A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

stranger, someone clearly
beyond his reach, his sense of control. Would he then
realize that she too was now beyond his control?
    Gorlas might panic. He might, in truth, become murderous.
    'Be careful now, Cro— Cutter. What we have begun is
very dangerous.'
    He said nothing in reply, and after a moment she pushed
herself off him, and rose to stand beside the narrow bed.
'He would kill you,' she continued, looking down on him,
seeing once again how the years had hardened his body,
sculpted muscles bearing the scars of past battles. His eyes,
fixed on her own, regarded her with thoughts and feelings
veiled, unknowable.
    'He's a duellist, isn't he?'
    She nodded. 'One of the best in the city.'
    'Duels,' he said, 'don't frighten me.'
    'That would be a mistake, Cutter. In any case, given
your . . . station, it's doubtful he'd bother with anything so
formal. More like a half-dozen thugs hired to get rid of you.
Or even an assassin.'
    'So,' he asked, 'what should I do about it?'
    She hesitated, and then turned away to find her clothes.
'I don't know. I was but warning you, my love.'
    'I would imagine you'd be even more at risk.'
    She shrugged. 'I don't think so. Although,' she added, 'a
jealous man is an unpredictable man.' Turning, she studied
him once more. 'Are you jealous, Cutter?'
    'Of Gorlas Vidikas?' The question seemed to surprise
him and she could see him thinking about it. 'Title and
wealth, yes, that would be nice. Being born into something
doesn't mean it's deserved, of course, so maybe he hasn't
earned all his privileges, but then, maybe he has – you'd
know more of that than I would.'
    'That's not what I meant. When he takes me, when he
makes love to me.'
    'Oh. Does he?'
    'Occasionally.'
    'Make love? Or just make use of you?'
    'That is a rather rude question.'
    Years ago, he would have leapt to his feet, apologies
tumbling from him in a rush. Now, he remained on the
bed, observing her with those calm eyes. Challice felt a
shiver of something in her, and thought it might be fear.
She had assumed a certain . . . control. Over all of this.
Over him. And now she wondered. 'What,' he now asked,
'do you want from me, Challice? Years and years of this?
Meeting in dusty, abandoned bedrooms. Something you
can own that Gorlas does not? It's not as if you'll ever leave
him, is it?'
    'You once invited me to run away with you.'
    'If I did,' he said, 'you clearly said no. What has
changed?'
    'I have.'
    His gaze sharpened on her. 'So now . . . you would? Leave
it all behind? The estate, the wealth?' He waved languidly at
the room around them. 'For a life of this? Challice, understand:
the world of most people is a small world. It has more
limitations than you might think—'
    'And you think it's that different among the nobleborn?'
    He laughed.
    Fury hissed through her, and to keep from lashing out
she quickly began dressing. 'It's typical,' she said, pleased
at her calm tone. 'I shouldn't have been surprised. The
lowborn always think we have it so easy, that we can do
anything, go anywhere. That our every whim is answered.
They don't think—' she spun to face him, and watched his
eyes widen as he comprehended her anger, '— you don't
think that people like me can suffer.'
    'I never said that—'
    'You laughed.'
    'Where are you going now, Challice? You're going back
to your home. Your estate, where your handmaids will
rush to attend to you. Where another change of clothes
and jewellery awaits. After a languid bath, of course.' He
sat up, abruptly. 'The ship's carpenter who stayed in this
room here, well, he did so because he had nowhere else
to go. This was his estate. Temporary, dependent on the whim of House Vidikas, and when his reason for being
here was done out he went, to find somewhere else to
live – if he was lucky.' He reached for his shirt. 'And
where will I go now? Oh, out on to the streets. Wearing
the same clothes I arrived in, and that won't change any
time soon. And tonight? Maybe I can wheedle another
night in a room at the Phoenix Inn. And if I help in the
kitchen I'll earn a meal and if Meese is in a good mood
then maybe even a bath. Tomorrow, the same challenges
of living, the same questions of "what next?"' He faced
her and she saw amused irony in his expression, which
slowly faded. 'Challice, I'm not saying you're somehow
immune to suffering. If you were, you wouldn't be here,
would you? I spoke of limited worlds. They exist everywhere,
but that doesn't mean they're all identical. Some
are a damned