A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

many ways, Tehol walked the path of the King's Leave long before me, and without the actual sanction.'
    'Tehol's never killed anyone—'
    Gerun's smile grew feral. 'The day the Tolls collapsed, Brys, an even dozen financiers committed suicide. And that collapse was solely and exclusively by Tehol's hand. Perfectly, indeed brilliantly timed. He had his own list, only he didn't stick a knife in their throats; instead, he made them all his business partners. And took every one of them down—'
    'But he went down, too.'
    'He didn't kill himself over it, though, did he? Didn't that tell you something? It should have.'
    'Only that he didn't care.'
    'Precisely. Brys, tell me, who is Tehol's greatest admirer?'
    'You?'
    'No. Oh, I'm suitably impressed. Enough to be suspicious as the Errant's Pit now that he's stirring the pot once more. No. Someone else.'
    Brys looked away. Trying to decide if he liked this man sitting opposite him. Liked him enough for this conversation. He knew he hated the subject matter.
    Their lunches arrived.
    Gerun Eberict focused his attention on the grilled fillet on the silver plate in front of him, after ordering a third Tusked Milk.
    It occurred to Brys that he had never seen a woman drink that particular concoction.
    'I don't speak to Tehol,' he said after a time, his gaze on his own serving as he slowly picked the white flesh apart, revealing the row of vertebrae and the dorsal spines.
    'You despise what he did?'
    Brys frowned, then shook his head. 'No. What he did after.'
    'Which was?'
    'Nothing.'
    'The water had to clear, lad. So he could look around once more and see what remained.'
    'You're suggesting diabolical genius, Gerun.'
    'I am. Tehol possesses what Hull does not. Knowledge is not enough. It never is. It's the capacity to do something with that knowledge. To do it perfectly. Absolute timing. With devastating consequences. That's what Tehol has. Hull, Errant protect him, does not.'
    Brys looked up and met the Finadd's pale eyes. 'Are you suggesting that Hull is Tehol's greatest admirer?'
    'Hull's very own inspiration. And that is why he is with Buruk the Pale.'
    'Do you intend to stand in his way at the Great Meeting?'
    'It might well be too late by that time, Brys. Assuming that is my intention.'
    'It isn't?'
    'I haven't decided.'
    'You want war?'
    Gerun's gaze remained level. 'That particular tide stirs the deepest silts. Blinding everyone. A man with a goal can get a lot done in that cloud. And, eventually, it settles.'
    'And lo,' Brys said, unable to hide his bitterness, 'the world has changed.'
    'Possibly.'
    'War as the means—'
    'To a peaceful end—'
    'That you will find pleasing to your eye.'
    Gerun pushed his plate away and sat back once more. 'What is life without ambition, Brys?'
    Brys rose, his meal pried apart into a chaotic mass on the plate before him. 'Tehol would be better at answering that than am I, Finadd.'
    Gerun smiled up at him. 'Inform Nifadas and Kuru Qan that I am not unaware of the complexities wrought through the impending Great Meeting. Nor am I blind to the need to usher me out of the city for a time. I have, of course, compensated for my own absence, in anticipation of my triumphant return.'
    'I will convey your words, Finadd.'
    'I regret your loss of appetite, Brys. The fish was excellent. Next time, we will speak of inconsequential things. I both respect and admire you, Champion.'
    'Ah, so I am not on your list.'
    'Not yet. A joke, Brys,' he added upon seeing the Champion's expression. 'Besides, you'd cut me to pieces. How can I not admire that? I see it this way – the history of this decade, for our dear Letheras, can be most succinctly understood by a faithful recounting of the three Beddict brothers. And, as is clear, the tale's not yet done.'
    So it would seem. 'I thank you, Finadd, for the company and the invitation.'
    Gerun leaned forward and picked up the Champion's plate. 'Take the back exit, if you please,' he said, offering Brys the plate. 'There's a starveling lad living in the alley. Mind, he's to return the silver – make sure he understands that. Tell him you were my guest.'
    'Very well, Finadd.'
    'Try these on.'
    Tehol stared at the woollen trousers, then reached for them. 'Tell me, Bugg, is there any point in you continuing?'
    'Do you mean these leggings, or with my sorry existence?'
    'Have you hired your crew?' He stripped off his skirt and began donning the trousers.
    'Twenty of the most miserable malcontents I could