Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #8)

Toll the Hounds (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #8) Page 311

‘Yes, I suppose-’

‘But I have summoned you, yes? Therefore, it is reasonable to assume my desires are rather more complicated than simply gaining a seat on the Council.’

‘You want this particular councillor dead.’

Humble Measure acknowledged this with a brief closing of his eyes that somehow conveyed a nod without his having to move his head. ‘We are notnegotiating my reasons, since they are none of your business and have no rele-vnncc to the task itself. Now, you will assault this particular estate, and you will kill the councillor and everyone else, down to the scullery maid and the terrier employed to kill rats.’

Seba Krafar looked away (but then, he’d been doing that on and off ever since he’d sat down). ‘As you say. Should be simple, but then, these things never are.’

‘Are you saying that you are not up to this?’

‘No, I’m saying that I have learned to accept that nothing is simple, and the simpler it looks the more complicated it probably is. Therefore, this will need careful planning. I trust you are not under any pressure to get on to the Council in a hurry? There’re all kinds of steps needed in any case, sponsorships or bloodline claims, assessment of finances and so on…’ He fell silent after, in a brief glance, he noted the man’s level look. Seba cleared his throat, and then said, ‘Ten days at the minimum. Acceptable?’

‘Acceptable.’

‘Then we’re done here.’

‘We are.’

‘The disposition provided us by the Malazan embassy is unacceptable.’

Councillor Coll fixed a steady regard on Hanut Orr’s smooth-shaven face, and saw nothing in it but what he had always seen, pear, contempt, misdirection and outright deceit, the gathered forces of hatred and spite. ‘So you stated,’ he replied. ‘But as you can see, the meeting has finished. I do my best to leave matters of the Council in the chamber. Politicking is a habit that can fast run away with you, Councillor.’

‘I do not recall seeking your advice.’

‘No, just my allegiance. Of the two, you elected the wrong one, Councillor.’

‘I think not, since it is the only relevant one.’

‘Yes,’ Coll smiled, ‘I understood you well enough. Now, if you will excuse me-’

‘Their explanation for why they needed to expand the embassy is flimsy-are you so easily duped, Councillor Coll? Or is it just a matter of filling your purse to buy your vote?’

‘Either you are offering to bribe me, Councillor Orr, or you are suggesting that I have been bribed. The former seems most unlikely. Thus, it must be the latter, and since we happen to be standing in the corridor, with others nearby-close enough to hear you-you leave me no choice but to seek censure.’

Hanut Orr sneered. ‘Censure? Is that the coward’s way of avoiding an actual duel?’

‘I accept that it is such a rare occurrence that you probably know little about it. Very well, for the benefit of your defence, allow me to explain.’

A dozen or more councillors had now gathered and were listening, expressions appropriately grave.

Coll continued, ‘I hereby accept your accusation as a formal charge. Theprocedure now is the engagement of an independent committee that will begin investigating. Of course, said investigation is most thorough, and will involve the detailed auditing of both of our financial affairs-yes, accuser and accused. Such examination inevitably… propagates, so that all manner of personal information comes to light. Once all pertinent information is assembled, my own advocates will review your file, to determine whether a countercharge is appropriate. At this point, the Council Judiciary takes over proceedings.’

Hanut Orr had gone somewhat pale.

Coll observed him with raised brows. ‘Shall I now seek censure, Councillor?’

‘I was not suggesting you were taking bribes, Councillor Coll. And I apologize if my carelessness led to such an interpretation.’

‘I see. Were you then offering me one?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then, is our politicking done here?’

Hanut Orr managed a stiff bow, and then whirled off, trailed after a moment by Shardan Lim and then, with studied casualness, young Gorlas Vidikas.

Coll watched them depart.

Estraysian D’Arle moved to his side and, taking him by the arm, led him towards a private alcove-the ones designed precisely for extra-chamber politicking. Two servants delivered chilled white wine and then quickly departed.

‘That was close,’ Estraysian murmured.

‘He’s young. And stupid. A family trait? Possibly.’