Kiska picked up the weapon and tucked it at her side. ‘If you want answers just go upstairs. I’m sure the Claws would be happy to help you.’

The jangle of steel announced the hunchback’s shambling advance. In the hearth’s faint glow Kiska saw that he wore a rusted and battered steel pot helmet. Armour hung from his bent frame in layers of mail folds with steel scales at the shoulders, chest, stomach and arms. He also carried a long-hafted throwing-axe. Kiska stared, appalled, certain that any normal man would’ve collapsed under that load.

‘She means you no harm, lass,’ he growled. ‘Everyone’s gone. What do you know of it?’

She looked from one to the other. ‘What does it matter? It’s finished. Surly won.’

The woman flinched. ‘You were there? You saw it?’

Then Kiska remembered with whom she spoke and her breath caught. ‘Oh, and Ash. I saw him. He’s dead. I’m sorry.’

The woman brushed back her long hair, sighed. ‘I’m not. The man’s better off dead. He should have died a long time ago. These times were not to his liking. Still, I owed him a great debt.’

Kiska looked away. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re okay.’

‘So you saw him as well?’

Kiska rubbed her arms to warm them against the unusual cold. She felt chilled and hungry but refreshed, as if she’d slept a full night. Even her knee felt strong, throbbing and stiff, but firm. ‘No. I didn’t see that. But I was there just afterwards. Surly said Kell – that they fell from the balcony, down the cliff. No one could survive that. It’s a hundred fathoms.’

Lubben and the woman eyed each other, clearly sceptical.

Stung, Kiska stepped away. ‘It was good enough for Surly. She said it was finished. Even—’ she stopped herself, swallowed. ‘Well, everyone agreed.’ But as she said it, she wondered. Where were Hattar and Tayschrenn? Or Surly? Had Tayschrenn laid that spell upon her – if a spell it had been, as the woman claimed? Had they lied about the end of things? If so, it couldn’t have been because of her presence. No, they must have had other reasons, and no doubt different reasons at that. They may have lied to each other out of habit. The Malazan way, she remembered Tayschrenn whispering with biting irony. And now in the High Mage’s words Kiska heard a measure of self-disgust as well. Rubbing her hands at her sides, she looked away. ‘I guess I don’t know. I thought everything was over.’

‘Well it isn’t,’ said the woman, sounding oddly angered. ‘That’s for sure.’ Kiska looked at her, puzzled. ‘There’s an immense disturbance among the Warrens here,’ the woman explained. ‘I can feel it as strongly as the storm breaking over the island. That’s probably where everyone’s gone.’

‘The Deadhouse,’ Kiska breathed, remembering Oleg’s words.

The woman eyed her sharply, taking her measure a second time. ‘Yes. The Deadhouse. All this,’ and she pointed upstairs, ‘was probably nothing more than a diversion. A side show.’