'What is this?' Kallor demanded. 'That warren bore no sign of poison.'
'Indeed,' K'rul smiled. 'It seems the illness has been pushed back from this location. Temporary, yet sufficient. Perhaps this is another lesson in the powers of faith … which I shall endeavour to heed …'
Itkovian's eyes narrowed. He speaks with two meanings. One, for us. A deeper second meaning, for that man standing over there.
A moment later the large, heavy-set woman standing beside Captain Paran approached the table.
Seeing her, Kallor backed off a step.
'Careless,' she drawled to the warlord, who spun at her words, 'dropping your hammer like that.'
'Silverfox. We'd wondered if we would see you again.'
'Yet you sent Korlat out to track me, Warlord.'
'Only to ascertain your whereabouts and direction of travel. It appears she got lost, for she has yet to return.'
'A temporary misdirection. My T'lan Ay now surround her and are guiding her back here. Unharmed.'
'I am relieved to hear that. By your words, I assume that the Second Gathering has taken place.'
'It has.'
Whiskeyjack had seen Captain Paran and was approaching him for a private word. The tall, dark-skinned man moved to join them.
'Tell us, then,' the warlord continued, 'has another army joined in the proceedings?'
'My T'lan Imass have tasks before them that will require a journey to the Pannion Domin. To your advantage, should there be more K'Chain Che'Malle K'ell Hunters, for we will deal with them.'
'Presumably, you've no intention of elaborating on these tasks that you mentioned.'
'Warlord, they are private matters, and have no bearing on you or your war.'
'Don't believe her,' Kallor growled. 'They want the Seer, for they know what he is — a Jaghut Tyrant.'
Silverfox faced Kallor. 'And should you capture the Pannion Seer, what would you do with him? He is insane, his mind twisted by the taint of the Warren of Chaos and the Crippled God's manipulations. Execution is the only option. Leave that to us, for we exist to kill Jaghut-'
'Not always,' Dujek interjected.
'What do you mean?'
'Did not one of your T'lan Imass accompany the Adjunct Lorn when she freed the Jaghut Tyrant south of Darujhistan?'
Silverfox looked troubled. 'The Clanless One. Yes. An event I do not as yet understand. None the less, that Tyrant was awakened from a cursed sleep, only to die in truth-'
A new voice spoke. 'Actually, while a little worse for wear, Raest was admirably animate the last time I saw him.'
Silverfox spun. 'Ganoes, what do you mean? The Tyrant was slain.'
The small, round man now standing beside Captain Paran drew a handkerchief from a sleeve and mopped his brow. 'Well, as to that … not quite, Kruppe reluctantly advises. Matters were somewhat confused, alas-'
'A House of the Azath took the Jaghut Tyrant,' K'rul explained. 'The Malazan plan, as I understand it, was to force Anomander Rake's hand — a confrontation that was intended to weaken him, if not see him slain outright. Raest never did come face to face with the Lord of Moon's Spawn, as it turned out-'
'I see little relevance in all this,' Silverfox cut in. 'If the Clanless One has indeed broken his vow, then he will have to answer to me.'
'My point was,' Dujek said, 'you make a claim that the T'lan Imass and what they do or don't do is separate from everyone and everything else. You insist on detachment, but, as a veteran of the Malazan campaigns, I tell you that what you assert is patently untrue.'
'Perhaps indeed the Logros T'lan Imass grew … confused. If so, such ambivalence is past. Unless, of course, you would challenge the authority that I was born to.'
No-one spoke in answer to that.
Silverfox nodded. 'Very well. You have been told of the position of the T'lan Imass. We will have this Jaghut Tyrant. Does anyone here wish to counter our claim?'
'From the implicit threats in your tone, woman,' Brood grated, 'that would be a foolhardy position to take. I for one will not squabble and tug the Seer's limbs.' He swung to Dujek. 'High Fist?'
The one-armed soldier grimaced, then shook his head.
Itkovian's attention was drawn to the short, fat Daru, for some reason he could not have hoped to explain. A benign smile curved those full, slightly greasy lips.
This is a most fell gathering of powers here. Yet why do I believe that the very epicentre of efficacy lies with this strange little man? He holds even K'rul's regard, as would an admiring companion rest eyes upon a lifelong. prodigy of sorts, perhaps. A prodigy whose talents have come to overwhelm his master's. But there is no envy in that regard, nor even pride — which always whispers of possessiveness, after all. No, the emotion is far more subtle, and complex.
