A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

between us.'
    Should she call for the guard? What would he do? Why,
he'd laugh.
    Shardan Lim walked closer. 'Pour yourself some wine.
    Pour yourself a lot of wine, if you like. I must tell you, I
am not at all pleased at having been so unceremoniously
discarded. It seems you find adultery to your taste, and
your appetite has grown. Out of control? I think, yes, out
of control.'
    'You forced open the door,' she said, 'and now complain
that I've left the room?'
    His thin colourless lips curved in a smile. 'Something
like that. I'm not ready for you to leave just yet.'
    'And I am to have no say in the matter?'
    His brows lifted. 'Dear Challice. You surrendered such
privileges long ago. You let your husband use you – not in
any normal way, but still, you let him use you. You let me
do the same, and now some lowborn thief, and who knows
how many others. Make no protest now – it will sound
hollow even to you, I'm sure.'
    'It's still my life.' But the words sounded thin, too brittle
to stretch very far over the misshapen, ugly truth.
    He did not bother with a response, but looked across to
a divan.
    'You'll have to drag me,' she said, 'so the reality will be
plain, so plain you won't be able to pretend this is anything
but the rape it is.'
    He looked disappointed. 'Wrong again, Challice. You
are going to walk over there and undress. You are going to
lie back and spread your legs. It should be easy now; you've
done it often enough. Your lowborn lover is going to have
to share you, I'm afraid. Before long, I expect you'll not
even be able to tell the difference.'
    How could he force her to do such things? She did
not understand, although – without doubt – he did. Yes,
Shardan Lim understood things far too well.
    She walked to the divan.
    She was still sore, achy, from the morning's lovemaking.
Before long, that ache would be deeper, more raw than it
was now. Pain and pleasure, yes, entwined like lovers. She
could feed them both again and again, for ever and again.
    And so she would. Until the time came when she . . .
awakened.
    Crokus, never mind my husband. There is no point. I will
tell you that the next time. I promise.
    I promise.
    Shardan Lim used her then, but in the end it was he
who did not understand. And when she thanked him
afterwards, he seemed taken aback. As he hurried to dress
and depart, she remained lying on the divan, amused at his
confusion, at peace with the way of things now.
    And she thought of her glass globe with its trapped
moon, that gift of a youth long lost, and she smiled.
    *
    In a near tropical city, the dead are quickly dressed. A
distraught Coll, half-mad with grief, arrived in a carriage.
Meese came down from the room where she had sat with
the body, and Coll sent one of his aides to crack open the
family crypt. There would be no delays permitted. Grief
was transformed into fury when Coll discovered who had
been responsible for Murillio's death.
    'First blood drawn's never enough for Vidikas. He likes
killing – under any other circumstances he'd be on his
way to the High Gallows. Damn these antiquated duelling
laws. The time's come to outlaw duels – I will address the
Council—'
    'Such a thing will not pass,' Kruppe said, shaking his
head. 'Coll knows this as well as does Kruppe.'
    Coll stood like a man trapped, cornered. 'Where's
Rallick?' he asked in a growl.
    Sighing, Kruppe poured the second to last goblet full and
handed it to Coll. 'He will be here soon, Kruppe believes.
Such is this day, in no hurry to end, and will any of us sleep
this night? Kruppe already dreads the impending solitude.
Ah, here is Rallick.'
    They watched as Irilta stumbled to the assassin, very
nearly collapsing into Rallick's arms. His expression of
shock quickly darkened as she spoke, her voice muffled
since her face was pressed against his shoulder – but not so
muffled that he did not comprehend.
    His gaze lifted, met Kruppe's, and then Coll's.
    There was no one else left in the bar – the poisoned
atmosphere had driven away even the most insensate
drinkers. Sulty and Chud the new cook stood in the
doorway leading to the kitchen, Sulty quietly weeping.
    Kruppe poured the last goblet and then sat down, his
back to the scene. Coll slumped down beside Kruppe,
draining down the wine with the practised ease of an
alcoholic reacquainting himself with his deadly passion,
but Kruppe had chosen this wine with such risks in
mind – its headiness was an illusion, the taste of alcohol
a clever combination of