They reined in to wait for the four riders. Kruppe’s mule seemed to be competing for the lead position, the short-legged beast slipping between a frenzied trot and a canter, the round Daru wobbling and bouncing atop the saddle. Two Malazan marines rode behind Silverfox and Kruppe, looking relaxed.

‘Would that I had seen,’ Quick Ben murmured, ‘what her companions had seen.’

Yet nothing went as planned. I can see that in her posture – the bridled anger, the diffidence – and, buried deep, pain. She’s surprised them. Surprised, and defied. And the T’lan Imass have answered in an equally unexpected way. Even Kruppe looks off-balanced, and not just by that pitching mule.

Silverfox was staring at him as she drew rein, an expression that Paran could not define. As I had sensed, she’s thrown up a wall between us – gods, but she looks like Tattersail! A woman, now. No longer the child. And the illusion of years spanning our parting is complete – she’s become guarded, a possessor of secrets that as a child she would not have hesitated to reveal. Hood’s breath, every time we meet it seems I must readjust . . . everything.

Quick Ben spoke, ‘Well met. Silverfox, what—’

‘No.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘No, Wizard. I have no explanations that I am prepared to voice. No questions that I will answer. Kruppe has already tried, too many times. My temper is short – do not test it.’

Guarded, and harder. Much, much harder.

After a moment, Quick Ben shrugged. ‘Be that way, then.’

‘I am that way,’ she snapped. ‘The anger you would face is Nightchill’s, and the rest of us will do nothing to restrain it. I trust I am understood.’

Quick Ben simply grinned. Cold, challenging.

‘Kind sirs!’ Kruppe cried. ‘By chance would you be riding to our fair armies? If so, we would accompany you, delighted and relieved to return to said martial bosom. Delighted indeed, with the formidable company of yourselves. Relieved, as Kruppe has said, by the welcoming destination so closely pending. Impatient, it must be admitted, for the resumption of the journey. Incorrigibly optimistic—’

‘That will do, Kruppe,’ Silverfox growled.

‘Ahem, of course.’

If anything truly existed between us, it is now over. She has left Tattersail behind. She is indeed a Bonecaster, now. The realization triggered a weaker pang of loss than he had expected. Perhaps we both have moved on. The pressure of what we have grown into, our hearts cannot overcome.

So be it. No self-pity. Not this time. We’ve tasks before us.

Paran gathered his reins. ‘As Kruppe has said. Let us resume – we’re already late as it is.’

A large sheet of burlap had been raised over the hilltop to shield the parley from the hot afternoon sun. Malazan soldiers ringed the hill in a protective cordon, crossbows cradled in their arms.