A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 2

The conflagration that had killed Buke's wife, mother and four children had been particularly ugly. That Buke himself had been lying drunk and dead to the world in an alley not a hundred paces from the house hadn't helped in the man's recovery. Like many of his fellow guards, Gruntle had assumed that Buke would turn to the bottle with serious intent after that. Instead, he'd done the opposite. Taking solitary contracts with poor, vulnerable merchants obviously offered to Buke a greater appeal than the wasting descent of a permanent drunk. Poor merchants were robbed far more often than rich ones. The man wants to die, all right. But swiftly, even honourably. He wants to go down fighting, as did his family, by all accounts. Alas, when sober – as he's been ever since that night – Buke fights extremely well, and the ghosts of at least a dozen highwaymen would bitterly attest to that.
    The chill dread that seemed to infuse the air around Bauchelain and, especially, around Korbal Broach, would have deterred any sane guard. But a man eager to embrace death would see it differently, wouldn't he?
    Ah, friend Buke, I hope you do not come to regret your choice. No doubt violence and horror swirls around your two new masters, but you're more likely to be a witness to it than a victim yourself. Haven't you been in suffering's embrace long enough?
    Buke set off to collect his horse and gear. Gruntle had begun a cookfire by the time the old man returned. He watched Buke stow his equipment and exchange a few more words with Emancipor Reese, who had begun cooking a meal of their own, then the man glanced over and met Gruntle's gaze.
    Buke strode over.
    'A day of changes, friend Buke,' Gruntle said from where he squatted beside the hearth. 'I'm brewing some tea for Harllo and Stonny who should be back any moment – care to join us in a mug?'
    'That is kind of you, Gruntle. I will accept your offer.' He approached the captain.
    'Unfortunate, what happened to Murk's wagon.'
    'I warned him against the attempt. Alas, he did not appreciate my advice.'
    'Even after you pulled him from the river and pumped the water out of his lungs?'
    Buke shrugged. 'Hood brushing his lips put him in bad mood, I would imagine.' He glanced over at his new masters' carriage, lines crinkling the corners of his sad eyes. 'You have had discourse with them, have you not?'
    Gruntle spat into the fire. Aye. Better had you sought my advice before taking the contract.'
    'I respect your advice and always have, Gruntle, but you would not have swayed me.'
    'I know that, so I'll say no more of them.'
    'The other one,' Buke said, accepting a tin mug from Gruntle and cradling it in both hands as he blew on the steaming liquid. 'I caught a glimpse of him earlier.'
    'Korbal Broach.'
    'As you say. He's the killer, you realize.'
    'Between the two, I don't see much difference, to be honest.'
    Buke was shaking his head. 'No, you misunderstand. In Darujhistan, recall? For two weeks running, horribly mangled bodies were found in the Gadrobi District, every night. Then the investigators called in a mage to help, and it was as if someone had kicked a hornet's nest – that mage discovered something, and that knowledge had him terrified. It was quiet, grant you, but I chanced on the details that followed. Vorcan's guild was enlisted. The Council itself set forth the contract to the assassins. Find the killer, they said, using every method at your disposal, legal or otherwise. Then the murders stopped—'
    'I vaguely recall a fuss,' Gruntle said, frowning.
    'You were in Quip's, weren't you? Blind for days on end.'
    Gruntle winced. 'Had my eye on Lethro, you know – went out on a contract and came back to find—'
    'She'd gone and married someone else,' Buke finished, nodding.
    'Not just someone else.' Gruntle scowled. 'That bloated crook, Parsemo—'
    'An old master of yours, I seem to recall. Anyway. Who was the killer and why did the killings stop? Vorcan's guild did not step forward to claim the Council's coin. The murders stopped because the murderer had left the city.' Buke nodded towards the massive carriage. 'He's the one. Korbal Broach. The man with the round face and fat lips.'
    'What makes you so certain, Buke?' The air had gone cold. Gruntle poured himself a second cup.
    The man shrugged, eyes on the fire. 'I just know. Who can abide the murder of innocents?'
    Hood's breath, Buke, I see both edges to that question well enough – do you? You mean to kill him, or at