'I need a drink,' Murillio muttered.

'Excellent idea,' Kruppe said. 'Shall we await the lad, however?'

The wait was not long. Crokus recognized them and slowed his frantic run. 'Apsalar's been kidnapped by the Empire!' he shouted. 'I need help!' He wobbled to a halt before Murillio. 'And Rallick's still in the garden—'

'Tut, tut,' Kruppe said. 'Easy, lad. Apsalar's location is known to Kruppe. As for Rallick, well...' He faced the street and waved his arms expansively. 'Breathe the night air, Crokus! A new year has begun! Come, let us walk, the three of us, masters of Darujhistan!' He linked arms with his comrades and pulled them forward.

Murillio sighed. 'Rallick's missing,' he explained. 'There's some kind of extraordinary house in Coil's garden now.'

'Ah, so much unveiled in that single statement!' Kruppe leaned against Crokus. 'While, no doubt, the lad's secret, overriding concern at the moment regards the fate of a fair young maiden, whose life was saved at the last moment by a nobleson named Gorlas, of all things. Saved, Kruppe says, from a ton of masonry shrugged off a wall. 'Twas heroic, indeed. The lass near-swooned with satisfaction.'

'What are you talking about?' Crokus demanded. 'Who was saved?'

Murillio snorted. 'I think, dear Kruppe, Master of Darujhistan, you've got the wrong fair maiden in mind.'

'She's not fair, anyway,' Crokus asserted.

Kruppe's chest swelled slightly. 'You need but ask the gods, lad, and they'll tell that life itself isn't fair. Now, are you interested in how Lady Simtal's estate has just this night become Coil's estate? Or is your mind so thoroughly enamoured of this new love of yours that even the fates of your dearest friends – Kruppe included – yield such lack of interest?'

Crokus bridled. 'Of course I'm interested!'

'Then the story begins, as always, with Kruppe ...'

Murillio groaned. 'Thus spake the Eel.'

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

I have seen a rumour born

swathed in snug mystery

left lying under the sun

in the hills of the Gadrobi

where the sheep have scattered

on wolf-laden winds

and the shepherds have fled

a whispering of sands

and it blinked in the glare

a heart hardened into stone

whilst the shadow of the Gates of Nowhere

crept 'cross the drifting dust of home

I have seen this rumour born

a hundred thousand hunters of the heart

in a city bathed in blue light...

Rumour Born (I. i-iv)

Fisher (b.?)

The sun lit the morning mists into a shield of white over the lake. Down on the beach a fisher-boat rocked in the freshening waves. Unmoored, it was moments before pulling free of the pebbles.