Then Brood said, ‘No mockery was intended. And you failed only because you could not win. Do you understand me, sir?’

Itkovian shrugged. ‘I comprehend your argument, Caladan Brood, but I see little value in debating semantics. I would, if you so permit, stand to one side of these proceedings. I shall venture no comments or opinions, I assure you.’

‘Then the loss is ours,’ the warrior growled.

Itkovian glanced at his captain and was shocked to see her weathered cheeks streaked with tears.

‘Would you have us argue your value, Itkovian?’ Brood asked, his frown deepening.

‘No.’

‘Yet you feel that you have no worth here at this gathering.’

‘It may be that I am not yet done, sir, but such responsibilities that I must one day embrace are mine to bear, and thus must be borne alone. I lead no-one, and so have no role in those discussions that are to be undertaken here. I would only listen. It is true that you have no cause to be generous—’

‘Please,’ Caladan Brood cut in. ‘Enough. You are welcome, Itkovian.’

‘Thank you.’

As if in silent agreement the dignitaries ended their immobility and approached the large, wooden table. The priests of the Mask Council sat themselves down at one end. Humbrall Taur, Hetan and Cafal took positions behind the chairs closest to them, making it clear that they would stand during the proceedings. Gruntle and Stonny sat opposite each other near the middle, the Grey Swords’ new Shield Anvil beside the latter. Caladan Brood and the two Malazan commanders – one of them, Itkovian now saw, one-armed – sat down at the end opposite the priests. A tall, grey-haired warrior in full-length chain stood two paces behind Brood, on his left. A Malazan standard-bearer hovered behind his commanders to the right.

Cups were filled from a jug of watered wine, yet even before the task had been completed for everyone present, Rath’Hood was speaking.

‘A more civilized location for this historic gathering would have been at the Thrall, the palace from which the rulers of Capustan govern—’

‘Now that the prince is dead, you mean,’ Stonny drawled, her lip curling. ‘The place has no floor, in case you forgot, Priest.’

‘You could call that a structural metaphor, couldn’t you?’ Gruntle asked her.

‘You might, being an idiot.’

Rath’Hood tried again. ‘As I was saying—’

‘You weren’t saying, you were posturing.’

‘This wine is surprisingly good,’ Keruli murmured. ‘Given that this is a martial gathering, the location seems appropriate. I, for one, have a question or two for the commanders of the foreign army.’

The one-armed commander grunted, then said, ‘Ask them.’

‘Thank you, High Fist, I will. First of all, someone is missing, true? Are there not Tiste Andii among you? And their legendary leader, Anomander Rake, Lord of Moon’s Spawn, should he not be present? Indeed, one wonders at the disposition of Moon’s Spawn itself – the tactical advantages of such an edifice—’