Kellanved's Reach

‘Possibly,’ Tayschrenn answered. ‘I do not recognize her either.’ The High Mage crouched to examine the body more closely. He ran his hands down her back, her arms, squeezed her hands. ‘City bred,’ he announced. ‘No typical development associated with rural farm work. Hands soft except for weapon-calluses.’

Choss grunted, then winced, his wide shoulders bunching in pain. ‘The mainland, then.’

‘Most likely.’

‘Where?’

Nedurian and Tayschrenn shared a weighing glance. ‘Not Dal Hon,’ Nedurian supplied.

Tayschrenn gave his curt agreement. ‘They wouldn’t trust an outsider. And Bloor and Gris are too preoccupied,’ he added.

‘As are the far west city states.’

‘Yes.’

‘Itko Kan,’ Nedurian judged.

Tayschrenn seconded that with a nod. ‘Someone is already attempting to break up our alliance.’

Choss frowned, uncertain. He lifted a decanter of wine, but Nedurian stepped up and pushed it back down to the table. ‘No. Thins the blood.’ He glanced to one of the guards. ‘Bring boiling soup to the commander.’

The burly Napan pulled a face. ‘Soup? Am I a child to be fed hot soup? What’s next? Milk?’

‘Listen to the veteran,’ Tayschrenn said. ‘I’m sure he’s cared for more wounded than he wishes to remember.’

A touch surprised by the support, Nedurian offered the High Mage a nod of gratitude, which the Kartoolian missed entirely, his gaze unfocused as he pursued his own thoughts and speculations.

Choss, meanwhile, was considering what had caused him to pick up the wine. ‘Break up the alliance?’ He looked to Nedurian, who sat back, thinking.

‘Our High Mage has leapt to the end conclusion. Consider it.’ He gestured to Choss. ‘The one Napan commander here on Malaz. Perhaps the calculation was that Surly would retaliate, or one of the Malazan captains would take the opportunity to wrest control of the island from her – that is, from Kellanved. A new admiral, and back to the old rivalry.’

Choss pulled a hand down his beard, grunted a sort of grudging understanding. ‘Maybe.’

A guard set a bowl of broth before the commander, who wrinkled up his mouth.

‘Eat it,’ Nedurian told him. ‘Denul training supports my opinion here.’

The muscular Napan grimaced, but hunched forward, and raised the bowl to his lips.

‘I have contacted Calot in Dariyal,’ Tayschrenn announced. ‘He will inform Surly.’ He cocked his head, thinking. ‘This also raises a broader issue …’

‘Which is?’ Choss asked.

‘Communication. How to stay in touch across distance.’

‘A problem throughout all history,’ Nedurian answered. ‘We have the mage cadre …’

‘Indeed. However, not all possess the capability.’ He stroked his long chin, thinking. ‘Perhaps we could manufacture items for communication. Certain crystals’ natural resonance would work well for this …’

‘Whatever they might be, they would have to be portable,’ Choss put in.

Tayschrenn nodded absently, already lost in thought. ‘I will work with Nightchill on this. If I can find her. Gods know where she spends her days.’ He inclined his head to Choss. ‘I leave you in good hands, then,’ he said, and walked out, hands clasped at his back.

Choss watched him go, then turned a raised brow on Nedurian, saying, ‘Now that is one odd bird.’

Nedurian couldn’t help but crook a small smile. ‘We’re lucky to have him. He’s extraordinarily powerful, just doesn’t know how to mine it yet. Sort of like a natural archer who hasn’t yet learned how to draw a bow properly.’

‘Breathing,’ Choss said. ‘I’m told it’s all in the breathing.’

Nedurian sat at the table and took up the wine, sipping it while Choss watched, his lips tight. ‘I’ve heard that too,’ he said.

*   *   *

Iko was reviewing the latest candidates for the guard when news reached her via her own paid palace informants of some sort of incident involving the young king. Bowing out quickly, she set off across the sprawling grounds for the Kan family residences; the location surprised her, though she had noticed that lately the Kan family had been working to increase their influence, considerable though it already was.

As she hurried, she could not help but reflect upon the disappointing quality of this year’s crop of candidates. Years ago none would have even been considered. Was this a sign of their society’s falling dedication to tradition and plain hard work? Or was it a sign that she was now officially one of the veterans, despite her tender years? Yes, tender, she reaffirmed to herself, dammit!

The Kan family guards and retainers at the compound doors hesitated as she approached, but seeing her determined not to slow her pace one whit, they reluctantly opened the doors at the last moment. Within, a long, richly decorated hall led to an equally gilded main reception chamber and here she found the young king before the seat of the honorary head of the extended Kan noble family, the ancient dowager, Lady Serenna.

Between two Kan guards stood one of the king’s tutors, the youngest of them, a brilliant scholar of history, logic and calligraphy, Bahn Throol. The fellow was pale and sweaty, obviously ill at ease.