The Pardu's lone visible eye, now above the guarding wrist, was fixed on her. 'The Nameless Ones? Seven Holies protect us!'
'Now,' Apsalar said, drawing her knife, 'I need some time.' With that she struck the woman with the pommel of her knife, hard against the temple, and watched the Pardu's eye roll up, the body slump over.
'Will she live?' Telorast demanded, slinking closer.
'Leave her alone.'
'She may wake up not remembering anything you told her.'
'It doesn't matter,' Apsalar replied, sheathing her knife. 'Her master will glean all he needs to know anyway.'
'A sorceror. Ah, they travel the warrens, they said. Risky. This Karpolan Demesand must be a formidable wielder of magic – you have made a dangerous enemy.'
'I doubt he will pursue this, Telorast. I let his shareholders live, and I have provided him with information.'
'And what of the tablets?' Curdle asked.
Apsalar turned. 'What tablets?'
'The ones hidden under the floor.'
'Show me.'
The shade drifted towards Mebra's naked corpse. 'Under him. A secret cache, beneath this pavestone. Hard clay, endless lists, they probably mean nothing.'
Apsalar rolled the body over. The stone was easily pried loose, and she wondered at the carelessness of the searchers. Then again, perhaps Mebra had had some control over where he would die. He had been lying directly over it. A rough pit had been excavated, and it was crowded with clay tablets. In one corner sat a damp burlap sack filled with soft clay, and a half-dozen bone scribers bound in twine.
She rose and retrieved the lantern. When it had struck the wall, the shutter had closed – the flame within remained. She pulled the top ring to draw up the hinged shutters part-way. Returning to the secret cache, she collected the topmost dozen tablets then sat cross-legged beside the pit within the small circle of light, and began reading.
Attending the Grand Meeting of the Cult of Rashan was Bridthok of G' danisban, Septhune Anabhin of Omari, Sradal Purthu of Y'Ghatan, and Torahaval Delat of Karashimesh. Fools and charlatans one and all, although it must be said, Sradal is a dangerous fool. Torahaval is a bitch, with nothing of the humour of her cousin, nor his deadliness.
She plays at this and nothing more, but she will make a fine headpiece, a High Priestess with seductive charms and so the acolytes shall flock. Of Septhune and Bridthok, the latter is my nearest rival, leaning heavily on his bloodline to that madman Bidithal, but I know well his weaknesses now and soon he shall be eliminated from the final vote by misfortune. Septhune is a follower and no more need be said of him.
Two of these cultists numbered among Apsalar's targets for assassination. She memorized the other names, in case the opportunity arose.
The second, third and fourth tablets contained lists of contacts made in the past week, with notes and observations that made it plain that Mebra had been busy weaving his usual web of extortion among a host of dim-witted victims. Merchants, soldiers, amorous wives, thieves and thugs.
The fifth tablet proved interesting.
Sribin, my most trusted agent, has confirmed it. The outlawed Gral, Taralack Veed, was in Ehrlitan one month past. Truly a man to be feared, the most secret dagger of the Nameless Ones. This only reinforces my suspicion that they have done something, an unleashing of some ancient, terrible demon. Even as the Khundryl wanderer said, and so it was no lie, that harrowing tale of the barrow and the fleeing dragon. A hunt has begun. Yet, who is the prey? And what role has Taralack Veed in all this? Oh, the name alone, scribed here in damp clay, fills my bones with ice. Dessimbelackis curse the Nameless Ones. They never play fair.
'How much longer are you going to do that?' Curdle demanded beside her.
Ignoring the shade, Apsalar continued working her way through the tablets, now seeking the name of Taralack Veed. The ghosts wandered about, sniffing every now and then at the two unconscious Pardu, slipping outside occasionally then returning, muttering in some unknown language.
There were thirty-three tablets in the pit, and as she removed the last one, she noted something odd about the pit's base. She brought the lantern closer. Shattered pieces of dried clay. Fragments of writing in Mebra's hand. 'He destroys them,' she said under her breath. 'Periodically.' She studied the last tablet in her hand. It was dustier by far than all the others, the script more faded by wear.
'But he saved this one.' Another list. Only, in this one she recognized names. Apsalar began reading aloud: 'Duiker has finally freed Heboric Light Touch. Plan ruined by the rebellion, and Heboric lost. Coltaine marches with his refugees, yet there are vipers among the Malazans. Kalam Mehkar sent to Sha'ik, the Red Blades following.
