She knew she'd have to make her move soon. The protection offered by Kruppe and this Murillio would not impede her much, she expected. Though Kruppe was certainly more than he seemed, violence hardly seemed his major skill.
She would kill Crokus, then, outside the city. As soon as she discovered the nature of their mission, and who their master was. As soon as everything had fallen into place.
Sergeant Whiskeyjack would have to wait a while longer for her return. Sorry smiled at that, knowing full well how relieved the whole squad would be that she was nowhere to be seen. As for that whole matter-the threat presented by Quick Ben and Kalam-well, everything in its own time.
Alchemist Baruk's savage migraine was ebbing. Whatever presence had been unleashed in the city was gone. He sat in his reading chair, pressing a cloth-wrapped chunk of ice against his forehead. It had been a conjuring. He felt certain of that. The emanations stank of demonry. But there'd been more. The moment before the presence vanished, Baruk had experienced a mental wrench that came close to driving him into unconsciousness.
He'd shared the creature's final death scream, his own shriek echoing down the hall and bringing his men-at-arms shouting to his bedroom door.
Baruk felt a wrongness, deep within him, as if his soul had been battered. For a single, brief second, he'd looked upon a world of absolute darkness, and from that darkness came sounds, the creak of wooden wheels, the clank of chains, the groans of a thousand imprisoned souls.
Then it was gone, and he found himself sitting in his chair, Roald kneeling at his side with a pail of ice from the cellar.
He now sat in his study, alone, and the ice pressed against his brow was warm compared to what he felt in his heart.
There was a knock at the door, and Roald entered, his face creased with worry. “Lord, you have a visitor.”
“I have? At this hour?” He rose shakily to his feet. “Who is it?”
“Lord Anomander Rake.” Roald hesitated. “And: another.”
Frowning, Baruk waved a hand. “Bring them in.”
“Yes, Lord.”
Rake entered, holding a dog-sized winged creature by the nape of its neck. The creature twisted and hissed, then turned pleading eyes to Baruk.