A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

Need to plough that
field behind the windbreak, love. Going to head out now and
drop the nets. Better sand down that tabletop. Time to go out
and rob somebody, sweetness. Yes, men did as they did, just
as women did as they did – mysterious and inexplicable as
those doings might be.
    And, so thinking, it was not long before Torvald Nom
found himself walking into the Phoenix Inn. A man looking
for work in all the wrong places.
    Scorch arrived a short time later, pride and panic
warring in his face, and my, how that pride blazed as he
strutted up to where Torvald Nom was sitting.
    Back at the estate Castellan Studlock brought Leff into an
annexe to one side of the main building, where after some
rummaging in crates stuffed with straw the muffled figure
found a small glass bottle and presented it to Leff.
    'Two drops into each eye. Two more on to the tongue.
Repeat two more times today and three times a day until
the bottle is empty.'
    'That will kill them worms in my head?'
    'The Greva worms, yes. I cannot vouch for any others.'
    'I got more worms in my head?'
    'Who can say? Do your thoughts squirm?'
    'Sometimes! Gods below!'
    'Two possibilities,' Studlock said. 'Suspicion worms or
guilt worms.'
    Leff scowled. 'You saying it's worms cause those things?
Guilt and suspicion? I ain't never heard anything like
that.'
    'Are you sometimes gnawed with doubt? Do notions take
root in your mind? Do strange ideas slither into your head?
Are you unaccountably frightened at the sight of a fisher's
barbed hook?'
    'Are you some kind of healer?'
    'I am what one needs me to be. Now, let us find you a
uniform.'
    Torvald Nom was rehearsing what he would tell his wife.
Carefully weighing each word, trying out in his mind the
necessary nonchalance required to deftly avoid certain
details of his newfound employment.
    'It's great that we're all working together again,' Scorch
said, ambling happily at his side. 'As estate guards, no less!
No more strong-arm work for smelly criminals. No more
hunting down losers to please some vicious piranha. No
more—'
    'Did this castellan mention the wages?'
    'Huh? No, but it's bound to be good. Must be. It's demanding
work—'
    'Scorch, it may be lots of things, but "demanding" isn't
one of them. We're there to keep thieves out. And since
all three of us have been thieves ourselves at one time
or another, we should be pretty damned good at it. We'd
better be, or we'll get fired.'
    'We need two more people. He wanted three more and all
I got was you. So, two more. Can you think of anybody?'
    'No. What family?'
    'What?'
    'This Mistress – what House does she belong to?'
    'Don't know.'
    'What's her name?'
    'No idea.'
    'She's from the countryside?'
    'Think so.'
    'Well, has any noble died recently that might have
pulled her in? Inheritance, I mean?'
    'How should I know? You think I bother keeping track
of who's dead in that crowd? They ain't nothing to me, is
my point.'
    'We should've asked Kruppe – he'd know.'
    'Well we didn't and it don't matter at all. We got us
legitimate work, the three of us. We're on our way to being,
well, legitimate. So just stop questioning everything, Tor!
You're going to ruin it!'
'How can a few reasonable questions ruin anything?'
    'It just makes me nervous,' Scorch replied. 'Oh, by the
way, you can't see the castellan.'
    'Why? Who else would I talk to about getting hired?'
    'No, that's not what I mean. I mean you can't see him.
All wrapped up in rags. With a hood, and gloves, and a
mask. That's what I mean. His name is Studlock.'
    'You can't be serious.'
    'Why not? That's his name.'
    'The castellan is bundled like a corpse and you don't find
that somewhat unusual?'
    'Could be afraid of the sun or something. No reason to
be suspicious. You never met any strange people in your
day, Tor?'
    And Torvald Nom glanced across at Scorch, and found
he had no reply to that at all.
    'I see you have found another candidate,' Studlock said.
'Excellent. And yes, he will do nicely. Perhaps as the
Captain of the House Guard?'
    Torvald started. 'I haven't said a word yet and already I'm
promoted?'
    'Comparative exercise yields confidence in this assessment.
Your name is?'
    'Torvald Nom.'
    'Of House Nom. Might this not prove a conflict of interest?'
    'Might it? Why?'
    'The Mistress is about to assume the vacant seat on the
Council.'
    'Oh. Well, I have virtually no standing in the affairs of
House Nom. There are scores of us in the city, of course,
with ties stretching everywhere, including