A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 3

It seems that
this is a night of unravelling, after all. Covenants, treaties,
and memories—'
    'This debate,' the Empress cut in, 'can be conducted
another time. The mob in the city below will soon turn
upon itself if the proper victims are not delivered. Are you
ready, Adjunct?'
    Kalam found he was holding his breath. He could not see
Tavore's eyes, but something in Laseen's told him that the
Adjunct had locked gazes with the Empress, and in that
moment something passed between them, and slowly, in
increments, the eyes of Laseen went flat, strangely
colourless.
    The Adjunct rose. 'I am, Empress.'
    T'amber also stood, and, before anyone could shift their
attention to Kalam, the assassin climbed to his feet.
    'Adjunct,' he said in a weary rumble, 'I will see you out.'
    'When you are done that courtesy,' the Empress said,
'please return here. I have never accepted your resignation
from the Claw, Kalam Mekhar, and indeed, it is in my mind
that worthy promotions are long overdue. The apparent
loss of Topper in the Imperial Warren has left vacant the
command of the Claw. I can think of no-one more deserving
of that position.'
    Kalam's brows lifted. 'And do you imagine, Empress, that
I would assume that mantle and just settle back in Unta's
West Tower, surrounding myself with whores and
sycophants? Do you expect another Topper?'
    Now it was Laseen's turn to speak without inflection.
'Most certainly not, Kalam Mekhar.'
    The entire Claw, under my control. Gods, who would fall
first? Mallick Rel. Korbolo Dom ...
    And she knows that. She offers that. I can cut the cancers out
of the flesh ... but first, some Wickans need to die. And ...
not just Wickans.
    Not trusting himself to speak, and not knowing what he
might say if he did, Kalam simply bowed to the Empress,
then followed Tavore and T'amber as they strode from the
chamber.
    Into the corridor.
    Twenty-three paces to the antechamber – no Red Blades
remained – where Tavore paused, gesturing to T'amber who
moved past and positioned herself at the far door. The
Adjunct then shut the one behind them.
    And faced Kalam.
    But it was T'amber who spoke. 'Kalam Mekhar. How
many Hands await us?'
    He looked away. 'Each Hand is trained to work as a unit.
Both a strength and a flaw.'
    'How many?'
    'Four ships moored below. Could be as many as eighty.'
    'Eighty?'
    The assassin nodded. You are dead, Adjunct. So are you,
T'amber. 'She will not let you get back to the ships,' he
said, still not meeting their gazes. 'To do so invites a civil
war—'
    'No,' Tavore said.
    Kalam frowned, glanced at her.
    'We are leaving the Malazan Empire. And in all likelihood,
we will never return.'
    He walked to a wall, leaned his back against it, and closed
his eyes. Sweat streamed down his face. 'Don't you understand
what she just offered me? I can walk right back into that
room and do precisely what she wants me to do – what she
needs me to do. She and I will then walk out of there, leaving
two corpses, their heads sawed off and planted on that
damned table. Damn this, Tavore. Eighty Hands!'
    'I understand,' the Adjunct said. 'Go then. I will not
think less of you, Kalam Mekhar. You are of the Malazan
Empire. Now serve it.'
    Still he did not move, not open his eyes. 'So it means
nothing to you, now, Tavore?'
    'I have other concerns.'
    'Explain them.'
    'No.'
    'Why not?'
    T'amber said, 'There is a convergence this night, Kalam,
here in Malaz City. The game is in a frenzy of move and
countermove, and yes, Mallick Rel is a participant,
although the hand that guides him remains remote,
unseen. Removing him, as you intend to do, will prove a
deadly blow and may well shift the entire balance. It may
well save not just the Malazan Empire, but the world itself.
How can we object to your desire?'
    'And yet ...'
    'Yes,' T'amber said. 'We are asking you. Kalam, without
you we stand no chance at all—'
    'Six hundred assassins, damn you!' He set his head
against the wall, unwilling, unable to look upon these two
women, to see the need in their eyes. 'I'm not enough. You
have to see that. We all go down, and Mallick Rel lives.'
    'As you say,' Tavore replied.
    He waited for her to add something more, a final plea.
He waited for a new tack from T'amber. But there was only
silence.
    'Is it worth it, Adjunct?'
    'Win this battle, Kalam, or win the war.'
    'I'm just one man.'
    'Yes.'
    With a shaved knuckle in the hole.
    His palms itched against the damp leather of his gloves.
'That Jhistal priest holds a grudge.'
    'A