Gardens of the Moon - Page 159/254

She knew she'd have to make her move soon. The protection offered by Kruppe and this Murillio would not impede her much, she expected. Though Kruppe was certainly more than he seemed, violence hardly seemed his major skill.

She would kill Crokus, then, outside the city. As soon as she discovered the nature of their mission, and who their master was. As soon as everything had fallen into place.

Sergeant Whiskeyjack would have to wait a while longer for her return. Sorry smiled at that, knowing full well how relieved the whole squad would be that she was nowhere to be seen. As for that whole matter-the threat presented by Quick Ben and Kalam-well, everything in its own time.

Alchemist Baruk's savage migraine was ebbing. Whatever presence had been unleashed in the city was gone. He sat in his reading chair, pressing a cloth-wrapped chunk of ice against his forehead. It had been a conjuring. He felt certain of that. The emanations stank of demonry. But there'd been more. The moment before the presence vanished, Baruk had experienced a mental wrench that came close to driving him into unconsciousness.

He'd shared the creature's final death scream, his own shriek echoing down the hall and bringing his men-at-arms shouting to his bedroom door.

Baruk felt a wrongness, deep within him, as if his soul had been battered. For a single, brief second, he'd looked upon a world of absolute darkness, and from that darkness came sounds, the creak of wooden wheels, the clank of chains, the groans of a thousand imprisoned souls.

Then it was gone, and he found himself sitting in his chair, Roald kneeling at his side with a pail of ice from the cellar.

He now sat in his study, alone, and the ice pressed against his brow was warm compared to what he felt in his heart.

There was a knock at the door, and Roald entered, his face creased with worry. “Lord, you have a visitor.”

“I have? At this hour?” He rose shakily to his feet. “Who is it?”

“Lord Anomander Rake.” Roald hesitated. “And: another.”

Frowning, Baruk waved a hand. “Bring them in.”

“Yes, Lord.”

Rake entered, holding a dog-sized winged creature by the nape of its neck. The creature twisted and hissed, then turned pleading eyes to Baruk.

“This thing was following me here,” Rake said. “Yours?”

Startled, Baruk managed a nod.

“I thought as much,” Rake said, releasing the demon to flap across the room and land at the alchemist's slippered feet.

Baruk gazed down on it. The demon was trembling.

Rake strode to a chair and sat, stretching out his long legs. “A busy night,” he said.

Baruk gestured and the demon vanished with a faint popping sound.

“Indeed,” he said, his voice hard. “My servant was on a mission. I had no idea it would involve you.” He went to stand before the Tiste And?. “Why were you in the middle of an assassin war?”

“Why not?” Rake answered. “I started it.”

“What?”

He smiled up at Baruk. “You don't know the Empress as well as I do Baruk.”

“Please explain.” Colour had risen in the alchemist's face.

Rake looked away. “Tell me this, Baruk,” he said, turning to meet the alchemist's gaze, “who in this city is most likely to be aware of your secret council? And who might benefit the most from your removal? And, most importantly, who in this city is capable of killing you?”

Baruk did not answer immediately. He walked slowly to the table where a newly painted map had been laid out. He leaned over it, hands resting on the edge. “You suspect the Empress might seek out Vorcan,” he said. “A contract to offer.”

“On you and the rest of the High Mages,” Rake said, behind him. “The Empress has sent a Claw here, not so much to worry your city's defencc but to establish contact with the Master Assassin. I wasn't entirely certain that I was right in this, but I meant to prevent that contact.”

Baruk's eyes remained on the map's red wash. “So you sent your own assassins to wipe out her Guild. To flush her out.” He faced Rake. “And then what? Kill her? All on the basis of some suspicion of yours?”

“This night,” Rake said calmly, “we prevented the Claw from making that contact. Your demon's report will confirm this. Besides, you are suggesting that the death of Vorcan and the decimation of the city assassins is a bad thing, are you?”

“I fear I am.” Baruk was pacing, struggling against a growing sense outrage. “I may not know the Empress as well as you, Rake,” he said, gritting his teeth, “but I do know this city-far better than you ever will.”