'Yes,' said Caladan Brood, 'you never learn.'

Conversations of War

(Second in Command

Kallor speaking with

Warlord Caladan Brood),

recorded by Outrider

Hurlochel, 6th Army

Vimkaros Inn stood just beyond Eltrosan Square in the opal Quarter of Pale. That much Toc knew from his wanderings through the city. But for the life of him he could not think of anyone staying there whom he knew. Yet the instructions for this mysterious meeting had been clear.

He now approached the ostentatious structure warily. He saw nothing suspicious. The square was crowded with the usual gentry and merchant shops; of Malazan guards there were few. The culling of the nobility had done much to cloak Pale's atmosphere with a shocked stillness that hung about people like invisible yokes.

The past few days Toc had kept much to himself, carousing with his fellow soldiers when the mood took him, though those times seemed rarer these days. With the Adjunct gone, and Tattersail reported missing, Dujek and Tayschrenn were involved in mutually exclusive responsibilities. The High Fist was busy restructuring Pale, and his newly formed 5th Army; while the High Mage sought Tattersail, evidently without much success.

Toc suspected that the peace between the two men would not last. Since the dinner, he had stayed away from anything official, choosing to eat with his comrades rather than dine with the officers as was now his privilege as ranking Claw. The less noticed he made himself the better, as far as he was concerned.

He entered Vimkaros Inn and paused. Before him was a roofless courtyard with paths winding among a rich garden. Clearly, the inn had survived the siege unscathed. A wide central path led directly to a broad counter behind which stood a corpulent old man eating grapes. A few guests walked the side paths, moving among the plants and conversing in low tones.

The message had insisted he come dressed in local garb. Thus, Toc drew little attention as he strode to the counter.

The old man paused in his snacking and bowed with his head. 'At your service, sir,' he said, wiping his hands.

'I believe a table has been reserved in my name,' Toc said. 'I am Render Kan.'

The old man studied a wax tablet before him, then looked up with a smile. 'Of course. Follow me.'

A minute later Toc sat at a table on a balcony overlooking the garden court. His only company was a decanter of chilled Saltoan wine, which arrived when he did, and he now sipped from a goblet, his lone eye surveying the people in the garden below.

A servant arrived and bowed before him. 'Kind sir,' the man said, 'I am to deliver the following message. A gentleman will soon join you who has been out of his depth yet not aware of it. He is, now.'

Toc frowned. 'That's the message?'

'It is.'

'His own words?'

'And yours, sir.' The servant bowed again and departed.