‘Yes I was,’ she said. ‘Just that.’ She struck sparks to the bowl. ‘Plaything to soldiers. In particular, Malazans. Renegades from Korbolo Dom’s turncoat army. His Dogslayers. I was then plucked from what would have been a short, benumbed existence by a Malazan priest with no hands, who dragged me across half of Seven Cities, along with Cutter here.’ She sent a stream of smoke upward, then continued. ‘Just inland of the Otataral Sea, we got jumped. The priest was cut down. Cut-ter got disembowelled and I had a baby-no real connection between the two, by the way, apart from bad timing. Some villagers found us and saved us-the son of Osserc showed up for that-and that’s how we collected Barathol Mekhar and Chaur, making up for the two we’d lost in the ambush,
‘Now, normally I don’t tell long-winded tales like this one, but what I gave you was necessary for you to understand a few important things. One: I left the baby in the village, with no regrets. Two: Cutter, who was with us because The Rope thought Felisin Younger needed protecting, nearly died and is now living with a feeling of having failed at his task, since Felisin was taken from us. Three: Cutter also has a broken heart, and no matter how much fun we eventually had, him and me, it’s clear that I can’t help him with that. And finally, four: he’s embarrassed by me because he probably thinks I’m too fat and he thinks you’ll all be thinking the same thing, too.’
All three men facing her fervently shook their heads at that, while Cutter sat head in hands.
Sulty arrived to slam down a thick-based dusty clay bottle and two more goblets. ‘Three councils, Kruppe!’
Kruppe set three silver coins into her hand without a whimper.
After a long moment, the historian sighed, reached out and uncorked the bot-tle. He sniffed the mouth. Brows lifted. ‘Empty the rubbish in your cups, please.’
They did and Duiker poured.
‘Cutter,’said Murillio. ‘What?’
‘You were disembowelled? Gods below, man!’
‘Kruppe struggles to taste the wonder of this wondrous vintage, so gasted of flabber is he at said horrendous tale. The world is most cruel, yet salvation unfolds at the last, blessed be all the gods, goddesses, spirits, marsupials and amphibians and indeed all the rest. Made drunk by punches is poor Kruppe, rocked this way, knocked that, buffeted askew in every direction at once very nearly unto exploding. Beloved Scillara, you tell a most awkward tale, and tell it badly. Despite this, see us here, each one reeling at said poorly told revelations!’
‘Perhaps excessive in my efforts at summarizing, I’ll grant you,’ Scillara al-lowed. ‘But I thought: best to push through the uncomfortable stage, and now here we are, relaxed and eager to quaff down this fine wine. I have decided I like the Phoenix Inn.’
Duiker rose. ‘My task complete, I shall-’