Rent? That would be the red welt in the air. Uh.
'You have examined the K'Chain Che'Malle tombs, Lady?'
She wrinkled her nose. 'Briefly. They are all empty, and have been for some time. Decades.'
Tool's head tilted with a soft creak. 'Only decades?'
'Unpleasant detail, indeed. I believe the Matron experienced considerable difficulty in extricating herself, then spent still further time in recovering from her ordeal, before releasing her children. She and her brood made further efforts in the buried city to the northwest, though incomplete, as if the results proved unsatisfactory. They then appear to have departed the area entirely.' She paused, then added, 'It may be relevant that the Matron was the original soul sealing the Rent. Another hapless creature resides there now, we must presume.'
The T'lan Imass nodded.
During the exchange Toc had been busy eating, and was on his second cup of the crisp, cold wine. Trying to make sense of the conversation thus far was giving him a headache — he'd mull on it later. 'I need to head north,' he said round a mouthful of grainy bread. 'Is there any chance, Lady, that you can furnish me with suitable supplies? I would be in your debt…' His words trailed away at seeing the avid flash in her eyes.
'Careful what you offer, young man-'
'No offence, but why do you call me "young man"? You look not a day over twenty-five.'
'How flattering. Thus, despite Tool's success in identifying me — and I admit that I find the depth of his knowledge most disconcerting — the names the T'lan Imass revealed meant little to you.'
Toc shrugged. 'Anomander Rake I've heard, of course. I didn't know he took a sword from someone else — nor when that event occurred. It strikes me, however, that you may well be justified in feeling some animosity towards him, since he killed your father — what was his name? Draconus. The Malazan Empire shares that dislike. So, in sharing enemies-'
'We are perforce allies. A reasonable surmise. Unfortunately wrong. Regardless, I would be pleased to provide what food and drink you are able to carry, though I have nothing in the way of weapons, I'm afraid. In return, I may some day ask of you a favour — nothing grand, of course. Something small and relatively painless. Is this acceptable?'
Toc felt his appetite draining away. He glanced at Tool, got no help from the undead warrior's expressionless face. The Malazan scowled. 'You have me at a disadvantage, Lady Envy.'
She smiled.
And here I was hoping we'd get past the polite civility to something more. intimate. Here you go again, Toc, thinking with the wrong brain -
Her smile broadened.
Flushing, he reached for his cup. 'Very well, I agree to your proposal.'
'Your equanimity is a delight, Toc the Younger.'
He almost choked on his wine. If I wasn't a sword-kissed one-eyed bastard, I'd be tempted to call that a flirt.
Tool spoke. 'Lady Envy, if you seek further knowledge of this Rent, you will not find it here.'
Toc was pleased to see the mild shock on her face as she swung to the T'lan Imass. 'Indeed? It appears I am not alone in enjoying a certain coyness. Can you explain?'
Anticipating the response to that, Toc the Younger grunted, then ducked as she flashed him a dark look.
'Perhaps,' Tool predictably replied.
Hah, I knew it.
An edge came into her tone. 'Please do so, then.'
'I follow an ancient trail, Lady Envy. Morn was but one stop on that trail. It now leads northward. You would find your answers among those I seek.'
'You wish me to accompany you.'
'I care not either way,' Tool said in his uninflected rasp. 'Should you choose to stay here, however, I must warn you. Meddling with the Rent has its risks — even for one such as you.'
She crossed her arms. 'You think I lack suitable caution?'
'Even now you have reached an impasse, and your frustration mounts. I add one more incentive, Lady Envy. Your old travelling companions are converging on the very same destination — the Pannion Domin. Both Anomander Rake and Caladan Brood prepare to wage war against the Domin. A grave decision — does that not make you curious?'
'You are no simple T'lan Imass,' she accused.
Tool made no reply to that.
'He has you at a disadvantage, it seems,' Toc said, barely restraining his amusement.
'I find impertinence disgustingly unattractive,' she snapped. 'Whatever happened to your affable equanimity, Toc the Younger?'
He wondered at his sudden impulse to fling himself down at her feet, begging forgiveness. Shrugging the absurd notion off, he said, 'Badly stung, I think.'
