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Chapters (43)
  1. Acknowledgements
  2. Preface to Gardens of the Moon redux
  3. DRAMATIS PERSONAE
  4. Gardens of the Moon
  5. Prologue
  6. BOOK ONE – PALE
  7. CHAPTER ONE
  8. CHAPTER TWO
  9. CHAPTER THREE
  10. CHAPTER FOUR
  11. BOOK TWO - DARUJHISTAN
  12. CHAPTER FIVE
  13. CHAPTER SIX
  14. CHAPTER SEVEN
  15. BOOK THREE - THE MISSION
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. BOOK FOUR- ASSASSINS
  20. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  21. CHAPTER TWELVE
  22. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  23. BOOK FIVE - THE GADROBI HILLS
  24. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  25. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  26. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  27. BOOK SIX - THE CITY OF BLUE FIRE
  28. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  29. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  30. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  31. BOOK SEVEN - THE FÊTE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  37. EPILOGUE
  38. GLOSSARY
  39. TITLES AND GROUPS
  40. ASCENDANTS
  41. THE WORLD OF SORCERY
  42. PLACE NAMES
  43. DARUJISTAN AND ENVIRONS

Reaching under his clothing as much as was possible, Rallick used up the last of the powder. The pouch itself was stained on the inside. He turned it inside out, then stuffed it into his belt. Now, he grimaced, the hunt continues. Somewhere out there an assassin waited, eyes fixed on Jammit's Worry Road. 'I'll find you, Ocelot,' he whispered, his eyes fixed on K'rul's belfry tower. 'And magic or no magic, you won't hear me, you won't even feel my breath on your neck until it's too late. I swear it.'

He began his ascent.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

This blue city

hides under its cloak

a hidden hand

that holds like stone

a blade envenomed

by the eight limbed Paralt –

the sting brings death

in the span of grief

that marks a final breath –

so this hand defies

sorcery's web

and trembles the gossamer strand

of a spider's deadly threat.

This hand beneath

the blue city's cloak

drives home Power's

gentle balance.

The Conspiracy

Blind Gallan(b. 1078)

Sergeant Whiskeyjack strode to the bedside. 'You sure you're up to it?' he asked Kalam.

The assassin, sitting with his back against the wall, glanced up from honing his long knives. 'Not much choice, is there?' He returned to his sharpening.

Whiskeyjack's expression was drawn and haggard from lack of sleep. He looked across the small room to where Quick Ben crouched in a corner. A fragment of bedroll was clutched in the wizard's hands, and his eyes were closed.

At the table, Fiddler and Hedge had dismantled their massive arbalest. They now sat cleaning and examining each piece. They were looking at a fight ahead of them.

Whiskeyjack shared their conviction. Each hour that passed brought their many hunters that much closer. Of those it was the Tiste Andii he feared the most. His squad was good, but not that good.

By the window was Trotts, leaning against the wall with his burly arms crossed. And against one wall slept Mallet, his snores loud in the room.

The sergeant returned his attention to Kalam. 'It's a long shot, isn't it?'

The assassin nodded. 'No reason for the man to keep showing himself. They got burned the last time.' He shrugged. 'I'll try the inn again. If anything, someone will mark me and the Guild will come. If I can get a word in before they kill me, there's a chance. It's not much ...'

'... but it'll have to do,' Whiskeyjack finished. 'You've got tomorrow. If we draw a blank,' he looked over to Fiddler and Hedge and found their eyes on him, 'we detonate the intersections. Do damage, hurt them.'

The two saboteurs grinned their anticipation.

Quick Ben's loud hiss of frustration brought everyone round. The wizard's eyes had opened. He tossed the torn cloth contemptuously on to the floor. 'No good, Sergeant,' he said. 'Can't find Sorry anywhere.'