“Shadowthrone,” he said, “Lord of Shadows, I am come to your realm. Will you receive my presence as befits a peaceful visitor?”

From the hills came an answer: the howling of Hounds.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Walk with me on Thieves” Road hear its song underfoot how clear its tone in misstep as it sings you in two

Apsalar's Cant Drisbin (b.1135)

Ing his brow, kruppe sat reading in mammot's study-

: and in the Calling Down to earth the God was Crippled, and so Chained in its place. In the Calling Down many lands were sundered by the God's Fists, and things were born and things were released.

Chained and Crippled was this God Kruppe glanced up from the ancient tome and rolled his eyes. “Brevity, Kruppe prays for brevity!” He returned to the faded handwritten script.

and it bred caution in the unveiling of its powers. The Crippled God bred caution but not well enough, for the powers of the earth came to it in the end. Chained was the Crippled God, and so Chained was it destroyed. And upon this barren plain that imprisoned the Crippled God many gathered to the deed. Hood, grey wanderer of Death, was among the gathering, as was Dessembrae, then Hood's Warrior-

though it was here and in this time that Dessembrae shattered the bonds Hood held upon him. Also among the gathering were IR-

Kruppe groaned and flipped pages. The list seemed interminable, absurdly long. From this account he half expected to see his grandmother's name among those listed. Finally, after three pages, he found the names he sought.

and among those that came from the vaulted heavens of silver, the Tiste And? dwellers of Darkness in the Place before Light, Black Dragons numbering five, and in their league sailed red-winged Silanah, said to dwell among the Tiste And? in their Fang of Darkness descending from the vaulted heavens of silver Kruppe nodded, muttering to himself. A descending Fang of Darkness-Moon's Spawn? Home to five Black Dragons and one Red Dragon? He shivered. How had Coll come upon this? True, the man hadn't always been a drunken lout, but even his past station, lofty as it was, hadn't been the scholarly kind.

Who, then, had spoken through the old man's wine-stained mouth?

“That,” Kruppe sighed to himself, “shall have to wait its answer. The significance, however, of Coll's bellowed claim lies in its evident truth, and as to how it pertains to the present situation.” He closed the book and rose to his feet. Behind him he heard footsteps.

“I've brought you herbal tea,” the old man said, as he entered the closet-sized room. “Has Alladart's Realm Compendium been beneficial, Kruppe?”

“Beneficial indeed,” Kruppe said, gratefully accepting the earthenware mug. “Kruppe has learned the value of modern language. Such long-lipped dribbles common to those ancient scholars are a curse Kruppe is thankful to find extinct in our time.”

“Ah, ha,” the old man said, coughing slightly and looking away. “Well, do you mind if I ask what you were seeking?”

Kruppe glanced up, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Not at all, Mammot. I thought to find mention of my grandmother's name.”

Mammot frowned, then nodded. “I see. Well, I'll not inquire as to your luck, then.”

“Please, do not,” Kruppe said, eyes widening. “Luck is such a dreadful companion these days, with all awry as all happens to be. But thank you for understanding Kruppe's need for circumspection.”

“Not at all,” Mammot said, waving one hand. “I didn't mean to-well, yes, I did. Curiosity, you understand. The intellectual kind.”

Kruppe smiled beatifically and sipped tea.

“Well,” Mammot said, “shall we return to the common room, then, and find respite before the hearth?”

They strode into the other chamber. Once seated, Kruppe stretched out his legs and leaned back. “How has your writing been coming along?” he asked.

“Slow,” Mammot answered, “as one would expect, of course.”

It seemed Mammot was working up to something, and so Kruppe waited, idly wiggling his toes. A minute passed, then the old man clear his throat and spoke. “Kruppe, have you seen much of my dear nephew lately?”

Kruppe raised his eyebrows. “Long ago,” he said, “Kruppe made promise to a man, the man being a concerned uncle to a young boy who found the streets an exciting playground. Aye, the lad dreamed of sword fights and dark deeds committed in alleys on behalf of princesses in disguise, or some such thing-”

Mammot was nodding, his eyes closed.

“— and to such promises Kruppe has availed of himself thoroughly, he, too, loved the boy. And as with any endeavour, survival is measured in ability, and so did Kruppe take the lad under his silken wing, with some success, yes.” Mammot smiled, still nodding.