‘I think I do, but I’m not entirely sure ... of myself, of my own memories. We defended our tenement, and it was uglier than what’s between Hood’s toes. You were wounded. Dying. That Malazan soldier there healed you. And there’s Itkovian – the priest in his arms has just turned to dust – gods, he must’ve needed a bath—’

‘Beru fend us all, it really is you, Gruntle. I’d thought you were lost to m— to us for good.’

‘I think a part of me is, lass. Lost to us all.’

‘Since when were you the worshipping type?’

‘That’s the joke on Trake. I’m not. He’s made a terrible choice. Show me an altar and I’m more likely to piss on it than kiss it.’

‘You might have to kiss it, so I’d suggest you reverse the gestures.’

‘Ha ha.’ He shook himself, rolling his shoulders, and sighed.

Stonny recoiled slightly at the motion. ‘Uh, that was too cat-like for me – your muscles rippled under that barbed skin.’

‘And it felt damned good. Rippled? You should be considering new ... possibilities, lass.’

‘Keep dreaming, oaf.’

The banter was brittle, and they both sensed it.

Stonny was silent for a moment, then the breath hissed between her teeth. ‘Buke. I guess he’s gone—’

‘No, he’s alive. Circling overhead right now, in fact. That sparrowhawk – Keruli’s gift to help the man keep an eye on Korbal Broach. He’s Soletaken, now.’

Stonny was glaring skyward, hands on her hips. ‘Well, that’s just great!’ She swung a venomous look upon Keruli – who was standing well off to one side, hands within sleeves, unnoticed, watching all in silence. ‘Everybody gets blessed but me! Where’s the justice in that?’

‘Well, you’re already blessed with incomparable beauty, Stonny—’

‘Another word and I’ll cut your tail off, I swear it.’

‘I haven’t got a tail.’

‘Precisely.’ She faced him. ‘Now listen, we’ve got some’ thing to work out. Something tells me that for both of us, heading back to Darujhistan isn’t likely – at least not for the next while, anyway. So, now what? Are we about to part ways, you miserable old man?’

‘No rush on ail that, lass. Let’s see how things settle—’

‘Excuse me.’

Both turned at the voice, to find that Rath’Trake had joined them.

Gruntle scowled at the masked priest. ‘What?’

‘I believe we have matters to discuss, you and I, Mortal Sword.’

‘You believe what you like,’ the Daru replied. ‘I’ve already made it plain to the Whiskered One that I’m a bad choice—’

Rath’Trake seemed to choke. ‘The Whiskered One?’ he sputtered in indignation.

Stonny laughed, and clouted the priest on the shoulder. ‘He’s a reverent bastard, ain’t he just?’