Toll the Hounds

‘That is rather generous of you, Hinter,’ said Baruk. ‘In fact, I do not recall you being so loquacious the last time we spoke.’



The apparition stood within the door frame of the tower. ‘The struggle I face is between my desire to close my ghostly fingers about your throat, High Al-chemist, and providing whatever service I can to this fair city. It must also be noted, the return of the Tyrant would also mark the end of what limited free-dom I possess, for I would be quickly enslaved. And so, self-interest and altru-ism prove unlikely allies, yet sufficient to overwhelm my natural murderous urges.’



‘The debate is moot,’ Baruk replied, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his stomach, ‘since I have no intention of coming within reach of your deadly grasp. No, I will remain here, in the yard.’



‘Just as well,’ Hinter replied. ‘I haven’t dusted in centuries.’



‘There are forces in the city,’ Baruk said after a moment, ‘formidable, unpre-dictable forces. ‘The threat-’



‘Enough of that,’ Hinter cut in. ‘You know very well why most of those enti-ties are in the city, since you invited them, High Alchemist. And as for the others on the way, well, few of those will surprise you much. They are… necessary. So, an end to your dissembling.’



‘Not all of what approaches is my doing,’ Baruk countered. ‘Were you aware that both Lady Envy and Sister Spite are here right now? The daughters of Dra-conus were not invited, not by me at any rate. One is bad enough, but both…’ he shook his head, ‘I fear they will leave the entire city a smouldering heap of ashes, given the chance.’



‘So do something to ensure that does not happen,’ Hinter until airily…



‘Any suggestions on tha t count?’



‘None whatsoever.’



‘Has either one paid you a visit?’



‘You strain my altruism, High Alchemist. Very well, of course Lady Envy has visited, and more than once.’



‘Does she know her sister is here?’



‘Probably.’



‘What does Envy want, Hinter?’



‘What she has always wanted, High Alchemist.’



Baruk hissed under his breath and glanced away. ‘She can’t have it.’



‘Then I suggest you pay her sister a visit. She resides aboard-’



‘I know where she is, thank you. Now, have you heard of that self-proclaimed High Priest of the Crippled God who’s now squatting in an abandoned Temple of Fener? And leads a congregation growing by the day?’



‘No, I have not. But are you surprised?’



‘The Fallen God is a most unwelcome complication.’



‘The legacy of messing with things not yet fully understood-of course, those precipitous sorcerors all paid with their lives, which prevented everyone else from delivering the kind of punishment they truly deserved. Such things are most frustrating, don’t you think?’



Baruk’s gaze narrowed on the ghost in the doorway.



After a moment Hinter waved an ethereal hand. ‘So many… legacies.’



‘Point taken, Necromancer. As you can see, however, I am not one to evade re-sponsibility.’



‘True, else you would have come within my reach long ago. Or, indeed, chosen a more subtle escape, as did your fellow… mages in the Cabal, the night Vorcan walked the shadows…’



Baruk stared, and then sighed. ‘I have always wondered at the sudden in-competence displayed by my comrades that night. Granted, Vorcan’s skills were-are-impressive.’ And then he fell silent for a moment. And thought about certain matters. ‘Hinter, has Vorcan visited you?’



‘No. Why would she?’



Baruk was suddenly chilled. ‘She made no effort at… discussing anything with me that night.’



‘Perhaps she knew how you would respond.’



‘As she would have for Derudan as well.’



‘No doubt.’



‘But the others…’



Hinter said nothing.



Baruk felt sick inside. Matters had grown far too complicated in this city. Oh, he had known that they were walking a most narrow bridge, with the yawning abyss below whispering soft invitations of surrender. But it seemed the far end was ever dwindling, stretching away, almost lost in the mists. And every step he took seemed more tenuous than the last, as if at any moment the span beneath him might simply crumble into dust.



He could understand those others in the Cabal and the sudden, perfect escape that Vorcan represented. And he recalled that flat promise in her eyes on that night long ago now-it still haunted him, the ease of her betrayal, as if the con-tract offered by the Malazan Empire had simply provided her with an excuse for doing something she had always wanted to do: murder every other mage in the Cabal.