Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #1)

Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #1) Page 123

“Level Darujhistan,” Crone chirped brightly. “In flames numbering twelve, so fly the Free Cities, so much ash in the wind.”

“Rake's disdain for everything beneath him has left us stumbling and flat on our faces one time too many,” Brood said. He glanced at Crone and raised a hairless eyebrow. “You're scattering my armies. Stop it.”

Crone stopped pacing and squatted. “Once again,” she sighed, “Caladan Brood the Great Warrior seeks the bloodless way. Rake gets that coin and he'll pull Oponn right in and spit the Lord and Lady on that lovely sword of his. Imagine the chaos that would ensue-a wonderful ripple that could topple gods and deluge realms.” She heard her own excitement and revelled in its blatancy. “Such fun.”

“Quiet, bird,” Brood said. “The Coin Bearer needs protection, now that Rake's recalled his mages.”

“But who is there to match the Tiste And??” Crone asked. “Surely you don't intend to leave your campaign here?”

Brood bared his filed teeth in a nasty grin. “Ha, caught you out, I think. Good. You need taking down a notch or two, Crone. You don't know everything. How does it feel?”

“I'll permit such torture from you, Brood,” Crone squawked, “only because I respect your temper. just don't push me too far. Tell me, who around here can match Rake's mages? This is something I must know. You and your secrets. How can I be a true servant to my master's wishes when he withholds vital information?”

“What do you know of the Crimson Guard?” Brood asked.

“Scant,” Crone replied. “A company of mercenaries held in high regard among such kind, what of them?”

“Ask Rake's Tiste And? for their assessment, crow.”

Crone's feathers arched indignantly. “Crow? I'll not take such insults! I'm leaving. Returning to the Moon, there to devise such a list of foul names for Caladan Brood as to stain the realms!”

“Begone with you, then,” Brood said, smiling. “You've done well.”

“If only Rake wasn't even more stingy than you,” Crone said, as she hopped towards the doorway, “my spying skills would be used on you instead of on him.”

Brood spoke. “One last thing, Crone.”

She stopped at the entrance and cocked her head.

The warrior's attention had returned to the map. “When you find yourself over the Rhivi Plain far to the south, mark whatever powers you sense active there. But be careful, Crone. Something's brewing, and it stinks.

Crone's cackle was her only reply, and then she was gone.

Brood stood over his map, thinking hard. He remained unmoving for close to twenty minutes, then he straightened. Stepping outside he searched the sky. Crone was nowhere in sight. He grunted and turned to survey the nearest tents. “Kallor! Where are you?”

A tall grey man stepped around a tent and walked slowly up to Brood.

“The Gold have bogged down in the forest, Warlord,” he said in a gravelly voice, his ancient, lifeless eyes meeting Brood's. “A storm comes down from the Laederon Heights. The Moranth's Quorls will be grounded for some time.”

Brood nodded. “I'm leaving you in charge. Heading to Fox Pass.”

Kallor raised an eyebrow.

Brood stared at him, then said, “Let's not get too excited. People will start thinking you're not as bored with all this as you make out to be. I'm meeting with Prince K'azz.”

A faint smile quirked Kallor's thin lips. “What madness has Jorrick Sharplance perpetrated now?”

“None, so far as I'm aware,” Brood answered. “Ease up on the lad, Kallor. He pulled off the last one. Remember, you were young once, too The old warrior shrugged. “Jorrick's last success belongs to the Lady of Luck if anything. It surely was not the product of genius.”

“I'll not argue you that one,” Brood said.

“May I ask, what is the reason for speaking with K'azz in person?”

Brood looked around. “Where's that damn horse of mine, anyway?”

“Probably cowering,” Kallor said drily. “Word is, his legs have become shorter and stubbier beneath your prodigious self. I remain unconvinced that such a thing is possible, but who can argue with a horse?”

“I need some of the Prince's men,” Brood said, heading off down aisle. “To be more precise,” he said, over his shoulder, “I need the Crimson Guard's Sixth Blade.”

Watching Caladan Brood stride away, Kallor sighed. “Rake again, is it, Warlord? You'd do better to follow my advice and destroy him. You will dismissing my advice, Brood.” His dull eyes followed Brood until he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. “Consider that my last warning.”