'Until my return. At that time I will test its defences. Oh, and one more thing: Ocelot's actions were not sanctioned by the Guild. Executing him fulfilled the Guild's judgement as to fit punishment. Thank you, Rallick Nom. The Guild is pleased.'

Rallick walked over to the strange stump and sat down on it.

'Until later,' Vorcan said, and strode from the glade.

Crokus watched as the three Malazan spies gathered for a whispered discussion. Then one of the men grasped Apsalar's arm and gently guided her into the woods, making for the rear wall. The remaining two, Captain Paran and Corporal Kalam, glanced over at Rallick.

The assassin's head was in his hands, his elbows on his thighs, staring gloomily at the ground.

Kalam hissed a sigh through his teeth and shook his head. A moment later both men left, in the direction of the terrace.

Crokus hesitated, a part of him wanting to rush into the glade and confront Rallick. Assassinate the mages! Hand Darujhistan to the Malazans? How could the man allow such a thing to happen? He did not move, however, a fear growing inside him that he, in truth, knew nothing of this man. Would the assassin listen to him? Or would he answer Crokus with a knife in the throat? Crokus didn't feel like taking the chance.

In the last minute Rallick had not moved. Then he rose, turned directly to where Crokus lay hidden.

The thief groaned.

Rallick beckoned.

Slowly, Crokus approached.

'You hide well,' Rallick said. 'And you were lucky Vorcan kept her mask on – she couldn't see much out of it. You heard, then?'

Crokus nodded, his eyes drawn to what he'd called a tree stump in spite of himself. It looked more like a small wooden house. The pocks on its sides could well have been windows. Unlike Vorcan, he sensed not hunger but a kind of urgency, almost frustration.

'Before you condemn me, listen carefully, Crokus.'

The thief dragged his attention from the wooden block. 'I'm listening.'

'Baruk may yet be at the party. You must find him, tell him exactly what's happened. Tell him Vorcan is a High Mage – and she'll kill them all unless they gather to defend each other.' The assassin reached out a hand to Crokus's shoulder. The boy flinched, his eyes wary. 'And if Baruk has gone home, find Mammot. I saw him here not long ago. He wears the mask of a tusked beast.'

'Uncle Mammot? But he's—'

'He's a High Priest of D'riss, Crokus, and a member of the T'orrud Cabal. Now, hurry. There's no time to waste.'

'You mean you're going to stay here, Rallick? Just sit there on that ... that stump?'