Painted plaster exploded in a cloud of dust. The wall shook, crumpling inward at the point where Korbal Broach hit — punching a hole through to whatever was on the other side. The last sight Quick Ben had of the man was that of his boots, before the roiling dust and twisting tendrils of power obscured the wall.
There was the sound of a heavy thump beyond, in what was probably a corridor, then the patter of plaster on the hearthstone was all that broke the silence.
Quick Ben slowly settled back into his chair.
'More wine?' Bauchelain asked.
'Please. Thank you. Apologies for the mess.'
'Think nothing of it. I have never before seen — what — six, perhaps seven warrens all unleashed at once, all intricately bound together in such complementary fashion. You, sir, are an artist. Will Korbal Broach recover?'
'I am your guest, Bauchelain. It would be poor form to kill your companion. After all, strictly speaking I am his guest, as well.'
With the chimney thoroughly compromised, the room was slowly filling with smoke.
'True,' Bauchelain admitted. 'Although, I reluctantly point out, he sought to kill you.'
'No need for dismay,' the Malazan responded. 'I was not greatly inconvenienced.'
'And that is what I find most astonishing. There was no sign of chaotic poison in your sorcery, Quick Ben. You can imagine the plethora of questions I would like to ask.'
There was a groan from the corridor.
'And, I confess,' Bauchelain continued, 'that curiosity is a rather obsessive trait of mine, often resulting in regrettable violence to the one being questioned, particularly when he or she is not as forthcoming as I would like. Now, six, seven warrens-'
'Six.'
'Six warrens, then — all at once — your claim to finding little inconvenience in the effort strikes me as bravado. Therefore, I conclude that you are, shall we say it bluntly: used up .'
'You make it clear that my welcome is at an end,' Quick Ben said, sighing as he set down the goblet.
'Not necessarily. You need only tell me everything, and we can continue in this civil fashion.'
'I'm afraid that won't be possible,' the Malazan replied. 'None the less, I will inform you that the entity poisoning the warrens is the Crippled God. You will have to consider … retaliation … against him. Rather sooner than you might think.'