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

Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #1) Page 163

“Go on,” Lorn said quietly. “Please.”

“In her loneliness, the Goddess sought something outside herself. Thus was born Light. Her children the Tiste And? saw this as a betrayal. They rejected her. Some hold they were cast out, others that they departed their mother's embrace by choice. While Tiste And? mages still use the Warren of Kurald Galain they are no longer of it. And some have embraced another Warren, that of Starvald Demelain.”

“The First Warren.”

Tool nodded.

“Whose Warren did Starvald Demelain belong to?”

“It was the home of Dragons, Adjunct.”

Murillio turned in his saddle and brought the mule to a halt on the dusty road. He glanced ahead. Kruppe and Crokus had already reached the Worry Crossroads. He patted his brow with the soft satin of his burnous, then looked back again. Coll leaned hunched over in his saddle, losing the rest of his breakfast.

Murillio sighed. It was a wonder to see the man sober, but that he'd insisted on accompanying them bordered on miraculous. Murillio wondered if Coll suspected anything of Rallick's plans-but no, he would've brought a fist down on his and Rallick's head in short order if he'd so much as caught a hint of what they were doing.

It had been Coll's pride that had got him into his present mess, and drink did nothing to diminish it. To the contrary, in fact. Coll had even donned his brigandine armour, replete with arm and leg greaves. A bastard sword hung at the large man's hip and, with his mail coif and helmet, he looked every inch a noble knight. The only exception was the green tinge to his rounded face. He was also the only one of them to have found a horse instead of these damned mules Kruppe had scrounged.

Coll straightened in his saddle and smiled wanly at Murillio, then spurred his horse alongside. They resumed the journey without a word, nudging their mounts into a canter until they'd caught up with the others.

As usual, Kruppe was pontificating. “No more than a handful of days, assures Kruppe, wizened traveller of the wastes beyond glittering Darujhistan. No reason to be so glum, lad. Consider this a mighty adventure.”

Crokus looked to Murillio and threw up his hands. “Adventure? I don't even know what we're doing out here! Won't anybody tell me anything? I can't believe I agreed to this!”

Murillio grinned at the boy. “Come now, Crokus. How many times have you expressed curiosity about our constant travels outside the city? Well, here we are-all your questions are about to find answers.”

Crokus hunched down in his saddle. “You told me you all worked as agents for some merchant. What merchant? I don't see any merchant. And where's our horses? How come Coll's the only one with a horse? How come nobody gave me a sword or something? Why-?”

“All right!” Murillio laughed, holding up a hand. “Enough, please! We are agents for a merchant,” he explained. “But it's rather unusual merchandise we're acquiring.”

“A rather unusual merchant as well, Kruppe adds with a warm smile. “Lad, we are agents seeking information on behalf of our employer, who is none other than High Alchemist Baruk.” Crokus stared at Kruppe. “Baruk! And he can't afford to give us horses?”

Kruppe cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Well. There was something of a misunderstanding between worthy, honest Kruppe and a conniving, deceitful stabler. None the less, Kruppe received full recompense, thus saving our kind master eleven silver coins.”

“Which he'll never see,” Murillio muttered.

Kruppe went on, “As for a sword, lad, what on earth for? Ignore blustery, pallid Coll there, with all his sweaty trappings of war. A mere affectation of his. And Murillio's rapier is no more than an ornamental trifle, though no doubt he would claim that the jewels and emeralds studding said item's hilt are towards achieving fine balance or some such martial detail.” Kruppe smiled beatifically at Murillio. “Nay, lad, the true masters at acquiring information need no such clumsy pieces of metal; indeed, we disdain them.”

“OK,” Crokus grumbled, “what kind of information are we looking for, then?”

“All that yon ravens overhead can see,” Kruppe said, waving a hand in the air. “Other travellers, other efforts within the Gadrobi Hills, all grist for Master Baruk's mill of news. We observe without being observed. We learn while remaining a mystery to all. We ascend to the-”

“Will you shut up?” Coll moaned. “Who brought the waterskins?”

Smiling, Murillio removed a clay jug webbed in twine from his saddlehorn and handed it to Coll.