Kellanved stepped to the centre of the cleared space. He planted his walking stick and regarded the other two captains. ‘Do we have an accord?’ he asked.
Hess and Renish glanced to the crews as if gauging their chances. Kellanved saw it, and he tapped his walking stick on the ground once more. The resounding echoes of that merest touch rattled the windows and forced groans from the blackened timber rafters far above. Dust came sifting down over everyone.
Both captains jerked an assent and Kellanved nodded loftily, satisfied. ‘Excellent. Our business is done, then.’ He waved to the crews. ‘Return to the tables – I’ll not interfere with the festivities.’ He motioned to Hess. ‘Just what is the occasion, anyway?’
Hess drew a shaky hand down his moustaches. He bowed his head. ‘It is one of the festivals of Chem, ah, admiral, sir.’
‘Ah yes! Of course.’ He extended an arm to the stairs. ‘Might we have a tour of the quarters?’
Hess bowed again, inviting him forward. ‘Yes, admiral. This way.’
Kellanved motioned to Tayschrenn. ‘Come. You may find this of interest.’
This new mage – a renegade from Kartool, Dancer understood – looked utterly disdainful, but steeled himself with a breath and followed.
Dancer went to Lee, who was pouring herself a glass of wine. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘Well done. Very impressive. I’m glad we never had to cross blades.’
She daubed a cloth to her face, nodding. ‘Thank you.’ Her glance, he noticed, was not upon him, but over his shoulder to – he looked – the swordsman Dassem, who had moved to put his back to a wall and was assessing the various exits and blind spots in the chamber.
‘Have you seen him fight?’ she asked.
Rather startled by the question, he frowned, shaking his head. ‘No. Why?’
A secretive smile came to her lips and she gave him a strange look, as if to say, You have no idea.
He wondered, then, what he had missed in her exchanges with Dassem, and, it seemed, with Surly.
He watched Kellanved climbing the stairs with the Kartool mage, Tayschrenn, waving his hands and no doubt spouting the most absurd nonsense. It was no longer just the two of them. Things would be much more complicated now.
Epilogue
They were packing up their possessions at Smiley’s for their move to the Hold when a cry of dismay and pain from Kellanved in his office brought Dancer running – him and several Napans, and the bodyguard Kellanved now trailed round after him; but Dancer was the first to arrive.
He found the mage on his hands and knees on the floor, his butt in the air, as he shuffled about running his hands over the dusty floorboards, moaning.
Dancer knelt beside him, taking his shoulder. ‘What is it! Are you wounded?’ Choss, Tocaras and Lee crowded the doorway together with several of the Malazan bodyguards.
The Dal Hon pressed his hands to his wrinkled forehead. ‘Gone! It’s gone! I’ve searched everywhere!’
Dancer scanned the dirty boards. ‘What’s gone? What is it?’
‘My stone!’
Dancer flinched away. Oh, for the love of Burn! He pushed the lad over and crossed to the side table to pour himself a drink. Seeing everyone in the doorway, he waved them off. The Napans exchanged uncertain glances, but nodded, and headed back downstairs. Two of the bodyguards shut the door and waited outside.
Kellanved had dusted himself off and retreated to the broad empty expanse of his desk. ‘Someone has taken it,’ he announced, steepling his fingers, his gaze narrowing.
Dancer tossed back his drink. ‘It’s just a rock. Forget it.’
Kellanved shook his head. ‘Oh no, my friend. There’s more to it than that. I can sense it.’ He tapped his fingertips together. ‘I just can’t parse its secret yet.’
A knock and the door opened to reveal Surly, Lee behind her. ‘There a problem?’
‘No—’ Dancer began.
‘Who’s been in here?’ Kellanved demanded.
Dancer looked to the ceiling in mute frustration. Surly shrugged. ‘Just about everyone at one time or another.’
‘The office was tossed, wasn’t it – Lee?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. Geffen’s boys ran through everything looking for valuables.’
The shrivelled fellow, looking even more frail and tiny behind his huge desk, tapped his fingers to his lips. ‘No … they wouldn’t have touched it.’
‘Touched what?’ Lee asked.
Kellanved waved her away. ‘Never mind!’ To Surly, he said, ‘Who cleaned up in here?’
Her mouth turned down as she considered. ‘Urko did most of that.’
‘Send him up.’
‘Kellanved…’ Dancer began, but the mage raised a hand to forestall him.
‘Just a few questions.’
Dancer sighed, leaned back against the low table, stretched out his legs, and crossed his arms.
A while later Urko came stomping up the stairs. He wore a stained leather apron, his sleeves pushed up over his thick forearms.
Kellanved nodded to him. ‘Ah, good, Urko. Have you seen a…’ He looked him up and down. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Rendering.’
The mage blinked. ‘Right. Rendering.’ It was clear to Dancer from the way he said it that he had no idea what rendering was. He flapped a hand. ‘Well. When you cleaned up here, did you find any curios, odd stones, bits and bobs, that sort of thing?’
The huge fellow tucked his ham hands up under his armpits, and cocked his head, thinking. He nodded, his head tilted. ‘Yeah. I remember. Two of Burn’s gifts: a stone shell and a stone animal tooth, and one of them worked pieces of flint that turn up all over.’
‘Like an arrowhead?’
‘Yeah. But ’tisn’t. It’s a broken tip from a spear. River-smoothed. Real glossy. From them old people from ages ago.’
Kellanved’s shoulders eased and he nodded. ‘Yes. That’s it. It’s one of my favourites. Do you still have it?’
He frowned then, almost wary. ‘Yeah, I got it. It’s in the kitchen. It’s a nice piece.’
‘May I have it back?’
‘Back? I found it, y’know.’
‘Found it? I found it, I’ll have you know!’
Dancer pushed forward, hands raised. To Urko he said, ‘What would you like – for it, I mean?’
The big fellow’s hands were out now. He slammed one fist into a palm, considering. ‘A ship,’ he finally said. ‘A captaincy.’
‘A captaincy?’ Kellanved protested in disbelief. ‘For a rock?’
Urko threw a hand in the air, half turning away. ‘Fine!’
‘Okay!’ Kellanved called, clutching the edge of the desk. ‘Okay. Yes. You can have the Twisted.’
‘Not that ship. Another.’
Kellanved raised his hands in surrender. ‘Very well! Another. A ship. Yours.’
The fellow cheered up immensely, grinning. ‘Good! A command. And before Cartheron.’ He chortled all the way down the stairs.
Dancer examined the mage until he hunched his shoulders, demanding, ‘What?’
Dancer pointed to the stairs. ‘You’re giving away captaincies for shiny rocks now?’
The little fellow flapped a hand. ‘He was going to get one anyway, wasn’t he?’
Dancer considered, scratched his brow, then shrugged. ‘Hunh. I suppose so.’
‘There you go.’