A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

Whiskeyjack. And Quick Ben, of the Bridgeburners. And the Tiste Andii is Korlat, second to Anomander Rake. We are pleased with your company, Itkovian. Will you join us?'
    'I've a restless cask of Gredfallan ale in my tent,' Whiskeyjack said.
    My vow — 'A welcome invitation, sirs. I accept. Thank you. Mistress,' he added to Korlat, 'my deepest apologies.'
    'They are mine to make,' she replied. 'I was unguarded, and carelessly unmindful of all that you are.'
    The three Malazans looked back and forth at the two of them, but none ventured a query or comment.
    'Allow me,' Whiskeyjack finally said, setting off down the slope towards the Host's camp.
    The Bridgeburner, Quick Ben, paced alongside Itkovian. 'Well, it seems Silverfox has surprised us all this day.'
    'I do not know her, sir, and so can make no observation as to her disposition.'
    'You sensed nothing from her?'
    'I did not say that.'
    The man flashed a white grin. 'True enough. You didn't.'
    'She has done a terrible wrong, sir, yet upon her shoulders it weighs nothing.'
    The breath hissed between Quick Ben's teeth. 'Nothing? Are you certain? Hood's breath, that's not good. Not good at all.'
    'Nightchill,' Paran said behind them.
    Quick Ben threw a glance over a shoulder. 'You think?'
    'I know, Wizard. And, to make matters worse, Nightchill was – is – a whole lot more than what we'd thought. Not just a High Mage of the Empire. She's all hard edges – her mate Bellurdan was her balance, but of the Thelomen I sense nothing.'
    'And Tattersail?'
    'In the shadows. Observing, but without much interest, it seems.'
    'A woman named Silverfox was the subject,' Itkovian murmured, 'yet you speak of three others.'
    'Sorry. All reborn within Silverfox. It's a long story.'
    He nodded. 'All perforce needing to live with one another, no matter how disparate their individual natures.'
    'Aye,' Paran sighed. 'Not surprising that there'd be a war of wills—'
    'There is no war within her,' Itkovian said.
    'What?'
    'They walk in agreement, sir. She is calm within.'
    They reached level ground, approached the Malazan camp. Whiskeyjack and Korlat strode side by side and close, a half-dozen paces ahead.
    'Now that,' Quick Ben muttered, 'is the most surprising revelation this day.'
    'So far,' Paran pointed out. 'Something tells me we're not done yet.'
    'Gentlemen!' a voice wheezed behind them. 'A moment please, whilst Kruppe's formidable yet sadly short legs propel self hastily into your company!'
    The elaborate statement was sufficient to close the distance as the three men paused to permit Kruppe's breathless arrival, upon which they resumed their walk.
    'Wind of fortune!' Kruppe panted. 'Carrying to Kruppe all your words—'
    'How convenient,' Quick Ben wryly muttered. 'And no doubt you've a comment or ten to make on the subject of Silverfox.'
    'Indeed! Kruppe was witness, after all, to said dreadful Gathering. Yet all alarm subsequent to said events has grown quiet within oneself, for truths have marched out from the darkness to prostrate themselves at Kruppe's slippered feet.'
    'That conjures up an image of you stumbling and falling flat on your face, Daru,' the wizard commented.
    'Carelessly constructed, Kruppe allows, yet none of you have ever seen Kruppe dance! And dance he can, with breathtaking artistry and grace – nay! He glides like an unbroken egg on a greased skillet. Stumble? Fall? Kruppe? Never!'
    'You'd mentioned truths,' Paran reminded him.
    'Ah yes! Truths, squirming like puppies around Kruppe, upon which he laid patting hand on each one and all in turn, as would any kindly master. The result? Kruppe advises that all is well within Silverfox! Be at ease. Be calmed. Be ... lieve – uh ...'
    'Was that a stumble?'
    'Nonsense. Even linguistic confusion has value.'
    'Really? How so?'
    'Uh, the matter is too subtle for mere words, alas. We must not stray too far from the subject at hand, or foot, which was the matter of truths—'
    'Squirming like puppies.'
    'Indeed, Captain. Like wolf puppies, to be more precise.'
    The two Malazans stopped suddenly, followed a moment later by Itkovian, as Kruppe's dream-like, mesmerizing stream of words revealed sudden substance, as if swirling before a rock. A rock . . . one of Kruppe's truths? These Malazans are used to this – or simply smarter than I.
    'Out with it,' Paran growled.
    'Out with what, precisely, dear Captain? Kruppe revels in sly ambiguity, after all, and so hoards his secrets as must any respectable hoarder of