'Relax,' Quick Ben murmured low beside Kalam. 'Like I said before, Tayschrenn's role in… things past… was misunderstood.'

'So you say.'

'And he did try to protect Whiskeyjack.'

'But was too late.'

'Kalam…'

'All right, I'll be civil. Is that Seti his old bodyguard – from the days of the Emperor?'

'Aye.'

'Miserable bastard? Never said anything?'

'That's him.'

'Looks like he's mellowed some.'

Quick Ben snorted.

'Something amusing you, High Mage?' Dujek asked as the group approached.

'Welcome, High Fist,' Quick Ben said, straightening, adding a slightly deferential bow to Tayschrenn. 'Colleague…'

Tayschrenn's thin, almost hairless brows rose. 'A field promotion, wasn't it? Well, perhaps long overdue. Nonetheless, I do not believe the Empress has sanctioned that title as yet.'

Quick Ben offered him a broad, white smile. 'Do you recall, High Mage, a certain other High Mage, sent by the Emperor, early on in the Blackdog Campaign? Kribalah Rule?'

'Rule the Rude? Yes, he died after a month or so-'

'In a horrible conflagration, aye. Well, that was me. Thus, I've been a High Mage before, colleague…'

Tayschrenn was frowning, clearly thinking back, then the frown became a scowl. 'And the Emperor knew this? He must have, having sent you – unless, of course, he didn't send you at all.'

'Well, granted, there were some improprieties involved, and had one set out on that particular trail they might well have been noted. But you did not feel the need to do so, evidently, since, although briefly, I more than held my own – pulling you out of trouble once, I seem to recall… something about Tiste Andii assassin-mages-'

'When I lost a certain object containing a demon lord…'

'You did? Sorry to hear that.'

'The same demon that later died by Rake's sword in Darujhistan.'

'Oh, how unfortunate.'

Kalam leaned close to Quick Ben. 'I thought,' he said in a whisper, ' you told me to relax.'

'Long ago and far away,' Dujek Onearm said gruffly, 'and I'd slap my hands together if I had more than one. Tayschrenn, rein in that Seti before he does something stupid. We have things to discuss here. Let's get on with it.'

Kalam glanced across at Fiddler and winked. Just like old times…

****
Lying flat at the crest of the ridge, Pearl grunted. 'That's Dujek Onearm out there,' he said. 'He's supposed to be in G'danisban right now.'

Beside him, Lostara Yil hissed and began slapping about her body. '

Chigger fleas, damn you. They're swarming this ridge. I hate chigger fleas-'

'Why not jump up and dance about, Captain?' Pearl asked. 'Just to make certain they know we're here.'

'Spying is stupid. I hate this, and I am rediscovering my hatred for you, too, Claw.'

'You say the sweetest things. Anyway, the bald one's Tayschrenn, with Hattar and Kiska this time, meaning he's serious about the risks. Oh, why did they have to do this, now?'

'Do what now?'

'Whatever it is they're doing, of course.'

'So run back to Laseen like the eager puppy you are, Pearl, and tell her all about it.'

He edged back down the side of the ridge, twisted round and sat up. '

No need for haste. I have to think.'

Lostara clambered down the slope until she could stand. She began scratching under her armour. 'Well, I'm not waiting around for that. I need a milk bath, with escura leaves, and I need it now.'

He watched her stalk away, back towards the encampment. A nice walk, apart from the sudden twitches.

A simple cantrip, keeping the fleas away from his body. Perhaps he should have extended the courtesy to her.

No. This is much better.

Gods, we're made for each other.

Chapter Three

Yareth Ghanatan, the city stands still First and last and where the old causeway Curves in its half-circle there are towers Of sand seething with empires and Marching armies, broken wing banners And the dismembered lining the walkways Are soon the bones of the edifices, warriors And builders both, the city ever stands To house insect hordes, oh those towers Rear so proud, rising as dreams on the Heated breath of the sun, Yareth Ghanatan.

The city is the empress, wife and lover, Crone and child of the First Empire, And I yet remain, with all my kin, The bones in the walls, the bones Beneath the floor, the bones that cast Down this gentle shade – first and last, I see what comes, all that has gone, And the clay of my flesh has felt your hands The old warmth of life, for the city, My city, it stands still, and it stands, Stands ever still.