‘I know, Wizard. And, to make matters worse, Nightchill was – is – a whole lot more than what we’d thought. Not just a High Mage of the Empire. She’s all hard edges – her mate Bellurdan was her balance, but of the Thelomen I sense nothing.’

‘And Tattersail?’

‘In the shadows. Observing, but without much interest, it seems.’

‘A woman named Silverfox was the subject,’ Itkovian murmured, ‘yet you speak of three others.’

‘Sorry. All reborn within Silverfox. It’s a long story.’

He nodded. ‘All perforce needing to live with one another, no matter how disparate their individual natures.’

‘Aye,’ Paran sighed. ‘Not surprising that there’d be a war of wills—’

‘There is no war within her,’ Itkovian said.

‘What?’

‘They walk in agreement, sir. She is calm within.’

They reached level ground, approached the Malazan camp. Whiskeyjack and Korlat strode side by side and close, a half-dozen paces ahead.

‘Now that,’ Quick Ben muttered, ‘is the most surprising revelation this day.’

‘So far,’ Paran pointed out. ‘Something tells me we’re not done yet.’

‘Gentlemen!’ a voice wheezed behind them. ‘A moment please, whilst Kruppe’s formidable yet sadly short legs propel self hastily into your company!’

The elaborate statement was sufficient to close the distance as the three men paused to permit Kruppe’s breathless arrival, upon which they resumed their walk.

‘Wind of fortune!’ Kruppe panted. ‘Carrying to Kruppe all your words—’

‘How convenient,’ Quick Ben wryly muttered. ‘And no doubt you’ve a comment or ten to make on the subject of Silverfox.’

‘Indeed! Kruppe was witness, after all, to said dreadful Gathering. Yet all alarm subsequent to said events has grown quiet within oneself, for truths have marched out from the darkness to prostrate themselves at Kruppe’s slippered feet.’

‘That conjures up an image of you stumbling and falling flat on your face, Daru,’ the wizard commented.

‘Carelessly constructed, Kruppe allows, yet none of you have ever seen Kruppe dance! And dance he can, with breathtaking artistry and grace – nay! He glides like an unbroken egg on a greased skillet. Stumble? Fall? Kruppe? Never!’

‘You’d mentioned truths,’ Paran reminded him.

‘Ah yes! Truths, squirming like puppies around Kruppe, upon which he laid patting hand on each one and all in turn, as would any kindly master. The result? Kruppe advises that all is well within Silverfox! Be at ease. Be calmed. Be ... lieve – uh ...’

‘Was that a stumble?’

‘Nonsense. Even linguistic confusion has value.’

‘Really? How so?’

‘Uh, the matter is too subtle for mere words, alas. We must not stray too far from the subject at hand, or foot, which was the matter of truths—’

‘Squirming like puppies.’

‘Indeed, Captain. Like wolf puppies, to be more precise.’