Arms waving expansively, Kruppe, Eel of Darujhistan, occasional fence and thief, Defier of Caladan Brood the Warlord, ambled his way down the main avenue of tents towards the supply wagons. He had just come from the cook tent of the Mott Irregulars, and in each hand was a Nathi black-cake, dripping with syrup. A few paces in his wake, his mule kept pace, nose stretched out to those two cakes, ears pricked forward.

The second bell since midnight had just tolled through the camps, stirring the distant herds of bhederin to a mournful lowing, which faded as the beasts slipped back into slumber. As he reached the edge of the wagons – arranged rectangularly to form a wheeled fort – he noted two Malazan marines, cloaks wrapped about their bodies, sitting before a small dung-fire.

Kruppe altered his course and approached. ‘Gentle friends,’ he softly called.’ Tis late and no doubt your pretty selves are due for some sweetness.’

The two women glanced up. ‘Huh,’ one of them grunted. ‘It’s that fat Daru.’

‘And his mule, hovering there in the shadows.’

‘Unique indeed is Kruppe! Behold!’ He thrust forward the dripping cakes. ‘For you, darlings.’

‘So which should we eat, the cakes or your hands?’

The other drew her knife at her companion’s words. ‘A couple of quick cuts and we can choose for ourselves, right?’

Kruppe stepped back. ‘Queen of Dreams! Hard-bitten and distinctly unfeminine! Guardians of fair Silverfox, yes? Reassuring truth. Heart of Tattersail, shining so bright from the child-now-woman—’

‘Aye, we seen you before plenty enough. Chatting with the lass. She’s the sorceress, all right. Plain to see for them of us who knew her.’

‘Extraordinary disconnectiveness, this exchange. Kruppe is delighted—’

‘We getting them syrup cakes or what?’

‘Naturally, though the flash of that blade still blinds generous Kruppe.’

‘Y’ain’t got no sense of humour, have ya? Join us, if you dare.’

The Daru smiled and strode forward. ‘Nathi black-cakes, my dears.’

‘We recognize ‘em. The Mott Irregulars used to throw them at us when they ran out of arrows.’

‘Jaybar got one full in the face, as I recall.’

‘That he did, then he stumbled and when he came up he was like the forest floor with eyes.’

‘Dreadful sap, deadly weapon,’ Kruppe agreed, once more offering the cakes to the two marines.

They took them.

‘Courageous task, protection of the Rhivi lass.’

‘She ain’t no Rhivi lass. She’s Tattersail. That fur and the hides are just for show.’

‘Ah, then you have spoken with her.’

‘Not much and we don’t need to. These cakes go down better without all the twigs and leaves, don’t they just.’

Kruppe blinked, then slowly nodded. ‘No doubt. Vast responsibility, being the eyes of your commander regarding said lass.’

Both women paused in their chewing. They exchanged a glance, then one of them swallowed and said, ‘Who, Dujek? If we’re his eyes then he’s blind as a mole.’