Kalam bowed to the group, then approached the table. Another servant, this one younger than the doorman by only a few years, appeared with a fresh jug and a goblet, hesitating until the assassin settled on where he would sit – opposite the merchant couple. He set the goblet down and poured Kalam a half-measure, then backed away.
The merchant showed durhang-stained teeth in a welcoming smile. 'Down from the north, then?'
The wine was some kind of herbal concoction, too sweet and cloying for the climate. Kalam set the goblet down, scowling. 'No beer in this hold?'
The merchant's head bobbed. 'Aye, and chilled at that. Alas, only the wine is free, courtesy of our host.'
'Not surprised it's free,' the assassin muttered. He gestured to the servant. 'A tankard of beer, if you please.'
'Costs a sliver,' the servant said.
'Highway robbery, but my thirst is master.' He found a clipped Jakata and set it on the table.
'Has the village fallen into the sea, then?' the merchant asked. 'On your way down from Ehrlitan, how stands the bridge?'
Kalam saw a small velvet bag on the tabletop in front of the merchant's wife. Glancing up, he met her pitted eyes. She gave him a ghastly wink.
'He'll not add to your gossip, Berkru darling. A stranger come in from the storm, is all you'll learn from this one.'
One of the guardsmen raised his head. 'Got something to hide, have ya? Not guarding a caravan, just riding alone? Deserting the Ehrlitan Guard, or maybe spreading the word of Dryjhna, or both. Now here ya come, expecting the hospitality of the Master – Malazan born and bred.'
Kalam eyed the men. Four belligerent faces. Any denial of the sergeant's accusations would not be believed. The guards had decided he belonged in the dungeon for the night at least, something to break the boredom. Yet the assassin was not interested in shedding blood. He laid his hands flat on the table, slowly rose. 'A word with you, Sergeant,' he said. 'In private.'
The man's dark face turned ugly. 'So you can slit my throat?'
'You believe me capable of that?' Kalam asked in surprise. 'You wear chain, you've a sword at your belt. You've three companions who no doubt will stay close – if only to eavesdrop on the words we exchange between us.'
The sergeant rose. 'I can handle you well enough on my own,' he growled. He strode to the back wall.
Kalam followed. He withdrew a small pendant from under his telaba and held it up. 'Do you recognize this, Sergeant?' he asked softly.
Cautiously, the man leaned forward to study the symbol etched on the pendant's flat surface. Recognition paled his features as he involuntarily mouthed, 'Clawmaster.'
'An end to your questions and accusations, Sergeant. Do not reveal what you now know to your men – at least until after I am gone. Understood?'
The sergeant nodded. 'Pardon, sir,' he whispered.
Kalam hooked a half-smile. 'Your unease is earned. Hood's about to stride this land, and you and I both know it. You erred today, but do not relax your mistrust. Does the Keep Commander understand the situation beyond these walls?'
'Aye, he does.'
The assassin sighed. 'Makes you and your squad among the lucky ones, Sergeant.'
'Aye.'
'Shall we return to the table now?'
The sergeant simply shook his head in answer to his squad's querying expressions.
As Kalam returned to his beer, the merchant's wife reached for the velvet bag. 'The soldiers have each requested a reading of their futures,' she said, revealing a Deck of Dragons. She held the deck in both hands, her unblinking eyes on the assassin. 'And you? Would you know of your future, stranger? Which gods smile upon you, which gods frown—'
'The gods have little time or inclination to spare us any note,' Kalam said with contempt. 'Leave me out of your games, woman.'
'So you cow the sergeant,' she said, smiling, 'and now seek to cow me. See the fear your words have wrought in me? I shake with terror.'
With a disgusted snort, Kalam slid his gaze away.
The common room boomed as the front door was assailed.
'More mysterious travellers!' the woman cackled.
Everyone watched as the doorman reappeared from a side chamber and shuffled towards the door. Whoever waited outside was impatient – thunder rang imperiously through the room even as the old man reached for the bar.
As soon as the bar cleared the latch, the door was pushed hard. The doorman stumbled back. Two armoured figures appeared, the first one a woman. Metal rustled and boots thumped as she strode into the centre of the chamber. Flat eyes surveyed the guards and the other guests, held briefly on each of them before continuing on. Kalam saw no special attention accorded him.