A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

congregation growing by the day?'
    'No, I have not. But are you surprised?'
    'The Fallen God is a most unwelcome complication.'
    'The legacy of messing with things not yet fully understood
– of course, those precipitous sorcerors all paid with
their lives, which prevented everyone else from delivering
the kind of punishment they truly deserved. Such things
are most frustrating, don't you think?'
    Baruk's gaze narrowed on the ghost in the doorway.
    After a moment Hinter waved an ethereal hand. 'So
many . . . legacies.'
    'Point taken, Necromancer. As you can see, however, I
am not one to evade responsibility.'
    'True, else you would have come within my reach long
ago. Or, indeed, chosen a more subtle escape, as did your
fellow . . . mages in the Cabal, the night Vorcan walked the
shadows . . .'
    Baruk stared, and then sighed. 'I have always wondered
at the sudden incompetence displayed by my comrades that
night. Granted, Vorcan's skills were – are – impressive.'
And then he fell silent for a moment. And thought about
certain matters. 'Hinter, has Vorcan visited you?'
    'No. Why would she?'
    Baruk was suddenly chilled. 'She made no effort at . . .
discussing anything with me that night.'
    'Perhaps she knew how you would respond.'
    'As she would have for Derudan as well.'
    'No doubt.'
    'But the others . . .'
    Hinter said nothing.
    Baruk felt sick inside. Matters had grown far too
complicated in this city. Oh, he had known that they
were walking a most narrow bridge, with the yawning
abyss below whispering soft invitations of surrender. But
it seemed the far end was ever dwindling, stretching away,
almost lost in the mists. And every step he took seemed
more tenuous than the last, as if at any moment the span
beneath him might simply crumble into dust.
    He could understand those others in the Cabal and the
sudden, perfect escape that Vorcan represented. And he
recalled that flat promise in her eyes on that night long
ago now – it still haunted him, the ease of her betrayal, as
if the contract offered by the Malazan Empire had simply
provided her with an excuse for doing something she had
always wanted to do: murder every other mage in the
Cabal.
    He might ask her why, but Vorcan was a woman who
kept her own counsel. She owed him nothing and that had
not changed.
    'You had better go now,' Hinter said, cutting into his
thoughts.
    He blinked. 'Why?'
    'Because your silence is boring me, High Alchemist.'
    'My apologies, Hinter,' Baruk replied. 'One last thing,
and then I will indeed leave. The risk of your enslavement
is very real, and is not dependent on the actual return of
the Tyrant – after all, there are agents in the city even now
working towards that fell resurrection. They might well
decide—'
    'And you imagine they might succeed, High Alchemist?'
    'It is a possibility, Hinter.'
    The ghost was silent for a time, and then said, 'Your
solution?'
    'I would set one of my watchers on your tower, Hinter. To
voice the alarm should an attempt be made on you.'
    'You offer to intercede on my behalf, High Alchemist?'
    'I do.'
    'I accept, on condition that this does not indebt me to
you.'
    'Of course.'
    'You would rather I remain . . . neutral, and this I understand.
Better this than me as an enemy.'
    'You were once a most formidable sorceror—'
    'Rubbish. I was passable, and fatally careless. Still,
neither of us would have me serving a most miserable
cause. Send your watcher, then, but give me its name, lest I
invite in the wrong servant.'
    'Chillbais.'
    'Oh,' said Hinter, 'him.'
    As he made his way back to his estate, Baruk recalled
his lone meeting with Vorcan, only a few nights after her
awakening. She had entered the chamber with her usual
feline grace. The wounds she had borne were long healed
and she had found a new set of clothes, loose and elegant,
that seemed at complete odds with her chosen profession.
    He had stood before the fireplace, and offered her a slight
bow to hide a sudden tremble along his nerves. 'Vorcan.'
    'I will not apologize,' she said.
    'I did not ask you to.'
    'We have a problem, Baruk,' she said, walking over to
pour herself some wine, then facing him once more. 'It is
not a question of seeking prevention – we cannot stop what
is coming. The issue is how we will position ourselves for
that time.'
    'You mean, to ensure our continued survival.'
    A faint smile as she regarded him. 'Survival is not in
question. We three left in the Cabal will be needed. As we
were once, as we will be again.