Gardens of the Moon

“I've no doubt your attire will be suitable,” Baruk snapped. “Particularly if you choose the costume of a Tiste And? warlord. It's the Council that worries me. They're not all fools.”



“I would be surprised if they were,” Rake said. “Indeed, I would have you point out the cunning ones. I don't imagine you will refute my suspicion that there are those within the Council seeking to pave the way for the Empress-for a price, of course. Power comes to mind. Nobles delving in merchant trades no doubt drool at the prospect of Empire trade. Am I far off the mark, Baruk?”



“No,” the alchemist admitted sourly. “But we have that under control.”



“Ah, yes,” Rake said. “This brings to mind my other reason for wishing to attend this Lady Sinital's F?te. As you said, the city's power will be there. I assume this includes such mages as are in your T'orrud Cabal?”



“Some will attend,” Baruk conceded. “But I must tell you, Anomander Rake, your d6bicles with the Assassins” Guild has made a good number of them rue our alliance. They'll not appreciate your presence in the least.”



Rake's smile returned. “To the extent that they will reveal their community to cunning Council members? I think not.” He rose in a fluid motion. “No, I would like to attend this F?te. My own people hold little to such social affairs. There are times when I grow weary of their dour preoccupations.”



Baruk's gaze focused on the Tiste And?. “You suspect a convergence, don't you? A fell gathering of powers, like iron filings to a lodestone.”



“With so much power gathered in one place,” Rake admitted, “it's likely. I'd rather be on hand in such circumstances.” His eyes held Baruk's, their colour flowing from dun green to amber. “Also, if this event is as publicly known as you suggest, then the Empire's agents within the city will know of it. Should they wish to cut out Darujhistan's heart, they'll have no better opportunity.”



Baruk barely repressed a shiver. “Extra guards have been hired, of course. If an Empire Claw should strike, they will find their hands full with the T'orrud mages besides.” He thought for a time, then nodded wearily. “Very well, Rake. Sinital will accept you as my guest. You will wear an effective disguise?”



“Naturally.”



Baruk climbed to his feet and strode to the window. Beyond the sky had begun to pale. “And so it begins,” he whispered.



Rake joined him. “What begins?”



“The new year,” the alchemist replied. “Past is the Five Tusks. The dawn you see marks the birth of the Year of the Moon's Tears.”



Lord Anomander Rake stiffened.



Baruk noticed. “Indeed. An unusual coincidence, though I would put little weight upon it. The titles were devised over a millennium ago, by a visitor to these lands.”



When Rake spoke his voice was a ravaged whisper. “Icarium's gifts. I recognize the style. Five Tusks, Moon's Tears-the Wheel is his, correct?”



Eyes wide, Baruk hissed his surprise between his teeth. A dozen questions struggled to be uttered first, but the Lord continued. “In the future, I'd suggest you heed Icarium's gifts-all of them. A thousand years is not so long a time, Alchemist. Not so long a time. Icarium. last visited me eight hundred years ago, in the company of the Trell Mappo, and Osric-or Osserc, as the local worshippers call him.” Rake smiled bitterly. “Osric and I argued, as I recall, and it was all Brood could do to keep us apart. It was an old argument.



into grey. He fell silent, lost in memories.



There came a knock at the door and both turned to see Roald enter and bow.



“Master Baruk, Mammot has awakened and appears refreshed. More,” his almond eyes shaded, “your agent Kruppe has delivered a verbal message. He extends his regret that he cannot deliver it to you in person. Do you wish to receive it now?”



“Yes,” Baruk said.



Roald bowed again. “The Eel will contact you the eve of this day. At Lady Sinital's F?te. The Eel further finds the prospect of shared information and co-operation intriguing. That is all.”



Baruk brightened. “Excellent.”



“Shall I bring Mammot to you, Master?”



“If he's able.”



“He is. A moment, then.” Roald left.



The alchemist smiled. “As I said, “he laughed, “everyone will be there, and in this case, everyone is an appropriate term.” His smile broadened at Rake's blank look. “The Eel, Lord. Darujhistan's master-spy, a figure without a face.”