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‘I am… pleased, Crokus.’
‘I am now named Cutter.’
‘Far less subtle, but apt enough, I suppose. Even so, there was the hint of deadly charm in your old Daru name. Are you sure you will not reconsider?’
Cutter shrugged, then said, ‘Crokus had no… patron god.’
‘Of course. And one day, a man will arrive in Darujhistan. With a Malazan name, and no-one will know him, except perhaps by reputation. And he will eventually hear tales of the young Crokus, a lad so instrumental in saving the city on the night of the Fete, all those years ago. Innocent, unsullied Crokus. So be it… Cutter. I see you have a boat.’
The change of subject startled him slightly, then he nodded. ‘We have.’
‘Sufficiently provisioned?’
‘More or less. Not for a long voyage, though.’
‘No, of course not. Why should it be? May I see your knives?’
Cutter unsheathed them and passed them across to the god, pommels forward.
‘Decent blades,’ Cotillion murmured. ‘Well balanced. Within them are the echoes of your skill, the taste of blood. Shall I bless them for you, Cutter?’
‘If the blessing is without magic,’ the Daru replied.
‘You desire no sorcerous investment?’
‘No.’
‘Ah. You would follow Rallick Nom’s path.’
Cutter’s eyes narrowed. Oh, yes, he would recall him. When he saw through Sorry’s eyes, at the Phoenix Inn, perhaps. Or maybe Rallick acknowledged his patron… though I find that difficult to believe . ‘I think I would have trouble following that path, Cotillion. Rallick’s abilities are… were-’
‘Formidable, yes. I do not think you need use the past tense when speaking of Rallick Nom, or Vorcan for that matter. No, I’ve no news… simply a suspicion.’ He handed the knives back. ‘You underestimate your own skills, Cutter, but perhaps that is for the best.’
‘I don’t know where Apsalar’s gone,’ Cutter said. ‘I don’t know if she’s coming back.’
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‘I am… pleased, Crokus.’
‘I am now named Cutter.’
‘Far less subtle, but apt enough, I suppose. Even so, there was the hint of deadly charm in your old Daru name. Are you sure you will not reconsider?’
Cutter shrugged, then said, ‘Crokus had no… patron god.’
‘Of course. And one day, a man will arrive in Darujhistan. With a Malazan name, and no-one will know him, except perhaps by reputation. And he will eventually hear tales of the young Crokus, a lad so instrumental in saving the city on the night of the Fete, all those years ago. Innocent, unsullied Crokus. So be it… Cutter. I see you have a boat.’
The change of subject startled him slightly, then he nodded. ‘We have.’
‘Sufficiently provisioned?’
‘More or less. Not for a long voyage, though.’
‘No, of course not. Why should it be? May I see your knives?’
Cutter unsheathed them and passed them across to the god, pommels forward.
‘Decent blades,’ Cotillion murmured. ‘Well balanced. Within them are the echoes of your skill, the taste of blood. Shall I bless them for you, Cutter?’
‘If the blessing is without magic,’ the Daru replied.
‘You desire no sorcerous investment?’
‘No.’
‘Ah. You would follow Rallick Nom’s path.’
Cutter’s eyes narrowed. Oh, yes, he would recall him. When he saw through Sorry’s eyes, at the Phoenix Inn, perhaps. Or maybe Rallick acknowledged his patron… though I find that difficult to believe . ‘I think I would have trouble following that path, Cotillion. Rallick’s abilities are… were-’
‘Formidable, yes. I do not think you need use the past tense when speaking of Rallick Nom, or Vorcan for that matter. No, I’ve no news… simply a suspicion.’ He handed the knives back. ‘You underestimate your own skills, Cutter, but perhaps that is for the best.’
‘I don’t know where Apsalar’s gone,’ Cutter said. ‘I don’t know if she’s coming back.’
‘As it has turned out, her presence has proved less vital than expected. I have a task for you, Cutter. Are you amenable to providing a service to your patron?’
‘Isn’t that expected?’
Cotillion was silent for a moment, then he laughed softly. ‘No, I shall not take advantage of your… inexperience, though I admit to some temptation. Shall we begin things on a proper footing? Reciprocity, Cutter. A relationship of mutual exchanges, yes?’
‘Would that you had offered the same to Apsalar.’ Then he clamped his jaw shut.
But Cotillion simply sighed. ‘Would that I had. Consider this new tact the consequence of difficult lessons.’
‘You said reciprocity. What will I receive in return for providing this service?’
‘Well, since you’ll not accept my blessing or any other investment, I admit to being at something of a loss. Any suggestions?’
‘I’d like some questions answered.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Yes. Such as, why did you and Shadowthrone scheme to destroy Laseen and the empire? Was it just a desire for revenge?’
The god seemed to flinch within his robes, and Cutter felt unseen eyes harden. ‘Oh my,’ Cotillion drawled, ‘you force me to reconsider my offer.’
‘I would know,’ the Daru pressed on, ‘so I can understand what you did… did to Apsalar.’
‘You demand that your patron god justify his actions?’
‘It wasn’t a demand. Just a question.’ Cotillion said nothing for a long moment.
The fire was slowly dying, embers pulsing with the breeze. Cutter sensed the presence of a second Hound somewhere in the darkness beyond, moving restlessly.
‘Necessities,’ the god said quietly. ‘Games are played, and what may appear precipitous might well be little more than a feint. Or perhaps it was the city itself, Darujhistan, that would serve our purposes better if it remained free, independent. There are layers of meaning behind every gesture, every gambit. I will not explain myself any further than that, Cutter.’
‘Do-do you regret what you did?’
‘You are indeed fearless, aren’t you? Regret? Yes. Many, many regrets. One day, perhaps, you will see for yourself that regrets are as nothing. The value lies in how they are answered.’
Cutter slowly turned and stared out into the darkness of the sea. ‘I threw Oponn’s coin into the lake,’ he said.
‘And do you now regret the act?’
