A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

House, she had
seen that the two bodies that had been lying on the floor on
her last visit were gone. Gone. Two assassins, said Paran.
    And one of them was Vorcan.
    She's in the city. She's out there, Antsy—
    Concentrate! The room. In the tower – find the room—
    Crawling, weeping.
    Lost.
    Antsy loosed a dozen curses when Raest dragged Picker's
unconscious body on to the landing. 'What did you do?'
    'Alas,' the Jaghut said, stepping back as Antsy fell to his
knees beside the woman, 'my warnings of the risk were
insufficient.'
    As Antsy set his hand upon Picker's brow he hissed and
snatched it back. 'She's ice cold!'
'Yet her heart struggles on,' Raest said.
    'Will she come back? Raest, you damned lich! Will she
come back?'
    'I don't know. She spoke, for a time, before the situation
. . . changed. Presumably, she was speaking to Ganoes
Paran.'
    'What did she say?'
    'Questions, for the most part. I was able, however, to
glean a single name. Kruppe.'
    Antsy bared his teeth. He set his hand again upon her
forehead. Slightly warmer? Possibly, or this time he'd been
expecting it, making it less of a shock. Hard to tell which.
'Help me get her back downstairs,' he said.
    'Of course. And now, in return for my assistance, I will
tell you what I seek from you.'
    He glared up at the Jaghut. 'You can't be serious.'
    'This time, I am, Sergeant Antsy. I wish to have a cat.'
    A cat. 'To eat?'
    'No, as a pet. It will have to be a dead cat, of course.
    Now, permit me to take her legs, whilst you take her arms.
    Perhaps some time before the hearth will revive her.'
    'Do you think so?'
    'No.'
    This had all been his idea, and now look at what had
happened. 'Picker,' he whispered, 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'
    'A white one,' said Raest.
    'What?'
    'A white cat. A dead white cat, Sergeant.'
    Oh, aye, Raest. One stuffed lumpy with cussers. Here,
catch, you damned bastard.
    Shit, we're down to two now. Down to two . . .
    'Never bargain with the dead. They want what you have
and will give you what they have to get it. Your life for their
death. Being dead, of course, whatever life they grab hold
of just ends up slipping through their bony fingers. So you
both lose.'
    'That is rather generous of you, Hinter,' said Baruk. 'In
fact, I do not recall you being so loquacious the last time
we spoke.'
    The apparition stood within the door frame of the
tower. 'The struggle I face is between my desire to close
my ghostly fingers about your throat, High Alchemist, and
providing whatever service I can to this fair city. It must
also be noted, the return of the Tyrant would also mark
the end of what limited freedom I possess, for I would be
quickly enslaved. And so, self-interest and altruism prove
unlikely allies, yet sufficient to overwhelm my natural
murderous urges.'
    'The debate is moot,' Baruk replied, interlacing his
fingers and resting his hands on his stomach, 'since I have
no intention of coming within reach of your deadly grasp.
No, I will remain here, in the yard.'
    'Just as well,' Hinter replied. 'I haven't dusted in centuries.'
    'There are forces in the city,' Baruk said after a moment,
'formidable, unpredictable forces. The threat—'
    'Enough of that,' Hinter cut in. 'You know very well
why most of those entities are in the city, since you invited
them, High Alchemist. And as for the others on the way,
well, few of those will surprise you much. They are . . . necessary. So, an end to your dissembling.'
    'Not all of what approaches is my doing,' Baruk countered.
'Were you aware that both Lady Envy and Sister
Spite are here right now? The daughters of Draconus were not invited, not by me at any rate. One is bad enough, but
both . . .' he shook his head. 'I fear they will leave the entire
city a smouldering heap of ashes, given the chance.'
    'So do something to ensure that does not happen,'
Hinter said airily.
    'Any suggestions on that count?'
    'None whatsoever.'
    'Has either one paid you a visit?'
    'You strain my altruism, High Alchemist. Very well, of
course Lady Envy has visited, and more than once.'
    'Does she know her sister is here?'
    'Probably.'
    'What does Envy want, Hinter?'
    'What she has always wanted, High Alchemist.'
    Baruk hissed under his breath and glanced away. 'She
can't have it.'
    'Then I suggest you pay her sister a visit. She resides
aboard—'
    'I know where she is, thank you. Now, have you heard of
that self-proclaimed High Priest of the Crippled God who's
now squatting in an abandoned Temple of Fener? And
leads a