She hesitated. ‘Have you checked on Picker?’

‘She walked out of here a quarter-bell ago.’

What?’

‘Said she’d be back.’

‘That’s it? That’s all she said?’

‘Something else. Something about “them damned tores”.’ He finally glanced up, his eyes bleak as ever. ‘Sit down, Blend. Please. I don’t like being alone, not right now. She’ll be back.’

At that moment a bell began ringing overhead and both Malazans ducked at the deafening clangour.

‘Clods below!’ swore Blend. ‘Who’s up in the belfry?’

Duiker was frowning. ‘The only other person here is Scillara. I suppose…’ and then he fell silent, and the wasted misery in his eyes deepened.

Blend sat down. ‘She’d better get tired soon, or I’ll have to go up there.’

They sat, weathering the clanging. Blend studied Duiker, wondering at his ever-deepening despondency. And then a realization struck her. ‘I thought we un-shipped that bell.’

‘We did, Blend. It’s in the cellar.’

‘Oh.’

No wonder he looked so wretched.

‘Plan on cutting off its head?’ Samar Dev asked.

Karsa Orlong was standing over the Hound he had killed. At her question he grunted. ‘I could use a kitchen knife to finish the job. See how my blade cut through that spine? Like chopping down a tree.’

She found she was trembling, decided it was exhaustion. ‘They’re your daugh-ters, aren’t they?’

Karsa glanced over at the two Toblakai girls, who stood watching, silent, ex-pectant. ‘I raped a mother and a daughter.’

‘Ah, well, isn’t that nice.’

‘It was my right.’

‘Funny, that.’

‘What?’

‘That idea of “rights”. The way that claiming a right so often results in someone else losing theirs. At which point it all comes down to who’s holding the biggest sword.’

‘I won that right when I killed their men. This was tribal war, Witch.’ He paused. ‘And I was young.’

‘Gods below, you’re actually telling me you have regrets?’

The Toblakai turned away from the dead Hound and faced his daughters. ‘I have many,’ he answered. ‘But, not these two.’

‘And if they feel differently about it, Karsa?’

‘Why should they? I gave them life.’

‘I think,’ Samar Dev said, ‘that I shall never understand you.’ She eyed the girls. ‘Do they know what we’re saying? Of course not, they couldn’t have learned any Seven Cities language. I’ve not seen you speak to them, Karsa. What are you waiting for?’

‘I am waiting,’ he replied, ‘for when I can think of something to say.’

At that moment another woman emerged from an alley mouth and, gaze fixed on Karsa Orlong, walked over. ‘Toblakai,’ she said, ‘I have a message to deliver to you.’ She was speaking Malazan.

‘I don’t know you,’ Karsa said to her in the same language.

‘The feeling’s mutual,’ she snapped, ‘but let’s not let that get in the way.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you want this message private, or maybe I should just shout it so everybody can hear.’

Karsa shot Samar Dev an amused look. ‘Did I ever tell you, Witch, that I liked Malazans?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, sighing.

‘You need not shout, Malazan. Nor will we hide in some corner. So, tell me this mysterious message, but first, tell me who it is from.’

‘All right. It’s from Hood, I think.’

Samar Dev snorted. ‘Let me guess. “Keep up the good work, yours truly.”‘

The Malazan woman regarded her. ‘Well now, after all this is done, permit me to buy you a drink.’

Samar Dev’s brows rose.

‘The message,’ Karsa growled.

‘Right. It’s this. You must not leave Darujhistan.’

‘And if I do?’

‘Then you will have lost your one opportunity to fulfil a vow you once made.’

‘I have made many vows.’

‘I’m shocked to hear that.’

Karsa was smiling, but something deadly had awakened in it. ‘Will you tell me more?’

The woman hesitated again. ‘I’m reconsidering. This really needs to be private-no offence, Witch-he called you that, yes? It’s just that-’

‘Tell me,’ Karsa demanded.