Deadhouse Landing

He eyed her sidelong. ‘Sure. But I don’t think we’ll have the time.’

‘Planning on going somewhere?’

He laughed. ‘I plan on all of us being damned busy.’

The girl was nearly skipping along over the puddles. ‘We’ll see. Maybe this Geffen fellow will finally get the message.’

Dancer had to shake his head. ‘No. I’m gonna have to beat him unconscious and throw him on to a ship.’

‘Why haven’t you yet?’

He wiped the cold mist from his face. ‘Because it’s his organization we have to beat. Otherwise one of his lieutenants will just step up and we’ll get nowhere.’

‘Ah. I see.’

They were nearing Smiley’s and he hurried his pace, pulling her along. If there was going to be an ambush, it would be here.

The door was thrown open and Shrift nodded them in. Dancer relaxed. He inclined his head in farewell to Amiss, then climbed the stairs.

He unlocked the door and checked within. Maybe … But the room was still empty. For a time he stood in the darkness regarding the desk. Wu shouldn’t have gone alone. The damned fool needed him to keep him alive. What could he possibly have been thinking?

He pulled a chair over to the wall next to the door and sat, leaned back on the two rear legs to rest against the wall, and set his hands on the cold hilts of the thin daggers hidden at his waist, which he always kept there – just in case. He sat in silence, regarding the dark room while the rain hissed against the shuttered window, then let out a long breath and closed his eyes.

*   *   *

Nedurian sat on a bench eating an apple; it was a sunny day and he was enjoying the warmth. The usual old dogs sat about, trading their tired old lies and generally watching what little corner of the world this square in the market quarter of Malaz City offered. He was only half listening – he’d heard all their stories and opinions on everything twenty times over – but when the talk suddenly died down he raised his gaze to see what had arrested their attention and choked on the mouthful of apple. Agayla stood before him, hands on hips. A rich brocaded silk scarf was thrown round her neck, and her long hair blew loose about her like its own black silk banner.

‘There you are!’ she announced as if he were some truant lad. ‘We’re late. Hurry!’ and she marched off, heading for the waterfront.

Quite bewildered, Nedurian rose, apple loose in his hand.

‘One widow not enough for ya, Ned?’ one of the old dogs offered.

Nedurian made a show of running a hand over his unkempt beard, and straightened his frayed collar. ‘Can’t help having what these gals want, boyo.’

The oldster shot a smirk to his companion. ‘Yeah … obedience.’ Both of them cackled, showing a remarkable lack of teeth.

Nedurian raised a warning finger. ‘Careful there. The fish might find you tasty.’

The old fellow waved him away. ‘Ach … they’ve had plenty a chances.’

Ned caught Agayla glaring at him from up the street. He hurried on.

The gallery of old dogs sent him off with hoots of laughter.

Pacing Agayla, he cast her a brief puzzled glance. What could be the trouble? He’d never spoken to her outside her shop – couldn’t even remember seeing her outside her shop. Her pace was quick, and her long straight black hair whipped in the offshore winds.

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

She ignored him and so he bit down on any further questions. She was leading the way to the crowded main docks where commercial vessels unloaded cargo and took on passengers for the day’s journey to the mainland.

Here she scanned the crowds, raising herself on the toes of her shoes, biting her lip. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say she was anxious. And anything that would make this woman anxious was way out of his class.

‘I don’t see him,’ she muttered, frustrated. ‘He should be here by now.’

‘Who?’

‘Obo.’

He was rocked, though he managed to stop his mouth from hanging open. Obo! By all the gods and demons above and below. He’d only ever heard that name – and then only whispered by the most accomplished mages. They were going to meet him? Was that what this was about? Somehow he doubted it.

She waved him onward. ‘Well, can’t be helped. We’ll just have to meet her ourselves.’

Ah. A woman. ‘Who?’ he asked. Again she ignored him. He ground his teeth against his annoyance as he followed her to the foot of the pier where the most recent vessel had moored. She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and pulled back her hair, knotting it through itself, before pushing up her sleeves and crossing her arms once more over her thin breast.

She really is nervous, he realized, rather appalled that anyone or anything could elicit such a reaction in this magus.

‘Who is it?’ he asked out of the side of his mouth.

‘Quiet. Keep your hands empty. And by all the gods, don’t raise your Warren.’

‘What is it?’

She hissed her annoyance. ‘Think of this one as an Ascendant,’ she snarled, tense and angry now.

Nedurian could only raise an eyebrow. Really. An Ascendant. Then why in the Seven Realms were they even standing here?