, yes, I did. Curiosity, you understand. The intellectual kind.'
    Kruppe smiled beatifically and sipped tea.
    'Well,' Mammot said, 'shall we return to the common room, then, and find respite before the hearth?'
    They strode into the other chamber. Once seated, Kruppe stretched out his legs and leaned back. 'How has your writing been coming along?' he asked.
    'Slow,' Mammot answered, 'as one would expect, of course.'
    It seemed Mammot was working up to something, and so Kruppe waited, idly wiggling his toes. A minute passed, then the old man cleared his throat and spoke. 'Kruppe, have you seen much of my dear nephew lately?'
    Kruppe raised his eyebrows. 'Long ago,' he said, 'Kruppe made a promise to a man, the man being a concerned uncle to a young boy who found the streets an exciting playground. Aye, the lad dreamed of sword-fights and dark deeds committed in alleys on behalf of princesses in disguise, or some such thing—'
    Mammot was nodding, his eyes closed.
    '– and to such promises Kruppe has availed of himself thoroughly, for he, too, loved the boy. And as with any endeavour, survival is measured in ability, and so did Kruppe take the lad under his silken wing, with some success, yes?'
    Mammot smiled, still nodding.
    'And so, to answer the uncle's question. Indeed Kruppe has seen the lad.'
    Mammot leaned forward and fixed Kruppe with an intense gaze. 'Have you seen anything odd in his actions? I mean, has he asked you any strange questions, made any requests?'
    Kruppe's eyes narrowed. He paused to drink. 'Bluntly, yes. For one, he sought the return of a fine cache of jewellery he acquired recently, for personal reasons – as he said. Personal reasons. Kruppe wondered then and wonders now, but the lad's seeming sincerity, nay, focused intensity, struck Kruppe as laudable.'
    'Agreed! Would you believe Crokus has now expressed an interest in formal education? I can't understand it. The boy's positively obsessed about something.'
    'Perhaps, then, Kruppe should piece this together.'
    'Thank you,' Mammot said, relieved. 'I would know where all this is coming from. So much ambition all at once, I fear it may soon burn itself out. If we can nourish it, however ...'
    'By all means,' Kruppe said. 'There is more to life than petty thievery, after all.'
    Mammot grinned. 'Why, Kruppe, I'm surprised to hear that coming from you.'
    'Such comments are better left between you and Kruppe. In any case, I believe Murillio knows something of all this. He intimated as much this evening while we dined at the Phoenix Inn.'
    Mammot asked, 'Is Murillio well?'
    Kruppe smiled. 'The net about the lad remains intact,' he said. 'For one, Rallick Nom has taken the responsibility seriously indeed. Mayhap he sees something of his own lost youth in Crokus. In truth, Rallick is a man whose true nature escapes Kruppe. Fiercely loyal for certain, and one who, as you well know, honours his debts with such vigour as to humble those around him. Excepting Kruppe, naturally. Yet is it blood that travels his veins? One must wonder, at times.'
    A distant look had entered Mammot's face.
    Kruppe tensed. The air smelled of magic. He leaned forward and studied the old man seated across from him. Someone was communicating with Mammot, and the Warren that now pulsed in the room was familiar to Kruppe.
    He sat back and waited.
    Eventually, Mammot got swiftly to his feet. 'I have some research to do,' he said distractedly. 'As for you, Kruppe, Master Baruk wishes to speak with you immediately.'
    'I thought I sensed the alchemist's presence,' Kruppe said, rising with a soft grunt. 'Ah, the rigours of these fated nights ever urge us on. Until later, then, Mammot.'
    'Goodbye,' the scholar said, a frown on his face as he crossed the room. He entered the small chamber where Kruppe had spent the past hour.
    Kruppe adjusted the sleeves of his cloak. Whatever had happened, it had been enough to jar Mammot's etiquette, and that alone hinted at dire events. 'Well,' he murmured, 'best not keep Baruk waiting, then. At least,' he amended, as he headed for the door, 'not for too long. Decorum demands that Kruppe retain his sense of dignity. He shall walk fast, yes. But walk he shall, for Kruppe needs