‘Eh? Geen way! Groblet! Coo!’
‘Captain Kindly. I was thinking hives, the real itchy kind. No, wait, that’ll just make him even meaner. Make him cross-eyed-but not so he notices, just everyone else. Can you do that, Nep?’
‘War butt wod i’meen, eh?’
‘How about a massage?’
‘Kissands?’
‘My very own, yes.’
‘Urble ong eh? Urble ong?’
‘Bell to bell, Nep.’
‘Nikked?’
‘Who, you or me?’
‘Bat!’
‘Fine, but we’ll need to rent a room, unless of course you want an audience?’
Nep Furrow was getting excited, in all the wrong ways, she saw. He jumped round, squirmed, his skin glistening with sweat. ‘Blether squids, Kiss, blether squids!’
‘With the door barred,’ she said. ‘I won’t have any strangers walking in.’
‘Hep haw! Curseed?’
‘Aye, cross-eyed, but he can’t know it-’
‘Impable, lees in glusion.’
‘Illusion? A glamour? Oh, that’s very good. Get on it, then, thanks.’
Badan Gruk rubbed at his face as Sinter collapsed on to the cot beside him. ‘What in Hood’s name are we doing here?’ he asked.
Her dark eyes flicked to his-the momentary contact sweet as a caress-and then she looked away. ‘You’re the only kind of soldier a body can trust, Badan, did you know that?’
‘What? No, I-’
‘You’re reluctant. You’re not cut out for violence and so you don’t go looking for it. You use your wits first and that silly bonekisser as a last resort. The dangerous ones do it the other way round and that costs lives every time. Every time.’ She paused. ‘Did I hear right? Some drunk marine sergeant crossed this damned empire from tavern to tavern?’
He nodded. ‘And left a trail of local sympathizers, too. But she wasn’t afraid of spilling blood, Sinter, she just picked out the right targets-people nobody liked. Tax collectors, provosts, advocates.’
‘But she’s a drunk?’
‘Aye.’
Shaking her head, Sinter fell back on to the cot. She stared at the ceiling. ‘How come she doesn’t get busted down?’
‘Because she’s one of the Y’Ghatan Stormcrawlers, that’s why. Them that went under.’
‘Oh, right.’ A moment’s consideration, and then: ‘Well, we’re marching soon.’
Badan rubbed at his face again. ‘But nobody knows where, or even why. It’s a mess, Sinter.’ He hesitated, and then asked, ‘You got any bad feelings about it?’
‘Got no feelings at all, Badan. About anything. And no, I don’t know what took me by the throat the night of Fid’s reading, either. In fact, I don’t even remember much of that night, not the ride, nor what followed.’
‘Nothing followed. Mostly, you just passed out. Some Fenn had already stepped in, anyway. Punched a god in the side of the head.’
‘Good.’
‘That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘Well, like the one-eyed hag says, there’s all kinds of worship in the world, Badan.’
‘I don’t…’ but the look she shot him ground the words down to dust in his mouth. He flinched and glanced away. ‘That thing you said about wits, Sinter, was that a joke, too?’
She sighed, closing her eyes. ‘No, Badan. No. Wake me when Rim gets back, will you?’
Trailed by Lostara Yil, Keneb, Blistig and Quick Ben, the Adjunct Tavore strode down the length of the throne room and halted ten paces from the two thrones.
‘Welcome to you all,’ said King Tehol. ‘Adjunct, my Chancellor here informs me that you have a list of requests, most of which will contribute to a happy burgeoning of the royal coffers. Now, if I was the venal sort I would say let’s get right to that. But I am no such sort and so I would like to broach an entirely different matter, one of immense importance.’
‘Of course, sire,’ said Tavore. ‘We are at your disposal and will assist in any way we can.’
The King beamed.
Lostara wondered at the Queen’s sigh, but not for long.
‘Wonderful! Now, as soon as I recall the specific details of what I wanted to ask, why, I will. In the meantime, my Ceda tells me that you have stirred awake a sorcerous nest of trouble. My Chancellor, alas, assures me that the confusion is exaggerated-which of the two am I to believe? Please, if you can, break asunder this dreadful deadlock.’