A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 1

it's making him more powerful, more dangerous.'
    They had gathered in Tattersail's quarters, which consisted of an outer room — where they now sat – and a bedroom with the rare luxury of a solid wood door. The past occupants had hastily stripped the place of anything valuable and portable, leaving behind only the larger pieces of furniture. Tattersail sat at the table, along with Whiskeyjack, Quick Ben and Kalam, and the sapper named Fiddler. The air in the room had grown hot, stifling.
    'Of course he's insane,' Quick Ben replied, looking at his sergeant, whose face remained impassive. The wizard hastily added, 'But that's to be expected. Fener's tail, lady, he's got the body of a puppet! Of course that's twisted him.'
    'How twisted?' Whiskeyjack asked his wizard. 'He's supposed to be watching our backs, isn't he?'
    Kalam said, 'Quick's got him under control. Hairlock's backtracking, working through the maze – he'll find out who in the Empire wants us dead.'
    'The danger,' Quick Ben added, rounding on Tattersail, 'is his being detected. He needs to slip through the Warrens the unconventional way – the regular paths are all trip-wired.'
    Tattersail mulled over that point, then nodded. 'Tayschrenn would find him, or at least catch wind that someone's sniffing around. But Hairlock's using the power of Chaos, the paths that lie between Warrens, and that's unhealthy – not just for him, but for all of us.'
    'Why all of us?' Whiskeyjack asked.
    Quick Ben answered, 'It weakens the Warrens, frays the fabric, which in turns allows Hairlock to break into them at will... and out again. But we have no choice. We have to give Hairlock his rope. For now.'
    The sorceress sighed, massaging her brow. 'Tayschrenn's the one you're looking for. I've already told you—'
    'That's not good enough,' Quick Ben cut in. 'How many agents is he using? What are the details of the plan – what the hell is the plan? Is all this on Laseen's orders, or is the High Mage eyeing the throne for himself? We need to know, dammit!'
    'All right, all right,' Tattersail said. 'So Hairlock unravels the whole thing for you – then what? Do you intend to try to kill Tayschrenn and everyone else involved? Are you counting on my help in that?' She looked from one face to the next. Each revealed nothing. Anger flared and she rose. 'I know,' she said stiffly, 'that Tayschrenn probably murdered A'Karonys, Nightchill, and my cadre. He probably knew your tunnels would collapse around you, and he might well have decided that Dujek's Second was a threat that needed culling. But if you think I'm going to help you without knowing what you're planning, you're mistaken. There's more to all this than you're willing to tell me. If it was just your survival at stake, why don't you just desert? I doubt Dujek would chase you down. Unless, of course, Tayschrenn's suspicions about Onearm and the Second are grounded in truth – you've plans for a mutiny, proclaiming Dujek Emperor and marching off to Genabaris.' She paused, looking from one man to the next. 'Has Tayschrenn simply anticipated you, thereby fouling up your plans? Am I being pulled into a conspiracy? If I am, then I have to know its eventual goals. I have that right, don't I?'
    Whiskeyjack grunted, then reached for the jug of wine standing on the table. He refilled everyone's cup.
    Quick Ben let out a long breath, then rubbed the back of his neck. 'Tattersail,' he said quietly, 'we're not going to challenge Tayschrenn directly. That would be suicide. No, we'll cut away his support, carefully, with precision, then we arrange his ... fall from grace. Assuming the Empress is not involved. But we need to know more, we need those answers before we can decide our options. You don't have to get any more involved than you already are. In fact, it's safer that way. Hairlock wants you to protect his back, failing every other option. Chances are, that won't be necessary.' He looked up and gave her a strained smile. 'Leave Tayschrenn to me and Kalam.'
    All very well, but you didn't answer me. Tattersail looked at the other black-skinned man, her eyes narrowing. 'You were a Claw once, weren't you?'
    Kalam shrugged.
    'I thought no one could leave – alive.'
    He shrugged again.
    The sapper, Fiddler, growled something incomprehensible and rose from his chair. He began pacing, his bandied legs carrying him from one wall to the next, like a fox in a pit. No one paid him any further attention.
    Whiskeyjack handed a cup to