Gardens of the Moon

'Let's move,' Whiskeyjack growled. 'Captain Paran hates tardiness. And maybe the Moranth have good news. Be a change, wouldn't it?'

From the beach, Quick Ben watched Mallet supporting his sergeant up the slope. Was it time? he wondered. To stay alive in this business, no one could afford to let up. The best plans work inside other plans, and when it's right to feint, feint big. Keeping the other hand hidden is the hard part.

The wizard felt a stab of regret. No, it wasn't time. Give the old man a chance to rest. He forced himself into motion. He wouldn't let himself look back-never a good idea. The scheme was hatched.

'Whiskeyjack's going to howl when he hears this one,' he whispered to himself.

Captain Paran listened to the others on the beach below, but made no move to join them. Not yet. His brush with Ascendants seemed to have left him with a new sensitivity-or perhaps it was the Otataral sword scabbarded at his side. But he could sense her, now, already in her adolescence, plump as he knew she'd be, smiling with her heavy-lidded eyes deceptively sleepy as she studied the morning sky.

I will come to you, he promised her. When this Pannion Seer and his cursed holy war is crushed, I will come to you then, Tattersail.

I know.

He stiffened. That voice in his head had not been his own. Or had it?

He waited, waited for more. Tattersail? Only silence answered him. Ah, my imagination, nothing more. To think you would call up enough of your old life, to find the feelings you once held for me, find them and feel them once again. I am a fool.

He rose from his crouch at Lorn's graveside-a mound of rocks-and brushed twigs and orange pine needles from his clothing. Look at me now. Agent for the Adjunct once, now a soldier. Finally, a soldier.

Smiling, he made his way down to his squad.

Then I shall await the coming of a soldier.

Paran stopped in his tracks, then, smiling, continued on. 'Now that,' he whispered, 'was not my imagination.'

The tradecraft hugged the southern shore, making for Dhavran and the river mouth. Kalam leaned on the gunwale, his gaze sweeping the north horizon's ragged, snow-capped mountains. Near him stood another passenger, hardly memorable and disinclined to talk.

The only voices reaching the assassin came from Apsalar and Crokus.

They sounded excited, each revolving around the other in a subtle dance that was yet to find its accompanying words. A slow, half smile quirked Kalam's mouth. It'd been a long time since he'd heard such innocence.

A moment later, Crokus appeared beside him, his uncle's demon familiar clutching his shoulder. 'Coll says that the Empire's capital, Unta, is as big as Darujhistan. Is it?'

Kalam shrugged. 'Maybe. A lot uglier. I don't expect we'll have a chance to visit it, though. Itko Kan lies on the south coast, while Unta is on Kartool Bay, the north-east coast. Miss Darujhistan already?'

An expression of regret came over Crokus's face. He stared down into the waves. 'Just some people there,' he said.

The assassin grunted. 'Know how you feel, Crokus. Hell, look at Fiddler back there, mooning away as if somebody had cut off one of his arms and one of his legs.'

'Apsalar still can't believe you'd go to all this trouble for her. She doesn't remember being much liked in your squad.'

'Wasn't her, though, was it? This woman here is a fishergirl from some two-copper village. And she's a long way from home.'

'She's more than that,' Crokus muttered. He had a coin in his hand and was playing with it absently.

Kalam threw the boy a sharp look. 'Really,' he said, deadpan.

Crokus nodded affably. He held up the coin and examined the face on it. 'Do you believe in luck, Kalam?'

'No,' the assassin growled.

Crokus grinned happily. 'Me neither.' He flipped the coin into the air.

They watched it plummet into the sea, flash once, then vanish beneath the waves.

From near the bow, Circle Breaker slowly nodded to himself The Eel would be delighted with the news, not to mention greatly relieved. Then he returned his attention to the west, and wondered what it would be like, no longer anonymous to the world.