A Malazan Book of the Fallen Collection 4

now,'
he said to the others.
    'Kruppe understands.'
    And the assassin narrowed his gaze upon the short,
solemn-faced man.
    'Where,' Rallick asked, 'will this go, Kruppe?'
    'The future, my friend, is ever turned away, even when
it faces us.'
    To this bizarre, unlikely truism, Coll grunted, 'Gods
below, Kruppe—'
But Rallick had already completed his own turning away
and was walking towards the mouth of an alley.
    'I got a sick feeling inside,' Meese said.
    Coll grunted a second time and then said, 'Let's go. I
need to find me another bottle – this time with something
in it that actually does something.'
    Kruppe offered him a beatific smile. Disingenuous? Really now.
    Seba Krafar, Master of the Assassins' Guild, surveyed
his small army of murderers. Thirty-one in all. Granted,
absurd overkill, but even so he found himself not quite as
comfortable – or as confident – as such numbers should
have made him. 'This is ridiculous,' he muttered under his
breath. And then he gestured.
    The mob shifted into three distinct groups, and then
each hurried off in a different direction, to close on the
target at the appointed time.
    Come the morning, there'd be a newly vacated seat on
the Council. Blood-drenched, true, but it would hardly be
the first time for that, would it?
    Shardan Lim saw before him a perfect future. He would,
if all went well, finally step out from Hanut Orr's shadow.
And into his own shadow he'd drag Gorlas Vidikas. They
would be sharing a woman, after all, and there would be no
measured balance in that situation, since Gorlas was next
to useless when it came to satisfying Challice. So Gorlas
would find that his wife's happiness was dependent not
upon him, but upon the other man sharing her pleasure
– Shardan Lim – and when the first child arrived, would
there be any doubt as to its progeny? An heir of provable
bloodline, the perfect usurpation of House Vidikas.
    He had set out alone this night, making his casual
way to the Vidikas estate, and he now stood opposite
the front gate, studying the modest but well-constructed
building. There were hints of Gadrobi in the style, he
saw. The square corner tower that was actually higher
than it looked, its rooms abandoned to dust and spiders
– virtually identical edifices could still be found here and
there in the Gadrobi District, and in the hills to the east
of the city. Vines covered three of the four walls, reaching
up from the garden. If the tower had been a tree it would
be dead, centuries dead. Hollowed out by rot, the first hard
wind would have sent it thrashing down. This deliberate
rejection was no accident. Gadrobi blood among the nobles
was an embarrassment. It had always been that way and it
always would be.
    When Shardan owned this estate, he would see it torn
down. His blood was pure Daru. Same as Challice's own.
    He heard horses approach at a dangerously fast canter,
up from the lower city, and a few moments later three riders
appeared, sharply reining in before the estate's gate.
    Frowning, Shardan Lim stepped out and quickly approached.
    Private guards of some sort, looking momentarily confused
as they dismounted. Their horses were lathered,
heads dipping as they snorted out phlegm.
    'You three,' Shardan called out, and they turned. 'I
am Councillor Shardan Lim, and I am about to visit the
Vidikas estate. If you carry a message for Lady Challice,
do permit me to deliver it.' As he drew closer, he offered
the three men a comradely smile. 'She is a delicate woman
– having three sweaty men descend on her wouldn't do. I'm
sure you understand—'
    'Forgive me, Councillor,' one of the men said, 'but the
news we deliver is bad.'
    'Oh? Come now, no more hesitation.'
    'Gorlas Vidikas is dead, sir. He was killed in a duel earlier
today. We were instructed to ride to his widow first, and
hence on to Eldra Iron Mongery. It means we got to go
right back the way we come, but the foreman insisted. As a
courtesy. As the proper thing to do.'
    Shardan Lim simply stared at the man, his thoughts
racing.
    'Weren't no duel,' growled one of the other men.
    'What's that?' Shardan demanded. 'You there, step out.
    What did you just say?'
    The man was suddenly frightened, but he moved into
the councillor's line of sight, managed a quick bow and
then said, 'He was assassinated, sir. The foreman kept saying
it was all legitimate, but we saw it, sir, with our own
eyes. Two knives—'
    'Two knives? Two knives? Are you certain?'
    'Because of the other duel, you see,