Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #8) - Page 112/467

‘And you’re doing well by it, I see.’

She ran one gloved hand along her right thigh. ‘The new leggings? Gorgeous, aren’t they?’

‘Stunning.’

‘Black velvet doesn’t work on any old legs, you know.’

‘Not mine, anyway.’

‘What do you want, Gruntle? I see the barbs have faded, at least. News was you were positively glowing when you came back.’

‘A disaster. I need a new line of work,’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, It’s the only thing you’re remotely good at, Oafs like you need to be out there, chopping through the thick skulls of bandits and whatnot, Once you start staying put this city is doomed and it just so happens that I like living here, so the sooner you’re back out on the trails the better.’

‘I missed you too, Stonny.’

She snorted.

‘Bedek and Myrla are well, by the way.’

‘Stop right there.’

He sighed, rubbed at his face.

‘I mean it, Gruntle.’

‘Look, an occasional visit is all I’m asking-’

‘I send money.’

‘You do? That’s the first I’ve heard of that. Not a mention from Bedek and from how they’re doing, well, you can’t be sending much, or very often.’

She glared at him. ‘Snell meets me outside the door and the coins go right into his hands I make sure, Gruntle. Anyway, how dare you? I made the adoption legal and so I don’t owe them anything, damn you.’

‘Snell. Well, that probably explains it. Next time try Myrla or Bedek, anyone but Snell.’

‘You’re saying the little shit is stealing it?’

‘Stonny, they’re barely scraping by, and, thinking on it, well, I know you well enough to know that, adoption or no, you won’t see them starve-any of them, especially not your son.’

‘Don’t call him that.’

‘Stonny-’

‘The spawn of rape I can see his face, right there in Harllo’s own, looking up at me. I can see it clear, Gruntle.’ And she shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes, and her legs had drawn up, tightly clenched, and all the bravado was gone as she clasped her arms tight about herself, and Gruntle felt his heart breaking yet again and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to make it any bet-ter, only worse.

‘You’d better go,’ she said in a tight voice. ‘Come back when the world dies, Gruntle.’

‘I was thinking about the Trygalle Trade Guild.’

Her head snapped round. ‘Are you mad? Got a damned death wish?’

‘Maybe I do.’

‘Get out of my sight, then. Go on, run off and get yourself killed.’

‘Your students look ready to keel over,’ Gruntle observed. ‘Repeated lunges aren’t easy for anyone-I doubt any of them will be able to walk come the mor-row.’

‘Never mind them. If you’re really thinking of signing on with the Trygalle, say it plain.’

‘I thought you might talk me out of it.’

‘Why would I bother? You got your life just like I got mine, We aren’t married. We aren’t even lovers-’

‘Had any success in that area, Stonny? Someone might-’

‘Stop this. Stop all of it. You’re like this every time you come back from a bad one, All full of pity and damn near dripping with sanctimony while you try and try to convince me’

‘Convince you of what?’

‘Being human, but I’m done with that. Stonny Menackis died years ago. What you’re seeing now is a thief running a school teaching nothing to imps with piss in their veins. I’m just here to suck fools dry of their coin. I’m just here to lie to them about how their son or daughter is a champion duelist in the making.’

‘So you won’t be talking me out of signing with the Trygalle, then.’ Gruntle turned to the archway. ‘I see I do nothing good here. I’m sorry.’

But she reached out and grasped his forearm as he was about to leave. ‘Don’t,’ she said.

‘Don’t what?’

‘Take it from me, Gruntle, there’s nothing good in a death wish.’

‘Fine,’ he said, then left.

Well, he’d messed it all up again. Nothing new in that, alas. Should hunt down Snell, give him a shake or two. At the very least, scare the crap out of him. Get him to spill where he’s been burying his hoard. No wonder he likes sitting on the threshold. Keeping an eye out, I suppose.